Читать книгу The S Before Ex - Mira Lyn Kelly - Страница 11

CLAIRE stared out the back window of Ryan’s chauffeured car, following the cut of highway through the Southern California valleys. At either side land swelled in green hills dotted with homes, palms, brush and the frequent sandy scar of sheered-off earth. It was beautiful even with the gray wash of inclement weather darkening the landscape and early-evening sky.

Somehow the gloomy weather seemed fitting. As if it held a sullen, quiet kind of ache in the air. No stormy, tumultuous hurricane or even weepy rain. This was simply a touch of melancholy, an apropos backdrop to the conclusion of a marriage that had, for all intents and purposes, ceased to be years ago.

The sound of a clearing throat drew her attention back to the man seated across from her in the car. Ryan reclined in a long-limbed sprawl. Tie loose and slightly askew, top button open at his neck, shirt sleeves rolled to mid forearm where they folded behind his head. His laptop was still open beside him—an array of files cluttering the seat beyond—giving the impression that his break from work was intended to be as brief as hers. “So, what do you say we give the conversation thing another go?”

Leave it to Ryan to lay it out on the table.

The communication between them had been limited to a few stilted exchanges following that one charged moment in her hotel room. The one she was working overtime to put out of her head, but, defying her efforts with the tenacity of a garden weed, had given root to a thousand questions Ryan was the absolute wrong man to help her answer. By unspoken mutual agreement they’d taken refuge in work during the long hours of the flight. Though, somewhere over the Atlantic those questions had spread through her consciousness, seeding thoughts of repercussions and what-ifs and no-ways until they’d tangled to the point that business became impossible to focus on … and she’d found her gaze drifting across the buttery leather and walnut interior of the luxury cabin, her gaze roving over the details of Ryan’s powerful physique. Wondering again, why Ryan? How, after so many years?

More than once he’d caught her staring. Their eyes would hold as if in quiet challenge. Each testing the strength of a disconcerting connection lingering between them, and their ability to withstand the spatial intimacy that was the ironic prelude to the dissolution of their marriage. And then he would look away, or she would. Without a word they’d return to the solace of their work.

Only spending the next week in silence wouldn’t get the divorce finalized. So here Ryan was, making the communication happen.

Who was she to stand in his way? “What do you have in mind?”

His head rocked from one side to the other as he let out a rush of breath, considering. “Let’s take it slow. Weather seems safe.”

Claire swallowed, fighting to keep the twitch at the corner of her mouth from giving in to a grin. “Polite.”

“Superficial.”

“Benign,” she offered with a little wave of her hand, amused by the preliminaries of selecting a suitable topic for discussion.

“Mundane. But what the hell …” He yawned with an indifferent gesture toward the window.

“It’s a shame you’re seeing the place like this. Two days ago it was gorgeous. Sun shining, temps up about seventy-five. This time of year the weather can change on a dime.”

Mundane was right. There’d been a time when they’d made a habit of talking the whole night through. When conversation between them was so compelling it physically hurt to end a call or say good night. To her recollection the weather had played into their interaction only once. A quiet Sunday morning in bed. Ryan’s strong hands running soft across her hips as he pulled her astride him, describing in exquisite detail how he wanted to make love to her in the rain. What the scattered beads of water would look like across her breasts, how the cool chill of them would make her nipples tight, hard, achy … and the hot contrast of his mouth as he closed over her, licked and sucked, would make her moan.

Her nipples puckered as the memory of Ryan sliding hot and hard inside her racked her body and stole her breath.

Oh, no. Not good.

Suddenly, the weather seemed a threat beyond compare and Claire was anything but amused. She didn’t want to think about how it had been. She didn’t want to react to the point where it was taking every ounce of will not to squirm in her seat.

Rubbing her temple with two fingers, she stared at her knees, wondering how she could still feel the sheets beneath them.

“Your turn, Claire.”

The combination of her name and the un-subtle snapping of fingers jerked her attention to Ryan’s eyes steadily focused on her. Waiting, watching, studying her with an intensity that did nothing to diffuse the slow, stirring heat deep in her belly.

God, what did he see?

She needed out of this car. Away from this man before he caught on to the wet, rain-soaked direction her thoughts had taken or how shocking her response to them truly was.

“H-hotel,” she stammered stupidly, immediately wanting to slap her forehead in the hopes of jarring her brain loose.

Ryan looked out the window, scanning their surroundings, and then back to her again. “What?”

“The hotel where I’m staying,” she clarified, managing a “silly me” roll of her eyes, though there was nothing silly about how she felt. Desperate, more like. Confused. “Just drop me on the way in. I’ll get settled and then—”

“No hotel,” he cut in with a dismissive wave, his brow smoothing in understanding. “You’ll stay at the house.”

He couldn’t be serious. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Sure it is. There’s a small day staff to clean and shop while we’re there. Don’t be surprised if you don’t see much of them. They’ve got a knack for being conveniently absent and yet amazingly available. Anything you need, they’ll get. And I’ve got a car for you in the garage.”

“No.” The single word snapped out with more force than she’d intended, but suddenly she felt cornered. After spending hours trapped in close quarters together, the only thing that had kept her from bursting out of her skin had been the promise of having some time to herself. Knowing she’d be able to get away. Have a private refuge from her body’s disconcerting reaction to the proximity of his. A place where the subtle, sexy, masculine scent of Ryan didn’t permeate every corner of the space she inhabited, as it had for the last dozen hours of travel.

And that was before he’d gone and brought up the weather!

No way. Trapped in his house, she’d be breathing him in for seven days straight.

“Not even willing to discuss it, Claire?” Ryan asked, irritation evident in his tone.

She turned to him, striving for a calm that threatened to slip fast from her grasp. “We’re hashing out a settlement—even under the most amicable terms, by the end of the day I’d imagine we’d both appreciate having some distance between us. Being able to unwind without the other there breathing down their neck.”

Ryan’s lips twitched at one corner and then pressed flat as he turned to study the passing terrain. “So it’s the neck breathing that’s the problem then. And here I’d always assumed you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

Oh, that was perfect. A little sexually charged banter between them. Just what she needed.

Not.

Eyes fixed on the roof of the car, she shook her head. “You never change.”

“Everybody changes, Claire. And everyone stays the same.” He drew a deep breath, and let his head fall back against the rest. “It’s just not always easy to see exactly how, is all.”

The suggestive teasing tone of a few seconds before was gone.

No doubt he recognized how utterly out of place it was in an exchange with the woman he was divorcing, and packed it away for a more appropriate partner.

Easing back against her seat, she thought about what he’d said. About the changes between them.

He was right, of course. In too many ways, the man seated across from her wasn’t the one she saw when she let her mind’s eye search for her husband’s face in her memories. The one who jogged the streets of downtown Chicago with that deceptively easy stride of a natural athlete, or sprinted the steps of their Boston walk-up, dressed sharply in suit and tie, working his pitch for some meeting or another. In her mind, he was forever the man he’d been, burgeoning with boundless optimism and ideas. A visionary yet to hit success. Young. Enthusiastic. And so gentle and tender, it made her heart ache to remember what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that kind of care.

Ryan was a multibillionaire now. Riding around the globe in his sleek private jet. So smooth and cool. No more nerves. No more pitches. Not since the Journal had started calling him Midas and the world at large began lining up to pitch to him. But that was just success. A surface change, like the deepened lines and furrows around his mouth and eyes.

Inside? She couldn’t say. There were a few obvious things. He was harder now. More callous. Cynical. But beyond that basic awareness, she didn’t know him. Didn’t know if she wanted to.

And she imagined Ryan felt the same way.

Looking past her hair and eyes, he probably couldn’t even recognize the girl she’d been.

But then, there wasn’t much left of that girl now.

At eighteen years old her wants, hopes and dreams had been painfully simple and completely revolved around Ryan. She’d barely known her own mind back then. Hadn’t even tried to figure out all there was to her. She’d been about looking pretty. Having fun. Laughing. Music, parties, clothes, shoes and dates. She’d enjoyed school, done well at it. But she’d been a freshman and hadn’t had the time to find her niche before circumstances required her to drop out and everything changed so completely. When her parents discovered how she’d let them down, and all the love and support that, to that point, had been the foundation for her life was suddenly revealed as conditional.

She’d been so grateful to Ryan for being there for her. Standing by her. He’d taken care of her. Loved her. Married her. Brought her with him when he’d moved for his career.

He’d treated her like gold, but she’d treated herself like some kind of accessory to his life, rather than an equal partner in it. So dependent on him she’d been afraid to step outside his shadow. So in love she’d convinced herself he was the only thing she needed.

A prickle of buried resentment pushed to the surface, making her glance guiltily away. It wasn’t fair to blame him because she’d been a fool. Or because he’d had another life to fall back on when the one they shared together crumbled.

She’d learned her lesson though. The woman she was now didn’t depend on anyone but herself. With the life she’d built, she didn’t have to. Where the old Claire had been content to drift, the new Claire was driven. Relentless in her determination. Tireless in her pursuit of her goals. Strong. Self-made and self-sufficient. The kind of woman a man accustomed to controlling every aspect of the universe around him wouldn’t be able to stand.

Ryan closed his laptop, stacked the folders and stuffed them into the messenger bag at his feet. “Look, Claire, there’s an entire guest suite. You can avoid any and all neck breathing. But we’ve got to get through this stuff. The house is nice. Trust me.”

A guest suite wouldn’t be enough. “I’m sure it is, but that’s not the point. I need my own space. Room to work. You aren’t the only one with a business to run.”

“You’re on vacation,” he countered smoothly, though she couldn’t miss the flinty edge in his eyes.

He didn’t like being challenged, and so far that’s all she’d done.

“That was more for Sally’s benefit than mine, and since she’s not around, I won’t have to sneak off to keep up with the work I’ve got.” She let out a steadying breath and searched his face for understanding. Found only a will she’d rarely had need to defy.

“So we’ll be working out the settlement around our other obligations. Working early, working late, working whenever we can make it happen. It’ll be easier if you’re available.”

Sure. His beck-and-call girl. That wasn’t going to hap pen.

“I’ll have an office set up for you in the house.” Pulling his phone from his pocket, he swept a thumb across the screen. “Just tell me what you need—”

“A hotel, Ryan.”

He remained silent. It was a tactical move in a power game she wasn’t interested in playing. “You really do always get your way, don’t you?”

Ryan held her stare, until the challenge between them dissolved.

“No, Claire. Not always.”

She swallowed down the desire to find out just what he meant by that, and straightened her spine instead. “Good. Then this won’t come as too hard of a blow.” She wasn’t giving in. And it was as much about self-preservation as it was about pride. “You’re not getting it now.”