Fistful of Roses (What a Woman Wants, Book 1) (16 page)

“Be careful, Sophie. He’s already hurt you once,” Gigi warned her.

“I know. But if I don’t go, I’ll always regret it.” She heard Gigi sigh and demand another promise from her to call. Sophie agreed and hung up, her gaze finding the mirror once more.

Her breath caught in her throat. She looked like her mother had before the drugs consumed her. Tears prickled her eyes and she waved a hand in front of her face. Her mother was gone. She’d made peace with that, but it was still a wide-open wound. It would take a lot of time before it healed. Tonight was about healing a different hurt.

Her doorbell rang now, and jeebus, it had been doing that a lot lately. She’d lived here for two years and it hadn’t rung as much in all that time as it had the past two weeks. She grabbed her coat and purse and headed for the door.

“Who is it?” she called.

“It’s your car, ma’am, to pick you up per Mr. Locke.”

She peeked through the peephole and saw a distinguished-looking, older gentleman.

“Ma’am, if you’ll answer your phone, Mr. Locke will verify I’m here to pick you up.” There was a smile in his voice.

Her phone hadn’t—there it went. “Hello?”

“He’s my driver, Sophie. He’s going to bring you to me.”

“But—”

“No buts. Get in the car and come to me.” His voice made her wet.

She hung up. There was nothing to say after that. She opened the door and the kind older gentleman held out his arm.

She locked her door, took his arm, and he settled her into a luxurious Suburban.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he inquired politely.

“No, thank you, sir. Um, could you tell me where we’re headed?”

“Athens.”

“Georgia?”

He smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

She sat back and prepared for what she knew would be over an hour drive. What was in Athens? Please God let it not be a football game. She was seriously overdressed for a Bulldog game.

An hour later the car pulled to a stop. Darkness had fallen, but ahead she could see something glowing. She had no idea where they were. None at all. Trepidation flavored with excitement tripped through her, and gooseflesh rose on her arms. The door opened and everything around her lit up. It seemed even the sky glowed.

“Ms. Hanson, if you’ll take my arm, I’d be delighted to escort you inside.”

Sophie couldn’t take her gaze off the magnificent lights that seemed threaded through every tree along the path in front of her. The driver cleared his throat and drew her gaze.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

He glanced at her, smiled slightly, and offered her his arm. “Let’s do.”

He led her down a wooden plank path surrounded by towering oaks and sweet-scented flowers. She didn’t think flowers could bloom like that in the cold of this Georgia fall. The path opened onto a circular stone patio in front of a cabin.

Ryan stood in the doorway of that cabin, broad shoulders and slim hips outlined by the rippling orange glow of a fire. The driver stopped and Ryan came forward, his beautiful face somber in the twinkling lights. He came to her, took her arm, whispered something to the driver, and turned back to her.

“I’m glad you came.” His voice flowed through her, tightening her stomach.

“I may be glad I came, too,” she responded with a husky laugh.

He inclined his head. “Let’s head inside. It’s getting a little cold. I think there’s a chance of flurries later.”

“No way am I dressed for sledding,” she teased, wondering where the hell the urge came from.

He cleared his throat and led her inside the cozy cabin. “I said flurries. If you can sled in flurries, I wanna see it, no matter what you’re wearing.” He chuckled and she relaxed.

Maybe this wouldn’t be as difficult as she’d built it up in her mind.

“You hungry?” He took her coat from her, fingers brushing lightly against her nape. She shivered. He inhaled sharply.

If he continued to touch her, she’d melt into a puddle and it’d be all over but the crying.

Evade and parry. “So, where are we?” She walked to the mammoth fireplace that dominated the opposite wall, determined to not watch the play of his pectorals under the cashmere sweater he wore. Even worse was the way the fabric of his pants lovingly cupped his amazing ass and outlined the huge muscles of his thighs. She breathed in deeply.

“A question for a question. Okay, I’ll let you play it that way for now. We’re at the State Botanical Gardens, the South Cabin.” Ryan came up behind her.

He didn’t touch her and she ached, berating herself for the sudden need his voice and presence inspired in her body. What was all this about?

“Our dinner is waiting, if you’re hungry?” He was so close that when he breathed, his chest brushed against her back. Instead of moving forward and away from the temptation, her body sank against his.

“I could eat,” she whispered and then cleared her throat.

“Hmm, I could too.” Some note in his deep voice had her turning and lifting her eyes to his.

“Well then let’s eat.” Sophie laughed nervously when he made no move to lead her to the dining room.

He raised his hands and settled them on her cheeks, cupping them and lifting her face as his head descended. “We will, but first this, Sophie.”

She tried to pull away, fearful of the depth of her need, but he held firm, and as his lips took hers, Sophie’s thought was that hunger for food was the farthest thing from her mind.

*

Just a taste, he told himself as he plundered the velvet of her mouth. Then her sigh vibrated through her body and he was left hanging by a thread of sanity. She did this to him, left him with zero control and no desire to reach for it as her body trembled beneath his hands, the movements tiny but thrilling to him. She was his. Her body recognized him, automatically softened for him. All wasn’t lost.

The thought brought him that measure of sense he needed to control his body. He pulled his lips away and rested his forehead on hers. He was breathing like a racehorse, and she wasn’t much better. Each inhalation brought their chests in contact, and her nipples under that unbelievably hot sequined dress she was wearing were pinpoints against him. He wanted them in his mouth, his tongue stroking and licking, his teeth lightly biting as she moaned beneath him.

“You’re hell on my self-control.” He pulled away, and her hazel eyes were bright, reflecting the fire within them.

A look ghosted over her face, bewilderment and pain. She didn’t look away from him though, not his Sophie. And she was his. He wasn’t giving her up no matter how stupidly he’d acted. After a long silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire, she gazed up at him and smiled. It was small, but his heart dipped and his mind prayed she was as forgiving as that curve of her lips.

“Mr. Locke, I cannot be held responsible for your lack of self-control.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me lose control. Believe me. As it’s a singularly unfamiliar feeling, I’ve yet to decide if I like it or not. But now’s not the time to discuss it. We have food to eat.”

She lifted her hand and traced his lips, her touch light but a source of striking heat.
Move away, Locke, before you take her.
It had to be her decision. He’d hurt her and he’d not made explanations yet. He’d used his body earlier to try to win her back. Now he realized he had to satisfy her heart first.

When the hell had he begun thinking like this?
The day you hired Sophie Hanson, dumbass.

He led her to a table that looked out over a small pond behind the cabin. The Botanical Society had been more than accommodating when they’d allowed him use of the cabin normally reserved for honeymooners. It’d involved a substantial donation and a promise to leave it in better shape than he’d found it, but watching her face as she’d walked toward him earlier made it all worth it.

“It’s lovely, Mr. Locke,” she said, her voice quiet.

“Ryan,” he responded gruffly.

She inclined her head and said, “It’s lovely,
Ryan
.”

His breath clogged in his throat. The lights that twinkled in the trees reflected in her eyes and made them glow. Goddamn, she was beautiful.

He seated her and took his own, motioning for the waiter to serve them. He’d really spared no expense in getting the cabin ready. To get it accomplished, he’d enlisted his secretary’s help and Emma had been all too efficient. She’d even gone the extra mile, having someone string Christmas lights through what looked like every damn tree within a mile. The inside of the cabin had been clean, but she’d had it gone over again.

Ryan had done the rest. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of setting the menu. We’re having chateaubriand, roasted baby potatoes, carrots, and a mixed green salad.”

She chuckled. “How can I argue with that? What’s for dessert?”

You
. “Chocolate mousse cake.”

“You’re evil.” She laughed.

The sound lightened his heart. Gone were the shadows in her eyes.

“Anything’s possible.” He poured their wine and watched as she carefully sniffed the vintage and took a sip. She licked her bottom lip and closed her eyes.

He wondered if that’s how he looked as he sipped from her body.

“Did you just growl?” Her voice was soft, head cocked to the side.

His gaze shot to her face. He let his lips curl and shook his head ruefully. “Yeah, I probably did.”

The look on her face told him she thought he was crazy. He was. Straight gone over her.

“Okaaay. Well, the wine is delicious. Um…” He let her words sit in the air between them as his heart beat faster with her every breath.

The waiter interrupted the yawning silence. Setting their plates in front of them, he asked if there was anything else. Ryan waved him off.

“You’re free to go,” Ryan told him. The waiter nodded and disappeared, the
thunk
of the door closing the only sound to mark his leaving.

He pointed at her food. “Dig in.”

She did and there was no more talking for a while. The silence was comfortable this time, not charged with their mutual need.

She set her fork down. “That was the best meal I’ve had in a while. My compliments to the chef.”

“You’re welcome.”

She threw him a startled glance. He laughed. “You look surprised. Didn’t think I could cook?”

She snorted. “Didn’t think you had to.”

“It’s something I enjoy but I only do it for important people.”

“Oh.” Her face was a cross between confused and hopeful. It enchanted him, that look. It made his chest tighten.

“Yeah—
oh
. So, would you like desert? There’s the mousse, or if you want I’ve got some Ben & Jerry’s ice cream in the freezer.”

“How did you know I like Ben & Jerry’s?” A smile lit her face now, the confusion gone.

“I could lie and say I have magical powers of discernment. Truth is I saw it in your freezer the other day.” He shrugged.

Her brows drew down and she set her wineglass on the table. “Well, I always prefer the truth.”

“Sophie—I didn’t mean …
damn it
.” He ran his hands through his hair, and she followed the movement with her gaze. “Do you want dessert or shall we go back to the living room?”

“I’m good on dessert. Maybe later. Or not.” She put her napkin on the table and got up on her own to stride into the living room, not looking back to see if he followed.

He cursed low and followed her.

She stood by the fire, the red-orange flames throwing light off her dress, sending sparkles through the muted light of the room. She was fucking gorgeous. Long, slim legs were made longer by the stilettos she wore. She turned, and he was blessed with the sight of her ass hugged tightly by the dress. Her back was bare, its trim lines taunting his fingers and lips. She’d pulled her ebony hair up into a soft style, tendrils of the silken skeins drifting against her neck and shoulders.

Please turn to me. Give me a chance.

He cleared his throat and stepped to within feet of her. “I’m so fucking sorry I hurt you. If you believe nothing else of me, believe that.”

She turned then, anger a bright flag on her cheeks and a dark shadow in her eyes.

“You know, you said that earlier at my house, yet that’s just what you’ve done, Ryan. You’ve hurt me.”

He nodded his head, acknowledging the truth even as his heart demanded he deny it, offer up the reason behind his asinine behavior.

“There’s no excuse, Sophie. But I need to explain. Will you sit down?”

“I don’t need to sit down, Ryan. But if you do,” she waved to the couch, “by all means, have a seat.”

Dismissed. That’s how he felt, and it angered him, made the man in him roar; made the lover in him, the one who knew she owned him now, stand and rage.

She must have realized she’d roused something dark in him because she wrapped her arms around her middle and took a step back.

He traveled forward until her back met the wall beside the stone fireplace and he was within a hairbreadth of her. He closed his eyes, felt a shudder work its way through him, and placed his face to the crook of her neck.

“Listen to me, Sophie.” He nipped at her collarbone, and she inhaled sharply. “
Please
.”

“Go on.”

He lifted his head, drilled her with his gaze, demanded she open her heart and hear him.

“I hurt you, Sophie. That morning when you brought me coffee, after one of the most beautiful experiences of my life, I hurt you. You don’t know…” He trailed off, unable to give voice to his past.

“I don’t know what, Ryan?”

He felt her hand flutter at his shoulder before she squeezed, comfort in the gesture.

He took a deep breath. “I can’t—I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was startled, and sometimes the past is hard to let go of. I’ve never slept with someone overnight, and I wasn’t there with you in that room at that moment. When I’m startled, I react. It’s how I’ve been conditioned, how I’ve been trained. Do you understand?”

He didn’t give her time to respond. He just continued to look deep into her eyes as he struggled to find the words to explain his actions.