Off Limits Lovers

by Reese Ryan

  She was prepared to meet with as many as she needed to in order to find the right one. Someone who understood the aesthetic that she and her designer were going for and who didn’t speak to her like she was a confused “little lady” who needed him to ride roughshod over her in order to get the job done.

  She’d promised Mason she would wait until after their honeymoon to begin renovating the properties. Now that the wedding was off, she was eager to dive into her dream venture and document the entire process for her followers on her vlog.

  The first post had gone live earlier that morning and already it had more than a thousand likes and hundreds of comments. Most of them cheered her on. Many commenters shared their own stories of past hardships and talked about how much they would’ve appreciated the kind of service she was going to be offering. Others commended her for her courage in going after her dream, saying she’d inspired them to do the same.

  Annabel couldn’t have been more thrilled.

  An older man driving a late-model truck marked with the name of his construction company pulled up to the building. He stepped out of the truck and smiled at her. His deep brown skin was a perfect contrast to his head full of mostly white curls. He rubbed his whiskered chin before extending a hand to her.

  “You must be Annabel Currin. I’m Davis Lewiston.” He nodded toward a handsome younger man who’d exited the passenger side of the truck. “And this is my grandson, Elliot.”

  She shook both of their hands and led them inside the space, explaining her vision and showing them the designer’s renderings.

  “I love the look you’re going with. Classic art deco with a fresh contemporary twist.” Elliot scrolled through the images on the tablet that she’d handed him. “What a great way to make use of the remaining art deco design features that are still in excellent shape, like that streamlined black mantel and that banister. The design choices you’ve selected will really make those original features pop.”

  Annabel grinned at the approving look on the older man’s face as he listened to his grandson.

  “And what do you think about the design, Mr. Lewiston?” It was a question she’d asked each of the previous contractors.

  “I love the throwback to Old Hollywood.” The older man smiled approvingly. “It’s a great way to preserve a wonderful old building like this and incorporate it into the renaissance of this neighborhood. I’d like to suggest a few tweaks to the space for the vintage consignment shop, if you’re interested.”

  “By all means.” She extended her hand toward the space in question. “Just lead the way.”

  Forty minutes later, Annabel stood in front of the shop, shaking hands with Davis and Elliot Lewiston again. The older man promised to work up an estimate and get it to her within the next few days.

  Barring an exorbitant price tag or some other problem, Annabel intended to hire the Lewistons for the project. They understood what she was trying to achieve and weren’t afraid to offer helpful suggestions. But neither man had been condescending.

  Fairy Godmother was going to be amazing, and she couldn’t wait for the grand opening in a few short months.

  Her phone rang. She pulled it from her back pocket and checked the screen.

  Roarke Perry.

  Annabel grinned as she answered the phone.

  “Annabel Currin’s House of Pies. What can I do for you?”

  Roarke broke into laughter, taking a few moments to collect himself. “You have no idea just how much I needed that laugh.”

  Annabel furrowed her brow. There was something in his voice that tugged at her heart. “Did something happen?”

  “Yes,” Roarke said simply, a heaviness in his tone.

  “With my claim against Mason or your father’s case?”

  “Both. Can we meet this afternoon?”

  “Yes. And I know just the place.”

  * * *

  Roarke slipped into the booth across from Annabel at Farrah’s Coffee Shop and smiled. “You ordered me a slice of pecan fudge pie.”

  “And coffee. I wasn’t exactly sure how you wanted it, so I ordered my favorite Sumatran blend. If you don’t like it, I won’t be insulted. We’ll just order whatever you like. But on the phone earlier, you sounded like a man who needed pie and coffee, if not something a lot stronger.”

  “If only you knew.” He sipped some of the coffee. It was a delicious blend.

  “Then tell me.” She placed her hand over his. “More problems with your father’s fraud case?”

  Roarke stared briefly at her hand on his. He knew he should discreetly pull his hand from beneath hers rather than encouraging physical contact between them. But when her skin touched his, he felt an instant sense of comfort. One he was unwilling to relinquish.

  “Worse. I suspect that he’s just become the chief suspect in a murder case. You probably already know about the body found at the Texas Cattleman’s Club site.”

  “Of course. Everyone in Houston knows about it.”

  “The victim’s identity has been confirmed. His name was Vincent Hamm. He worked for my father at Perry Holdings.”

  “My God, that’s awful.” She pressed her fingertips to her lips and his gaze lingered there a moment, remembering the sweet taste of her mouth and the softness of her full, lush lips. “But why would the police think your father is a suspect?”

  “Someone tried to make it look like Hamm was still alive by sending text messages, supposedly from him, saying that he’d quit and moved to the Caribbean. But someone faked those text messages. In reality, Vincent has been dead the entire time.”

  “It should be easy enough to prove who the killer is, right? Whomever that phone belongs to must be the killer,” Annabel said matter-of-factly.

  A knot tightened in the pit of his stomach. “The phone belongs to my father—indirectly. It was purchased by Perry Holdings some time ago. It once belonged to a former employee. A friend of my father’s who retired more than a year ago. The phone was never turned off. It’s floated around the company since then. And the police found it buried in the back of Hamm’s desk.”

  Annabel squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, Roarke. But I’m sure the police will find the real culprit soon.”

  “I wish I was as confident about that as you are.” He took another sip of his coffee. “How hard will they be looking for the real killer when they seem convinced they’ve already got the right man?”

  He’d like nothing more than to return to his own life and allow HPD to handle the case. But he couldn’t just walk away. Not now.

  “I’m sure Mr. Perry has the best lawyers money can buy,” Annabel said reassuringly.

  “He does.” Roarke nodded. “But I promised Angela I’d stick around and see what I can find out.”

  “You’re staying in Houston?” Annabel asked, as if she was only mildly interested in the answer, but the widening of her eyes and hopefulness in her tone gave her away.

  “I’ll be working from my condo here for the next several weeks.”

  “I didn’t realize you had a place in Houston.”

  “The condo was a present from my father when I graduated from law school. It was his way of trying to guilt me into returning to Houston.” Roarke frowned. Sterling Perry was a master of manipulation.

  “It obviously didn’t work,” Annabel noted. “But since you’re determined to stay in Dallas, why haven’t you sold it?”

  “It’s a great investment.” He shrugged. “The property value keeps rising, and I own it free and clear.”

  “It’s just sitting empty?”

  “No, I rent it out through a management company that specializes in relocating executives. The current tenant just bought a home. She vacated the property on Saturday. A cleaning and maintenance crew has been working on the place for the last couple of days. I’m moving in later tonight. I’ll be there until my
father’s case gets resolved.”

  “What about your law practice in Dallas?” Annabel prodded, her brown eyes studying him.

  “I’ll fly to Dallas as needed, to meet with clients or handle legal work. But I’m not taking on any new cases right now. My assistant, Marietta, is fully capable of handling things at the office and a lawyer friend of mine who handles similar cases agreed to help me out. In return, I’ll refer any new clients to him for the time being.”

  “You’re a good son.” Annabel squeezed his hand again. “Whether he says it or not, I know your father appreciates the sacrifice you’re making for him. He’s lucky to have you.”

  He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

  “You always know just what to say, don’t you?” He regarded her fondly, wishing they’d met under more favorable circumstances.

  “Now, what happened with Mason that you’re trying to avoid telling me?” she asked, breaking the brief silence between them.

  Roarke released her hand and rubbed his jaw. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Maybe not to everyone.” Her faint smile revealed her concern.

  This was one of the reasons he’d chosen not to get involved with a client. He’d been debating how much he should tell Annabel about his encounter with Mason. There was only one reason he was hesitant to tell her the whole unvarnished truth.

  He was completely taken with Annabel, and he didn’t want to hurt her.

  But he was acting as her attorney, so she had the right to know everything he’d learned about Mason Harrison. Despite his overwhelming desire to shield her from the ugly truth.

  “Maybe we should order another round of coffee,” Roarke said. “This one’s on me.”

  “You’re not getting off that easy.” Annabel pushed away the remnants of her pie. “If that harrowed look on your face is any indication, I’m going to want dinner and a damn good bottle of wine.”

  Twelve

  Annabel sat up ramrod straight, her back pressed against the leather booth at Farrah’s. Her back and jaw tensed and her hands, on her lap beneath the table, had involuntarily curled into fists.

  The longer it took Roarke to tell her about Mason, the shallower her breathing became.

  “I hired you because I wanted a lawyer who wouldn’t treat me like a child by filtering the truth,” Annabel said. “Don’t disappoint me, cowboy.”

  “All right.” Roarke rubbed his palms on his pant legs beneath the table. “I wanted to catch Mason off guard, so I went to see him while he was off for lunch.”

  “And?” Her heart beat faster.

  “He wasn’t alone.”

  She understood what he meant. Mason had been with a woman. But they weren’t together anymore. Why should she care whom Mason Harrison was spending his free time with?

  “He’s a single man again. He can do as he pleases.” Still, she couldn’t help being a little angry.

  Roarke lowered his gaze to the table, but she caught the conflicted look in his stormy blue eyes. It was as if he were debating whether to give her the full story.

  “Tell me the rest, Roarke.” It was growing more difficult to retain her I-could-care-less expression. “Please.”

  He tapped the table and nodded, meeting her gaze again. “I’ve spent the last couple of days doing some research on the guy. He didn’t just start seeing the woman I found him with. Nor was she the only woman he’d been seeing while—”

  “While we were engaged.” She finished the sentence that Roarke was finding it so difficult to say. Her throat suddenly felt dry and her eyes burned. She wiped away unexpected tears.

  “I’m sorry, Annabel. I wish it weren’t true, and I would’ve given anything to protect you from this. But you hired me to tell you the truth and you deserve to know.” Roarke’s tone was contrite. As if he was the one to blame instead of Mason.

  This time he reached across the table and took her hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

  “I’m glad you did.” She forced a smile and wiped away more tears. “It helps to know that it wasn’t all in my head, the way he made me believe it was.”

  Roarke nodded. “Assholes like Mason Harrison always try to manipulate women into believing that. Don’t beat yourself up over it, Annabel. This isn’t your fault.”

  “I know.” She nodded. “And I needed to hear this. Any reluctance I might’ve felt about suing him is completely gone. He’s lucky that’s all I’m doing.”

  “Don’t do anything rash.” His brows furrowed. “This jerk isn’t worth it.”

  “If you’re concerned that I’m going to key his Mercedes or set fire to his condo, no need to worry. That isn’t my style.” She forced a smile. “I just meant that I should’ve asked him to completely reimburse me instead of just paying half.”

  A wide smile spread across Roarke’s face. “I thought you might feel that way. So when I learned about his extracurricular activity, I amended the letter I sent to him. I requested full reimbursement of all the lost deposits and other expenses, including the cost of your wedding dress.”

  “You are a mind reader.” Annabel laughed, thinking of their conversation the evening they’d returned from the beach. “I could kiss you, Roarke Perry.” The mood seemed to shift slightly when his eyes met hers. “Again.”

  “So, it appears I owe you dinner,” Roarke said after a few moments of uncomfortable silence between them. “Where’d you like to go?”

  “Your place for takeout.” Her cheeks tightened in response to the widening of his eyes. “But first, there’s something I’d really like to show you.”

  * * *

  They walked the short distance back to Fairy Godmother and Annabel showed Roarke the rough space, along with the initial renderings from the designer.

  Roarke ran his fingertips along the streamlined, black marble mantel. “It’s beautiful and so are these terra-cotta floors.” He stooped down and glided his hand over an area of the floor not covered with cardboard to protect it. Then he rose and studied the nearest wall. “I wouldn’t have thought to keep the glass block walls, but they look amazing in the design.”

  “I knew I wanted to keep them the moment I saw them.” Annabel ran her fingers down the glass blocks with their waves-and-bubbles design.

  When she turned back to Roarke, he stood staring at her, his hands shoved in his pockets.

  “What is it?” She studied his expression.

  “Nothing.” His voice was little more than a whisper. He turned his attention toward the stairs. “I’d love to see the rest. Is it safe for us to go upstairs?”

  “It is. In fact, I have a working space up there. Let me show you.”

  Annabel gave Roarke a tour of the second-floor space that would be turned into private spa rooms. Then at the far end of the hall was the area that would be her office.

  “You’re already set up in here.” He noted the desk and sofa in the room.

  “It’s a vintage dining room table and the legs have this cool stepped geometric design. But I fell in love with it, so I’m using it as a desk,” Annabel said excitedly. “The sofa I had my brother, Xander, bring here. It was in the barn at our ranch. It’ll do for now. This space doesn’t really require any major renovations. Just paint and maybe a refresh of the flooring. But we’ll worry about that later.”

  “Sensible.” He nodded, looking around the office. “Have you settled on a contractor for the project?”

  “Officially? No. But I’m pretty sure I’ll be going with the gentleman I met earlier today. He and his grandson have a small company. But I’ve seen his past work and there was something about them both I really liked.”

  “I’d be happy to review the contracts before you sign them.”

  “I’d appreciate that, Roarke.” She stepped closer to him. “Thank you.”

  Roarke didn’t move away fr
om her or toward her, and his gaze didn’t leave her face. She was sure there was something he wanted to say.

  She took another step forward and pressed her hands to his chest, then rose onto her toes.

  Roarke slipped his hands around her waist and closed the distance between them. There was a delicious hunger in his kiss that made her entire body ache with desire for him.

  Ever since they’d parted ways upon their return from his place at the beach, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him.

  No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t forget his kiss. Couldn’t stop replaying the moments they’d shared. Couldn’t stop wanting him.

  Roarke kissed her harder, his mouth sliding against hers as his palms glided down over her bottom, pulling her against the ridge beneath his zipper.

  She gasped at the sensation and Roarke took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside her mouth as he deepened their kiss.

  The space between her thighs throbbed and her nipples ached. Annabel honestly couldn’t remember ever wanting someone as much as she wanted Roarke Perry.

  Annabel pulled away from him, taking a few steps backward until the back of her calves hit the sofa. She pulled her tank top over her head and tossed it aside.

  Roarke stared at her, his chest heaving as he loosened his tie and stepped toward her until her body was pinned between his and the sofa.

  Annabel looped her arms around his neck, pulling his face toward hers. She kissed the edge of his mouth and whispered in his ear. “I want you, Roarke.”

  He breathed heavily as his hands glided up her side and grazed her sensitive nipples with his thumbs through the sheer fabric of her black tulle and lace Agent Provocateur bra.

  His only response was a bruising openmouthed kiss as his large hands moved to cup either side of her face.

  Then his hands slid down to her back where he fumbled with the hooks of her bra, till the sound of a door slamming downstairs halted them.