Читать книгу A Love Beyond Words - Sherryl Woods, Sherryl Woods - Страница 10

Ricky wasn’t sure exactly what had possessed him to insist on taking Allie home with him. He’d never in his life lived with a woman, had always assumed he wouldn’t until he got married. He’d never been serious enough about any female to allow her into his world. A few had slept in his bed, but all had left the next morning, most never to return.

He protected his freedom with blunt words and clean breakups, when necessary. No woman had helped him decorate, not even his mother or sisters. From the color of the paint to the spread on the bed, he had chosen it all. It was a haphazard decor, because he’d made impulsive choices depending on what struck his fancy or what he’d been able to find when he’d had a few minutes to shop.

The house itself was small compared to the homes in the area where Allie had lived—two bedrooms, a living room and dining area, one bath and a kitchen that could best be described as cozy. He could stand in the middle and reach the stove, the refrigerator or the table without taking a step. He considered the setup efficient, when he thought about it at all.

The house might not be fancy, but it suited him, because the backyard was filled with trees—grapefruit, avocado, mango and orange. There was nothing better than walking outside first thing in the morning and plucking fresh fruit for his breakfast. Once he’d seen those trees, nothing else had mattered.

The fenced-in yard was also perfect for Shadow. On the first day Ricky brought him home, the shepherd had chosen a favorite spot in the shade, which he guarded as zealously as Ricky did his privacy. Eventually Shadow had allowed Ricky to put a lawn chair in the vicinity to share it. They spent a lot of relaxing hours out there, Shadow dreaming his doggie dreams about chasing squirrels, and Ricky sipping a beer and thinking about as little as possible.

How was Allie going to fit into their bachelor life? Surely in just a few days—which was all he’d bargained for—she wouldn’t get any ideas about putting artificial flower arrangements all over the place or sweet-smelling soaps in the bathroom.

Suddenly an image of lacy underwear and panty hose hanging over his shower rod popped into his head. But rather than making him shudder, he found himself eagerly anticipating the intrusion. Did she wear skimpy little scraps of sexy lingerie or practical cotton panties? The speculation heated his blood by several degrees.

“Geez,” he muttered under his breath. “Get a grip.” He glanced over guiltily, relieved to see that her gaze was directed out the car window. Obviously he was losing it.

No, the truth was, he had lost it earlier, back at the hospital. When Allie had faced him in that faded hospital gown, looking battered and bruised and vulnerable, he hadn’t been able to stop the invitation from crossing his lips. Even if he’d managed to keep silent initially, the impulse would eventually have overwhelmed him. He knew he could never in a million years have made himself walk out of that room without insisting on taking her along. The more she’d resisted, the more determined he had become. The woman got to him, no doubt about it.

Still, this wasn’t a permanent living arrangement. It was only a temporary solution to an emergency, he reassured himself. It was nothing personal, though that didn’t seem to stop his body from reacting predictably every time Allie so much as glanced his way. If he’d spotted her in one of the clubs on South Beach, he doubted he would have given her a second glance. She was too all-American, too petite for his taste. So why did he want her so badly? Because he’d mentally declared her off-limits the second he’d invited her into his home?

He felt a light tap on his shoulder, and his body jolted. He made himself turn, his gaze clashing briefly with troubled blue eyes.

“Are you really sure you want to do this?” she asked.

“I said I did, didn’t I?” he said, grateful that she couldn’t hear the tenseness in his voice.

“But you managed to get me sprung from the hospital. I’m sure I could manage on my own, if you wanted to drop me off.”

“Where?” he asked testily, then cursed himself when he saw the quick rise of hurt in her eyes. There was the problem. She might not be able to detect the nuances of his voice, but she could obviously read his expression. And her every emotion was in her eyes, right there for even an insensitive jerk like him to see.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t be reminding you that you don’t have a home of your own.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. You’re being kind enough to do me a favor and I must seem incredibly ungrateful.”

He reached for her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze until they reached a red light and he could turn his head to face her so she could easily read his lips. “Allie, we’re going to make this work, okay? Having you at my place is not going to be a problem,” he lied, because to even hint otherwise would send her running and they both knew that, for now, she had no where else to go.

And, if he were being totally honest with himself, even if she had, he would have wanted her with him. The troubling question was why? Duty and obligation didn’t seem to cover it. And any other possibility was unacceptable.

Allie desperately wanted to believe that Ricky meant what he said, because he was right—for the moment she had nowhere else to turn. She vowed, though, to cause as little disruption to his life as possible.

She had to admit to being curious about how a man like Enrique Wilder lived. He was all male, and she imagined that, despite his disclaimers earlier, he had his share of women. Would they have left their imprint on his home? Would his sisters have descended on the place to see that their baby brother had all the material comforts a man required?

She fought a smile as she realized that unless he had made a rushed phone call from the hospital, there had been no time for him to invite in a swarm of people to tidy up and ready the house for her arrival. His invitation had been too impulsive. She would be seeing exactly how Ricky lived, for better or for worse. The thought of tossed-aside shirts and damp towels on the bathroom floor, an atmosphere more male than any she had ever experienced, gave her an inexplicable little quiver of anticipation.

As Ricky turned onto a street in an older section of Coral Gables, Allie eagerly studied the neighborhood for clues about his personality. Small, modest homes sat cheek by jowl with brand-new mansions. She knew the area had strict rules for everything from setbacks to the color of paint that could be used, which somehow made the mix of old and new work.

She was relieved when Ricky pulled into the driveway of a stucco house with a tile roof and a lush front lawn, covered with a thick, green carpet of grass. Towering palms and dense shrubbery lined the walkway from the garage to the house. Bright-purple bougainvillea climbed up the sunlit walls of the garage. Other than a few stray branches and a littering of leaves, it didn’t even look as if it had been touched by the hurricane. The landscaping seemed to have been in place for years, unlike her pitiful attempts to turn her yard into something more verdant than the small plots of green sod and one pin oak sapling the developer had considered sufficient for each property.

“It’s lovely,” she told Ricky, captivated by the effect.

When he would have led her inside, she stalled, peppering him with questions about the names of the various plants. To his credit, he not only knew, but responded with patience and increasing amusement.

“Allie, don’t you think we could do this another time, perhaps when you’re not in pain?” he finally asked. “I’ll write it all down for you.”

For a few minutes in her excitement she had actually forgotten about the pain and about the awkwardness of the circumstances. Now it all came flooding back.

“Sorry,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “It’s just that I love to garden and everything down here is so new to me. I’m still trying to figure out what works in this climate. Did you do this yourself?”

She had to make herself look at his mouth, so she could understand his response. Gazing at those sensual lips was not exactly a hardship, but she was beginning to realize that it was dangerous. The more she focused on his mouth, the more she wondered what it would feel like against her own.

Suddenly she realized she’d done it again, gotten lost in her own wicked thoughts, and had paid no attention to the words he was uttering.

“What?” she asked, an embarrassed flush climbing into her cheeks. “Could you say that again?”

“Am I talking too fast?”

“No, I just got distracted for a moment.”

His eyes twinkled with knowing laughter. “Really? By what?”

She frowned at the teasing. “Never mind.” She looked away.

He tucked a finger under her chin and turned her to face him. “I said that I did some of it. Fortunately, if you pick the right plants, the tropical climate takes care of the rest. Except for mowing the grass, I don’t spend a lot of time worrying about upkeep.”

“I imagine you don’t have a lot of free time.”

“No, and sometimes I can be gone for a couple of weeks at a stretch with virtually no notice.”

“When there’s an earthquake,” she guessed.

“Or a flood. Any kind of natural disaster, really.”

“I don’t know how you do that. All that devastation and human suffering. It must be such sad work.”

“Sometimes it is,” he agreed. “But there are moments when we find a survivor against all the odds. That’s what we have to focus on, the unexpected miracles.”

He put his hand in the middle of her back and guided her up the walk. He unlocked the front door and opened it, then steadied her when a German shepherd bounded toward her. At a command from Ricky, the dog promptly sat, tail wagging as he stared up at her. Allie regarded the big dog warily.

Ricky caught her attention. “Allie, this is Shadow. He helped us to find you after the storm. Shadow, this is Allie. You remember her. Can you shake her hand?”

The dog raised his paw. Allie took it, then hunkered down to scratch the dog’s ears. “Thank you, Shadow. I owe you.”

“Offer him a doggie treat every now and then, and he’ll be your pal forever,” Ricky said. “I’ll show you where I keep them. Just remember not to overdo it. He doesn’t need one every time he looks pitiful and begs. It works on my nieces and nephews, so he tries pretty regularly.”

Allie chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ready for a tour of the house?” Ricky asked. “It’ll take about two minutes. Then, if you’d like to lie down for a while and rest, I’ll try to come up with something for dinner.”

“I’ve rested more than enough,” Allie said. “I can help with dinner.”

“Not tonight,” he contradicted. “I promised the doctor you’d stay off that ankle as much as possible for the next couple of days.”

Her gaze clashed with his. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Oh, I think I could find some way to keep you in bed if I absolutely had to,” he said.

His eyes smoldered in a way that made Allie swallow hard and look away. Surely he didn’t mean…She met his gaze again. Oh, but he did. She could recognize the desire even without hearing the likely sensual undertone of his voice.

“About that tour,” she said, all too aware that her voice probably sounded breathless.

He grinned. “Right this way.”

From the moment they stepped into his living room, she knew that Ricky—and no one else—was responsible for the decor. The overstuffed sofa looked comfortable and very masculine. The leather recliner that faced the television sat next to a small table that was littered with newspapers.