by Elle Kennedy
He stared at some random point behind her head, determined not to meet those keen blue eyes. “Nothing.”
“Ryan.”
“Jane.”
He nearly jumped when he felt her hands on his chin. She forced him to look at her, her hands warm against his jaw. “What did you say to her?” she asked sternly.
Swallowing, Ryan met her gaze head-on. “I told her I was in love with you.”
She let out a startled expletive. “For God’s sake, Ryan, why the hell would you—” She stopped abruptly, searching his expression. “Oh fuck, you actually believe you meant it.”
Irritation climbed up his body, hardening his chest. “Maybe I did mean it.”
Jane shook her head, the sympathy in her eyes making him wince. Great, she felt sorry for him. How fucking wonderful. “I know we had a little flirtation going when Beck and I broke up all those months ago, but come on, Ry, you’re not in love with me.”
“Maybe I am,” he said roughly.
“No,” she disagreed. “Maybe you think you are, because I’m the first woman you’ve ever opened up to, but we’re best friends and nothing more. Deep down, you have to know that—”
He kissed her. He hadn’t planned on doing it, didn’t think about the consequences either. One second he was looking into her gorgeous blue eyes and the next he was covering her mouth with his. He’d fantasized about this moment for months, wondered how it would feel, how she would taste, but the moment his lips met hers, reality crashed into him like a tidal wave.
“Fuck,” he said hoarsely, quickly breaking the lip contact. He averted his eyes again, ashamed of what he’d just done. He wanted to slap himself, not just for forcing a lip-lock on his best friend, but because he knew now, with total certainty, that he’d just kissed a woman who was the equivalent of a sister he didn’t have.
A woman who rewarded the unwanted contact with an angry scowl. “What. The. Fuck,” she snapped.
“I’m sorry.” He sucked in a ragged breath, cringing when she scooted to the other end of the couch. “I thought—shit, Jane. That was a crappy thing to do.”
“Beyond crappy,” she grumbled. Then, to his extreme surprise, she started to laugh. “Felt rather incestuous, no?”
A laugh slipped out of his own throat. “Uh, to say the least. I’m sorry,” he said again.
Jane’s laughter died, replaced by a long sigh. “I forgive you.” She paused. “Now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, can you please get on a plane back to San Francisco and win back the woman you actually love?”
He hesitated, the idea so tempting he nearly launched himself at the phone to call the airline. But he reined in the futile urge. “No,” he finally said.
“Why not?” She sounded frazzled.
“Because this doesn’t change anything. Maybe I misunderstood my feelings for you, but I know exactly where I stand with Annabelle’s family. Her dad tried to pay me off, for fuck’s sake.”
“Well, screw him,” Jane retorted. “You love Annabelle, not her dad.”
“I don’t belong in her life, Jane,” he said softly.
She sighed again, slowly sliding back toward him. This time when she touched his cheek, her fingers were gentle. “Then you know what that makes you, Ry?”
“What?” he asked hoarsely.
She dropped her hand, the disappointment on her face unmistakable. “It makes you a goddamn fool.”
Chapter Eight
Annabelle spent the morning in her childhood bedroom, trying to figure out what the heck to do. Her heart felt like someone had smashed it with a hammer, and she still couldn’t believe what a fool she’d been, actually believing that she and Ryan had more than a fling going. Somehow, during their two weeks together, she’d fallen for him.
But he hadn’t fallen for her.
She sat down at the edge of the four-poster bed, looking around the bedroom in dismay. Decorated in shades of cream and yellow, the room boasted an antique dresser, a huge desk built into the wall, and a walk-in closet that was bigger than Christina’s bedroom back in San Diego. Everything was neat and pristine—her mother didn’t allow clutter—and, growing up, Annabelle had hated this perfect, impersonal room.
She was probably going to have to move back in here, until she found a place of her own, and she was not looking forward to being under the same roof as her parents again. But what choice did she have? No matter what Bryce said, she was not going to marry him. No matter how things had ended with Ryan, her time with him had shown her that she didn’t want to be with Bryce. She wanted a man who gave a damn about her, who made her feel beautiful and special, who made her laugh and appreciated her, and Bryce Worthington was not that man.
She still didn’t know why he’d dropped that bomb at the dinner table last night, without even speaking to her about it. After Ryan left, she’d gone up to her room and locked the door, refusing to talk to anyone, and she’d heard Bryce and his parents leaving, while he assured everyone that his fiancée was just a little “overwhelmed”. Overwhelmed, her ass. Who did he think he was, telling everyone they were back together out of the blue like that?
A sharp knock rapped on her door, and she lifted her head in irritation. “Yes?” she called.
“Miss Holmes,” came Magdalena’s polite voice, “Mr. Worthington is here to see you.”
She stifled a groan. Great. Bryce was back, no doubt to try and talk her into marrying him. For a moment she wanted to tell the housekeeper to kick him out, but then she realized this was the perfect opportunity to set things straight.
“Have him wait in the den,” she replied. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
As Magdalena’s footsteps retreated down the hall, Annabelle walked into her private bath and checked her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes looked a little red, probably from all the crying she’d done after Ryan left. She turned on the faucet and bent down to splash some water on her face, then pinched her cheeks to give them some color. When she saw Bryce, she didn’t want to look like a gaunt, pathetic girl who’d been dumped—twice, actually.
He was standing at the bay window when she strode into the spacious den. She crossed the parquet floor and joined him, frowning when he tried to draw her into an embrace. “No, Bryce,” she said stiffly, shrugging his hands off her.
His pale-blue eyes flickered with annoyance. “I can’t hug you now?”
“No, you can’t.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What the hell was last night about? We’re not back together and you know it.”
He looked sheepish. “I know, it might have been a little presumptuous of me, but I thought you’d be happy.”
“Happy?” she echoed in disbelief. “You broke up with me because you wanted to take a walk on the wild side, and all of a sudden you want to marry me again?”
He shifted, great discomfort lining his face. “I made a mistake,” he said in a vague tone. “I realized right after I ended it just how much I missed you.”
She snorted. “Is that why you were making out with some girl at the Sheppard party?”
His eyes flashed. “Who told you that?” Before she could reply, the anger in his eyes faded, replaced with regret. “I messed up, okay? But I’m willing to make it up to you, sweetheart. I really want to marry you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t want to marry you.”
Bryce faltered. “You don’t?”
Was he seriously surprised? Shaking her head, Annabelle let out a harsh laugh. “Of course not. Why would I want to marry a guy who dumped me like a piece of trash?”
Bryce’s jaw tensed. He turned his head, his blue eyes focused on the sparkling water of the bay that sat a hundred yards away. When he finally turned back to her, suspicion hardened his face. “Is this about that guy you brought home last night?” His voice went cold. “I’m willing to forgive you for that, so why can’t you forgive me?”
“This isn’t some forgiveness contest,” she retorted. “And me not wanting to marry you ha
s nothing to do with Ryan. Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re not seeing each other anymore.”
Relief filled his eyes. “Then there’s no reason for us not to get back together.”
She released a frustrated sigh. “Why are you so eager to marry me? Is someone holding a gun to your head, for Pete’s sake?”
Something about his expression gave her pause. It wasn’t so much guilt as it was…fear? She uncrossed her arms, letting them dangle to her sides, suddenly feeling weary. “What the hell is going on, Bryce?”
He mumbled something.
“I can’t hear you,” she snapped.
“Your father,” he said, raising his voice.
She pursed her lips. “What about my father?”
“He threatened to fire me, okay?” Bryce spat out, sounding livid. “He said if I didn’t stop screwing around and do right by you, I’d lose my job.”
Horror swarmed her body like a cluster of hornets. He couldn’t possibly be serious. Her dad was controlling, sure, but not cruel. Right?
“If you’re lying to me, I swear to God, Bryce, I’ll kick your ass,” she said in a deadly voice.
“I’m not lying, Annabelle. He pulled me into his study before dinner last night and laid it all out.”
She stared at Bryce, a vine of disgust twining around her spine. “So you were willing to marry me to keep your job? That’s pathetic.”
His face turned red. He opened his mouth to say something, but she was through listening. She held up her hand to silence him, continuing in a quiet voice. “We are not getting married, Bryce. I don’t care what threats my dad made against you, but if it makes you feel better, I’m going to talk to him right now and tell him to stop interfering in our lives.” She sighed. “I’ll make sure you keep your job, okay?”
Surprise filled his gaze. “You will?”
“Yes, so long as you understand that we are not getting back together. I don’t want to.” She paused. “And I don’t think you do either. So please, Bryce, just leave.”
With a nod, he stepped away from the window, then hesitated. “I am sorry, you know.” He met her eyes, shamefaced. “I know I was an ass to you, but I think we can both agree our relationship wasn’t working.”
She couldn’t help laugh. “Yeah, I think you’re right about that.”
Her chest felt surprisingly light as she walked Bryce to the front parlor. They didn’t hug or kiss goodbye; he just slid out the door, and the past five years they’d spent together simply floated away in the warm morning breeze.
Annabelle closed the door after him, then leaned against it, collecting her thoughts. A minute later, she straightened her shoulders in determination and made her way to her father’s study.
Time to confront dear old dad.
Ryan raised his beer to his lips, staring at the TV screen glumly. Thank fuck Matt was out. It spared Ryan the humiliation of being horribly belittled for his current viewing choice. But this was the last movie he’d watched with Annabelle, and he’d always been a sucker for self-torture. He drained the rest of his beer, the cold alcohol sliding down his throat but doing nothing to soothe the ache in his gut.
He missed Annabelle. He’d only known her for two weeks, and yet it felt like so much longer. And now that she was no longer in his life, it was like there was a big gaping hole in his chest. It was stupid, really. Things between them would have ended anyway—she had a job, a life, in San Francisco. Wasn’t like she would’ve moved to San Diego to be with him.
Quit thinking about her, he ordered himself. She’s gone, it’s over. Go out and get laid or something.
But the idea of having sex with some random chick at a club or bar held no appeal for him. He didn’t want random. He wanted Annabelle, damn it. It was funny, how for months he’d thought he was in love with Jane, and in the end, he’d been totally blindsided by his love for Annabelle.
The click of the door opening jolted him from his thoughts. Shit. Matt was back. Ryan set down his empty bottle and looked around for the remote control so he could turn off the movie before he got caught watching it. Damn, where the hell was the—
He froze as Annabelle strode into his living room.
She wore a pair of baggy tan Capris, a snug sky-blue tank top and red flip-flops on her feet. His pulse immediately sped up, getting faster when she crossed her arms over her chest, emphasizing her full cleavage.
“Hi,” she said, sounding very casual.
He swallowed. “Hi.”
Her brown eyes softened. “So, why didn’t you tell me my father tried to pay you off?”
A wave of surprise crashed into him, along with a flash of regret. Damn, he hadn’t wanted her to find out about that. Her father might be an ass, but he was still her father, and Ryan hated the pain he saw swimming in her eyes.
“I didn’t want to ruin your relationship with the guy,” Ryan admitted in a hoarse voice.
She uncrossed her arms, perching one hand on her hip. “Out of curiosity, how much did he offer?”
He made a wry face. “We never got that far, to tell you the truth. I told him to screw off long before we made it there.”
Something that resembled satisfaction flickered on her face. “Good.” Her eyes darkened. “But then you told me to screw off, too.” Regret rose in his chest. He wanted to apologize, but she lifted her hand to silence him. “I get why,” she said quietly. “You told me about the way you grew up, how awful it was. And then my dad goes and tells you that you don’t belong. I can see why it freaked you out.”
He slowly met her gaze. “You do?”
“Everyone gets insecure sometimes, Ryan. I just wish you’d talked to me about it instead of—O-M-G, are you watching P.S. I Love You?” she suddenly demanded, noticing for the first time what was on the TV screen.
He felt his cheeks heat up. Fuck. This was goddamn mortifying. “Uh, it’s on TV,” he lied.
“No, it’s not. I can see the DVD player counting the minutes going by.” Annabelle let out a delighted laugh. “You miss me!”
He tried to tamp down his amusement, but it came out in the form of a sheepish smile. “Yeah, maybe a little.”
Before he could react, she bounded toward him and launched herself into his arms. He held her close, breathing in the sweet scent of orange blossoms, rubbing his chin against the silky-smooth flesh of her neck. God, it felt good holding her again.
“I miss you too,” Annabelle said, pulling back. “I know it’s only been a day since you left, but it feels like forever.”
“I know,” he confessed with a sigh.
She searched his face, her eyes flickering with hesitation. “I just…what you said at the house…you didn’t mean any of it, did you?”
“None of it,” he said gruffly.
Relief flooded her beautiful face. “I thought so. Not at the time, but after I confronted my dad and found out what he tried to do, I figured you said all that stuff because you were…I don’t know, scared?”
As a rule, he hated to admit fear, but at the moment, he knew he had no choice. If he wanted this woman back—and God, how he did—then he had to be completely honest with her. “I felt like a loser,” he admitted. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, so I said whatever I could to convince you I didn’t want you.”
“And the thing about…um…Jane?”
He reached out and touched her cheek. “I don’t love her. I thought I did, a while ago, but I was wrong.” He swallowed hard. “But you…I’m in love with you, Annabelle, and I know I’m not wrong about that.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “You’re in love with me?”
He nodded earnestly.
The smile widened. “Good. Because I’m in love with you too.”
Pleasure burst in his chest. “You are?”
It was her turn to nod. “And I already decided I won’t do the long-distance thing. Those relationships never work out.”
He moistened his dry lips. “I can’t move to San Francisco, baby. I
need to stay close to the base so—”
She interrupted him with a laugh. “Duh. I’m going to talk to my boss about transferring me to our San Diego office. She’s always talking about how that location is understaffed, so I think she might really go for it.”
Emotion clogged his throat. “You want to move here?”
She nodded.
“What about your family?”
Pain fluttered across her face. “I think it might be a good idea to be away from them for a while. God, Ryan, I’m so furious at my dad. I can’t believe he did that to you, and then he tried to do the same thing to Bryce.”
Ryan frowned. “What?”
“He threatened to fire him if he didn’t get back together with me,” Annabelle said darkly. “But I convinced him to let Bryce keep his job.”
“I hate that I might have done something to ruin your relationship with your father,” Ryan said roughly.
She sighed. “I’ll forgive him eventually. I hate staying mad at people. But like I said, I think some space from him and my mom will be for the best.”
Smiling, he drew her into his arms, then dipped his head to kiss her softly on the lips. “So do you want to move in here?”
Annabelle looked startled. “Here?”
“Duh,” he mimicked. “Eventually we’ll get a place alone, if you want, but I can’t abandon Matt just yet. We signed a one-year lease.”
She laughed. “Way to get ahead of yourself, Roger. I was thinking more along the lines of staying at Christina’s. She and Joe might end up finding a place together anyway, which means I could stay upstairs for good.”
Ryan couldn’t help but smile. For good. He liked the sound of that. “Well, my door’s always open, if you change your mind.”
Annabelle leaned in to kiss him again. “Okay, now that we’ve settled that…can we have make-up sex?”
He laughed too, his heart so full of joy he was scared it would explode. “Definitely.”
“We still have two more items on the list to check off,” she reminded him, arching one brow.
He struggled to remember the elusive two items, then grinned when he did. “Number ten,” he said with a decisive nod. “Let’s start with that one.”