As You Wish (11 page)

Still nothing.

Reaching up, she slid the dome light switch into the off position. On the way from the club, she’d had to pull over twice to take phone calls. One had been from the hospital needing information on a card in her wallet, so she had turned on the light to find it. The second had been from David complaining that she had insisted on driving herself instead of letting him pick her up at the house. Once she’d parked in the garage, she’d freshened her make-up in the rearview mirror to hide her annoyance with David and walked away, forgetting the light was still on. The mechanic had told he she would need a new battery soon. Apparently, they didn’t last forever.

She leaned her head on the steering wheel. Curling into a ball in the backseat until someone came along and rescued her was unthinkable. Even when she did something stupid, she was still a Whitmer. Her AAA membership had expired last spring, and she’d forgotten to renew it. She didn’t know the number of any local tow services. Going back to the restaurant and having them call entailed running into David again. She hadn’t been able to face the devastation in his eyes a few minutes ago, and in this short time it wouldn’t have gotten any better. He would insist on taking care of everything himself, which meant more time in his company. Flagging down a police car seemed a bit over the top for a dead battery. The game should be letting out soon, so the police would be busy enough doing crowd control without dealing with her car trouble.

Ryan.

Chapter Seven

Patricia drew a deep, pained breath. Ryan would come out, fix her car, and make everything right. Even angry, he’d done her bidding at the party, and now she had a real problem. He didn’t have to like her to help her, but maybe she would have a chance to apologize. Again. She located her phone and dialed, feeling like the boy who cried wolf.

“Hello?” He sounded annoyed, but it was late, and he normally sounded annoyed.

“Ryan? It’s Patricia.”

“You need another fire?” Now he sounded more annoyed.

Patricia’s mouth bowed with misery. How could she have been so stupid to lose him like this? She’d been cruel and compounded it by being high-handed. She didn’t deserve his kindness. “I’m sorry about that. I-I was angry.”

“Why are you calling now?”

Patricia bit her lip. She hadn’t expected him to be so hostile. Tears clotted in her throat with a familiar panic of imminent failure. The air in the parking garage felt chill and damp, making the skin on her arms pebble. “I’m having car trouble. My battery is dead, and I’m stranded downtown.”

He grunted, and there was a long moment of silence. “And I suppose you’ll do
anything
if I’ll come down and jump your car.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” she whispered. Suddenly, the prospect of dealing with David didn’t seem so bad. She blinked, hoping to keep her tears under control. Would Ryan relent if she cried, or would he be disgusted? She heard the sound of his breath on the other end of the line. Was he deciding to come help her or perusing the phone book for a tow truck? Or was he savoring her humiliation? Did it feel any different for him than what he did to her in the potting shed? Gripping the phone, she pleaded silently for him to relent. She could please him again if he would just give her a chance. She wanted to please him again.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“In the parking garage on the corner of Main and Tenth. On the second level.”

He sighed. “I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Just sit in your car with the doors locked until I get there. Don’t open the door for anybody but me or a badge, you understand? You never know what kind of crazies are hanging around in parking garages.”

Patricia swallowed, peering around. That thought hadn’t occurred to her. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, but the garage was riddled with dark corners and blind spots. She opened her mouth to ask him to hurry and realized she was listening to dead air.

Putting away the phone, she slouched in her seat. Her dinner churned in her stomach, and her face felt clammy. Food poisoning? Unlikely for Firenzi’s. The fallout would be too much to bear. Their kitchen was probably cleaner than the hospital operating room to keep anything that disastrous from happening. It felt more like emotional poisoning anyway. So many things had gone wrong. So many things continued to go wrong: David’s proposal, Ryan’s disdain, her parents’ approval, the potential for every patient to turn into a Mrs. Magyar, the weight of her family’s reputation. She closed her eyes. She’d promised to host a masquerade ball. How did one host a masquerade ball?

The tap on her window startled her out of her daze. “Pop the hood,” Ryan instructed.

She found the catch for the hood before leaping out of the car. “I’m so glad you came. I didn’t know what to do.”

He grunted, dragging a pair of cables to the front of her car and lifting the hood.

“I really am sorry about the other night.”

“You say that a lot.” His red Ford pickup was parked behind hers, still running and blocking her into the parking space. He connected something under the hood and then leaned on the cement wall in front of her car.

She wanted to run to him, press her cheek against his cable-knit sweater, and wrap her arms around his lean waist until he relented and held her. Clenching her hands behind her back, she dug her nails into her palms and leaned on her heels before the impulse overpowered her.

His gaze dropped to her outthrust breasts before coming back to her eyes, but his expression didn’t change. He looked more distant and angry than he had all summer, before she’d gotten to know him. If this had happened then, would he have come to her rescue? Would she have thought to call?

“You know there’s an attended garage two blocks down the street.”

“This one was closer to the restaurant.”

“In the future, use the other one. If you had tonight, you’d be home by now. And so would I.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“I heard you,” he grumbled. “Why didn’t you make Davey-boy handle this? Didn’t he want to get his hands dirty?”

Patricia turned her face away so he wouldn’t see her pained expression.

“Oh. Sorry,” he murmured. He tugged at his sweater, his large hands clutching the off-white wool. “Did you break up with him or something?”

“No. We’ve just had a misunderstanding.” Patricia wondered which one of them had misunderstood. She’d been thinking they were going to be married. Hadn’t David just made the obvious leap? Why did she have such an aversion to marrying Ryan? David—marrying David. Ryan hadn’t asked. Ryan wouldn’t ask.

She looked at Ryan staring under the hood of her car like he could see the battery charging. His hard, angry expression had softened. She knew why she hesitated to commit to David. The reason stood not five feet away.

“You were right Thursday afternoon,” he said, still looking at the battery.

“Excuse me?” Patricia asked.

“Thursday afternoon you said I wouldn’t let you look at my hand because I wanted you as much as you want me. I do want you. I wasn’t sure I could resist you after what happened in your kitchen Friday. I haven’t set up any appointments with you because I was afraid I might hurt you.” He dropped his arms to his sides, curling and uncurling his fingers.

Patricia shivered, studying his powerful chest. “You said you would always stop if I told you to.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t ready to test my own limits.”

“Are you ready to now?”

His gaze met hers. She saw a flash of desire as the anger and frustration melted off his face. “What if I told you that you already owed me one just for coming down here tonight?”

Her chest constricted. “Just one?” She licked her suddenly dry lips. Her skin began to heat, and the whisper of a breeze touched her. Distantly, she heard the crowd at the ballgame roar, and a horn honked on the street outside.

“What if I told you I wanted you down on your knees right here?”

Patricia thought she should check to see if anyone was watching or listening, but she couldn’t take her eyes from his. The whole building reeked of oil, gasoline, and exhaust. His gaze bored into her with a demanding heat. He could bend her to his will with only his eyes. She felt his command to the soles of her feet. Her heart pounded. She took one step toward him, amazed that she was willing to do as he ordered.

He smiled. “Start your car.”

Turning, she climbed into the driver’s seat on watery legs and twisted the key. The engine roared to life. Her hands were sweating against the steering wheel, and her breath came in shallow pants. Her body felt hot and chilled. She shifted in the seat, raising a new rush of need. He might leave her this way. What if he had been teasing her?

He unhooked the cables and threw them in the bed of his truck. Still blocking her into the space, he bent down beside her window. She fumbled for the button in the dark. Her fingers had become stupid in the last few minutes.

As the window lowered, he leaned in close enough that she hoped he might kiss her. One of those brutal, uncompromising, breath-stealing kisses. Her chest tightened again, making her pant faster.

“Meet me in the walled garden in—” He glanced at the clock on her dashboard. “One hour and fifteen minutes. Wear only a robe, and don’t keep me waiting.” He straightened, giving her a dark, dictatorial look before walking to his truck and driving away.

After he drove away, Patricia waited a few minutes to still her shaking hands. The ache that she’d accepted over the past three weeks thundered through her body, demanding to be fed and sending up a shower of needy sparks every time she moved. A spreading heat formed between her thighs.

As she drove home, she needed to concentrate more than normal. She wanted to run every red light and cut through every intersection in her rush to get to him.

The gates closed behind her as she pulled through them, and she saw Ryan loading something into the bed of his truck. She parked in the garage and hurried to the house to undress. Before she’d even closed the door behind her, she’d started unbuttoning her blouse. She had over forty-five minutes to wait after she’d changed and put away her clothes, so she took a shower, washing and drying her hair to burn time.

Originally, the walled section had been a precisely laid-out English garden, but in her youth, the dowager aunt now living in Florida had fallen in love with the book,
The Secret Garden
, and ever since then, it had been allowed to run wild. Patricia stepped through the heavy, ironbound oak door. The broad leaves of hostas brushed her legs, and a butterfly weed nodded in her face. She saw a faint glow from the other side of the garden, but everything on this side was dark. The door slammed shut behind her, and she jumped, spinning around in time to see Ryan sliding the bolt into place. He was still dressed in jeans and a sweater, but now he also wore heavy suede work gloves. “Nice of you to join me, Princess. You’re early.”

Patricia opened her mouth to protest that she was right on time, but Ryan reached out and pulled open her robe, shoving it off her shoulders so it fell in a puddle around her feet. She had time to gasp before he pulled her naked body against his, covering her lips with his. The rough gloves scraped across her skin as his mouth plundered hers, seeking every delicious hollow. Patricia reached for him, digging her fingers into his sweater, relishing the way the material felt against her bare flesh. The chill fall air plucked at her back and buttocks as he heated the front of her with his body.

Growling, Ryan picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. He carried her through the garden to the dry fountain and dropped her there.

She braced for impact on stone and found herself sinking into the soft nest of a down quilt spread over an air mattress. Arranged all the way around the three tiers of the fountain were white pillar candles. Dozens more candles lined the outside of the terrace and either side of the bench, lighting the whole area. On the ground a few feet in front of the bench lay a ruby-red velvet pillow. Patricia splayed her fingers on the coverlet. It was some soft, warm material, possibly flannel. She looked up at Ryan. He stood over her, his face lit by the candlelight, flexing his gloved hands. His gaze raked over her. Turning away, he walked to the bench and sat down.

“Come here.”

Patricia eased off the bed and sauntered toward him, stopping just within reach. He’d said he was afraid of hurting her. Afraid of losing control. Power laced through her helplessness. She could make him lose control.

“Kneel.”

She knelt on the pillow between his feet. Despite the cool air, she felt a light sheen of sweat all over her body. Her belly ached with hunger that food would never satisfy. Only he could satisfy her. Only he could make her whole again. He touched her face with a gloved finger, tracing her jaw.

“I want to hear you tell me what you want me to do,” he murmured. “I want to watch those sweet lips of yours say exactly what you want done to you.” He lifted her chin, arching her neck. “I want to hear you saying the dirty words, Princess.”

She parted her lips, hoping to draw more breath. “What should I say?”

“What do you want?”

Caught between need and shame, she put her hands on his legs to steady herself. His powerful muscles flexed under her touch. “I want you to kiss me.”

Ryan leaned closer. His hair fell over his cheeks. “Where, Princess?”

Patricia squirmed. The throbbing between her legs clamored for him. For him to do it, she would have to say it. “My lips.”

He touched his lips to hers. With a sweep of his tongue, he drew her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking and teasing it until she moaned. Then he shifted his attention to her tongue, with a gentle, constant rhythm that had her struggling to remember to breathe. She leaned forward, tightening her grip on his legs.

His gloved hand brushed her tight, burning nipples, causing her to jerk backward. “You’ve had enough?” he asked, still fondling her breasts with the rough gloves.

“No,” she moaned.

“I think you’ve had enough of that. What else do you want me to do?”

The tug of his fingers pulled nerves deep in her body. She felt like a marionette at his command. “Please,” she moaned.