No One Like You (12 page)

She grew even more uneasy when she realized the placement of his hands. His fingers were beneath the hem of her walking shorts and his thumbs grazed her inner thighs. She’d been so relaxed that she hadn’t been paying attention. Apparently neither had he. She was wide-eyed. And shivery.

His hands stilled with her goose bumps. He pulled back and pushed to his feet in one fluid motion. He held out his palms as if defending himself. “Sorry about that.”

She wasn’t sorry at all. His touch seemed natural. No part of her body could’ve slept through his massage. Her calves tingled, but for a very different reason than before. She’d liked his hands on her. “We’re good,” she told him. She kicked out her legs. “I could dance now if there was music.”

He looked down at her. “What kind of music do you like?”

She was thoughtful. “I take after my mother. She loved music that filled her soul and made her heart race. I’d walk into the kitchen after school when I was a kid and find her dancing while baking cookies. She had a favorite oldies mixed disc. She would grab my hands with her floured fingers and spin me around. My dad would enter, and we each moved to our own beat. My mom sang along—she had the best voice.” She smiled over the memory. “Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody,” Tina Turner’s “Proud Mary,” and “Last Dance” by Donna Summers were on that mix.”

Beth celebrated her past. “We would dance until we dropped. We’d collapse on café chairs, out of breath and laughing so hard we had tears in our eyes. Once we could breathe again, Mom would serve us glasses of milk and whatever she had baked. Most times it was double-chocolate chips. Warm, gooey, and delicious.”

“Sounds nice,” Rylan said.

“It was while it lasted.” Sadness slid in where her happiness had been. “My mother developed bone cancer when I was twelve. Our dancing days were over.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So was I.” Her heart had broken. Her last year in middle school passed in a blur. “My dad and I never played the mixed tape again.” Not after watching Mom live out the rest of her life in a wheelchair. “I haven’t danced since.” By her own choice.

Ry was thoughtful. He raised an eyebrow, and one corner of his mouth tipped, too. “Care to dance now?”

Surprise had her saying, “We have work to do.”

“What’s a few minutes here or there?”

She liked a man who took time to have fun. She just wasn’t sure she could join in.

“Atlas likes to dance,” he said over his shoulder as he downloaded several songs, then connected his iPhone to a speaker docking station on the bookshelf. He appeared nostalgic when he said, “I surfed at every opportunity when I was young. I lived in the Gulf. For me, no band can compare to the Beach Boys. The sand and sun is in every beat of their music.”

“Fun, Fun, Fun” began to play. Atlas climbed off the couch, turned in a circle. Rue barked her excitement. The dachshunds did their own short-legged bouncing.

Beth watched as Rylan clapped his hands to the music while two-stepping among his dogs. His moves were concise. But cool. He supported the Dane’s front paws when Atlas jumped up on his hind legs. The dog kept his balance. He took several forward and backward steps before dropping back down. The big boy wiggled, proud of himself.

Beth was amazed. “He makes a good partner.”

“You should see him in a Conga line.” Ry was teasing her.

The image made her grin.

Ry motioned, encouraging her. “Join us, Beth.”

The music filled the living room, alive and beckoning, yet her smile faded, and the past held her still. Her heart weighed heavily. What she’d thought would be fun moments before no longer appealed. Her arms were leaden. Her feet refused to move. Her voice caught when she said, “I’ll watch.”

“Watch me dance with my dogs?” He shook his head. “Not on your life.” He stood at one end of the couch, holding out his hand, expecting her to close the distance between them.

She could not.

Atlas came to her then. He sensed her apprehension. He took her hand in his mouth and gave a gentle tug. He forced her to take that first step toward Rylan.

Baby steps,
she told herself. She could do this. She had to. Additional steps followed until she reached Rylan. Atlas handed her over to him.

Ry twined his fingers with hers. “You made it.”

Yes, she had.

“I Get Around” played next. Ry smiled down at her. “You can do this,” he encouraged. Ry spun her beneath his arm before she could dwell further on her memories. Around and around she went. He then captured her against him until she could catch her breath.

No man should have a chest that solid,
she thought, leaning into him.

He held her loosely, widened his stance, and muscles flexed in his thighs. The flat of his hand rested low on her spine. His scent was soap, sunshine, and masculinity.

They danced together. Slowly at first.

Her joints felt rusty. Creaky. They took short steps to “Kokomo,” until she was able to relax and her body became more fluid. He then eased back and let her move on her own.

Somehow she managed. She let the music sift into her. Felt each note in her heart. Made a new memory with Rylan. She swayed, her feet finding their own way. No push, no hurry, she let it happen. In her own time.

The song ended, and Rylan cleared his throat. “One more to go. A surprise.”

His thoughtfulness brought tears to her eyes. “I Want to Dance with Somebody” had her closing them against the pain. She pictured her parents and felt their love. Her body responded to all that she’d once known, and all that she had lost. She became one with the lyrics.

She danced.

She wished the music could’ve lasted forever. Unfortunately it ended too soon. She crossed her arms over her chest and held on to the moment. She didn’t want to open her eyes. Ever.

When she did peek through her lashes, she found Rylan standing at the corner of the couch. The dogs sat near their beds. They all watched her. Rylan’s stunned expression made her question her dance moves. Had they been that bad?

“Did I embarrass myself?” she finally managed.

Ry continued to stare at her. He seemed as lost in the moment as she had been. “You were amazing,” he said sincerely.

She squeezed herself tighter. “I let myself go.”

“Your soul took over. Impressive, Beth.”

Atlas barked his agreement. The dogs came to her then. Nudging, nuzzling, and demanding that she pet them. She dropped down on one knee and loved on them. For the first time in ages, she felt part of a family. Even if it was a canine household.

The doorbell chimed, drawing Ry to the entrance. She heard him talking, but couldn’t distinguish his words. He returned shortly. “A man from Aidan’s construction company is here to take measurements for the fence. I’m headed outside to show him the layout.”

“I’ll be in my office.”

“I’ll find you later.” He turned and left.

She realized with his departure that she hadn’t mentioned Ava Vonn. A touchy subject, for sure. She didn’t want him blindsided. Telling him was all in the timing. She’d wait, pick the right moment. If there was one. No man wanted to hear that his date had hooked up with one of his teammates.

She rolled her shoulders and debated baking a quick batch of dog biscuits before settling at her computer. Atlas seemed to read her mind. He head-butted her toward the kitchen. The boy was a bottomless pit.

Rylan walked into the kitchen just as she opened the oven door and released the scent of sweet potato chips. Atlas howled his excitement. Ry joined in. Beth shook her head. Man and beast celebrating snack time.

The other dogs came at Atlas’s call. Beth had hoped to save some chips for the cookie jar. Once cooled, they were devoured in two minutes flat. The Dane didn’t believe in saving a few for later. He wanted them all now.

“Sweet potato breath,” Beth teased Atlas when he tried to wipe his mouth on her. She’d gotten quick with the dish towel. She caught him before he drooled on her.

Rylan took an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and tossed it in the air. Atlas looked ready to jump and retrieve, but Ry was faster. He caught it over his head. Then took a bite. The Dane waited for him to share. Ry searched out a knife, then sliced off a piece. The apple was crispy, and the big dog chewed loudly.

Ry discussed his afternoon between bites. “I need to gear up for my speech tomorrow at the retirement center. I’m going to make some notes. I’d appreciate it if you’d type them for me.”

“Happy to,” she agreed.

“Then there’s the Gallery Walk.” He paused, looked thoughtful. “Have you been on the boardwalk?”

“Only briefly,” she confessed.

“Join me tonight then? Unless you have other plans.”

No plans at all. Still, she hesitated. He was Rylan Cates. Elite athlete. Hometown sports hero. A super sexy guy with an edgy haircut. “Sure there isn’t someone you’d rather ask?”

He shook his head. “I want to kick back and relax tonight. You’re easy company.” He paused, finished with, “I need you to call Evelyn Wells. She owns Galler-E. Let her know I’m looking for a painting. She knows my taste.”

“The dogs?” They were her first concern.

“We won’t be gone that long.”

“I’m in,” she agreed. Only to add, “If you change your mind between now and then, I’ll understand.” She gave him an out.

“I don’t break dates.” He shot her a self-deprecating smile. “I just get dumped.”

Dumped. By Ava Vonn.
He’d given her an opening. Maybe this was a good time to tell him about the hookup. Beth was about to, she had every intention of doing so, until his iPhone rang. He slipped it from his side pants pocket, glanced at the incoming ID, and accepted the call. His voice warmed when he answered. “Hello, Jillian.”

Beth recognized Jill as the team’s community liaison. No doubt calling on Rogues business. She left the kitchen so Ry could speak privately.

Her office shrank in size when the dogs joined her. She heard Rylan take the stairs to his room above, and she expected the dogs to follow. They didn’t. They seemed content to squeeze together around her chair. The temperature in the room rose ten degrees. She fanned herself with a file folder.

An hour passed, then two. It was after four by the time Rylan appeared at her door. Yawning. He held a yellow legal pad in his hand. “I love talking about the Rogues, but I’m not much of a public speaker. I need notes. I’m not good at winging it.”

“I’m sure you’ll be great.”

He laid the pad on her desk. “Two pages. Bullet points. Let me know if you can’t read my writing or have any questions.”

She scanned what he’d done. She had no problem deciphering his handwriting. It was neat and precise. “I’ll type this now.”

“Once you’re done, we’ll head out.”

“The dogs need to be fed and walked first.”

“I’ll take care of them.”

She started. “It’s my job.”

“I don’t mind helping when I’m home and on my own time. That’s the case now. Next week the gang is all yours. My sister sent me an e-mail with a new organic dog recipe that I’ve wanted to try. Ground Round Rice Balls.”

“Sounds yummy.”

“I’m having a sliced chicken and sprout sandwich. Care to join me?”

“Some other time.” She pursed her lips. “I’ve got my heart set on junk food on the boardwalk. My eyes will be bigger than my stomach.”

He frowned slightly. “Not healthy, Beth. You’ll get a stomachache.”

“ ‘Plop, plop, fizz, fizz . . .’ ”

“You have Alka-Seltzer?”

“I bought a box today at Crabby Abby’s when I picked up your items.”

“Don’t bellyache to Atlas later tonight. He’s not sympathetic.”

“I’ll suffer in silence.”

Ry ran his hand through the longer side of his hair. “I’ll meet you at the front door in one hour.”

“I’ll be there.” She started typing his notes.

Afterward, she took a quick shower and changed her clothes. She decided on a pale pink tank top, skinny black jeans, and a pair of white socks with red hearts. The positive message read
Heart of a Champion.
She slipped on her Keds.

She met Rylan in the entrance hallway with a minute to spare. The dogs had gathered around him. He spoke softly to them. She caught the words
behave
and
I’ll be back soon.
They listened intently, their ears flickering.

She took a moment to admire the man. He filled out his clothes nicely. He’d tucked a light blue T-shirt designed with a row of colorful surfboards into stonewashed jeans. He wore his leather flip-flops.

Going out with him seemed surreal. She was afraid to talk, afraid to let her excitement show. She was his PA. She’d known him only one day, yet it felt like months. She’d settled into his cottage. He’d made her feel at home.

“We’re taking the Range Rover,” he said as he locked the door behind them. “I don’t take chances with my McLaren. There’ll be lots of traffic and overflowing parking lots. My sports car stays home tonight.”

Ry’s prediction of a large crowd was accurate. He found a parking spot two blocks from the beach, and they walked from there. The Gallery Walk drew tourists and locals, and the evening hummed with activity. Beth took it all in.

Rylan was a local celebrity and easily recognized. People stared, smiled, and stopped to chat with him. The man was polite. He signed autographs. He made small talk. Kids idolized him. Men admired him. Women were into him.

Fans put a wedge between them. She eased out of the way. She wasn’t dependent on Rylan and decided to do the Gallery Walk alone. Long sections of the boardwalk were set up as an outdoor gallery, showcasing photos and paintings. The artwork beckoned to Beth. She moved comfortably among the patrons and those merely browsing.

The majority of the paintings cost more than she could afford . . . at the moment, anyway. In her previous life, she would’ve chosen several beachscapes to decorate her home. Tonight, her shoulder bag was light on cash. The money she carried would be spent on junk food.