by Taylor Hart
Ryan shrugged away from him. “What do you want me to say?”
“I just want the truth.”
He swallowed. “I don’t have feelings for her.”
Richard swiftly moved back to the door. “Good.”
Ryan followed. “What do you mean?”
He swung the door open and paused. “I find her quite beautiful, and I just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be stepping on your toes.”
It unnerved him that he couldn’t quit watching Richard and Charlotte dancing. It wasn’t enough for Richard to blatantly lavish her with attention all night, but he had to make a huge spectacle of dancing with her.
And Ryan had told her to be civil and behave.
Did she really have to wear that dress? It wrapped around her in all the right places. Her hair was styled back into a French twist. Were the lipstick, earrings, and heels necessary?
To top it all off, did she have to smile and flirt and laugh?
He hadn’t heard that laugh since high school. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t care about the fact that Richard was the one making her laugh that way.
The fact that she didn’t even give Ryan a second look made it smart even more.
That’s why Ryan didn’t feel bad—at all—when Richard’s younger, unmarried sister, Maria, asked him to dance. It didn’t hurt his ego either that Maria flashed him a wide smile that accentuated her perfect teeth. It especially didn’t hurt when she flipped her long, black hair in a way that filled his senses with the smell of cinnamon and the kind of spices that would burn your mouth if you tasted them too quickly.
The music changed and she tightened her grip on his hand. Tango music ensued.
Ryan held her eyes and met her rhythm—tight, precise, and exact. He’d taken classes in high school—because Charlotte had begged him, not because he’d wanted to.
He also didn’t mind seeing Charlotte watch them out of the corner of his eyes. He liked dancing. He appreciated the feel of a beautiful woman in his arms and enjoyed the way he could get lost turning her to the beat.
He thought of the extra dance lessons he’d taken only a few years ago. He hadn’t gone to them on his own. In fact, Alan’s girlfriend, Kerri, had been the one to ask him to take lessons with her. He’d done it at first because Alan had asked him to. Then he’d done it just because he liked to dance.
It had always reminded him of Charlotte. In some small way he’d always imagined himself dancing with her. He imagined she would be proud of him. He led Maria into a complicated series of steps. Luckily, she was definitely up for the increased challenge. She threw her head back and laughed. “You’re better than I’d hoped.”
Ryan spun her out and ruffled the edges of her dress. “I usually am.”
She laughed even more then fell back in step with him.
Ryan finished the song with a tight spin and lift.
When he looked around, the rest of the room had stopped dancing, and everyone was clapping for them.
He gently put Maria back on her feet, and they ceremoniously bowed to the crowd.
Maria took his hand and pulled him away from the rest of the group. “I think we deserve a drink.”
Ryan hated himself for looking at Charlotte, but it didn’t matter because she wasn't even looking his way. She was just swaying to the next song in Richard's arms.
Richard wasn't paying them any attention either. He gently stroked a stray hair out of Charlotte’s face.
Intense irritation coursed through him.
Maria picked up two glasses of something shimmery and bubbly and plunked one into his hand.
Ryan held it, but didn’t drink. It wasn’t that he never drank alcohol, he just didn’t like it when he wasn’t in control, and tonight he had to be in control.
Maria giggled as she picked up another glass. She laced her arm through his and pulled him toward the veranda. “It’s been too long since you’ve visited the manor.” She pushed open a side door and took her purple scarf and spread it across her shoulders. “You looked like you needed a break from the woman who has bewitched my brother.”
Ryan started at the mention of Charlotte, but covered it by pulling the door closed behind them.
Maria gently took the glass in his hand closest to her and quickly downed it. “I knew you wouldn’t talk about it. My brother told me about that woman—the one he feels like he already knows."
A deep surge of anger replaced the irritation. “Did he now?”
Maria put her hand over her mouth. “I don’t think I was supposed to say anything.” She giggled. “But I can’t help myself.”
Ryan watched her closer. She was drunk and getting more drunk by the second. “Why don’t I take you up to your room, Maria.”
She giggled and put a hand to his chest. “You can take me to bed, Ryan. That sounds like the perfect plan.”
Then Ryan knew. He blinked. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t seen it before. But now, with Maria right in front of him and oh so interested in him, the daunting revelation of the truth struck him like a pickaxe on ice. He moved back. “He sent you.”
Maria hiccupped. “Oops.”
The force of this revelation stunned him. He knew Richard was a ladies’ man, but Richard knew how he felt about Charlotte. He had sat in that cave and listened to Ryan tell story after story about her.
Maria’s face slipped into a sad smile. “It’s okay, Ryan. Don’t be mad at him. He says he's dreamed about her for years. At least what he thought she would be like.
Ryan swung back to her. “He told you that?”
Maria lifted a shoulder. “He told me plenty, but I volunteered to be your distraction for the night." A sly grin touched the edges of her lips and vulnerability lit up her eyes. "What do you say?" She stumbled into him.
Ryan braced her, and he saw Maria for what she was—Richard's younger sister. The sister that always wanted men to notice her. The sister Richard had admitted needed constant attention. The sister that desperately missed her parents. The sister that was completely drunk. He lifted her off of her feet and moved toward the stairs. "I think I will take you up to bed."
Chapter 26
Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte noticed Ryan carrying Richard's sister up the stairs. The high-pitched sound of drunken laughter trilled from their direction. Disgust, anger, and jealousy flared inside of her chest like the cracking roar of a fire about to consume a building.
Richard stopped dancing and followed her gaze. His body stiffened.
Charlotte pulled completely out of his arms. The musky smell of his cologne clung to her hair. "I need to get some air."
Richard took her hand. "Yes, some air." He pulled her through the crowd of well-dressed people, young and old, to the wide doors of the large patio. He grinned at his niece as they passed her and her friends all gathered in a group, laughing.
She walked out the door and the fire inside of her cooled with the fall air. It cooled even more when she saw the worry on Richard's face.
Then it took on a different heat, one of self-righteous indignation. What did Ryan think he was doing taking Maria up the stairs like that? She was a mere child compared to him, and it was his friend's sister. Not to mention the fact that they needed Richard's help, and Charlotte had a sneaking suspicion that Richard wouldn't take kindly to Ryan moving in on his sister. “I don’t know what he’s thinking.”
"This is not good." Richard's brow lifted in response, and he rubbed at the edge of his eye. He stood next to the side of the large swimming pool.
Charlotte stepped next to him and continued, "He must not be thinking, I'll go speak to him if you want."
Richard swung to her. "What do you mean by this is not good?”
"I mean Ryan took your sister up the stairs . . ."
Richard frowned and stared back to the pool. "Ryan does not love my sister."
Charlotte let out an exasperated sigh. She didn't have to be the one to explain the “what's not appropriate” theme to Richa
rd. "I know he doesn't love her, but he could still have better manners."
Richard lightly took her hand. He put it between both of his. "You have the same look he had earlier."
These were not the words she'd expected. "What are you talking about?"
He leaned forward and his scent intensified. It had been nice to dance with him the whole night. The conversation had been easy, and the dancing superb. Richard had ended up being more than an attentive host. He'd felt like someone with whom she could easily talk, laugh, and joke.
Richard gently squeezed her hand and his chocolate brown eyes held hers. "You have no idea how beautiful you truly are, Charlotte, inside and out.”
The compliment made the fire inside of her go completely cool.
Richard looked at her lips, and, for an instant, she thought he would lean into her.
He pulled back and let go of her hand. "C'mon, mi amore. I think we better get back to the party before I lose one of the only friends I've ever truly cared about." He put an arm around her shoulders and guided her back to the doors.
She let out a polite laugh. "I don't understand."
Richard opened the door for her. “My friend is a liar.”
Ryan stood next to the stairs.
Their eyes met as soon as she walked in, and Charlotte could swear that the last time she'd seen that kind of anger in his eyes had been the night his father died.
Charlotte turned to Richard. “What?”
His eyes were locked with Ryan’s. He let out a puff of air. He dramatically took Charlotte’s hand and gently kissed the back of it. “I think someone wants to dance with you.”
“No.”
Richard had already lifted his hand to wave down another guest.
She didn’t want to look back at Ryan. She didn’t want to meet the eyes she knew were staring at her. She could feel them. She’d always felt them and had always wanted them on her.
When she looked up, he was already beside her.
In that moment, all her breath left her.
He stood there in his tux, his deep blue eyes darker now, more mysterious. His hair was gelled up in his haphazard way that managed to look both professional and edgy. His face was neutral. He wasn’t laughing at her. He wasn’t angry.
It was just them.
She felt naked—completely bare. She wondered if he was the only person that had ever really known her. But that wasn’t the thing that almost unhinged her. It wasn’t the light rain smell or the way he took a step closer and she could feel his breath against her cheek. No. It was none of that.
It was the fact that he stood there. Seeing her. Knowing her. Staring at her with all the contained intensity and strength and anger that she’d only ever known from him—and she knew.
Somewhere inside of her she’d known she’d always been his. She always would be. Her heart would always be exactly where Ryan Hardman was.
He squeezed her hand. “We’re dancing.”
The next thing she knew, she was dancing, floating, soaring across the floor and the sweet smell of fresh rain moved through her. The rest of the party blurred and faded away.
Only the two of them remained, occupying this one moment.
Their feet moved in perfectly timed rhythm. Ryan moved her into more intricate steps.
Charlotte laughed.
Ryan’s lips slowly lifted into a smile.
Charlotte threw her head back and laughed harder.
Then the strangest thing happened.
He laughed, too. He spun her like he would spin the wheel of a game piece—fast and happy as he waited to see what would happen next. He pulled her back against him and lightly increased the pressure on her lower back.
She felt the gentle puffs of his breath on her face as he expertly maneuvered her around the floor.
“You’ve gotten better.” The intensity of his gaze and tone were a perfect match.
Charlotte focused on the steps as she replied, “No, you’ve gotten better.” He had. Immensely better. She found herself lost in his touch, in his smell, in everything she’d been trying to forget for almost eight years.
Time felt frozen, like somehow none of the bad, ugly, heartbreak between them had ever happened. It was as if this moment could unravel the hurt of the past, could give them a future.
Then the music ended. They were left in a silence brimming with possibility.
They both stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms. Their eyes locked. Their breath mixed.
She felt herself smile, really smile. This could happen. All the years of torture and pain and regrets could be fixed. They could be fixed.
Just when she thought Ryan might smile, might rekindle the tenderness between them that she’d missed for so long, he let her go.
And his face fell into a blank sheet of cold ice.
Chapter 27
Cold, harsh, uncaring. That’s what he was. That’s who he was. He couldn’t forget that. He couldn’t dance with her and gaze into her eyes and smell her. And she did smell good. Too good. Lemony with her kissable red lips and her gold dress and that French twist. He needed her. He wanted her.
But he couldn’t have her. He was no good for her. He shoved his hands into the stiff pockets of his tux.
The weather had turned cloudy and cool. A slight gust of wind rushed through the party.
Ryan looked around and saw Richard’s staff cleaning up and getting everyone to move into another part of the house, away from the half outdoor ballroom.
“Ryan.”
He turned back to her. Her arms were crossed. Her head lifted defiantly. The look in her eyes was the same one he’d seen the day he’d left. “It’s not your job to fix everything.”
Ryan wondered if she knew that, when she thought she was on moral high ground, she always got this look. Like everyone should naturally agree, like everyone else should see the side she was debating.
“Excuse me?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You left because you wanted to fix it. Your dad. Your mom. The accident. You blamed yourself.” She sighed. “You all did, but you and Kent took the blame to the next level.”
This was not where he’d seen this conversation going. At the mention of the accident, his whole body tensed. “Don’t, Charlotte.”
The wind shot around them faster and people hustled toward the doors. He took her by the arm and pulled her with the crowd.
She yanked back. “No, you don’t, Ryan.”
“C’mon, Char, we’ve got to—”
She quit moving. “I told you not to call me that.”
“Charlotte, we’ve got to get inside.”
Her eyes held his, emotion budding. “Why didn’t you come home?”
This. It would always come back to this.
She moved closer and stuck her face into his. “Why didn’t you come home after that mission? You could have come home.”
He wanted to pull her into him and kiss her. Instead, he fixed a glare on his face. “Maybe every woman I loved was gone.”
The defiance in her eyes relented and melted out of her. She suddenly looked lost, out of sorts, vulnerable.
He took her arm and pulled her into the house.
One of the party workers pulled the door shut behind them. Richard’s voice was loud, calm, and soothing. “Everyone, please go into the front drawing rooms. Relax. I’ll have the staff bring some refreshment. I would ask that you not leave the party until the weather ceases.”
Ryan tugged her into the mass of people and found them a small couch. He sat her down and then got a glass of water for her off the tray.
She took a sip, but didn’t look at him. Her face was back to the mask of before. The mask that told him she didn’t know him anymore, and she didn’t trust him. A pang of shame filled him. She didn’t trust any man.
He took a deep breath.
She straightened and blinked. Red crept up her neck. “My mother had an affair.”
The shock of her admission threw him off balance.
He put his hand against the wall. “What?”
Her green eyes dug into the deepest part of him, a part he’d forgotten could be anything except tough and scarred. “She had an affair before I was born, when they’d first gotten married and he was in the military.”
Even though he heard the words she was saying, they weren’t connecting in his brain. Not Sara Talon.
Charlotte touched the edge of her lipstick and gently smudged around her lips. “I didn’t know about this until I married Nathan. Until I’d just had Sam.” Charlotte kept her voice quiet, firm, cold. “I don’t know why my mother chose that time to come clean about it. Not just to me, but to my dad, too. They separated for a time. My mother left for a few months and went to Oregon and stayed with my Aunt Ellen.” She placed her drink on a tray that a waiter brought past. “I was consumed with a new baby, and to say the least, I had my own issues in my marriage.”
Ryan thought of her—newly married to Nathan and dealing with his abusive ways, a new baby, and finding out her parent’s marriage wasn’t everything she’d thought it had been. He took in a slow breath. He wanted to be angry at Sara for having an affair, for betraying who he thought she was. He wanted to be angry for Frank. He’d loved the man like a father. In many ways, he’d loved him more than his own father.
“Why would she come forward then?”
“You know my parents got more serious about church when we were in high school. She told me she finally couldn’t hold it back anymore. She didn’t want to hurt us, but she had to tell the truth.”
Ryan pressed his eyes shut for a moment. “But they stayed married.”
Charlotte’s mask broke and her eyes fluttered. “Yes, they did. That’s when my father had that will written.” A stray tear fell down her cheek.
Ryan gently reached for the tear.
She took his hand, and, just for a moment, Ryan wondered if things could be different with him. Them. The past.
They stared at each other. Nothing between them. Everything between them.
“What happened to you in that cave?”