Читать книгу Off Limits Lovers - Reese Ryan - Страница 14

Four

Roarke stood by the bar, sipping scotch and soda as he scanned the historic Crystal Ballroom located in the Rice Hotel in downtown Houston. The venue dated back to 1913 and had soaring thirty-five-foot ceilings, beautiful mahogany French doors and an elegant lobby with gorgeous crystal chandeliers. They’d been there less than an hour and he already had a collection of lipstick imprints on the side of his face, courtesy of older women he hadn’t seen since he was in high school.

“Here’s where you’ve been hiding.” Angela stood beside him. “Tired of little old ladies kissing your cheek and telling you what a big boy you are now?”

“Very funny, sis.” Roarke scrubbed at his face with a damp bar napkin. “I agreed to be your plus-one for tonight. I didn’t agree to make out with every retirement-age woman in the room.”

“But you’re so good at it, little brother.” Angela was clearly amused. “Seriously, thank you for coming. Esme, Melinda and Tatiana all had plans tonight.”

Tatiana Havery had been one of Angela’s best friends for as long as he could remember.

Angela thanked the bartender for her apple martini. She sipped it. “Mmm... That’s good.”

“I’ll have what she’s having.”

Roarke’s attention jolted to the source of the familiar voice. He’d only heard it once, but he’d never forget it.

“Lemon icebox pie,” Roarke said as his gaze met her warm brown eyes. Eyes he hadn’t been able to forget since he’d seen them in Farrah’s Coffee Shop a few days ago.

“Two pies,” she responded with a tip of her chin. Her smile lit up the entire room. A smile he could easily get lost in. She turned to his sister. “Angela, it’s good to see you.”

“Wait... You two know each other?” Roarke’s gaze shifted between the two women.

Something in his sister’s demeanor changed when the woman from the coffee shop approached. She smiled uneasily as she introduced them. “Roarke, this is Annabel Currin. Annabel, this is my brother, Roarke Perry.”

Those big brown eyes widened. “You’re Roarke Perry?”

“Guilty.” He held up his scotch and soda.

The mystery woman was Ryder Currin’s daughter. That explained his sister’s reaction.

“It’s good to see you, too, Annabel. You look beautiful.” Angela fidgeted with her bag. “How’s your father doing?”

“He’s hurt,” the woman said pointedly, but her tone and expression softened slightly. “And miserable. He really misses you.”

A look of relief passed over his sister’s face and the corners of her eyes looked wet. “Please tell him that I miss him, too.”

“No way. I’m not the messenger girl.” Annabel’s tone was kind but firm. “If you want him to know, you’re going to have to tell him yourself. You know where to find him.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Angela nodded, then walked away.

“Angela,” the young woman called. “Please do.”

His sister smiled, then disappeared into the crowd.

“ID, please, miss,” the bartender said.

Annabel frowned and produced her driver’s license from her handbag.

The bartender nodded, then slid the apple martini toward her.

She picked it up and took a sip. “That is good.”

Roarke scanned the woman. She was gorgeous in a floor-length blue gown that reminded him of something a Greek goddess would wear. Athena, Artemis or perhaps Aphrodite.

The smooth creamy skin of her back and shoulders gleamed, highlighted with a dusting of glitter that augmented her ethereal beauty. The peekaboo feature at the front of her dress exposed a little of her midriff.

Roarke glanced again at her left hand. The huge rock she’d been sporting a few days earlier was notably absent.

One corner of Annabel’s mouth curled in a grin as she took another sip of her martini. She leaned in and whispered, “I don’t know if you know this, Two Pies, but you’re staring. It’s frowned upon in polite society.”

“Is Two Pies my official rap name?” Roarke straightened his tie, trying his best to mask his amusement.

She laughed, setting her glass on the bar. “I thought it sounded better than Not-My-Brother.”

“Oh, so Ryder told you about that, huh?” Roarke signaled for another scotch and soda.

“My dad tries to be as open and honest as he can be with everyone in his life.” Her statement implied that his father didn’t operate that way. She’d get no argument from him. “Besides, we’re not kids anymore. He wanted me and my siblings to be armed with the truth, should we be confronted with the accusation. He offered to show me the paternity test, but I didn’t need to see it. I know my father.”

“That’s how I feel about my mother.” He accepted the scotch and soda. “So I didn’t believe it, either.”

“Well, here’s to not being siblings.” She raised her glass, clinking it with his. “Because that would make this very awkward.”

Before he could ask what she meant, she’d pressed a hand to his chest, lifted onto her toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

Roarke froze, startled by her sudden action.

Annabel laughed. “I can’t figure out if the kiss was that bad or that good.”

“It was good. Definitely...good.” Roarke cleared his throat. He took a healthy sip of his drink. “But the other day, I’m pretty sure you were engaged, Lemon Icebox Pie.”

“You’re quite observant, Two Pies.” Something about Annabel’s mischievous smile warmed his chest. “You’re quite correct. Were being the operative word. The chauvinist formerly known as my fiancé called off the wedding.”

“If you don’t mind my saying so, Thank-God-You’re-Not-My-Sister, you seem to be taking the breakup remarkably well.”

“I’m mature that way.” Her brown eyes sparkled and she barely restrained a laugh. “That and, if I’m being honest, there was a part of me that had slowly begun to realize that I wasn’t happy in the relationship.”

“When was the wedding scheduled?”

“A few weeks from today.” All of the lightness and joviality faded. A flash of anger passed over her face.

“Well, I’m sorry. All jokes aside, I can only imagine how distressing that must be.”

She smiled at him sweetly. “Thank you, Roarke.”

There was something so enticing about hearing her utter his given name in that soft sweet voice. It made him imagine what it would be like to hear her say it again as he hovered over her.

Roarke shut his eyes briefly and tried to scrub the sound and image from his mind.

He was only in Houston for one more day, then he’d be off to Dallas again. Besides, the object of his infatuation was Ryder Currin’s daughter.

Could he possibly make his life any more complicated?

He’d lived his life in a comfortable realm that existed on the corner of sarcastic and serious. He didn’t have room in his life for gorgeous women who looked like Greek goddesses, tossed around smart-ass nicknames and randomly kissed strangers.

Besides, Sterling seemed to honestly respect his accomplishment in getting him released on house arrest. And how hard he was working to clear his name. Getting involved with his arch enemy’s daughter certainly wouldn’t score him any brownie points with the old man.

“Well, it was nice to officially meet you, Annabel.” He set his half-finished drink on the bar and wiped a hand on his tuxedo pant leg. “But I’d better check in with Angela and make sure everything is good.”

“Of course.” Annabel’s tongue glided over her full lower lip. She raked her manicured fingernails through the loosened, wavy ends of her hair, tugging it over one shoulder. “Save me a dance later?”

“I look forward to it.” Roarke turned and made his way back to the main ballroom and the table where they were seated.

He’d done the right thing walking away. Though what he’d really wanted to do was lean in and steal an unexpected kiss from her this time.

She was young. At least five years his junior. Fresh-faced and idealistic. She’d just broken up with her fiancé. His father hated hers. And he lived in Dallas while she lived in Houston.

He’d made the right decision to turn tail and run.

So why did every step he took away from Annabel Currin feel like he was walking away from the sunshine and into the cold dead of night?

* * *

Annabel couldn’t believe that the hot dude who had been behind them in the line at Farrah’s was Roarke Perry.

During her conversation with her father earlier that week, the name had been vaguely familiar. But she’d had no idea of what a handsome man Sterling Perry’s son had become.

She hadn’t been blind to the man’s good looks when they’d crossed paths at Farrah’s. But she and Mason had just called the wedding off. She hadn’t even taken her ring off yet. So how incredibly handsome he’d been was merely an observation. But standing there at the bar with him, she couldn’t help being drawn in by his charm.

Roarke looked striking in his tuxedo and he smelled divine. So good that she’d wanted to press her nose to his neck and take a whiff of his woodsy, masculine scent.

Even now, she wasn’t sure what had possessed her to kiss him.

It was innocent enough, as kisses went. Still, it had sent a shiver down her spine, making her want another and another.

Annabel glanced over at the table where Roarke sat with his sister. After the paternity test, her father hadn’t been up to seeing Angela again yet. And Annabel didn’t want to push him.

He and Angela were right for each other, she was sure of it. But each of them needed to reach that conclusion on their own.

Her phone buzzed in her clutch and she checked the caller ID.

Mason.

Mason Harrison was the last person in the world she wanted to speak to. She sent the call to voice mail, then tossed the phone back in her bag.

It rang twice more, so finally she answered it.

“You’re screening my calls.” Mason’s words were clipped. His voice vibrated with annoyance, much as it had the day she’d taken him to Fairy Godmother.

“I’d say that’s standard ex-fiancée behavior. Wouldn’t you?”

“Is it also standard to send your ex an itemized bill?”

A wide smile spread across her face. It almost made her wish she’d been standing in the room with him when he’d opened the invoice.

“When you suddenly call off an engagement less than sixty days before the wedding because of your archaic, misogynistic notions about marriage rather than making a compromise...yes. It certainly should be. Why should I be stuck with all of these expenses when it was you who changed your mind?”

“I’m not paying for the stuff on this list, Annabel. Not any of it. And I have no intention of compromising on that, either.”

Mason ended the call and she was glad. Less than five minutes on the phone with him and she was tense and anxious.

She would never admit it to him, but she should thank Mason Harrison for saving her from certain misery.

Annabel set her empty martini glass on the bar and moved toward the ballroom, mingling with the crowd. She’d wanted to delay the inevitable questions about the canceling of her engagement, but in their circles, news traveled quickly. Bad news, especially.

She put on her biggest smile, tipped her chin and made her way directly toward dear sweet, kindhearted, generous-to-a-fault Lavinia Cardwell. The gossip queen among Houston’s filthy rich and influential set.

Why spend her night retelling the story of her and Mason’s breakup when she could just tell Lavinia and watch her work her magic instead?

Besides, with the heat of Roarke’s stare warming her skin, she could think of much better ways to spend the evening.

* * *

Roarke listened politely to the conversation around him, nodding when appropriate. But his mind kept drifting to the stunning beauty in the slate blue dress who moved about the room. She was all easiness and smiles. Giving no indication that she’d been unceremoniously dumped not too long ago.

And though he’d tried his best to be subtle as he’d sought a glimpse of her now and again, it seemed that she caught him staring nearly every time.

“You’re quite taken with Annabel Currin,” Angela whispered as she gently elbowed him below the table. “Not that I blame you. She’s a very pretty girl. And there’s something about her that makes her ridiculously charming. I never understood what she saw in the snobby exec that works for her father.”

“Her ex works for Currin Oil?” He raised a brow as he turned to face his sister. “Breaking the heart of the boss’s little girl seems like a bad career move.”

“Especially one rumored to have his sights set on being CEO of the company one day. If you ask me, marrying the boss’s daughter was his way of ensuring that it happened.”

“The guy sounds like a real gem.” Roarke gritted his teeth. “Looks like he did Annabel a favor by backing out of the wedding.”

“Some would agree.” Angela glanced over at Annabel, who seemed to be reassuring some overly concerned older woman that she was just fine. “Myself included.”

“If the guy is so awful, why’d she agree to marry him in the first place?”

“Because he’s all charm and polish on the outside. You don’t taste the worm and rot until you’ve taken a healthy bite of the apple.” Angela opened her purse and took a peek into her compact. She looked up from her reflection and regarded his slack-jawed expression. “Don’t look so surprised, little brother. I’ve known guys like that. In fact, I’ve dated more than a few. And in some ways—”

“You could just as easily be describing our father,” he muttered.

Sterling Perry was all flash and no substance. Their mother had married him because of that charm and a desire to please her father, who’d considered them a good match. She’d remained in their unhappy marriage for the sake of her children.

Roarke was glad Annabel hadn’t met a similar fate. Though the spirited young woman he’d sparred with tonight certainly didn’t strike him as someone who would suffer in silence in a miserable marriage.

Perhaps her ex had come to realize that, too.

His gaze drifted toward Annabel again. Despite knowing all of the reasons he should be content to admire her from a distance, Roarke eagerly anticipated his next encounter with Annabel Currin.