“Not exactly.” She could still hear him, above her. “Not enough.” That guttural admission that had set her on fire and, even now, made her heat in ways that wouldn’t be satisfied until they met again.
“How, exactly, do you mean not exactly?” Sally demanded, making Claire want to laugh at this impatient show of protection. It had always been the other way around with them. Sally was the vulnerable one. The little sister of her heart, the impetuous girl that Claire protected. It had been that way since she’d found her five years ago outside the gallery. Lost and left behind by a boyfriend who had promised her the world and brought her to New York, only to abandon her with less than seventeen dollars when he met someone who “got him and his vision.” Claire had taken her in. Given her a job and helped her with school. And Sally had given her everything she had in return. They were more like sisters than friends or employer and employee. And Claire had always been the big sister…but today, the roles had reversed.
A part of her wondered if the change had anything to do with Massimo, the man Sally had stayed behind to be with…and now stubbornly refused to discuss, brushing all questions aside with a flat “we’re not talking about me”. Not that the same line had done a thing for Claire. Sally wasn’t having any of it.
She didn’t know how to explain the pull she felt toward Ryan. Didn’t want to explain what she’d never admitted to Sally or anyone but Ryan before—that there had been no one else. That until him, she hadn’t even felt the flicker of a spark toward another man. “It’s different with Ryan. Sally, the way we ended things—there’s so much unresolved between us.”
Ryan had been everything to her. The rising sun, laughter beneath the midday rays, and love through the star-speckled nights. But after Andrew…at the end, she hadn’t been able to be with him in any meaningful way. Hadn’t been able to talk to him or explain the dark place she’d gone to. Her heart had broken, her body and mind had shut down to everything but grief and a resentment she’d known, even then, she had no right to…and yet couldn’t fight. The shame, sorrow and anger had eaten her alive until all she could do was close herself off from everyone and everything. All she could do was leave. Try not to look back, because she couldn’t stand to see whether it was relief or betrayal shining in Ryan’s eyes as he watched her go.
“So what are you resolving?”
That was the question. Maybe nothing. Maybe she was simply filling in the hole where saying goodbye should have happened.
Sally huffed at her silence. “Claire, call your lawyer and have him work out the settlement for you. What you’re doing is a mistake.”
“How can you even say that? You’ve never even met Ryan, let alone seen us together. We’re going into this with our eyes open. Believe me.”
“What I believe is that you’re even worse off than I thought. I don’t have to meet Ryan to know what a threat he is to you. For God’s sake, I know you. I’ve seen the way you live your life and I’ve seen your face each time his picture splashes across some tabloid cover.”
Claire bristled, pushing off the couch. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Yes, I care about Ryan, and I will for the rest of my life. But that doesn’t mean I’m suffering some delusion about a future together. This is closure.”
“This is an affair. You’re lovers.”
“Only until we settle.”
“And then what? You watch him walk away while your heart is breaking all over again?”
“No. We both walk away.”
“And your heart?” Sally’s heavy sigh filled the line. “You don’t have affairs, Claire. You aren’t casual. How can you believe you’ll be able to spend all this time with the man you loved enough to marry, and not fall again?”
“Because I know better!” she snapped back, unable to listen to another question, challenge or charge. Unwilling to acknowledge them because, regardless of how well founded they might be, Claire wasn’t going to stop. She couldn’t.
A pause, and then, “Well, I guess you know what you’re doing.”
“I do.”
The call ended a few strained minutes later. Claire set down the phone and returned to the window, studying the new accumulation that covered the neighborhood landscape in a pristine blanket of white. It looked soft and fresh and so inviting. And yet only a fool would risk jumping in. A mere inch beneath the surface lay the remains of the winter’s past. Brittle, jagged and dirty. Until all that had come before was cleared away, the new snow wouldn’t be anything but a dangerous temptation, one better to avoid.
Closing her eyes, Claire let her head fall back and the muscles of her neck lengthen and stretch. She wanted to forget about the snow altogether, hop on a plane back to California and lose herself in the sun. The vastness of the ocean. The steeped hills. And most of all, in Ryan’s arms.
They’d spent two nights together. Two nights and one incredible day. Their progress with the assets had been minimal at best. Barely more than a return of the files scattered across the dining room floor to their state prior to that first combustible kiss.
But neither of them was concerned. They’d manage a better balance the next time, once they burned a bit of that initial intensity off between the sheets.
Another trip to California. Another chauffeured ride to the beach house, though this one alone.
Claire’s schedule had been solid for the next three months—the way she’d become accustomed to booking it. But knowing the assets had to be dealt with sooner or later, she’d done some juggling to make it work. And Ryan had done the same, providing this Sunday-to-Tuesday window to see what progress could be made. The way she figured it, they’d focus on the asset division during the day and leave the evenings for…recreation.
The time and distance had helped her regain her perspective, solidifying the boundaries of what they were doing together. She’d thought about Ryan, of course. Probably more than she should have, but it had been impossible not to. Her restored libido seemed to be making up for lost time, running full steam through both waking and sleeping hours. So, yes, Ryan had been on her mind plenty. But in a physiological way, rather than one that was emotionally dependent.
She wouldn’t forget this was an affair, not some affair of the heart. Neither of them would. A point underscored by the limited exchange of a few impersonal emails coordinating plans over the two weeks since they’d parted ways. And Ryan hadn’t even met her at the airport, proving all those warning glares Sally sent her off with unnecessary.
The car cut over to the exit ramp and Claire’s pulse skipped a beat. Glancing at the uncluttered seat around her, she realized she hadn’t even taken her computer out of its tote. Her phone remained tucked into its pocket in her purse, and she’d spent the last twenty-five minutes thinking only of Ryan like some kind of crazed schoolgirl obsessing over her crush. That wasn’t the kind of hold she wanted him to have over her, but this was the first trip since they’d decided to pursue the affair, so of course she’d been distracted, anticipating what it would be like after two weeks apart. For all she knew, that crazy chemistry they couldn’t resist the last time they were together wouldn’t be the same. If that turned out to be the case, she’d handle it. God, she just hoped she didn’t have to.
The electronic gate opened ahead of her and the car pulled through. Ryan stood off to the left of the carport, feet braced apart, legs clad in dark trousers, dress shirt open at the neck and rolled to midforearm, hands knuckled at his hips. Dark eyes hot as they locked on her through the window.
Chemistry. The kind that syphoned the oxygen from the air and charged the molecules within it until they started to burn.
Claire pulled her purse over her shoulder and reached for her computer bag, taking the extra seconds to ground the nerves that had suddenly gone haywire. Only, then, the car door swung open and Ryan was leaning into her space, pressing her back into the cushions of the seat as his lips closed over hers with a ravenous claim.
Her eyes closed beneath the assaul
t, blocking out all but Ryan and the clean spicy scent of him. The heat of his hand curling around her neck. And the taste of his tongue moving against hers.
Sensual, slow strokes that had her arching into his chest, opening wider to his possession and slipping her fingers into the short silk of his hair. Her nipples rasped tight against her bra, and she pressed into his chest, in search of the relief only intimate contact could offer. His low groan rolled over her tongue, filling her mouth with a need that matched her own.
Ryan broke from the kiss, gently pulling free even as she tugged to pull him back.
Disappointment crashed through her like a wrecking ball at his rough “No.”
And then that smile broke across his lips and his head dropped forward with a weary shake. “This is why I didn’t pick you up at the airport.”
Claire blinked. Once in confusion, and then in quick repetition as, shocked, she recalled their particular circumstances.
Her breath sucked in and Ryan offered what might be an amused nod. Though at second glance, the lines of strain etched around his face suggested perhaps pained would more accurately describe it.
In the span of those few seconds, they’d ended up half sprawled across the backseat with Claire’s skirt hiked to the very limits of propriety and the spike of her heel braced against the back of Ryan’s calf. Meanwhile, the driver in the front shifted awkwardly in his seat, eyes averted, but judging by the plum stain across his neck, cheeks and ears…acutely aware of the goings-on behind him.
Ryan growled low in his throat. He ought to be jumping off her, backing out of the car and ushering her into the house. But the evidence of why he wasn’t prodded steadily at her thigh.
Claire glanced desperately around them and, finding her purse, shot out a hand to grab it. Holding it in the tight space between them, she offered it up with a single raised brow. Ryan rolled his eyes with a muttered “Please.” Then fixed on something just behind her, satisfaction lighting his features. Grabbing her computer bag, he held it up in counter and backed out of the car even as Claire collapsed back in a gale of laughter.
But then that warm palm was smoothing up her thigh, fixing her skirt, before taking her hand to draw her up. “Out of the car now. As it is, the tip this little indiscretion is going to cost me will be paying for orthodontics for Mickey’s daughter. Another minute of your rolling around back here and I’ll be paying off his house.”
Claire allowed herself to be pulled free of the car and headed straight into the house as Ryan took care of her bags and the orthodontic bill. Heart soaring with all concerns about waning chemistry incinerated beneath that kiss, she skipped up the stairs, dropping her blouse at the third step, and her skirt at the seventh. Seconds later, the front door closed and Ryan’s heavy footfall sounded over the steps. “If you want the bed, baby, you better get there before I get to you.”
Claire gauged the last flight, Ryan’s ability to navigate encumbered as he was, and her skill in three-inch sling backs—and set off with a squeal.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IN the war against temptation, Ryan was fighting a losing battle. They’d been back at it, buried in property assessments, earnings reports and development proposals, for an hour already and, by rights, Ryan ought to have cleared triple what he had. Instead, he’d found his gaze wandering across the spread of divorce headquarters time and again. And even when he’d ruthlessly dragged it back, his mind wouldn’t cooperate.
Claire had dressed in another one of those filmy sleeveless tops. A coral-colored fluttery silk concoction that managed to be sweet and suggestive all at once. A matching scarf hung loose and low around her neck. It was ridiculous, a scarf with a sleeveless blouse of all the damn things in the world. And why that should get under his skin he had no idea except maybe for the fact he could only think of one reason a scarf like that might come in handy and it didn’t have anything to do with fashionable accenting.
Claire stretched her arms overhead, linking her fingers in a way that only fed the depraved nature of his thoughts. Then, slipping out of her seat, she carried her empty water glass over to the wet bar. White tie waist pants sat low on her hips and his palms itched to mold over the rounded bottom they flattered. She’d been there for two days already. This frenzied need should have worn off. Hell, he’d expected it to wear off after the first night of having her back in his bed—or at least cool down to the point where he could get through a morning’s worth of work without losing his concentration to what she had on and how quickly he could get it off. Get her mind and legs wrapped around him, and that smart mouth of hers coming at him from every direction.
“We have to work on this stuff sometime,” Claire said, her elbows resting on the bar behind her, refilled glass in hand. The stance was relaxed, but the look in her eyes was alert. Aware. She knew exactly where his thoughts had traveled. A skill not many people could claim.
“We’re working now.”
“Are we? You look…distracted.”
A subtle tension slipped through his shoulders, knotting tight at his neck. He didn’t get distracted by his dates. He didn’t blow off business to spend time with them. He didn’t mercilessly plot all the ways he could get them naked and wrapped around him. He just didn’t care like this and it didn’t make any sense.
Except it did.
Because he’d been here before.
In the beginning, this was what it had been like with Claire. He’d wanted to eat, drink, sleep and screw her with his every breath. In the beginning.
And then later—hell. Later, he couldn’t wait to get away.
It was that thought that had him ignoring the flare of interest in Claire’s blue eyes and working to focus on the task at hand. “The Austin properties are up next.”
Claire’s nose wrinkled, but she didn’t try to sway him. Except, perhaps, with an extra turn to her hips as she crossed back to the table. Or maybe he was just watching more closely.
Sweeping a pencil from the open file in front of him, he walked it through the fingers of one hand to keep from reaching for her as she brushed past and humphed back into her chair with a little pout that had him wanting to shove the files off the table and lay Claire out atop it. Work his mouth over every inch of her, starting at her toes, until that pretty little pout gave up his name on a sultry moan.
Forget moan. He’d make her scream.
Only they’d lost hours making sense of the files he’d spilled across the floor on her first visit and he wasn’t about to do it again.
Except the way she kept playing with the ends of that scarf—twirling it around her fingers, letting is slip around her wrists—
The pencil snapped.
“Ryan?”
His gaze shot from Claire to the splintered shards in his hand and then back.
He needed to stop thinking about sex. He was worse than a teenager. It was like some switch had been flipped and his brain was running a 24/7 sexstravaganza. He’d become a slave to his libido, and he wasn’t even the one coming off a dry spell. It was embarrassing.
But worse than that, it wasn’t just the sex. It was everything. The talking. The laughing. The stories about her gallery and the struggles that got her to where she was with it. He couldn’t get enough of this woman Claire was now. The heady combination of who she’d been and who she’d become was intoxicating…addictive.
And he didn’t want to get hooked.
Which meant he couldn’t give in to every impulse pumping through his veins. He needed to regain control and remember that, no matter how good this felt, it wasn’t going to last. It hadn’t before, when he would have bet his life it would, and, though they were different people, he knew better than to believe it would now.
His jaw set and the shards of a broken number two threatened to embed in his palms. He pushed to his feet, tossing the pencil to the trash without a glance.
“The Austin properties?” Claire prompted again, her fingertips drifting lazily around the hollow at the base of her th
roat. “In case you…you know…forgot or something.”
And now she was taunting him. “Thanks for that. But, no. I didn’t forget.”
Control. That was the crux of it. Physically speaking, that was a slippery slope he was willing to navigate. If he lost his traction and went down, he wouldn’t be alone and there were a hell of a lot worse things than Claire landing on top of him. But emotionally, now, that was a susceptibility worth guarding against.
Flipping the topmost file open, Ryan rolled his shoulders and blew out a tight breath. “The Austin properties.”
A pencil tapped against the table in a rapid staccato, calling his attention back to Claire, who’d pinned him with a level stare. “Already there. Try to keep up, would you?” The corners of her mouth twitched, and then gave in to a full grin. The kind that made him want to know how far he could push it. What it would take to earn the laugh that rang like music through his memories.
And then he was leaning forward, elbows on the table. “So you want to play, huh?”
Her brow arched, challenge shining in her eyes. He didn’t have a chance. He’d been staring right at her, plotting his best defense—and already she’d gotten to him.
The following week, Ryan strode out to the terrace, offering his phone as he set their bag of takeout on the table. “Check the open news clip.”
Claire stood from where she’d been resting on a lounge chair and walked over, snickering as she read. “Where do you get this stuff?”
“Nutty news feed. Keeps things light.”
Ryan rifled through the bag for the jalapeño chips and watched in anticipation as Claire scrolled through the article, the grin on her face stretching wider as the seconds passed.
Finally she shook her head and handed back the phone, grinning. “That’s funny. So this is how you convince everyone you’re so busy all the time? Keeping your nose buried in these snazzy little phone applications with weird news feeds?”