Roughing It With Ryan (4 page)

“But I'm okay. Taylor, look at me.” Suzanne held out her arms, still wearing Ryan's shirt. It smelled like him, and for a moment she remembered exactly what it had felt like to be held by the man who owned that delicious one-hundred-percent male scent. “Not a scratch on me.”

“Are you going to leave?”

“Well…it might be hard to live in a loft without a roof.”

“You can take the apartment next to mine.”

“That's very sweet, but these units are twice as big.

I'm sure I can't afford it.”

“You can, because I'm going to give it to you for the same price as the loft. This month free of course, as reimbursement for what happened tonight. Please Suzanne, please stay.”

The thought of finding another place exhausted her, but she felt as if she was taking advantage of the situation. “Taylor—”

“It's important to me. Already
you're
important to me.”

It had been a very long time since someone had wanted her around,
really
wanted her around. Oh, her family loved her, she was certain. But they didn't show love easily, if at all. And lately, true to Carter form, she'd followed suit, drifting from one relationship to another, making sure to ruin the men emotionally before she got too attached.

This strange bond with Taylor threw her because of its immediate depth, and yet it made her feel good at the same time. “Thank you,” she said simply.

“Is that a yes?”

“It's a thank God, yes, I want to stay.” Suzanne let
out a sheepish smile. “I don't really care to see how warm I can get my car right now.”

Taylor let out a grateful smile, then bustled Suzanne into the shower.

 

B
Y THE TIME
Suzanne stepped out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, there was hot cocoa waiting.

“Don't get used to this,” Taylor warned. “I'm far more used to being served than being the server.” She slipped into one side of the bed, leaving Suzanne with enough room on her side for a small army.

Climbing into bed required the last of her depleted energy. She pulled up the silky sheets and weighty blanket, grateful for the warmth. “It would be a shame to sell this bed. It's so luxurious.”

“I know, but with it, and all the other antiques I have in storage, I could start the renovations.”

“Wow, that's terrific.” Suzanne felt awed by the collector's spirit, something she'd never personally experienced. Somehow her lifestyle to date made it easier to travel light.

“It's been a terribly expensive hobby,” Taylor admitted, fluffing her pillows. “And one I can no longer afford, obviously. But no worries. First thing tomorrow we'll get you down from the loft and into the apartment next door. Then after Ryan is done with
the tree extraction, I'll start on everything else. I'll need an architect, a contractor—”

“Ryan.” Just the sound of his name had Suzanne wide awake again. She'd never again think of him as just the Gorgeous Crazy Tree Guy. He'd become her hero. And as such, a man to avoid at all costs. He was tempting enough to make her forget her vow to remain single and she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she destroyed her hero like she'd destroyed her ex-fiancés. “He's going to be around then?”

“All week, I imagine, getting that tree out and the others down.”

All week. Would he talk to her in that voice of his, the one that said she was the only woman he saw? Would he touch her with those warm, sure hands? Or better yet, would he lean in and put that incredible mouth back on hers…?

Oh, boy, there it went again, her vivid imagination. She didn't want this inexplicable attraction. No sirree. She didn't need anyone or anything but herself and her chef job.

No matter how much her tingly nipples told her otherwise.

I
T HAD BEEN JUST A KISS
.

That's what Ryan told himself. All night long.

But he wouldn't have felt “just a kiss” from his head to his toes.

And let's not forget all the hot spots in between.

Sure, there were plenty of logical reasons for the almost chemical-like attraction between himself and Suzanne, two perfect strangers. For one, the situation itself had been terrifying. Obviously, that had played a big role in what had happened between the two of them up there in that loft, trapped alone on a dark, stormy night.

But somehow he knew, deep in his gut, the instant connection he'd felt with her couldn't be blamed on the events of the evening. Nor could the way he would have done anything—
anything
—just to keep her safe.

Unrested, and oddly driven to see her again in the light of day, he woke his crew at dawn. Not difficult as they were crashed on his couch.

When he flipped on the lights in the living room,
Russ groaned and buried his face into the couch cushion. “Five more minutes, Mom.”

Mom had been gone for seven years. In fact, it had been Ryan to wake up his younger brothers for school every morning since, and still, no matter how much time went by, Russ, not a morning person, always talked to Mom first.

Ryan hauled the blankets off the nineteen-year-old, and did the same to Russ's twin, Rafe, who'd some time in the night fallen to the floor and stayed there.

“There's hot oatmeal and coffee,” he told them.

“Hurry, we've got a full day ahead.”

“We just went to bed,” Rafe whined.

“And now we're getting up.”

“Donuts would be better.” Rafe stumbled to the bathroom. After a moment he poked his head back out. “We saving any pretty redheads today?”

Ryan kicked the already back-to-sleep Russ's feet off the couch. “The only thing in your future today is a tree. A big tree. Our white knightship is over.”

“Ah, man.” Russ sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face, then suddenly brightened. “Hey! Don't wear a shirt today, just in case.”

“In case what?”

“In case the pretty redhead decides to get wet in a tank and panties again.” Russ grinned wickedly. “If
you don't have a shirt to give her, then…” His eyebrows jerked up and down suggestively.

Ryan hauled the covers off him. “Get up, you pervert.” He strode toward the kitchen. “And as for making fun of last night, she could have died up there in that loft.”

“Jeez, Ryan, I was just kidding.” Russ stood and stretched. “But you can't blame a guy for dreaming about the way she looked all wet and—” When Ryan stopped and sent him an intensely black look, Russ closed his mouth. “I'm going to eat now.”

“Good idea.” Ryan went into the kitchen, leaned against the counter and closed his eyes, because he needed to think about something other than the image Russ had just put back in his brain. The one of Suzanne, drenched, with her clothes—his shirt—molded to her every curve, of which she had damn plenty.

“You like her or something?” Russ asked, following him. “Because you seemed awfully into her last night.”

His siblings put an enormous amount of energy into finding Ryan a woman. It didn't take a genius to understand they wanted him happy. Which is why he pretended to date while actually going to college, just to keep them off his back. But as Suzanne seemed to have blindsided him with a genuine attraction he
hadn't felt in a very long time, he didn't want to talk about it. Or her. “What I'm into,” he said, “is getting to work. Today.”

“Okay, okay. You're awfully touchy this morning.”

Yeah, he was. And that he couldn't seem to help it disturbed him more than he would ever have admitted.

 

T
HE STORM HAD MOVED ON
as fast as it had come, leaving the Southern California day beautiful and glistening. Ryan drove, listening to his brothers chatter about some party they were going to go to that night. South Village traffic was light at seven o'clock in the morning, although there were lots of pedestrians about. A woman jogging past in short shorts and a sports bra caused both Rafe and Russ to bump their faces against the window as they craned their respective necks trying to get a better view.

“Grow up,” Ryan muttered, thinking he should have had another cup of coffee.

“If growing up means not looking at a chick like that, then no thank you.”

“Shut up, Rafe.” Russ gave Ryan a long worried look. “What's the matter?”

“What? Nothing.”

“It's something for you to not look at a beautiful woman,” he insisted. “You always look. Hell, then you sleep with half of them.”

That wasn't exactly true. Not even partially true.

Okay, maybe partially true. In his twenties he'd been somewhat of a—

“Slut,” Rafe said proudly. “I want to be just like you.”

If they only knew. Between keeping the business going so he could feed everyone, and going to school, he was too tired to be a “slut.” Half the time he was too tired to even
think
about sex. Sorry state for a thirty-two-year old. “Not everything revolves around sex.”

“Yes it does,” Russ said, and Rafe laughed.

They pulled up to the jobsite. Surveying the damage of the fallen tree in the light of day, Ryan let out a slow whistle. Last night they'd simply gotten Suzanne out and put supports under the fallen tree to protect the building from further damage. Getting that baby off the building was going to be tricky. To get a better feel for what had to be done, he climbed a ladder alongside the trunk of the tree. Halfway up, he paused to put on his work gloves, and then went utterly still.

He had a good view into the second floor window,
which was apparently a bedroom, given that he was looking at the largest bed he'd ever seen.

And in it, together, were two sleeping females.

Taylor and Suzanne.

 

M
ORNINGS WERE
not Suzanne's thing. She'd rather be tortured on the rack than have to leap out of bed. And yet given the persistent stab of sunlight against her lids, she could surmise she needed to do exactly that if she wanted to get to the restaurant in time for the start of her shift.

Slowly she opened her eyes, keeping the rest of her body still. She'd sell her soul for coffee. Or cold pizza.

Yet somehow she doubted Taylor had cold pizza in her fridge.

As Suzanne's eyes focused, she could see Taylor still slept, looking as disgustingly put together and gorgeous as ever. How did the woman do that, hardly messing up a hair on her head during sleep? It was nothing short of amazing. If she wasn't so damn generous and giving, Suzanne would have hated her on principle.

Her gaze wandered to the window. Instead of the Los Angeles skyline smudged by smog, she saw a pair of wide shoulders, and a broad chest silhouetted by the sun, topped by the face that had headlined her dreams all night long.

Ryan.

With the sun behind him, she couldn't see his ex
pression, but she could feel the tension in his big body, and knew he could see her much more clearly than she could see him. Beneath the luxurious covers, her body tingled, coming to the state of awareness she was beginning to associate with him. Lifting her hand, she waggled her fingers at him.

He mirrored the gesture, adding a crooked smile that somehow replaced her need for coffee, and continued his way up the ladder. She caught a flash of flat belly, lean hips, then long, long legs, before he vanished completely, leaving her to her own thoughts.

Thoughts that were suddenly far, far away from work and the day ahead. Thoughts that took her back to how she'd felt in his arms.

 

E
XTRACTING THE TREE
was physically intensive work. Ryan stopped to call for extra help from a labor pool he shared with some local contractors, and hoped like hell he got skilled guys.

As always on a big job, he worried about Rafe and Russ, but they were holding their own, directing the other crew members with such knowledge and authority Ryan felt a burst of pride.

He also felt regret. Yes, Rafe was going to college part-time, but Russ had taken the semester off, and
Ryan worried that he'd never get them both through it.

He didn't want them to be tree guys, as he'd been forced to be. As their father had been before him. He wanted so much more for them, but the truth was, they simply loved the work. How ironic was that, the business he'd worked at simply to keep a roof over their heads had become both the means and the end. Would it be such a bad thing if Russ and Rafe took over the business?

Wondering what he was supposed to do with that, he caught sight of a quickly moving female off to the side. A redheaded female.

Suzanne was racing out of the building toward her car, her hair loose and flowing past her shoulders. She wore some sort of gauzy skirt and matching sleeveless blouse, with bracelets up one arm that jangled as she ran.

Not much of her amazingly lush body showed—not that he was noticing. In fact, he tried mightily not to look too hard.

And failed.

“Caught ya,” Rafe whispered in his ear. Laughing, he clapped his brother on the shoulder.

Ryan ignored Rafe for the moment and kept watching Suzanne, who hurried along, her breasts moving in a gentle bounce beneath her blouse. She slipped
into her car and revved out into the street as if she had a fire on her tail. Her very fine tail, which Ryan happened to know looked unbelievably hot in white bikini panties. “That's Suzanne,” he said.

“I know who she is. The sexy babe we rescued last night.”

Sexy? Hell, yeah, and he was going to have to deal with that. He just didn't like Rafe thinking it.

The taillights of Suzanne's car disappeared. At least she didn't appear to be suffering any ill effects from last night.

“Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.”

That snapped him out of it. What the hell was he doing, staring after her like a love struck teenager?

For God's sake, he needed another person in his life like…like he needed a hole in his head.

But there was no denying she drew him, at least at the base lust level. She drew him, and he wanted to see it through.

“She looks good dry, too,” Rafe said lightly. “Hey, with your busy dating schedule, how are you going to fit her in?” With another laugh, Rafe went back to work.

How was he going to fit her in? Ryan had no idea,
but suddenly, he knew without a doubt that he would.

“Ryan?”

Still shaken by that latest thought, he turned and faced Taylor, who came out of the building wearing some snazzy number that had every man within two square miles losing brain cells.

“I just dealt with the insurance agent,” she said, lifting a hand. “So bear with me, I'm feeling pissy.”

He nodded. “Join the club.”

She smiled, but her voice was pure culture. “Can I be frank with you?”

“Of course.”

“I know you think I'm a terrible person for allowing last night to happen.” She stopped him when he would have spoken. “Please, let me say this. The truth is, I couldn't—can't—afford this place. I inherited it, with no cash to fix it up. And despite appearances…” She lifted her arms out, indicating her own expensive attire. “I have no income, at least not for the foreseeable future.”

“This doesn't bode well for me getting paid,” he said lightly.

“You'll get paid. I think I've figured out how to get some quick cash, so let's go ahead and trim back those other trees you were worried about as well, and
I'll have your money by the end of next week. I hope that's okay, because—”

“It's okay.” He managed a smile even though he was still flummoxed over the realization he intended to see Suzanne again, and soon.

“Are you sure?” Taylor asked.

Hell, half his clients didn't pay him until he threatened legal action. The end of the week would be just fine. “Don't worry, we'll make you safe. In any case, the worst is certainly over.”

Taylor studied the building so desperately in need of renovation. Her worried frown didn't fade. “Let's hope so.”