Turn The Page (Kissed by A Muse Book 2) (17 page)

Plus, every move she made, whether it be the way she tugged the bag up the slight incline behind her or took off in pursuit, made her golden limbs twitch and flex, demonstrating that despite her polished, book-loving surface, she was an athletic ball of energy who probably only sat to read or write.

And you’re now stuck with basking in her glory without stroking such glory, for four nights in a row. Well done man. What- you don’t like sleep? You excited to get all attached to another woman just for her to board a plane overseas and never come back again?

‘It’s just that usually when a woman’s wearing a skirt and heels in the presence of a rodent, she’s up on a chair- not chasing it.’ He paused before adding truthfully: ‘I like that about you.’

Leigh stopped in her tracks and for a moment, Ryan feared that the tenderness that had crept into his heart towards her had been apparent in his words, and he instantly wanted to take them back before she could read too much into them. It was okay if she knew that he wanted her, but if she worked out that he was developing actual feelings for her, he’d be a dead man. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend and she was looking for a husband- nothing good could come from him falling for her, or her being aware of it- only hurt feelings on both sides.

But you know what… if we stay in contact, who’s to say that what can’t be now, will remain out of reach?

Ryan forgot about his stairs and ran his eyes up the girl, wondering if there was a ‘cool’ way to say: ‘I think I might like you, so can you hold a place in your heart for me, just in case I stop obsessing over my brown-eyed girl?’ But Leigh was staring at his front stoop and apparently, had forgotten that he was there at all; let alone analysing his every utterance.

‘Oh my god!’ She put down her suitcase and began digging through her handbag for something and Ryan groaned, embarrassed. The front porch steps were drooping and in desperate need of a white wash, and it killed him that she’d noticed the one shitty thing about the exterior of the house after all the labouring he’d done to get the front yard looking decent.

‘Those steps!’ Leigh turned around and thrust her phone at him. ‘Ryan, not to be a pain but could you take a photo of me sitting there?’ She was already sitting though, arranging her skirt and grinning up at him rhapsodically.

‘What? Why?’ Ryan tried to get her in the frame, but she was fluffing her hair and so the camera resisted focusing. ‘You’re not going to embarrass me on your blog are you?’

‘Why would you be embarrassed?’ Leigh asked, and then quietened to smile while he quietened to get his thumb on the right place on the screen to take the picture. The screen blinked then displayed the captured to his gaze, making him smile. It was perfect- from the dappled shadows across her lower legs, to the angel within the morning halo of light above. He handed the phone over and she checked it, nodding in approval before she put it back into her bag.

‘Because my steps look like hell,’ he explained, taking his keys out of his pocket. ‘And now someone’s gonna see that and come over and condemn the place.’

But Leigh laughed. ‘No way! They’re beautiful! These are steps that have seen a gazillion feet, and newspapers and spilled coffee and newlyweds and...’ she sighed dreamily as she rose, staring down at the stoop beneath her as though it were more spectacular to behold than the falls were. She scuffed her little toe along the peeling paint. ‘I want steps just like this, some day...’

Ryan wondered if it were possible for someone’s heart to sweat because if it were, the dreamy smile on Leigh’s face would have done it. He stepped forward, knowing that he had no words to explain what he felt for her in that moment more succinctly than just kissing her could relay, but she noticed the keys in his hand instead of what had to be the utterly hypnotised look in his eyes, and giggled, skating to the side and beckoning him past.

‘Sorry, you probably need to pee or something, right? You haven’t even had a chance to use the bathroom this morning yet, and here I am babbling on and taking photo ops.’

Ryan still couldn’t think of anything to say, so he smiled wanly and approached the door, feeling slightly shaky and incredibly grateful that her babbling had saved him from what could have been a potentially deal-breaking moment.

Okay, okay… you want her. Maybe more than a lot, and maybe for longer than a few days- but that’s a big fucking maybe, buddy! Think it through, take your time… and brush your fucking teeth before you even think about kissing her again!

Leigh hurried up the steps and stood expectantly by the front door, her head twisting about again like a terrier poking its face out of someone’s handbag. ‘Oooh, there’s the swing! Exactly how I imagined it too!’ She pressed her hands against the door, running her fingers gently down the wooden veneer. ‘Fresh paint. Isn’t that smell just awesome?’

Ryan twisted the key in the lock and smiled, thinking that this was the first time that opening this door had felt like coming home since Imogen had closed it behind her.

Sixteen

W
alking into Ryan’s house felt like stepping into the page of not just one of Leigh’s favourite novels, but thousands. On the outside it was picture perfect, meeting her homey, gloomy, possibly haunted ideals for what a Victorian home ought to look like, to the point where even the smallest details- from the tree he’d called an oak tree and the sagging porch steps and even the damned squirrel- felt like they’d been plucked from her imagination and staged as props to impress her. The outside was painted a dull, dried blood colour and the eaves and trim and shutters had been freshly brightened with a milky cream. The oak tree rained golden, russet and ochre leaves onto the ground in a steady flow like antique tears leaking, and the houses around it were equally picturesque, looming and casting pretty shadows that Leigh knew she’d feel no trace of chill beneath with her imagination as a companion. She had stared up at the tower and the soot-stained chimney and had had to blink back wistful tears- this was HER house. The fact that it belonged to anyone else, even Ryan, made her heart pang with notes of possession and envy.

But, of course, it was Ryan’s house and his statuesque form framed by the door only added to Leigh’s desire to not only possess the home, but to share it with a husband who looked just like him. He’d opened the door and ushered her inside with one of his many thousands of secret smiles making his eyes dance. Leigh was no fool- that smile said: ‘I’ve got this bitch now!’ and every perfect tooth warranted it. He had her, all right- hook line and sinker. If Leigh thought it would work, she’d drop to her knees and beg to be the perfect bride to the perfect man with the perfect house and perfect car- just so that she could stay a little longer.

And she may have too, only the fact that he’d spent the night weeping and calling: ‘I love you’ to no one, before mocking her fashion sense behind her back to Bruce. Him liking her suspenders didn’t cancel that out.

‘This is it,’ Ryan shrugged out of his black leather jacket as soon as he’d brought in the suitcases she’d dropped in her delirium. He closed the front door and then opened another one beside it, hanging his jacket and then motioning for her to turn so that he could take her cardigan. It was chilly inside the house, even colder than outside, but he’d already rested his hands against her collar and her skin sang so sweetly at his touch that she swallowed and allowed him to slip the fabric down her arms. Her stomach muscles tightened when he reached her wrists and began to work off the cuffs- electricity shooting across her palm from where his long fingers tickled her skin, and when he looked up and smiled as he freed her, she grew warm enough to do without the woollen shrug.

‘You’ve gone silent,’ he observed softly, reaching into the hall closet and extracting a hanger. His eyes didn’t move from hers. ‘That’s new.’

‘I’m in love with the house,’ Leigh said softly, turning away and hugging herself while her eyes drifted from the polished timber staircase, to the small living room. The structure of the dwelling was cramped, dimly lit and old-fashioned as she’d expected, but to her surprise, the moment she stepped forward a little to get out of the shallow but walled entry, she was surprised to see that the furnishings were extremely modern. The living room to her right held one L-shaped couch upholstered in smooth black velvet, the two walls she could see had been painted a pale, modern lilac and the coffee table and television unit were white lacquer and gleaming. Black curtains hung from the front window and light fell in a path across the room and to the serving bench of what had to be a kitchen. There were two white lacquer stools pulled up to the bench but Leigh doubted anyone ever sat there, because the entire bench top, which was the same wood as the staircase, was covered in tea cups, and every tea cup held a cactus. It was cool, chic and funky, and Leigh immediately began to creep forward for a closer look. ‘This has to be your taste, yeah? Because if this isn’t the room you painted, you were lying about the house being a wreck.’

Ryan chuckled as he followed her. ‘This is the room I painted, but the only thing I changed was stripping the hideous wallpaper- this was how Imogen had it. Awesome huh? She had taste. Too bad most of the other rooms are a mess still.’

‘I’ll say.’ Leigh rounded the couch and eyed the flat screen TV that was pinned to the wall between the two narrow side-windows. The curtains on either side of it were black too and drawn, probably to keep the glare off the screen, and a single white cabinet stood beneath it, with three remotes neatly lined up on its top. ‘I imagined tweed furniture and dust.’

‘Come here- I’ll show you the rest.’ Ryan took her hand in his and the charge was enough to actually halt Leigh’s heart. She squeaked and wrenched her hand free, her heart galloping off like a horse that had mis-stepped at the start of a race and Ryan’s eyes widened.

Oh my god! That could have KILLED me!

‘Whoa- what was that?’ Ryan’s brows drew together. ‘You’re not like, afraid of me, are you?’ He stepped closer and her heart began to hurt her eardrums while her injured hand curled into a ball. ‘Leigh, you don’t think I’d take advantage of you, do you? I just wanted to lead you- there are loose carpets and low ceilings and stuff everywhere…’

Leigh couldn’t believe he hadn’t felt what she just had! ‘N-no…’ she said, swallowing rapidly and wracking her brain for a normal-sounding lie to cover the fact that her physical attraction to him had become biochemical as well. ‘You didn’t feel that? You like, static-shocked me.’

Ryan glanced down at her hand, frowning more, and lifted it. ‘I felt something, but it wasn’t static. It couldn’t have hurt that bad though, right?’ He lifted her hand and coaxed her fingers open, glancing up at her with a measure of concern and amusement in his bright blue eyes. ‘Unless you’re really, REALLY delicate?’

Leigh scowled at him but then he kissed her palm and she almost moaned. Pleasure heated her skin and shot straight through her.

Oh my god! What is going on? I was fine until two minutes ago so why am I acting like a moron now? Is it because we’re alone- really alone? Or is it because he keeps giving me that damn cheeky smile? What’s that smile about, anyway?

‘You seem fine now, you must have absorbed all of my kinetic energy in one hit, so come on-’ Ryan’s fingers laced through hers and he turned away, leading her to the left of the staircase. ‘I’ll show you the room you’ll be sleeping in and the bathroom and stuff.’

Leigh nodded mutely and followed him, staring down at their interlaced fingers behind his back in absolute amazement. How had she gotten here? And how was she going to leave? She was holding hands with a man whose looks would have had Brad Pitt and Channing Tatum holding one another for comfort while sobbing jealous tears, and the more time she spent with him, the more she was discovering that aside from the whole amnesia, star-crossed lover (someone else’s) and rock-star thing, she was more at ease within his company than she had ever felt with anyone before- her parents included. In fact, the only thing that prevented her from embracing Ryan as a possible best friend and kindred spirit, was the fact that she wanted him so badly that she could barely think clearly enough in his company to ask if they could stay in contact after she went home.

He’s not the Ryan from my book, but I’m still a fan and I’ll never be able to be much more than that. Oh, he flirts, but musicians flirt with groupies, and then they forget them.

‘This is the library- it’s small, but everything here is small.’ Ryan paused at a doorway and pulled her forward, and Leigh dropped his hand and braced herself on the doorframe, afraid that if she actually stepped inside, she’d be unable to leave.

‘Wow…’ she breathed, eyes rolling about as though she’d been concussed. The books were arranged on floor to ceiling shelves- jammed in so tightly that at first glance, they resembled a print on wallpaper. ‘She has more than me!’

Ryan chuckled. ‘Well, she was more than three times your age…’

Leigh nodded, feeling her eyes well up in appreciation. The room really was small- about as big as the tiny spare room at her house, but she knew there were well over four thousand books on those shelves. And not just on the shelves either, but scattered across the solitary desk in the centre of the room, and a few others in stacks on the floors. Leigh pushed her glasses higher on her nose and leaned in, scanning the titles and realised that Imogen’s taste in literature was as eclectic as the interior of the house- a few titles were just over a month old, and others were clearly first editions from hundreds of years before. Her fingers ached to touch the spines, and to close the door between Ryan and herself and lose herself somewhere safe and familiar, but then he rested his chin on her shoulder and said: ‘You can spend as much time in here as you like... after I show you the rest of the house.’

Leigh chuckled, weakened by the breeze of his breath against her neck. ‘Then you probably should have shown me this last…’ The intimate way he was standing with her was too much for Leigh’s female parts to handle but as she moved to turn, Ryan surprised her yet again, by remaining in place- only inches from her face.

‘Do you like it so far?’ he asked, a cunning glow in his eyes as his warm hand closed around the one she’d dropped from the door once more.

Argh! He KNOWS what he’s doing to me! This is almost like a seduction, right? He’s not doing it openly, but he’s doing it! Why, God, why?

‘You know I like it,’ she eventually said back, her voice just as low. ‘The question is, why does my appreciation matter so much to you?’

The corner of his mouth sharpened upwards just enough to make her thighs clench. He’d heard the double entendre loud and clear, and was taking his time answering- torturing her. He shrugged and turned away, towing her once more. ‘I haven’t figured that out yet. There’s just something about you that makes me…’ his voice trailed off, and Leigh’s eyes narrowed as she filled in the blank using the words he’d uttered earlier.

‘Blush like police lights…?’ she prompted, scowling. ‘Oh wait no… that’s me.’

Ryan’s hand went limp and he glanced back at her, eyebrows up. ‘You heard that?’

Leigh tapped her glasses. ‘I’m impaired here-’ she tugged on her earlobe next. ‘Not here.’

Ryan pulled her forward to another door and then wrapped the long fingers of his free hand around the knob but waited until she was facing him to respond. ‘Are you annoyed with me for saying that, or yourself, for doing it?’

‘Both,’ she responded tartly as he opened the door and pulled her into a small bedroom. ‘I hate the fact that you’re cute enough to make me forget what a jerk you can be. And I hate the fact that you like it just enough to get a swollen ego-’

‘Oh, it’s not just the ego that swells. But I already told you that last night, didn’t I?’ Ryan asked archly, letting her hand go and turning to lean against a timber bureau. He folded his arms across his body and locked his eyes on hers boldly. ‘And you told me to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.’

Leigh rested her hips and smirked at him. ‘Which you did, twenty minutes later on a different floor at my hotel- with the kind of girl who’d never be caught dead in glasses or a polka dot dress.’

Ryan’s eyes flared with surprise and embarrassment and she enjoyed it immensely. ‘Why encourage me to leave with her, if you were only going to hold it against me?’

‘I’m not holding it against you,’ Leigh managed to say evenly, gazing around the room and trying to look non-plussed. ‘I just think trying to flirt with two girls in the space of twelve hours is a little greedy.’

‘So you think I’m a man-whore again?’ Ryan asked, his eyes darkening unhappily.

‘I just think we have different values,’ Leigh said carefully, sliding her gaze to his and smiling faintly. She could tell that he was offended by what he’d imagined she was implying, but just because she was okay with the idea of him treating other women lightly, didn’t mean that she was going to encourage him to think he could pull that sort of stunt on her. Besides, she was so jealous that she felt like she’d swallowed the other woman’s cloud of hair and it was now tangled up in her intestines- and she didn’t want Ryan to know that. ‘That’s fine Ryan and I don’t judge you. I just can’t…’ she exhaled heavily and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. ‘Flirting with me is just pointless, you know?’ She ran her fingers over the soft quilt beneath her, and understood that they were in the guest bedroom- the room that Imogen had occupied when she’d grown too ill to make it up the stairs. All of the furniture was a plain, pretty timber, and the curtains and bedding were a pale blue cotton that looked soft and cool. The room was neat, but aside from a few books on the low bookshelf, the print of a girl playing a harp against a tower of hay, and an old-fashioned quilt folded on the end of the bed- the room was devoid of character, and it sort of reminded Leigh of her room back home. Every other room in her house showed her personality, but her bedroom was simple, soft and unassuming.

Is that because we’re readers? Do Imogen and I keep our bedrooms threadbare, so that we can live vicariously through our heroine’s without being distracted by our true, underwhelming selves?

‘Is this where I’ll be staying?’ she asked, cutting him off before he could summon up a response, and it looked like he was pondering a pretty mean one.

Ryan pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow before responding: ‘Evidently. But if you don’t like it, I have other places you could sleep.’ He wriggled both eyebrows. ‘Once I shower off the one night stand, of course.’

She laughed. ‘That’s a yes then, and thank you- this room is perfect. Though, I do have this fantasy about curling up in front of the fireplace- don’t suppose you have one of those bearskin rugs, do you?’