Too Stubborn To Marry

by Cathie Linz

She knew what he meant and it made her edgy to talk about it. Staying in these hedonistic surroundings made her attraction to Ryan even more powerful. On her own turf, in her own apartment, she’d been able to withstand his attempts to romance her. Would she be able to continue the fight here?

  She focused on her surroundings to distract herself from Ryan’s presence. “I love this bathroom. Not so much the artwork as the tub. I want to live in that tub. It’s the size of my kitchen.” The sunken marble tub was pink-veined, like the marble columns flanking it She made a shooing motion with both hands. “Get out of here, I’m taking a bath.”

  “Now?” He gave her a startled look. “It’s four in the morning.”

  “I don’t care. Now move.”

  He didn’t budge. “What if you fall asleep and drown?”

  Putting her hands on her hips, she stared at him in exasperation. “When did you start to be such a worrywart? Unless this is your charming way of suggesting that you stay to monitor my safety during my bath?” She arched a brow at him.

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “Now that you mention it…”

  “Forget about it. You can sit outside the door if you want”

  “You know what I want”

  “Yes, I do.” She took his arm and led him out the door. But before she closed it, she added, “You want to capture my uncle.”

  “YOU GOT THE TWO of them alone together in a romantic seaside getaway. Well done, Muriel!” Betty slapped a high five on Muriel’s open palm as the two of them danced across the black marble mantelpiece of the bedroom fireplace. Betty had to hold up the hem of the baggy Columbo-type raincoat with one hand or risk tripping over it as she kicked up her heels. “Way to go, girl!”

  “There is indeed a way to go,” Hattie chastised, demurely sitting on the corner of the mantel while delicately shaking sand out of one of her silk slippers dyed the same apricot as her dress. “Quite a long way.”

  “She’s still in a snit from landing on the beach instead of the bedroom her first try,” Muriel told Betty.

  “Oh, horsefeathers,” Hattie retorted, standing up to glare at both her sisters. “I am not in a snit. I’m just saying that I still see no sign that these two are ready to admit they’re made for each other.”

  “What about that talk they had in the car getting here?” Muriel demanded, running her hands through her short hair and thereby making her cowlick stick up. “There was plenty of soul baring going on.”

  “That was just the beginning.” Looking at her sister’s wild hair, Hattie hastily patted her own silvery curls to make sure they were perfectly coiffed. “And then they ended up fighting and not speaking to each other the rest of the trip. As for that scene in the bathroom we just witnessed, it was all sizzle and no fire. Courtney ended things by referring to her uncle. She hasn’t forgotten or forgiven.”

  Muriel glared at Hattie. “You’re just worried that you’re going to have to deal with Anastasia sooner than you thought you would and that my speedy success with Ryan will put you to shame.”

  “You wish!” Hattie stamped her dainty foot. “I never heard of anything so ridiculous in all my life.”

  “I don’t know,” Betty mused with a wide grin. “That color fight you and Muriel had was right up there on the ridiculous scale.”

  Hattie lifted her chin with aristocratic hauteur. “Scoff all you want, but I’m telling you, I don’t think things are settled between Ryan and Courtney yet by any means.”

  “I BLAME MYSELF for this. I should never have trusted you to do such an important job yourself.” Caesar patted Brutus’s cheek so hard it stung.

  “I didn’t do it all myself,” Brutus blurted out, aware of the danger inherent in his older brother’s soft voice.

  “Ah, yes. The disaster with that half-witted brother of the woman you are seeing. Yes, that was a brilliant thing to do. That alone should have warned me that you were not up to handling this job. But no, I believed you when you said you could take care of matters. And what happens? You end up with dog bites on your butt. A Zopo, once the proudest of all families, now has to live down the fact that you were bested by a dog.” Caesar shook his head with intense sorrow.

  “But it was a huge dog, Caesar, the biggest dog you ever saw. Must have been part bear.”

  “I did see the dog and the only relation it had was to a teddy bear. It was a little ball of fluff.”

  “With huge teeth,” Brutus interjected. “I had to have a dozen stitches.”

  “And now, thanks to your big mouth, the authorities are after us. Because you not only broke into the wrong apartment, you answered to the name of Brutus and then had the stupidity to let the idiot in that apartment see your face.”

  Brutus hung his head in shame. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “That much is obvious.” Caesar rubbed his hand against his jaw. “What is not so clear is how we are to proceed from here.”

  “I will do whatever you tell me.”

  “You will do nothing!” Caesar’s soft voice took on a dangerous edge. “From now on, I am in charge. And I will make sure that things are done properly. You can be assured of that.”

  COURTNEY SLEPT LATE the next morning, waking to the sound of her stomach growling. A groggy glance at her watch told her it was nearly one in the afternoon.

  By the time she padded into the kitchen, fresh from another bath and dressed in jeans and a red T-shirt, she was starving. Ryan was on the kitchen extension, laughing into the phone.

  The sound slid down her spine like a lover’s touch. It wasn’t fair. He was still wearing the same basic outfit he’d worn when he’d walked back into her life—jeans, a T-shirt which was khaki green today, and a flannel shirt. The problem was that his jeans molded his body to perfection, the T-shirt—which stretched magnificently across his muscular chest—brought out the green in his eyes and the green-and-black flannel covered his broad shoulders with soft seductiveness.

  Curses. She needed caffeine in her system before she could be expected to fight her love for Ryan. Not love, she hurriedly corrected herself. Attraction. Physical attraction.

  She poured herself a huge mug of coffee and drank it black before even noticing the entwined couples painted on the side of the mug. She almost dropped it on the floor when she realized what it was depicting.

  “Your friend has a definite problem,” Courtney told Ryan the moment he was off the phone.

  “And good morning to you, too.”

  “I’m serious. I was okay with the statue out front, with the leggy andirons and even the mural in the bathroom. But this is too much. Where’s my cooler?” Spying it in the corner, she opened it and dug through the melting ice before lifting out her Yogi Bear mug, filled with fresh cherries. “That’s better.” Dumping the fruit out on a plate, she rinsed her mug before filling it with coffee.

  “Dean may seem strange if you judge him from this place, but he’s okay,” Ryan replied. “He was my partner for a while, before he got transferred. He’s from a wealthy family and likes shocking people.”

  “He’s doing a pretty good job of it,” she murmured, blowing on the hot coffee and taking another cautious sip.

  “He’s okay. I should know. Being a good judge of character is a necessity in my line of work.”

  “A good judge of character, huh?” She shot him a mocking look. “Is that why you mistook Red for a dangerous character?”

  A flush of embarrassment stole into Ryan’s cheeks as he growled, “When I’m around you, my internal radar gets messed up.”

  “Oh, that’s great to hear,” she retorted, setting her mug on the counter before turning to face him. “I’m being protected by a guy with a messed up instincts.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing that isn’t messed up.” Tugging her into his arms with one smooth move, he kissed her. It was fast and it was intense. He tasted like coffee and temptation as his arms enfolded her, urging her lower body into the cradle of his denimclad hips. She fit him perfectly, her body conforming to h
is. She was moist softness where he was throbbing hardness.

  Pleasure filled every particle of her body. She loved the rub of his thighs as she parted her legs and melted against him. She murmured her excitement as he shifted his hand, the one that had been lying in wait on her rib cage, until it covered her breast. Her thin T-shirt and bra provided no protection against the forbidden enchantment of his touch.

  Reeling drunkenly in a world awash with physical elation, she touched him as she’d longed to. His rebellious hair was still as thick and surprisingly silky as she remembered She slid her other hand beneath his flannel shirt, which was as soft as she’d thought it would be. Just as he was as solid and powerful as she knew he would be. She slowly trailed her fingers up the ridges of his spine beneath his T-shirt.

  When his caresses to her breast became more intimate, she grabbed handfuls of the cotton material of his T-shirt as she was buffeted with erotic delight Being with him this way felt so incredibly good. And all the while, his mouth consumed hers with electrifying need.

  But unlike their previous kisses, this one eventually softened into tenderness. Courtney found that even scarier than his hunger. Because she could fight passion, but not this heartrending gentleness that recalled their first days together when he’d wooed her, seduced her, loved her.

  She had to remind herself of the reality. Ryan was only kissing her because he wanted to seduce her into betraying Anton. He’d do anything to catch his man, to protect his career. She couldn’t give in. She couldn’t.

  Yanking herself out of his arms, she took two huge steps away from him, her trembling fingers brushing her lips which still hungered for the touch of his.

  “My future is with Fred.” She was dismayed with the way her voice wavered thinly.

  Ryan shoved a hand through the hair she’d messed up with her caressing fingers. There was a turbulent light in his hazel eyes that didn’t bode well for her.

  “Interesting thing about Fred,” Ryan drawled. “When the FBI did a routine check to make sure the robbery hadn’t been an inside job, what did they find? That geeky Fred has been skimming bank funds and embezzling money into his own private accounts.”

  “What are you talking about?” Her manner was cautious, her voice suspicious.

  “I’m talking about embezzlement.” He pronounced each syllable slowly and succinctly. “Ninety thousand dollars worth.”

  “You’re making this up,” Courtney accused him. “You’ve never liked Fred and now you’re trying to discredit him.”

  Ryan shrugged off her accusation. “Call the sheriff and ask him. I heard it from Tiny himself, who also told me he’s dating Francis again. Talkative fellow, that Tiny. Can you believe he calls her Franny?”

  Courtney sank onto a nearby kitchen chair, experiencing the numbness that comes with incredulity. “I don’t believe any of this.”

  “Like I said, you’re welcome to call Tiny and check it out with him.” His voice turned reflective as he noted, “Now that I think about it, Fred got all flushed and bothered when I pitched him the idea of my being a bank inspector. And then there was his strange behavior after the attempted robbery, the way he tried to keep everyone out of his office.”

  Ryan was secretly relieved that the no-good twit was out of the picture. The little weasel hadn’t been good enough for Courtney. Ryan had known it from the very start. But Courtney had kept claiming that Fred was the man for her. Not true. Ryan had been the man for her in the past, and he wanted to be again. He just wasn’t sure what to do. Everything he seemed to say was wrong.

  Courtney was shaking her head and saying, “But I’ve only been gone one day.”

  “And your job will still be waiting for you when you get back. If you still want it.”

  She picked up on that immediately. “Why wouldn’t I want it? I’ve got rent and utilities to pay, not to mention other expenses.”

  He shrugged. “You can do better, but it’s your life.”

  “That’s right. It is. You’d do well to remember that.”

  “And you’d do well to remember that your uncle’s life is in danger. That was a stupid stunt he pulled, walking into the bank yesterday dressed as a woman.”

  Courtney neither denied nor confirmed Ryan’s caustic observation.

  The chilliness between them remained throughout that day and forced her to go to bed early. There was no reading material that wasn’t X-rated. Thank heavens for public television, where she watched an old classic, How to Marry a Millionaire, before finding a cartoon festival on a cable station. But even the antics of Yogi Bear and Scooby-Doo couldn’t lift her spirits.

  Her prim buttercup yellow cotton pajamas were at odds with her leopard print surroundings as she threw herself on the bed to stare at her reflection in the mirrored ceiling and brood. Her cheerful Bugs Bunny fuzzy slippers were at odds with her dark thoughts. How could she have been so wrong about Fred? She felt as if someone had yanked a rug out from under her. Was there just a tad of relief mixed in with the disbelief? Relief that she wouldn’t be tied to Fred and his finicky ways for the rest of her life?

  So much for her attempts to have a quiet, well-behaved life.

  Sticking out her tongue at her reflection, she rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin on her clasped hands. No, she wasn’t stuck with Fred. Her plans for a new respectable and proper life had gone up in smoke. Instead here she was—stuck in Dean’s Lair with Ryan, the man she’d once given her heart to. And he had broken it.

  No matter how much she tried telling herself she was a different woman now, a much wiser woman, she couldn’t help the sinking feeling that history was about to repeat itself.

  BRIGHT AND EARLY the next morning, Ryan checked in with Wes Freeze, who took great pleasure in Ryan’s bad mood.

  “Still wish I’d shot you instead of giving you this assignment?” Wes asked.

  Considering the fact that Ryan had gotten little sleep last night, he wasn’t exactly amused by his boss’s gloating. “Have the Zopos been arrested for attempted robbery yet?”

  “They’ve disappeared.”

  “I don’t believe this.” Ryan shoved an impatient hand through his hair. “Brutus Zopo isn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. How hard can it be to catch up with him?”

  “Any leads on Anton Leva yet?”

  “He hasn’t left the state.”

  “How do you know that?” Wes demanded.

  “Because he came into the bank yesterday.”

  “And you didn’t grab him then?” Wes’s voice rose to a roar.

  “He was dressed as an old woman in a pink jogging outfit. I didn’t realize it was him until much later.”

  “What about the niece? No luck convincing her to cooperate?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Well, get a move on it.” Wes’s impatience was clear. “We do have other cases, you know. I need you back here. Work is piling up.”

  After hanging up with Wes, Ryan called in to check his office voice mail. There was a message from his brother, Jason, asking Ryan to call him back about something important.

  “You’re hard to get ahold of,” Jason complained once Ryan got him on the line.

  “Hey, you weren’t too happy to talk to me last time,” Ryan retorted.

  “Let me see…Was that right after you sent me a load of manure at work, or was it the time you kept pouring gasoline in my new car so that I thought it was getting seventy miles to the gallon.”

  Ryan grinned as he fondly recalled, “That was one of my better practical jokes.”

  “I’m glad you thought so,” Jason grumbled, “because I sure didn’t.”

  “No imagination, that’s your problem, big brother.” Ryan’s voice was mocking. Jason was the eldest only by a few minutes, but he never let his two siblings forget that fact Ryan could imagine his brother back in Chicago, his desk neat despite the piles of paperwork he had to complete in his job as a prosecutor in the U.S. Attorney’s office. Jason loved order in h
is life. “So what’s up? Your message said it was important.”

  “I’ll say it is. I’m getting married.”

  “Really?” The news wasn’t that big a surprise to Ryan, who knew Jason’s propensity to plan out his life. Now that they were both thirty-three, he figured his brother had probably earmarked this as the year for marriage. Jason was like that. Ryan wasn’t. “Let me guess. She’s some pristine trophy wife that will look good on the arm of Chicago’s most successful prosecuting attorney.”

  “Wrong. She’s Heather Grayson, radio talk show hostess of ‘Love on the Rocks.’”

  Ryan laughed. “Now who’s the practical joker?”

  “It’s no joke.” Even over the phone line, his displeasure was evident.

  “Come on,” Ryan scoffed. “A friend sent me a tape of her show and it’s hilarious. There’s no way a woman with that great a sense of humor would put up with a stick-in-the-mud like you, even if you were named Chicago’s sexiest bachelor.”

  “So does that mean you don’t want to be my best man?” Jason’s voice was dry.

  “You’re serious?”

  “Damn right, I am,” Jason growled but Ryan heard the smile.

  “When’s the wedding?” he asked.

  “August 15.”

  His brother’s reply took him by surprise. It was already mid-June. “That soon?” He shook his head in disbelief before noting, “None of this is like you, Jason.”

  “So Anastasia takes great pleasure in telling me almost daily.”

  “And how does our darling sister get along with Heather?” Ryan asked. “Does she like her?”

  “Yes, not that I give a damn.”

  “Liar,” Ryan scoffed, knowing that despite their outward antipathy, his two siblings were close. “Well then, provided I can get the time off, I’ll be there.”

  “I’m counting on it. And Ryan, leave your practical joke book in Oregon, understand?”

  Ryan was still smiling when he hung up.

  “What was that all about?” Courtney asked. She’d walked into the kitchen during the tail end of the conversation and heard enough to know Ryan was speaking to his brother.