Roughing It With Ryan (6 page)

“Okay, you'll do it?” asked Ryan's worker. “You'll cater the party?”

She looked into his hopeful eyes, and also his worker's. “I'll cater the party.”

“Cool!”

Ryan just smiled, and damn if her stomach didn't quiver. “Why are you doing this?” she asked him softly.

“Doing what?”

“Being…nice.”

“I'm always nice.” He laughed when she merely lifted a doubtful brow. “Okay, maybe I don't like to cook.”

“
Can't
you mean,” offered the first worker, zipping his mouth when Ryan sent him a long look.

Hmm. So the man wasn't perfect after all. He couldn't cook. Somehow that made Suzanne feel better. A lot better.

 

I
F
S
UZANNE THOUGHT
about how much she'd done in just three days her head would start spinning. And
seeing as she was busy hunched over a large tray, putting together the innards for egg rolls as fast as her fingers could move, now wouldn't be a good time to get overwhelmed.

She'd moved her belongings, few as they were, from the loft apartment down one flight of stairs.

Taylor let her borrow some furniture so that the bigger apartment didn't seem so bare. Suzanne had scoured the South Village want-ads for a job and had blisters on her fingers from filling out applications. And because she did love it, and because she'd grown fond of eating, she agreed to several more catering jobs—as a hobby only. She and Taylor had gone outlet shopping to stock her new kitchen, which indeed, with some cleaning—aka
hours
of elbow grease—had turned out to be more than she could have hoped for.

Of course her living room was still empty except for her favorite candles here and there. And it would stay that way for a while, as she'd used her one credit card on the kitchen. But that was the least of her problems at the moment.

Ryan's workers, Rafe and Russ, she'd learned, were young, wild and wonderful. For their twentieth birthday party they vowed to eat whatever she cooked, though they'd admitted they loved Chinese
food. In light of that, she'd made a huge tub of fried rice and was nearly finished the egg rolls.

And she was loving it.

As a hobby. The thought of doing this seriously as a business terrified her.

“Oh yeah, that's a girl.” Russ, followed by Rafe pushed into her kitchen, their noses wriggling as they sniffed appreciatively at the scents.

“Smells heavenly,” Taylor agreed, right behind them.

“Oh, man, I'll say.” Russ rubbed his belly. “We're done for the day, heading home. See you there with all this food, right?”

“Right,” Suzanne said, then looked at him over her shoulder. “Wait. You mean you're heading to
Ryan's
house?”

“Well, yeah. But his house used to be ours, so I still say it sometimes.” Rafe reached in to steal an egg roll but Suzanne rapped him on the wrist. “His place used to be your place,” she repeated as understanding dawned. “You're…brothers.”

“Yep.” Russ beamed. “But don't tell Ryan we told you, he doesn't like people to know we're related.”

Aha! Proof positive Ryan-the-Gorgeous was in deed just a pretty face. Sure, he had a kiss that could melt bones, and sure, just a look from those dark eyes
made her stupid, but inside he was petty and a big jerk. Good, because petty and jerky she could resist.

Probably.

“If everyone knew we were brothers, then the other laborers might figure out we get the best hours and more pay.” Russ glanced pathetically at the egg rolls. “And if they figured that out, they'd also figure out we have less experience than some of them, and Ryan doesn't want a mutiny.”

“Oh, that's so sweet,” Taylor said, looking like a queen surrounded by her servants, as always dressed to the hilt. Today she wore a linen sundress with nary a wrinkle despite the fact she'd been digging through her storage unit making a list of inventory. “Isn't that sweet, Suzanne?”

Yeah, sweet.

Damn it.

“What's sweet?” Ryan wanted to know, squeezing into the kitchen with an easy smile and a shirt, thank you God, which meant maybe Suzanne had half a chance in hell on maintaining her concentration. He'd been distracting her for days, smiling at her, talking to her. Pretending to be a nice guy, which she had to admit, he seemed to have down to a science.

More reason to steer clear. She destroyed nice guys. Her aimlessness, her lack of regimentation and her Carter family ways drove men crazy, made them self
ish and turned them into men who accused their exes of needing sex therapists.

Unconcerned about the danger lurking in his future, Ryan moved past the others, leaned in toward Suzanne and sniffed. “Mmm. Heaven.”

She stepped aside. “It's just food.”

“I meant you,” he said, a smile in his eyes. “You smell like heaven.”

Determined not to react even though her knees did that annoying wobble thing, she put her hands on her hips. “Why didn't you tell me I was cooking for your brothers?”

His smile didn't falter. “Would you still have taken the job?”

Damn it, probably not.

With a playful tug on her apron, he grinned. “You sure look cute in the kitchen.”

He probably thought women were cute pregnant and barefoot, too. “Are you hitting on me?”

“Definitely.”

She had to laugh. What else could she do? Besides, laughing hid the tremor in her voice. “Everyone out,” she decided, shoving them all toward the door, ignoring the groans and moans. “Out, out, out.”

“See you tonight,” Ryan whispered in her ear, managing in the shuffle to stroke her jaw with his big hand. “Save me a dance.”

Did he have to have such a voice on him? When he lowered it like that, all husky and suggestive, it sent shivers down her spine. Remember the vow—no men. “I don't dance.”

He studied her with those sleepy, sexy eyes. “I can teach you.”

“I didn't say I couldn't, I said I
don't.
”

He just smiled. “We'll see.”

A
T HOME
,
Ryan stepped into the shower, letting the hot spray hit his body. Treeing was hard work, and damn, but he was feeling every bit of that hard work in his aching muscles.

The day would come, soon, when he'd lay down his chain saw and ax for good. Instead, he'd spend his time over a drawing table, lifting only a pencil. He'd design all day long and come home after working still refreshed.

He could…well, date even
half
the women his brothers and sister thought he did, for one. That would be fun. Light and simple.

After raising a family he was looking forward to light and simple. He hadn't thought he'd ever feel a need for any steady relationship, but he had to admit that had been before.

Before a raging stormy night, a shocking kiss and the most amazing woman had rocked his world.

Suzanne.

Maybe the problem was that he'd seen her too often since.

No, that wasn't it. He'd seen Taylor often, too, and he didn't want to make love with
her
all night long.

Maybe it was that he'd touched Suzanne. Kissed her. Held her. While she was wearing nothing but that little tank top and panties.

The picture filled out in his head, as if it had just happened, instead of having occurred five nights ago. It had been dark, with the rain and wind beating down on them. And yet she'd been like a light in the deep black of the night. He could see her rosy, erect nipples pressing at the thin material of her top, the way her panties had been sheer enough to outline the part of her he wanted to bury himself in. She had a body made for loving, all warm curvy planes, and as he soaped up in his hot shower, he gave his erection a few absentminded strokes.

That didn't help matters any so he cranked the handle to the right, letting in the cold water.

That didn't help, either.

“Ryan!” Angel yelled through the door. “I need the shower!”

“'Kay.” But he went back to thinking about Suzanne. What was it about her that drew him so fiercely? She sure wasn't light and simple—which was all he'd thought he could handle right now—and she sure as hell wasn't looking at him with stars in her eyes.

But what
was
in her eyes drew him—the tough vulnerability he wanted to know more about. She had a sharp wit and a will to survive. She buried her feelings behind both.

He'd never been a sucker for vulnerability before, much preferring a woman secure and strong and self-assured, so why now, with her?

It wasn't as if she was falling at his feet, much less into his bed. He'd have to actually work at it, at her, if that's what he wanted.

And yet, he'd come to realize, that was exactly what he wanted. And he thought maybe he'd known it from the second he'd laid eyes on her.

 

W
ITH AN HOUR TO GO
before everyone descended on his place in all their rowdiness, Ryan opened his door to Suzanne. She smiled, a little nervously, he thought, and vanished into his kitchen. When he followed her, he found her bustling around, talking to herself as she loaded things into his refrigerator.

“The man doesn't even have a loaf of bread,” she was saying as she bent over to fit a long tray of something that smelled delicious onto the bottom shelf.

Ryan leaned against the door to better enjoy the view her black skirt afford him as it tightened very nicely over her very nice rear end.

“I would have gone food shopping yesterday,” he
said, grinning when she whipped around in surprise. “But I knew you were bringing a load of food over so I didn't bother. Thank you, by the way.”

“Don't thank me. You're paying dearly for it.”

Had he thought her not strong or self-assured? She was sending him daggers that made him glad she stood across the room. She wore a long-sleeved white cotton shirt with a scooped neck. Though perfectly modest, it outlined her full breasts in a way that made his mouth water. The entire package made his mouth water. He'd seen her ruffled and undressed. He'd seen her casually put together in her loose and flowing sundresses. But he'd never seen her like this. Her hair was artfully piled on top of her head with a pretty beaded clip, though he had a feeling that with one tug of his fingers, the entire glorious mass would fall. Already long wavy tendrils were hanging in her face, which had flushed prettily.

Because of him? Testing that theory, he pushed away from the wall and moved close, cocking his head when she backed up a step and hit the counter.

Hmm. Interesting.

She put her hands behind her to grip the counter, which suited him perfectly because it thrust out her upper body very nicely. Specifically, her breasts.

“You're crowding me,” she said.

“Am I?” Stepping even closer, he put his hands
over hers on the tile and promptly got lost in the depths of her shimmering eyes, which displayed…nerves? “You're…not afraid of me.”

“Of course not.”

“But I make you nervous.”

“Don't be ridiculous—” She caught his lifted brow and let out a pent-up breath that blew a piece of hair off her face at the same time. “Okay, maybe just a little nervous, but only when you look at me like…like
that.
”

“Like what?”

“Like you're dying of thirst and I'm a long, cold drink of water.”

He decided he liked that, a lot more than he should. “What, exactly, are you saying?” he asked in a perverted need to hear her spell it out.

“I'm saying you fry my brain cells at an alarming rate. Clear enough?”

“Crystal.” And he was quite certain it shouldn't arouse him.

He wanted to scoop her up and lose himself in her. How was it she was so completely irresistible to him after only days?

“I'm busy,” she said, clearly having not decided, as he had, that this attraction was a good thing.

Oh, yeah, he had a lot of convincing to do. He stroked his hands up her arms and felt her shiver.

“Go away and let me work,” she said, a little less forcefully. “Before I decide to charge you more for the conversation.”

“We're not talking.” It took nothing to dip his head and inhale the scent lingering on the skin just beneath her ear. Shampoo and soap only, he thought breathing in deeply. No fancy perfumes for this woman. He loved that. “I fry your brain cells? Really?”

With another little shiver, goose bumps appeared on her skin, and proved he wasn't alone in this attraction.

Good, because he couldn't tear himself away.

“You know you do,” she whispered, gasping when he connected his mouth with the creamy skin of her throat.

She put her hands to his chest, probably to shove him away, but before she could, he slid his hands over hers, holding them against his chest because he liked the feel of them there.

“I said you fried my brain cells.” She swallowed hard, staring at her hands on him. “Not that I liked it.”

“If you don't, why are you letting me touch you?”

She stared at him. Then laughed. “I…don't know.”

“Are you going to deny you like my touch?”

“Ryan—”

He slid one of his hands up her soft throat to cup her jaw. “We never talked about that night, Suzanne. About what happened between us.”

“We were cold and wet. It was dark, and I was scared. We kissed. The end.”

“Not the end.”

“Okay, you're right. You saved my life. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
Now
it's the end.”

Slowly he shook his head while his thumb stroked her jaw, stopping to outline her full lower lip, which trembled and fell open. “Something happened between us,” he said quietly. “You know it.”

She licked her lips, and a vision of him exploring her mouth with his tongue entered his head and wouldn't go away.

“This is such a bad idea. I've given up men, you know.”

It was his turn to stare at her, then laugh.

“I have. Hey, it's for
your
sake.”

He thought about that, and the sudden nervous look that appeared in her eyes despite the smile on her lips. “I'm not like him, Suzanne,” he said very softly. “Your ex-fiancé.”

“Which one?” Holding up a hand when he winced at her, she let out a low laugh. “Yeah. There were three. I ruined them all.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, it's true. I'm on a roll. You should run. Really.”

“Sounds like you only tried the idiots of my gender.”

“I've tried more than my fair share,” she admitted.

“And I've failed at keeping anyone happy. Badly. I consider myself an expert at them. Failed relationships, that is. But to be fair, I inherited the gift from my father, who was married and divorced six times before he met my mom. I think he sticks with her because she'd kill him if he divorced her, so really, that marriage doesn't count—”

“Suzanne.” He had no idea why she'd gotten to him so hard, so fast, but his entire heart, locked off to others for so long, squeezed for her. “First, I keep my self happy, I don't rely on a woman to do that, ever.

No man should. And second—”

“No. No second,” she said quickly.

“And second, I want you. More than I've ever wanted another woman.”

He saw in her eyes the wanting in return, before she covered her face. “Oh my God, it's only been a few days!”

“Five. A lifetime.”

“I can't believe I'm doing this. Why aren't you run
ning? You should be running. Seriously, I drive men crazy.”

“Suzanne.” He had to laugh, and pulled her hands from her face. “Believe me, I'd love to run, but it's too late for me.”

“No. Oh, Ryan, no, don't say it. It's never too late.” She opened those green, green eyes, and in them was a pleading he couldn't resist. “I'm already so nervous about the food that I can barely function. Please, you have to go.”

“The food is going to be a huge hit.” Hell, she could have served chips and dip and they'd all be thrilled, but he figured she didn't need to hear that right now. “Let me help you get ready.”

“Okay, yes.” She put her hands on his shoulders and shoved him toward the door. “Help me by getting out.”

 

R
YAN WAS RIGHT
, the food was a huge hit. Suzanne marveled over that a few hours later when all but a few bites of it had vanished.

The crowd was a young one, and given the decibel level of voices and music in the place, they were having a great time.

She
was having a great time. Ryan's brothers were so cute, it was hard not to. They clearly worshipped Ryan, regaling her with stories about the way he'd
kept them together, his job, his…what had they called it? His “chick magnetism.”

A magnetism she could resist, she told herself.

Yeah, maybe if she was dead.

Russ and Rafe worked the rooms, keeping everyone in smiles, especially the women, which made Suzanne think they just might be more like Ryan than they knew.

And when they turned down the lights and shoved the furniture back to open the place up for dancing, Suzanne whirled back to vanish into the kitchen.

And came face-to-face with Ryan. He wore khakis tonight, and a plain soft-looking white shirt that showed off his sun-bronzed skin and crooked smile. “Where's the fire?” he asked.

“Um…”

Before she could come up with a suitable excuse, he took her hand and led her onto the hardwood floor of his darkened living room.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a panicked whisper, pulling back uselessly against his unyielding grip.

“Dancing.” Right in the middle of everyone, he pulled her into his arms.

No one paid them the slightest bit of attention, so unless she wanted to create a scene, she didn't seem to have a choice but to—ohmigod—dance.

“Relax,” he whispered into her ear when she held herself stiffly to minimize their body contact. He ran his big hands down her spine. “This is supposed to be fun.”

“I don't really consider dancing fun.”

“Don't you know how to dance?”

She looked up into his eyes. “I used to dance on top of tables. My second fiancé got me the job.”

“Yes, well, we've already established what I think of the men in your past.”

“It…doesn't bother you?”

“That you danced on tables for what probably was damn good money? Not if you enjoyed it.”

“No, that I've been engaged so many times and ruined so many good men.”

“I doubt
you
ruined anyone, Suzanne.”

She stared at him. “That's not how the story goes.”

“
Did
you really fail anyone?” he asked softly. “And before you answer, think about it. Did you lie, steal or cheat anyone? Did you do anything other than be who you are, which is a smart, funny, beautiful, compassionate,
amazing
woman?”

She swallowed. “You…scare me.”

“Good. You scare me back. Now you've stopped dancing. Can't have that. Here, ease up against me a bit, that's right, like that.”

Oh God. Their bodies brushed together, hers doing
just as he said, easing up against him. Pleasure suffused her entire being, blooming from all the contact points, of which there were many.

She was well aware of how easy it would be to take that pleasure. To give some back. They could spend the night together. Pressed against him as she was, she could feel he was more than ready and able and willing.

But at what cost? She couldn't do this again. She just couldn't. Plus, to add to her growing fears, this didn't feel like any of the other relationships she'd had, this felt…deeper. In less than a week, it felt like more. Oh, God.

The music slowed, and so did Ryan. “Nice, huh?” His low voice was soft by her ear, his hands holding her close, but she had the feeling she'd be this close even without his encouragement, as her body seemed to have a mind of its own.