Something Wild (4 page)

There were a million things he wanted to tell her. How sexy she was, how beautiful. That he didn't think less of her for what had just happened, but that she
must
be the woman she claimed she'd made up, because you couldn't fake that. And despite his shock and helplessness, there was no way in hell he'd ever be able to forget such outstanding sex. Instead, though, he just stayed quiet, as he had through the other, better part of their encounter, because he had a feeling she wouldn't believe or even want to hear any of the thoughts playing through his head.

"Martin is in … Flagstaff?" she finally asked.

Ryan nodded. "He left a day early. A last-minute decision to see a client out there."

"But how did you…?" Her voice trailed off as her head tilted in confusion.

"I got a note on my sandwich from you."

"Martin's
sandwich."

"No, I checked, it was mine. Ham and swiss on—"

"Rye with mayo," she finished for him.

He nodded, this other piece of the picture slowly becoming clear.

"Same sandwich," she murmured.

"How about that," he replied lamely.

Penny gave her head a slight shake. "I didn't know. My sister made some of the sandwiches today."

But Ryan was way past the sandwiches already, and feeling sheepish. "When I saw the note, I thought you were asking me out."

Across from him, she nodded, still sitting there in a bra and stockings, her dress tossed over her. His gaze kept dropping to her bare hip, to the curves so visible behind what the dress covered. He really did think she was beautiful and sexy, and despite himself, he could feel hints of arousal rising again already.

"I'm sorry," he said then, although he wasn't entirely sure what for. Still thinking about her body even after her heart-wrenching pleas? Or simply being arrogant enough to think she would ask him out without even knowing him, arrogant enough to approach a limousine, thinking it was there for him?

Well, she'd been right about one thing—he should've been ready for anything, should've heeded that warning. A nervous quiet lingered between them and he wished he could take his eyes off her, but with a nearly naked woman sitting across from him … well, where else was he gonna look?

"I'm the one who's sorry," she finally said. "I mean, even in the dark, you'd think I'd recognize…"

He nodded, agreeing.

"But then, I just now noticed—" she gave him a timid once-over "—you look like him, kind of."

He nodded again. It was true. He and Martin were about the same height, shared the same basic build, and wore their medium-brown hair in a similar style. "Yeah, kind of." Then he forced a laugh, despite the fact that nothing was very funny.

"I'm trying to let that make me feel better," she said, "like it's a mistake anyone could've made, but…" Her eyes dropped shut and she lifted her hands to cover her mouth, as if she were replaying the moment in her mind all over again.

Ryan's heart tightened into a tense knot and he felt the inclination to reach out and touch her knee to comfort her, but that would be the wrong move. "Listen, don't feel bad," he said instead. "I … don't think badly of you, honest."

She raised her gaze. "But I just…" She closed her eyes once more as if to shut out what had happened, then opened them wide. "Oh God, I just seduced you! I had my way with you! I didn't even give you a choice!"

Ryan swallowed, then spoke quietly. "I had a choice."

They peered at each other in uncomfortable silence until she said, "Would you mind if I turned the light back out so I can get dressed?"

"Sure."

"And maybe you could, uh—" she motioned vaguely toward him "—fix
your
clothes, too."

At this, he flinched. He'd been too caught up in what was happening to realize he still sat there unbuttoned and undone. "Um, yeah, sure thing. Sorry about that."

The return of darkness was more jarring than Ryan anticipated. For a few brief seconds, he wondered what she would do if he reached out to find her in the blackness and began to kiss her again, touch her, make love to her again. He wondered if it wouldn't be simpler to just go back a few minutes in time, back to her thinking he was someone else and back to him thinking she wanted him, if it wouldn't be easier to just leave the lights off and pretend. But they were only fleeting thoughts that made no sense, so Ryan tucked and buttoned until everything was back in place save for the tie hanging loose about his neck.

When the rustling of fabric and sounds of sliding zippers ceased, and the overhead light illuminated the car once more, Penny pointed to a bottle of champagne jutting from an ice bucket. "Want some?"

Lifting the open bottle from the ice, Ryan noticed it was half-empty. "Looks like you got started without me."

"I needed it for courage," she admitted. "Now I just need to be drunk." Taking the bottle from his hand, she tipped it to her mouth and took a hefty swig.

"Sounds like a decent idea," he said. She passed the bottle back and he swallowed a long drink, too, then spoke uncertainly. "I guess I should, uh, tell the driver to take me to the parking garage."

Her slight hesitation made him wonder if maybe she didn't want him to go, if maybe she actually wanted to drink and commiserate together, but it was not to be. "Um, yeah," she said with a definite degree of finality.

Looking over his shoulder, Ryan opened the privacy panel and gave the driver directions to where he parked his car. He grew suddenly embarrassed on Penny's behalf, wondering if the guy had heard anything.

Thankfully, though, the driver's eyes betrayed nothing, and Ryan shut the panel, leaving him and Penny awkwardly alone again. As the limo continued winding through the downtown streets, they stayed quiet, simply passing the champagne back and forth until he offered her the bottle one final time with the words, "Last drink?" She took it, emptied it, then chucked it back in the ice bucket.

She looked so despondent. Ryan wanted to hug her, tell her again it was all right, but this time do it while peering into her eyes and maybe stroking her hair.

But she was practically
engaged
to his boss, for God's sake—or at least that's what he thought she'd said—and things were horrible enough already without him doing something stupid, such as being tender with her.

As the long black car finally glided across the echoing garage toward the only vehicle still there, Ryan leaned forward and met her gaze. Despite this being what she wanted, and despite the fact that she belonged to his brand-new boss, he felt bad leaving her after what they'd done together. "Are you gonna be all right?" he asked, and this time he
did
touch her knee.

She started to tremble—he felt it beneath his fingertips—and, taking a deep breath, she lifted her gaze. "Yeah. I guess."

But when he reached for the door handle and began to step out of the car, she grabbed his wrist. He glanced back to find her eyes looking frantic again. "You won't tell Martin about this?"

Tell his boss he'd just had wild sex with his girlfriend? "No, definitely not. It'll stay just between us. Promise."

"Thank you."

Not bothering to point out that she wasn't the only one with something to lose, he exited the limo, took one last look at her sitting there wearing her sexy dress and a distressed expression, then closed the door.

* * *

Ryan sat down behind Martin's desk early the next morning, although even sitting in the man's chair felt intrusive now, as if he were trespassing. He vowed not to think about that, though, since he'd come here to work. The office lay desolate on a Saturday morning, but it was just as well; it would help him concentrate, stay focused. All this work would get him firmly entrenched in Schuster Systems' operations, and it also seemed his only hope of getting his mind off what had happened last night, since hours of tossing and turning in bed hadn't done it.

He shook his head as the unsettling truth assaulted him once more. Already this felt like another disaster in the making, another fist with a choke hold on his career. Unfortunately, this wasn't the first mistake Ryan had ever made.

Only two months ago, he'd lost his job at ComData in Chicago, for missing a client meeting of all things. A missed meeting was an embarrassing
faux pas
, definitely, but he hadn't believed it would earn him a pink slip until it had happened.

It had all occurred innocently enough. He'd planned to have dinner with a woman he'd recently met, then hook up afterward with David Collins and Roger Borcherding, the top guys at Fischer International, in their hotel lounge for drinks around nine. Ryan had been assigned to manage their system conversion and the two executives had suggested touching base that evening after their flight arrived.

Ryan had picked up his date, Maggie, at her office after work, planning to eat and return her to her car by eight-thirty, but he'd been having so much fun that the first time he'd looked at his watch, it was quarter to nine.

Then, after hurriedly paying the bill and racing back to Maggie's car, they discovered it had a flat tire.

Maggie encouraged him to go ahead, but Ryan refused to leave her there alone in the dark, waiting for help to come. After assuring her that staying wouldn't be a problem, he called the hotel and asked to have a message delivered to the two men waiting in the bar. Then he changed the tire, and followed Maggie home to make sure she was okay.

When he finally reached the hotel around ten-thirty, however, he discovered that not only had his message never made it to the lounge, but Collins and Borcherding were angry. He knew he'd cut it too close on time in the first place, but he'd been sure they'd understand the position he'd been in with Maggie's car, sure that any decent guy would've handled it the same way.

All they could see, however, was that he'd stood them up, wasted their time, and proven himself irresponsible. It had made such a bad impression that Fischer International had ultimately dropped ComData and gone elsewhere for its software needs, and in the process pretty much made Ryan out to be the devil incarnate.

He still remembered standing in Mr. Lever's office, numb, trying to absorb the unbelievable results of that night. "We can't afford these kinds of screwups, Ryan," Lever had said. "And we can't afford to have someone on our team who doesn't put us first. It's nothing personal, but we have to let you go."

Ryan propped his elbows on the desk in Martin's office, then began to rub his temples as he recalled the incident.

The job loss had been devastating financially—he'd had a mortgage on a high-rise condo overlooking Lake Michigan, and he sent money home to his elderly parents in rural Indiana every month, money they needed to make ends meet.

And the job loss had also devastated him personally. He recalled standing there thinking,
This isn't the kind of guy I am, the kind of guy who gets fired from jobs; this isn't how things are supposed to be.
And it had happened all because he'd been having too much fun flirting with a woman to keep an eye on the clock. He didn't think he'd ever made such a bonehead move.

But then, the truth was, even before the fiasco at ComData, his social life had gotten him into trouble. He'd been the best and the brightest young system designer on his team at Futureware, also in Chicago, yet he'd also been fresh out of college and frat life. He'd lasted five years there, but too many late nights had led to too many late mornings. He'd always been the guy who came straggling into meetings long after they'd started, his tie crooked, his eyes bloodshot. He'd been young and stupid and careless.

That job he'd eventually chosen to leave on his own, but only after he'd been passed over for promotions numerous times. The fault was his, but he'd decided he just needed a new start. And things had been going great at ComData until that one tragic night. The job loss had been made even worse when Mr. Lever told Ryan he couldn't in good conscience give him any recommendations, which made it feel pretty damn personal, no matter what the guy said. And in fact, when Ryan had started applying for other system design jobs, he'd discovered that news of his blunder at ComData had already made the rounds in the WindyCity, and no one wanted to hire a guy who lost big accounts. He'd effectively been blackballed in Chicago.

So … that left him with Cincinnati. Another new start. A smaller, more conservative city where he'd been sure he could buckle down, act responsibly, and finally reap the rewards of being damn good at his chosen profession. A fresh, young company with a solid track record. A nice condo with a river view.
And a scantily clad girl in a dark limo who'd turned out to be his new boss's fiancée.

Ryan buried his head in his hands a little deeper, then thrust himself up out of the chair. Coffee. He needed coffee.

After making his way to the coffee machine, then digging in the pocket of his blue jeans for change, he reflected on the unbelievable events of the previous evening as the hot liquid trickled into the white cup below. He'd been terribly sorry to find out Penny belonged to Martin, and the more Ryan thought about it, the more it grated on him. Because the guy was his boss, and he would surely lose
this
job, too, if she started feeling guilty enough to tell. And also because he couldn't deny loving what had happened between them once he pushed all the weirdness aside.