by Reese Ryan
Roarke froze, startled by her sudden action.
Annabel laughed. “I can’t figure out if the kiss was that bad or that good.”
“It was good. Definitely...good.” Roarke cleared his throat. He took a healthy sip of his drink. “But the other day, I’m pretty sure you were engaged, Lemon Icebox Pie.”
“You’re quite observant, Two Pies.” Something about Annabel’s mischievous smile warmed his chest. “You’re quite correct. Were being the operative word. The chauvinist formerly known as my fiancé called off the wedding.”
“If you don’t mind my saying so, Thank-God-You’re-Not-My-Sister, you seem to be taking the breakup remarkably well.”
“I’m mature that way.” Her brown eyes sparkled and she barely restrained a laugh. “That and, if I’m being honest, there was a part of me that had slowly begun to realize that I wasn’t happy in the relationship.”
“When was the wedding scheduled?”
“A few weeks from today.” All of the lightness and joviality faded. A flash of anger passed over her face.
“Well, I’m sorry. All jokes aside, I can only imagine how distressing that must be.”
She smiled at him sweetly. “Thank you, Roarke.”
There was something so enticing about hearing her utter his given name in that soft sweet voice. It made him imagine what it would be like to hear her say it again as he hovered over her.
Roarke shut his eyes briefly and tried to scrub the sound and image from his mind.
He was only in Houston for one more day, then he’d be off to Dallas again. Besides, the object of his infatuation was Ryder Currin’s daughter.
Could he possibly make his life any more complicated?
He’d lived his life in a comfortable realm that existed on the corner of sarcastic and serious. He didn’t have room in his life for gorgeous women who looked like Greek goddesses, tossed around smart-ass nicknames and randomly kissed strangers.
Besides, Sterling seemed to honestly respect his accomplishment in getting him released on house arrest. And how hard he was working to clear his name. Getting involved with his arch enemy’s daughter certainly wouldn’t score him any brownie points with the old man.
“Well, it was nice to officially meet you, Annabel.” He set his half-finished drink on the bar and wiped a hand on his tuxedo pant leg. “But I’d better check in with Angela and make sure everything is good.”
“Of course.” Annabel’s tongue glided over her full lower lip. She raked her manicured fingernails through the loosened, wavy ends of her hair, tugging it over one shoulder. “Save me a dance later?”
“I look forward to it.” Roarke turned and made his way back to the main ballroom and the table where they were seated.
He’d done the right thing walking away. Though what he’d really wanted to do was lean in and steal an unexpected kiss from her this time.
She was young. At least five years his junior. Fresh-faced and idealistic. She’d just broken up with her fiancé. His father hated hers. And he lived in Dallas while she lived in Houston.
He’d made the right decision to turn tail and run.
So why did every step he took away from Annabel Currin feel like he was walking away from the sunshine and into the cold dead of night?
* * *
Annabel couldn’t believe that the hot dude who had been behind them in the line at Farrah’s was Roarke Perry.
During her conversation with her father earlier that week, the name had been vaguely familiar. But she’d had no idea of what a handsome man Sterling Perry’s son had become.
She hadn’t been blind to the man’s good looks when they’d crossed paths at Farrah’s. But she and Mason had just called the wedding off. She hadn’t even taken her ring off yet. So how incredibly handsome he’d been was merely an observation. But standing there at the bar with him, she couldn’t help being drawn in by his charm.
Roarke looked striking in his tuxedo and he smelled divine. So good that she’d wanted to press her nose to his neck and take a whiff of his woodsy, masculine scent.
Even now, she wasn’t sure what had possessed her to kiss him.
It was innocent enough, as kisses went. Still, it had sent a shiver down her spine, making her want another and another.
Annabel glanced over at the table where Roarke sat with his sister. After the paternity test, her father hadn’t been up to seeing Angela again yet. And Annabel didn’t want to push him.
He and Angela were right for each other, she was sure of it. But each of them needed to reach that conclusion on their own.
Her phone buzzed in her clutch and she checked the caller ID.
Mason.
Mason Harrison was the last person in the world she wanted to speak to. She sent the call to voice mail, then tossed the phone back in her bag.
It rang twice more, so finally she answered it.
“You’re screening my calls.” Mason’s words were clipped. His voice vibrated with annoyance, much as it had the day she’d taken him to Fairy Godmother.
“I’d say that’s standard ex-fiancée behavior. Wouldn’t you?”
“Is it also standard to send your ex an itemized bill?”
A wide smile spread across her face. It almost made her wish she’d been standing in the room with him when he’d opened the invoice.
“When you suddenly call off an engagement less than sixty days before the wedding because of your archaic, misogynistic notions about marriage rather than making a compromise...yes. It certainly should be. Why should I be stuck with all of these expenses when it was you who changed your mind?”
“I’m not paying for the stuff on this list, Annabel. Not any of it. And I have no intention of compromising on that, either.”
Mason ended the call and she was glad. Less than five minutes on the phone with him and she was tense and anxious.
She would never admit it to him, but she should thank Mason Harrison for saving her from certain misery.
Annabel set her empty martini glass on the bar and moved toward the ballroom, mingling with the crowd. She’d wanted to delay the inevitable questions about the canceling of her engagement, but in their circles, news traveled quickly. Bad news, especially.
She put on her biggest smile, tipped her chin and made her way directly toward dear sweet, kindhearted, generous-to-a-fault Lavinia Cardwell. The gossip queen among Houston’s filthy rich and influential set.
Why spend her night retelling the story of her and Mason’s breakup when she could just tell Lavinia and watch her work her magic instead?
Besides, with the heat of Roarke’s stare warming her skin, she could think of much better ways to spend the evening.
* * *
Roarke listened politely to the conversation around him, nodding when appropriate. But his mind kept drifting to the stunning beauty in the slate blue dress who moved about the room. She was all easiness and smiles. Giving no indication that she’d been unceremoniously dumped not too long ago.
And though he’d tried his best to be subtle as he’d sought a glimpse of her now and again, it seemed that she caught him staring nearly every time.
“You’re quite taken with Annabel Currin,” Angela whispered as she gently elbowed him below the table. “Not that I blame you. She’s a very pretty girl. And there’s something about her that makes her ridiculously charming. I never understood what she saw in the snobby exec that works for her father.”
“Her ex works for Currin Oil?” He raised a brow as he turned to face his sister. “Breaking the heart of the boss’s little girl seems like a bad career move.”
“Especially one rumored to have his sights set on being CEO of the company one day. If you ask me, marrying the boss’s daughter was his way of ensuring that it happened.”
“The guy sounds like a real gem.” Roarke gritted his teeth.
“Looks like he did Annabel a favor by backing out of the wedding.”
“Some would agree.” Angela glanced over at Annabel, who seemed to be reassuring some overly concerned older woman that she was just fine. “Myself included.”
“If the guy is so awful, why’d she agree to marry him in the first place?”
“Because he’s all charm and polish on the outside. You don’t taste the worm and rot until you’ve taken a healthy bite of the apple.” Angela opened her purse and took a peek into her compact. She looked up from her reflection and regarded his slack-jawed expression. “Don’t look so surprised, little brother. I’ve known guys like that. In fact, I’ve dated more than a few. And in some ways—”
“You could just as easily be describing our father,” he muttered.
Sterling Perry was all flash and no substance. Their mother had married him because of that charm and a desire to please her father, who’d considered them a good match. She’d remained in their unhappy marriage for the sake of her children.
Roarke was glad Annabel hadn’t met a similar fate. Though the spirited young woman he’d sparred with tonight certainly didn’t strike him as someone who would suffer in silence in a miserable marriage.
Perhaps her ex had come to realize that, too.
His gaze drifted toward Annabel again. Despite knowing all of the reasons he should be content to admire her from a distance, Roarke eagerly anticipated his next encounter with Annabel Currin.
Five
With the business of the event completed, the band had started to play. The dance floor had been crowded ever since.
Roarke had danced with several of the widowed women there, at their behest. Finally, his sister had cut in before Lavinia could ask him to dance a third time.
“Thanks for the rescue, sis.” He sighed in relief.
“It looks like Annabel needs rescuing, too.” Angela nodded toward his new lemon icebox pie–loving friend.
She was surrounded by a few women plying her with questions. Annabel looked like she was plotting her escape.
“Why do you seem insistent on seeing me with Annabel Currin?” he asked.
“You two have been making eyes at each other all night. I’m just calling balls and strikes here, little brother. Besides, maybe I don’t want to be the only Perry accused of consorting with the enemy.”
“Don’t worry, Ang. You could give birth to a baseball team of little Currins and Sterling would still be disappointed in me.” He laughed bitterly, ignoring the twisting in his gut at the truth of those words.
“Roarke, why don’t you show Dad the paternity test? Put any crazy notions of you being Ryder’s son to bed once and for all?”
He shrugged. “Won’t change the past twenty-eight years, will it, Ang?”
His sister sighed heavily. The pain she felt for him was visible in her blue eyes. “Dad is seventy, Roarke. Maybe he’ll outlive us all. But that doesn’t mean you two have to spend the next twenty-eight years as mortal enemies. Besides, once he’s gone—”
“I’ll think about it, Ang. That’s all I’m promising.”
“And that’s all I ask. Now, it’s been a long day, and I’m a bit tired. I’m going to take a car service home.”
“No need. I plan to spend the night at my beach house in Galveston. I just want to make sure everything’s okay. I’m as ready to get out of here as you are.”
“So, Two Pies, does that mean you’re not a man of your word? After all, you did promise me a dance.”
Roarke turned his head at the sound of Annabel’s voice. She beamed at him, her brown eyes twinkling.
“You could’ve told me she was coming this way,” he whispered in his sister’s ear.
She laughed and kissed his cheek. “Good night, little brother. Enjoy your night at the beach.”
Roarke ignored his sister’s teasing tone. He turned toward Annabel instead and extended his open palm.
She placed her delicate hand in his much larger one and stepped closer.
He pressed his hand to the small of her back. His thumb grazed the soft bare skin, exposed by the low cut of the dress.
“So Lemon Ice... You don’t mind if I call you that for short, do you?” He held back a smirk.
“Now, that’s a good rapper name.” She laughed. “I don’t mind at all. Or, if you don’t mind being completely pedestrian, we could simply use each other’s given names. After all, our parents probably put a lot of thought into them.”
“Fair enough, Annabel,” he said as they swayed together on the dance floor. “So, tell me about yourself.”
“You already know I’m a Currin. I’m the middle child, the official family peacekeeper and a rebel with a cause. I’m twenty-three, a fashion vlogger and newly single.”
“You don’t work for your father at Currin Oil?”
“I appreciate Currin Oil and the great privilege it’s afforded our family. But it isn’t where my passions lie. Thankfully, my father hasn’t pressured me to join the business the way he once pressed my older brother.”
“Xander, right?” Roarke vaguely remembered her older brother. He was just a few years behind him in age.
“Yes. My dad had hoped Xander would take over Currin Oil someday. Secretly, he probably still does. But my brother is much happier running the ranch. And he’s amazing at it. So I don’t see that changing anytime soon. And what about you? You don’t work for your father, either.”
“Been asking about me?”
“Didn’t need to. Your sister is pretty proud of you. Angela has been bragging about her little brother, the attorney. A crusader for underdogs everywhere.”
“Angela said that?” Roarke was genuinely surprised. Most of his discussions with Angela about his career consisted of her trying to persuade him to return to Houston and work for Perry Holdings. “Well, it’s nice that someone in my family respects the work I do.”
“I understand how you feel.” She regarded him with a frown and pain in her eyes. “My father doesn’t press me to join Currin Oil. But he doesn’t consider the work I do to be a real job, either.” She lowered her gaze. “They think it’s just a way for me to score free clothes and the occasional trip.”
Roarke could feel the tension in her back beneath his fingertips. He whispered in her ear, “Breathe, Annabel. Just breathe. You can’t allow other people’s expectations to dictate what you do with your life or your self-worth.” He held her a bit closer. “It’s rule number one in the rebel’s handbook.”
Annabel released a noisy sigh and nodded. “You’re right. Sometimes I forget.”
The song ended and they both stood in silence momentarily.
“Thank you for the dance,” she said finally.
“My pleasure.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
Annabel was gorgeous and sweet. But he wasn’t in the market for a long-distance relationship. And any attachment they formed would be an added source of contention between their fathers.
Besides, she wasn’t ready for another relationship. She was barely out of her hastily called-off engagement.
But her unexpected kiss had been nice. He’d been thinking of it all evening. And about the possibility of kissing her again.
The opening chords of a popular, up-tempo song started suddenly.
Roarke didn’t dance.
Swaying to a few slow songs, he could handle. Anything beyond that tapped into a gene he apparently hadn’t been given.
He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Good night, Annabel.”
Roarke turned to leave, but her teasing voice halted him.
“Two Pies,” she called loudly enough that a few people on the dance floor chuckled.
“Yeah?” He turned around.
“I need some advice about a legal case I’m considering. Could we make an appointment to talk business?” The t
easing was gone from her voice.
“You’re serious?”
“Very.”
“Ryder Currin must have a stable of local lawyers you could consult. Lawyers much better than me.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “But I’d like to work with someone I can trust, and I trust you.”
“Why?” Roarke lightly gripped her elbow and guided her off the floor before the drunken partygoer attempting to do the running man crashed into them. “You don’t even know me.”
“You’re using your expensive law degree to defend people who have nothing rather than sitting on the top floor of your father’s offices and collecting a healthy salary for doing far less.” Her signature confidence had returned. “And I want to deal with someone I know will respect what I do and take me seriously. Not treat me like a petulant child who’s wasting their precious time.”
“As soon as I leave here, I’m headed to my beach house in Galveston to check on the place.” Roarke scrubbed a hand down the side of his face. “Then I’m scheduled to return to Dallas tomorrow evening. Besides, I’m handling a few other cases right now.”
“Angela says that you count on a percentage of cases with more affluent clients to balance out your work with clients who can’t afford to pay your fee.” Annabel raked her fingers through her hair, tugging it over her right shoulder again. “If you agree to represent me, I’ll write you a retainer check right now.”
Paying clients were always a good thing.
But his practice was in good shape. He didn’t need Annabel Currin’s money.
Still, he was intrigued. Why did she need a lawyer?
“I’m not a criminal attorney. I specialize in civil law. Are you contemplating a civil lawsuit?”
“Yes.” Her eyes flashed with fire and her gaze narrowed. “I intend to sue my former fiancé.”
* * *
Roarke narrowed his gaze, his brow furrowed. But he didn’t laugh or give her the dismissive, incredulous look she feared.