Something swelled deep inside her. Strained against the confines she’d thought to impose—thought would keep her safe. And pushed words she couldn’t say—didn’t want to acknowledge—toward her lips.
I love you.
She tamped them back, relegating them to the dark corners of her mind. The places where threadbare hopes and tattered dreams cluttered the background of her consciousness with all that might have been. Swing sets, family dinners and lives that grew together rather than apart.
Things she couldn’t have and knew better than to want.
The heat of Ryan’s hand covered her own and she jerked back to sever the connection. But he held her steady, pressed her palm into the place where she’d let it rest.
“Stay. Lie down with me again. This is too perfect to give up just yet.”
Claire nodded. It was too perfect to give up just yet. Even if it was just the fantasy that Ryan meant them, rather than a few last minutes beneath the warm sun.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CLAIRE’S disposition had been foul to begin with. They’d had to cancel her flight out west the previous weekend due to some crisis with a deal Ryan had been working and they’d yet to sync their schedules for another time.
And then this disaster at the gallery.
Sally had called before eight in a panic with the news that somehow the next two weeks of Claire’s calendar had been lost to the void of cyberspace. She’d spent the day playing catch-up, making apologies and bumbling appointments she would normally have been fully prepared for. Eleven hours later, she’d been ready to drop. Both mentally and physically exhausted. Frustrated to be so out of control.
And then Aaron showed up. His usual affable self, brightening her day with quirky anecdotes and tickets for a show they’d agreed to see months ago. Another misplaced appointment—but this one she could easily accommodate. Aaron Kinner was a client she’d enjoyed a limited social relationship with over the years thanks to their shared taste in theater, art and music. They connected every few months when he was in town, taking in a show or exhibit, always something casual. Always fun.
As burnt as she’d been, she couldn’t turn him down.
They’d discussed the production over a late dinner and laughed their way through coffee and dessert. The evening turned out to be enjoyable and nearly distracting enough to keep Claire’s mind off Ryan, the fact that she wasn’t with him, and just how badly she wished she were.
Nearly.
“You seem different tonight,” Aaron offered with a sidelong glance as they waited for the light to cross.
The New York spring day had been warm, but with the sun long ago set, the temperature had once again dropped. And even bundled in wool, Claire shivered, rubbing her hands over her arms. “Different?”
“Yeah, but don’t get that wrinkled-little-brow thing going.” The light changed and Aaron’s hand moved lightly to the small of her back as they crossed the intersection. “Different good.”
She didn’t quite know what to make of that. She certainly felt different. Things had been changing within her since that first night with Ryan. But she hadn’t expected anyone to see it beyond herself.
“Like your smile’s running a little deeper.” He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his trench-coat pockets. “I like it.”
They slowed at the walk to Claire’s apartment and she turned toward Aaron, extending her hand for the friendly shake they’d always exchanged. Only this time when Aaron took it, he didn’t let go, but rather turned her hand in his as though examining it, while waffling his head in a show of indecision.
Claire began to laugh, wondering what he was up to. But when his eyes met hers, her stomach dropped with the realization he wasn’t playing a game.
“I like it a lot, Claire.”
Before she could formulate a protest, he’d ducked down, catching her mouth with his kiss as he locked one arm across the small of her back.
Three things struck her in short order. The first, she should have seen this coming. If her attention hadn’t been split between where she was and where she’d wanted to be—in Ryan’s arms—she might have noticed a shift in Aaron’s behavior. The second, an almost clinical observation that, while Aaron was undoubtedly an attractive man, the cool press of his lips left her utterly unaffected. The only response stirred, the increasing need to end contact. And third, they weren’t alone.
A voice broke through the night around them.
“Claire.” One word, barely restrained, threatening to her on every level.
She froze in her spot, stalling even her efforts to break away. But her name must have been enough to catch Aaron’s attention because as quickly as he’d caught her, he set her back with a chuckled whisper about being busted.
The man had no idea.
“Ryan.” Crazy elation whipped through her at the knowledge he was there, then landed with a crack of horror. He’d just watched another man kiss her, pull her flush against his body as though he owned her. And she hadn’t even managed a single no before he’d interrupted them.
Her lips felt numb, her throat dry as she turned.
Ryan stood a few paces off, his flat eyes and deceptively casual stance betrayed only by the ticking muscle in his jaw.
She wanted to rush to his side and throw her arms around his neck. Tell him that kiss had been nothing but the misunderstanding of a friend, but she couldn’t move. Aaron needed to understand there would be nothing between them, but here in front of Ryan wasn’t the time to make that clarification.
Only with both men standing before her, one staring at her expectantly, the other… Well, she didn’t quite know what to make of the look on Ryan’s face. Or she didn’t until Aaron’s arm looped over her shoulders and the eyes that had been flat seconds ago went lethal.
Quickly, she stepped aside. “Aaron, thank you for tonight. Again, I’m so sorry about the scheduling problem and forgetting our tickets. I’ll call you in the next week.”
Aaron grinned down at her, as if the idea of his leaving was ludicrous. Then turning his attention back to Ryan, furrowed his brow before giving his forehead a smack. “Wait, Ryan Brady, right?”
Oblivious to the precariousness of his situation, he stepped past her, arm outstretched in greeting. “Aaron Kinner. We met at the Lansing premiere last fall. Didn’t recognize you at first.”
Ryan shook his hand, and then—thankfully—released it without incident. Or a word.
Pausing, Aaron shot a quizzical glance between her and Ryan. “Brady?”
Claire felt the air go thin around her as the foundation of her world begin to crumble.
“You two aren’t related, are you?”
Ryan’s lips twisted into a wry smile as he stepped forward and blatantly tugged Claire into his hold, resting a possessive arm around her shoulders. “Through marriage.”
The answer seemed to both satisfy and delight Aaron, while shocking Claire into stunned silence.
“Phew. Explains the whole ‘protective big brother’ vibe. You know, ‘break her heart and I’ll break your face’ thing.”
The flash of straight white teeth against the shadows of night had Claire’s blood running cold as that twisted smile broke into a full grin. Not so Aaron, who apparently didn’t have a single ounce of survival instinct and was punching the air with a few awkward jabs.
“Something like that,” Ryan answered, his tone devoid of humor. “Only, I’m not her brother.”
Aaron stalled midpunch, his expression hesitant as he looked between them. Straightened and went still. He knew.
Claire felt the color rise to her cheeks and, unable to handle the scrutiny, let her gaze drift around the pointed toes of her shoes. “Thank you again, Aaron. For being so understanding about tonight.”
He would never speak to her again after this. Though, in light of that kiss, perhaps it was for the best.
“Yeah, sure thing, Claire. I’ll call.”
A moment later Aaron was on his way and Ryan an
d Claire were left in the cold and quiet of her apartment stoop, staring at the empty walk ahead of them.
It was Ryan who moved first, catching her by the lapel of her coat and towing her slowly toward her door.
Her steps dragged and her belly churned in anxious knots at the idea of the confrontation to come.
“Keys, Claire. Unless you’ve changed your stance on public declarations and displays of affection. Your boyfriend certainly seemed to think so.”
Oh, God, there it was. The first jab, not that she could blame him. “We’re just friends.”
“Exactly how many friends like that do you have?” The arch of Ryan’s brow reminding her of the kiss itself.
“None. Or, at least I didn’t think so. He’s never even hinted at an attraction before, but tonight he said I seemed…different. I didn’t realize he’d interpreted different as an invitation.” She shook her head, those big blue eyes imploring him to believe. “Misinterpreted.”
“I get it.” Ryan slipped his hands into the pockets of Claire’s overcoat, drawing her against him as he fished for the keys she’d been too distracted to search for.
Nothing. Nothing but a layer closer to the body he wanted in to. “I do.”
The way her eyes had flown open and her face pinched up at the kiss had said everything her mouth hadn’t been able to. If that Aaron had opened his eyes for two-tenths of a second he would have seen it too. But the guy had been too caught up in what he wanted to happen.
It hadn’t been pretty.
Which explained why Ryan wasn’t icing a broken knuckle and scheduling someone to patch a nearby wall. There’d been no mistaking Claire’s response—not interested.
Not this time anyway. Not this guy.
But what struck him—and with the unpleasant force of a battering ram to the gut—was that he was witnessing a preview of things to come. Of the way it could happen. Another man stepping in to claim what had for so long been his and his alone.
And, damn it, he didn’t like it.
Something hot and demanding stirred inside him. A waking urgency that tensed his muscles and tightened his spine.
Claire was beautiful. Vivacious. And…available in a way she hadn’t been when he’d first found her in Rome.
What Aaron had said about her being different. It was true.
Something had changed in her. Around her. As if the invisible shield she’d erected, unseen but easily sensed, had been knocked down, making her accessible. Approachable.
She’d been alone all this time because she hadn’t been able to take that last step into intimacy. Because she hadn’t been able to feel. Well, she could feel now. He’d have her feeling six times before the night was through…just as soon as he got his hands on those keys and got them inside.
Maybe her purse. He had the clutch out from under her arm and open in no time.
Rattling the fob between them, he let out a whoop. “Jackpot!”
Claire blinked up at him. “You’re not upset?”
Ryan stilled in his efforts to maneuver them inside. A group of raucous pedestrians passed by, laughing as they huddled together. Looking back into Claire’s face, he caught her chin in the loose frame of his fingers.
“Not upset.” Not now. He knew she hadn’t encouraged the kiss and Aaron hadn’t been any kind of threat. Not to either of them. “But, I won’t lie, seeing another guy touch you is doing something to me I don’t like. Which is why I’m trying to get us inside.”
Her chin pulled back, and her voice went low. “So you can yell?”
Hell.
“No.” His jaw clamped down and his breath whistled through his teeth. “So when I take you against the wall, before you even have a chance to get your jacket off, because I have to prove to myself that, for now, you’re still mine—your whole neighborhood won’t be watching.”
Her breath caught on a quiver, her pupils dilated, turning the deep blue of her eyes into a bottomless well of temptation. “I’m still yours.”
Not enough. The words weren’t enough. Not when her slight hands smoothed over his chest, across his shoulders and around his neck to tangle into his hair. Not when her hips rocked against him in blatant invitation of everything he was asking for.
His hands clenched with the need to take. To claim. To mark.
To make sure no other man mistook her for anything but belonging to him.
Another rock of her hips and sharp tug at his hair. Demanding.
Yes. This was his girl. Taunting him with everything he wanted, pushing the limits of his control, and all but begging him to give it to her. The keys dug into his palm.
Towing Claire against him with one arm, he jammed the key into the lock and pushed inside.
Slumped against the door, legs extended over the hardwood entry, Ryan ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair.
Damn, this was insane. Not just that he’d spent more time sprawled over flooring in the past month and a half than he had in years, but that he’d come to New York at all. He’d been going nuts since his deal began to implode the week before and he’d had to cancel out on seeing Claire.
While it wasn’t the first time business had shot a hole through his personal plans, it was the first time he’d been ready to take someone apart over it. But he’d put business first. Gotten a handle on the deal and gotten on with his daily existence…almost.
The problem was, every day he was getting more unreasonable. More agitated. He wanted to see Claire, but their schedules didn’t mesh. And finally, after a night devoid of sleep, he’d given up and decided to make the trip to New York.
He—and everyone with a shred of hope for their continued relationship with him—pushed meetings and manipulated schedules and overall made sure everything that had to get done got done fast. He’d been a tyrant. But it had worked and he’d gotten what he wanted.
Claire in his arms.
A kitten-soft mewl sounded beneath his chin and Claire planted one hand against his chest, her cashmere scarf hanging drunkenly from her wrist as she pushed back from where she’d collapsed against him. A single button on her coat remained secure, though somehow she’d managed to work an arm free. Her skirt rode around her hips, the silk lapels of her blouse hanging open to reveal the cups of her bra bunched below her breasts.
He’d done it. Marked her. Left a half-dollar-size hickey at the tender slope of her breast.
He ought to be disgusted, but pure possessive male satisfaction won the day.
The night. Whenever it was.
Checking his watch, he let out a low chuckle.
Eyeing him beneath heavy lids, Claire demanded, “What’s so funny?”
Ryan ran his palms up the bare skin of her thighs and cupped her bottom, holding her close where their bodies were still connected. “An hour, and we still haven’t made it farther than a single step inside your apartment.”
She thumbed his nipple then drew her attention to their surroundings and their mutual state of disarray. A victorious, albeit weary, smile touched her lips and she once again snuggled down against him. The dark silk of her hair spilling over his chest.
“I’ll give you everything in the divorce if you don’t make me move from this spot.”
Ryan collected the long strands and smoothed them down her back.
“No dice. After being used to within an inch of my life, I deserve a bed…” Thinking of the way she’d been on him before he’d even managed to kick the door closed, he tsked, “And you do too.”
Reluctantly, he shifted, separating their bodies as he gathered Claire into his arms and then carried her toward the back of the apartment. There was a single bedroom with a queen-size bed tucked off to one side. His feet would be hanging off the end tonight, but with Claire in his arms, it wouldn’t matter.
Gently he stripped her bare and tucked her beneath the thick duvet, crawling in beside her. She wiggled into his hold, sighing against his hand as their bodies pressed together. She’d be asleep in seconds, but he needed her
coherent just a little longer.
His mouth brushed the smooth curve of her bare shoulder. “Claire.”
She sighed again. Her breath slowing, growing heavier.
“Claire.” A light nip. This one earning him a squeak and her full attention.
“What?” she snapped, trying to roll away from him. But he caught her hip with his hand and pulled her back to him, holding her close.
“No more dates with other guys. Just so we’re clear. Not until we’re done.”
She stilled in his arms, then after a beat, “No more dates.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CLAIRE buckled her belt at her waist and adjusted the hang of her houndstooth skirt in the mirror, all the while aware of Ryan watching from the bed behind her. She’d intentionally chosen an outfit that, though stylish and contemporary, wasn’t particularly sexy. With all the days she’d missed from work recently, she knew it was going to be another busy day. The last thing she needed—as much as she might enjoy it—was to be hours late courtesy of Ryan liking the way something split at her knee.
Only, feeling the hot lick of his gaze trailing over the backs of her thighs, she wasn’t sure the skirt had done the job. And she hadn’t even risked the boots yet, intending to carry the stacked-heel footwear to the front door before slipping them on and making a dash for the nearest cab. So much for that.
“I need to get to work,” she warned, shooting a chiding glance over her shoulder. “I can get away with a half day, probably. Maybe leaving by three?”
It would hurt, but the man had shown up, as if she’d conjured him out of thin air. The least she could do was manage a few extra hours for him.
Leaning back against the headrest, he crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “How about I come with you. I’ll set up in your office. Believe me when I tell you I’ve got plenty to do.”
She fumbled her necklace, a clunky brass chain adorned with crocheted cherries and rhinestone-encrusted leaves. “The whole day?”
“Sure.” He hopped off the bed, coming up behind to catch the clasp, waiting as he used to for her to lift her hair clear. “If you don’t think it would be too much distraction.”
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