by Reese Ryan
“Thank you for hearing me out and for being so compassionate.” Annabel shifted on the leather seat. “That’s exactly why I want you to represent me rather than one of my father’s lawyers.”
Roarke tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel as he considered the logistics of taking on Annabel’s case. Finally, he nodded. “Okay.”
“You’ll represent me in the case?” Excitement bubbled beneath her tentative question.
“Yes, but the moment I sense that you’re in this purely for revenge—”
“You won’t, because I’m not. I promise.” Annabel laid a warm hand on his forearm. A jolt of electricity traveled the length of his arm and shot down his spine.
He couldn’t help being attracted to this woman, long before she’d leaned in and kissed him earlier that evening.
Roarke was intrigued by and insanely attracted to Annabel Currin. Maybe the pull was so strong because she was off-limits.
She was too young for him, from the wrong family and lived in the wrong city. He was the wrong man for her and the circumstances just weren’t right.
And now she was a client.
“Thank you for doing this, Roarke.”
“You’re welcome,” he said matter-of-factly. “Any particular reason you waited until we were practically at the beach to talk shop?”
“It significantly decreased the likelihood that you’d turn around and head back to Houston.” Annabel smiled slyly. “And that would’ve been a shame. Getting to know you has been a happy distraction for me. And with everything going on with your father, perhaps you could use a happy distraction, too.”
So that was the extent of her interest in him. He was a distraction from her problems. Not serious relationship material.
He was glad to hear it, of course. Because he wasn’t interested in a relationship, either. Still, his pride was a bit bruised.
“I hope you didn’t take that as an insult,” she interjected when he hadn’t replied. “What I’m trying to say, perhaps a bit awkwardly, is that I like spending time with you.”
He couldn’t deny that he enjoyed spending time with her, too. But he wouldn’t give her the impression that they’d be anything more than lawyer and client.
“That brings up a discussion we need to have. If we’re going to enter into a lawyer–client agreement... Well, that should be the limit of our relationship.”
“Is that your way of letting me down easy, counselor?” Annabel rummaged in her purse for something. But then she changed the subject before he had a chance to respond. “Got any plans while you’re here?”
“Whenever I come here, the first thing I do is go for a walk on the beach. Regardless of whether it’s early in the morning or late at night.”
“I love walking the beach at night. Mind if I join you?” She reapplied her lip gloss. Something that smelled sweet and made her lips shine.
He involuntarily licked his bottom lip, recalling how sweet her lips had tasted when she’d pressed them to his. He’d just insisted that they keep their relationship professional. Yet, all he could think of was how much he wanted to taste those soft, sweet lips again.
“If you’d like.” He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter one way or the other.
“Perfect.” Annabel gave him a knowing glance. As if she could look straight through him and read his every intention and desire where she was concerned. “I look forward to hearing more about your work and why you chose to do what you do.”
“You asked me about that already.”
“What you told me was why you didn’t want to work for your father. I get that you want to be proud of the work you do. But there were dozens of directions in which you could’ve gone. Many of which are more lucrative.” She checked her phone, then dropped it back in her bag. “So why did you choose to become a crusader for the underdog?”
“I grew up idolizing cowboys and superheroes. But I don’t look very good in chaps or tights.” He grinned. “This was the only other viable option.”
She broke into the most melodious, genuine, contagious laughter. Annabel laughed so long and so hard that he couldn’t help laughing, too.
“First,” she finally managed, wiping tears from her eyes, “I’d like to see you in chaps and a pair of tights, so I can decide for myself whether or not you look good in them. Something tells me you’re a harsher critic of yourself than any woman with a working pair of eyeballs would be.”
“Thank you, I think.” He smiled.
“Secondly, that’s a cute answer and all, but I’ll bet the real answer is a far more serious one. I gave away my first Fairy Godmother makeover when I saw a story about a woman who’d lost everything and was living on the street with her kids because of her late husband’s medical bills. There was a big fund-raiser for her and she said she was excited, but nervous to return to the corporate world. I wanted to do something, anything, to help reestablish her confidence. She was my first Fairy Godmother client.”
“That’s a beautiful story, Annabel.”
She was so much more than what she seemed on the surface. Roarke was beginning to understand why a man as obsessed with appearances as her fiancé seemed to be would be intimidated by a woman like Annabel. She was as sweet as she was persistent. Adorably optimistic, but also staunchly undeterred when she believed she was justified.
He couldn’t help thinking of his own mother. What would she think of her old friend’s daughter?
“We’re here.” Roarke pulled into the carport of the beach house on stilts that he’d purchased as an investment property. It had direct access to the beach, just over the dunes.
“This is such a cute little place. Do you come here often?” Annabel stepped out of the vehicle with her clutch in hand. She gathered the bottom of her dress in her other hand to keep it off the ground.
“Not nearly as often as I’d like,” he admitted. “I bought it as an investment property, but I also hoped that having a place just a few hours away would force me to take some time off and relax a weekend or two each month. But I don’t think I’ve been here since soon after I bought the place a year or so ago.”
“So you’re a workaholic, then?” She stood beside the trunk while he got out both their overnight bags, hitching one on each shoulder.
“I prefer to think of it as dedicated to my work.” He shut the trunk and made his way up the lengthy staircase to the entrance of the home.
He entered the code into a little lockbox, retrieved the keys and opened the door.
The place smelled inviting, like lemon-scented cleaner and fresh laundry. He turned on the light and set both of their bags down on the floor as he surveyed the space.
The lower level was a large open floor plan with a living room and kitchen open to a wall of windows, which provided spectacular light during the day. Right outside the windows, facing the beach, was the deck. There was even a workspace on the lower level, though he’d never used it.
“I love it, Roarke. It’s cozy but incredibly cute,” Annabel said as she walked through the space.
He led her upstairs and placed her bags in the private bedroom. On the other side of a full bathroom was a loft bedroom with another desk workspace.
“You can take the bedroom.” Roarke dragged his fingers through his hair and tried to shake the image from his brain of Annabel waking up in bed with her wavy hair spread out over the pillow and her skin glowing. “I’ll take the loft.”
“Thank you, Roarke.” She leaned in and placed a soft kiss to his cheek, one hand pressed to his chest. “Let me know when you’re ready for that walk.”
He sank against the wall and released a sigh once the door clicked behind her.
Annabel Currin seemed determined to push his fraying willpower to its very limits.
Eight
Ryder turned off the television and picked up his cell phone. For th
e past few days, he’d been checking his phone in hopes of receiving a message from Angela. Despite the fact that he’d been the one who declared that they should take a break.
Angela was a proud woman. She was a Perry, for God’s sake. Still, there was a part of him that needed to know she missed him as much as he missed her.
There was a text message from Annabel reminding him she wouldn’t be home tonight. But since she failed to mention the Marriott hotel, he was fairly certain she’d altered her overnight plans in some way.
He’d been forced to learn the fine art of reading between the lines of Annabel’s text messages in the years following her mother’s death. She was now twenty-three years old. Yet, he still worried about her. And he couldn’t help wondering where his daughter was spending the night at a time when she must still be feeling heartbroken and vulnerable.
In response to his directly worded text, asking where she was, he received a second message from Annabel.
Don’t worry, Dad. I’m at the beach with a friend. Frankie knows exactly where I am. I’m fine. I promise. Love you!
Ryder shook his head and chuckled. Annabel was going to be the death of him. She had a flair for the unexpected.
He wasn’t thrilled to hear that she’d purchased a couple of run-down old buildings and had started a business without consulting him. But he admired her gumption. If anyone could make a successful business out of something as nonsensical as playing fairy godmother and doing some makeovers, it was his middle child.
Ryder gripped the phone rather than returning it to the table. He took a deep breath, then dialed Angela’s number.
The phone rang several times. He wondered if she was still at the gala. The one they had planned to attend together as a proper date. He was about to end the call when suddenly her sweet voice came through the line, hesitant and tentative.
“Ryder, I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight.”
He hadn’t expected to call. But the need to hear her voice and to know that she was okay had been too strong.
“I know,” he said quietly. “I just... Well, I really needed to hear your voice is all.” He cleared his throat to fill the silence that stretched between them. “So how was the gala?”
“Good. The usual, I guess. You know how these things go.”
“I do.” His mind reached for something else to say to keep her on the line. “By the way, I thought you should know I told Annabel and Xander about the rumors and the paternity test. I didn’t want them to be blindsided.”
“I wish my father had had the insight to do the same. Then I wouldn’t have reacted so poorly when I first heard them from Lavinia.” She sighed. “And I did react poorly. I stormed into your house, accusing you of God knows what, barely giving you a chance to talk. I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve known that you weren’t that kind of man. And that, despite their disagreements, my mother would never have passed off another man’s child as my father’s. I wasn’t fair to you or my mother’s memory, and I’m sorry. I only hope that one day you can forgive me for that. Or at least understand how devastating the prospect of it being true was to me.”
“I do,” he said quickly. Before she could hang up the phone.
“You forgive me, or you understand why I completely lost it over the possibility of you being my brother’s father?”
“Both.” He sighed.
“Does that mean...”
“I don’t know what it means yet. Other than the fact that I’ve been missing you every moment that we’ve been separated.”
The line was silent for a moment. Finally, Angela responded, “Me, too.”
“Well, that’s mighty good to hear.” His heart danced in his chest. They’d hit a snag in their relationship, but he couldn’t deny his feelings for her.
Falling for someone who wasn’t the daughter of his sworn enemy would’ve surely made his life much simpler. But Angela was the first woman, since he’d lost Elinah, who’d made him want to open his heart again and explore the possibility of love.
“I realize that it’s late,” Angela said. “But if you wanted to come over, I could show you just how sorry I am that I ever doubted you.”
Ryder chuckled. “Darling, I’ll be there before you know it.”
He grabbed his keys and left a note on the counter for Annabel.
* * *
Annabel stared out at the dark water and enjoyed the cool salty sea breeze as she stood on the beach in her bare feet beside Roarke Perry.
She’d traded her elegant gown for a pair of cutoff jeans and a tank top. He was wearing an old T-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans. His dark blond hair rustled in the breeze.
He seemed at peace in a way she hadn’t seen him before. Because there was always something about him that made it seem as if the entire world were weighing on his shoulders. A hazard, she imagined, of being raised by a man who believed he’d been fathered by the man he hated more than any other.
Yet, despite the world-weariness that hung about his shoulders, there was something about Roarke that had captured her attention the moment she’d laid eyes on him at the coffee shop. She’d dismissed it because the break of her engagement to Mason had been so new. And she’d only broken the news of its dissolution to her friend Frankie just minutes before. But when she’d encountered him again at the gala just a few days later, she’d been even more sure there was something special about him. Something that made her determined to get to know him. Despite his last name and the false rumors regarding her father.
Rumors that had easily been disproven.
“I see why you chose this house. This spot on the beach is a slice of heaven.” She slipped her hand in his.
He seemed startled initially, but he tightened his grip on her hand and shoved the other in his pocket. “You’re right. The house is nice enough, and I can always upgrade the finishes later, if I’d like. But this view and this peaceful little spot... I fell in love with it right away.”
“I can’t believe you don’t spend more time here. You have not one, but two workspaces inside. It’s the perfect spot for a working vacation.”
“That’s the lie I told myself when I bought the place.” He chuckled. “Maybe eventually, I will come out here on weekends. That way, even if I’m working, at least I’ll have a beautiful view.”
“You should.” They walked for a while in silence until she shoved him with her shoulder. “You know all about me and my horrible relationship choices. What about you?”
“Not much to tell.” He turned and walked back in the direction of the house, still holding her hand. “I’m not involved with anyone and I haven’t been in some time.”
“You’re easy on the eyes, you have the right job title and you’re from a prestigious family. So there’s no shortage of women after you.” It wasn’t a question and he didn’t object. “So why is it that you’ve chosen not to get involved with anyone?”
“Wouldn’t be fair when I’m pretty much married to my work.” He shrugged.
“You mean you have yet to meet a woman whom you find more compelling than your work.”
“Do you always just cut to the chase and say exactly what you’re thinking, Annabel Currin?” He stopped and turned to her, studying her expression in the moonlight.
“I find it best, whenever possible.” She grinned. “Saves time and aggravation. If you don’t count the fact that people are sometimes aggravated by my stating the truth plainly.”
“There is that.” He chuckled. “The truth sometimes hurts.”
He turned and started to walk again, her hand still firmly in his as they cut through the dunes and approached the house.
“It does,” she said quietly, the humor suddenly gone from her voice.
If she’d been as honest with herself as she was with everyone else, she would’ve realized things would never have worked out bet
ween her and Mason.
“Hey.” Roarke stopped at the bottom of the staircase and squeezed her hand. His warm gaze met hers. “Everything okay, beautiful?”
Annabel lowered her gaze, her cheeks warm. Butterflies flitted in her belly.
There was something about Roarke Perry that was so damn appealing. His warm honeyed voice and the genuine concern in his blue eyes wrapped her in a sense of deep comfort. The kind Mason had never made her feel.
“I’m fine. I...” She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his mouth. Couldn’t stop thinking of how his lips had felt against hers for even the briefest moment when she’d kissed him earlier that night.
She tugged her lower lip between her teeth and tried to control the shallow little breaths that made her chest rise and fall rapidly.
Roarke tilted his head and closed the space between them, pressing his mouth to hers in a tentative kiss that sent a shiver down her spine and caused a slow burn low in her belly.
Roarke slipped his arms around her waist and tugged her closer, till their bodies were flush.
She gripped the fabric of his shirt and tilted her head, her lips parting to meet his. Annabel sighed softly as he slid his firm tongue between her lips, gliding it along hers as he deepened their kiss.
Her nipples pricked and liquid pooled between her thighs, her desire for him growing. Like a tiny flame fanned into a raging, out-of-control fire.
Suddenly, the sound of voices and laughter approaching from down the beach pulled them both out of the daze they’d fallen under. He pulled his mouth from hers, both of them still breathing heavily.
“Annabel, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Maybe we should go inside.” Annabel trotted up the long, wooden staircase and waited for him to open the door.
She didn’t want to hear Roarke’s apology. He’d just given her the most amazing kiss. The last thing she wanted to hear was that he believed it was a mistake, when what she wanted was more.
More of his kiss. More of his touch. To spend the night in the comfort of his strong arms.