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“You’re welcome.”
She glanced out the window. “I just noticed. There’s a full moon.”
He stood beside her and peered out. “So there is. How about that?”
He glanced down at her and was struck anew with the urge to kiss her.
At the same time, she turned to look up at him, her eyes shadowed.
Slowly, he raised his hands to cup her shoulders and turn her to face him fully. Then he lowered his head and brushed her lips.
She sighed against his mouth and he took the kiss deeper, taking the edge off a hunger that dinner had done nothing to sate.
Eventually, his lips drifted away from her lips to explore the delicate shell of her ear and the hollows of her throat.
She swayed into him and sighed again, her arms locking around his neck.
Finally, however, and with difficulty, he raised his head. With Kelly, he’d have to go slow. He took a deep, head-clearing breath and asked, “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Tomorrow was Sunday, and he knew Distressed Success would be closed.
“I’ll be at the lodge,” she replied huskily.
“Working.” “Good.”
He had a surprise for her and, fortunately, the weather for tomorrow called for sunny skies and a clear view.
“I should be working. This is crazy.” Kelly pulled loose strands of hair away from her face in a futile battle with the wind.
Though she had her hair tied back in a ponytail, she knew she’d be struggling to get out knots later on.
Ryan grinned in response to her words, his hair whipped by the wind.
He stood by the sails of the boat, and Kelly thought she’d never seen him so carefree. She could well imagine how he might have been a pirate in another life.
She’d shown up early this morning at the lodge because it was Sunday and she didn’t have to be in the shop today. She’d intended to put in a full day’s work, setting up additional furnishings that had been previously delivered.
Ryan, however, had had other plans. After they’d worked for three hours, he’d taken the vase she’d been holding and announced they were playing hooky for the rest of the day.
It turned out he’d already had a picnic basket packed and, what’s more, he’d rented a sailboat.
She had taken one look outside at the glorious weather and had found it impossible to resist.
Now here they were on the vastness of Lake Tahoe—blue skies overhead accentuated by the occasional lazy puffy white cloud, wavy aqua waters below dotted by the occasional watercraft.
Ryan had rented a sloop, which had a single mast and two sails. Because she’d been on a sailboat just once before in her life, Ryan had taught her the basics of trimming the sails and handling the helm before they’d left the dock.
Once they’d gotten under way, however, Ryan had done most of the work. Except for handling the helm when Ryan trimmed the sails, she was able to sit and enjoy the ride.
“Where did you learn to sail?” she called to him now. Then before he could answer, she added, “No, wait. Let me guess. You took Sailing 101 at prep school.”
He flashed a grin. “Good guess, but in fact, I learned to sail right here on Lake Tahoe. It’s a place where we vacationed when I was younger.”
He’d been to Tahoe regularly?
She tilted her head. “That first day at Distressed Success, you acted as if you were unfamiliar with the area. You asked me where you could find a good meal—“
“I was hitting on you.”
A tremor of sexual awareness ran through her as something indefinable, but palpable and strong, passed between them.
Silhouetted against the blue sky, he was breath-takingly handsome. He wore khaki pants and a polo shirt paired with a windbreaker and reflective sunglasses. He looked as if he could have been in an ad for Ralph Lauren.
She hadn’t known they’d go sailing, but she was glad now that she put on pants and espadrilles that morning. A windbreaker that they’d found for her at the lodge protected her from cold and damp.
As Ryan again busied himself with the sails, she reflected on the events of the weekend. She hadn’t intended to reveal so much during their meal at Clearwater’s. Still, she could understand Ryan’s anger better now, as well as identify with it since Brenda, like Webb, hadn’t been the most responsible parent in the world.
Finished with what he was doing, Ryan came toward her and jumped down to where she sat. “Time for lunch. I’m famished.”
She laughed. “I can’t believe you prepared a whole picnic basket!”
He grinned slyly. “Gourmet everything … courtesy of the concierge service at one of Tahoe’s poshest nouveau places.”
Eight
Kelly found that the next week passed in a blur of work, decorating and, above all, Ryan and more Ryan.
By the following weekend, she realized somewhat surprisingly that her work at the lodge was nearly done. She also knew she couldn’t have done it without Ryan’s help.
She hadn’t heard anything more from Webb Sperling, but she pushed the thought aside.
She had time, she told herself. Deep down, though, she knew she didn’t want to upset her newfound accord with Ryan.
As she prepared to leave the lodge late that Sunday afternoon, Ryan surprised her by saying, “Why don’t you come on in? We’ll sit on the deck and watch the sunset.”
“I should be getting back.” The words flew out of her mouth in automatic response.
“Why?” he asked bluntly. “We both know Distressed Success is closed on Mondays.” He smiled. “In fact, since you’ll want to be working here tomorrow, it makes sense for you to stay the night.”
She felt a strange fluttering sensation in her stomach, then caught the teasing glimmer in his eyes.
“After all,” he drawled, “you’re already familiar with the guest bedroom.”
She held her palms up. “I didn’t bring any clothes—“
His smile widened. “Do you really want to hear my solution to that problem?”
She felt herself heat in response. She still wasn’t used to his teasing.
The past week had been wonderful, but he hadn’t tried to kiss her again. He hadn’t done anything, in fact, that could be interpreted as a come-on, even by her fevered imagination.
She, on the other hand, had become attuned to his every breath, every expression, every stretch of hard, lean muscle.
Ryan reached out and touched her arm. “Hey,” he said soothingly, “come on. Let’s just open a bottle of wine and contemplate the meaning of the universe.”
She relaxed a little. “Okay.”
Minutes later, they stepped out onto the deck, Ryan holding two wineglasses in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other.
She tried not to look at the hot tub, remembering how she’d first spotted him at the lodge.
“I can vouch for its relaxing properties,” he murmured.
“What?” she asked, startled.
“The hot tub. It’s great.” He paused, a glimmer in his eyes. “Want to try?”
“No, thanks!”
Her response was immediate and automatic. Just the thought of getting into a hot tub with Ryan Sperling sent her senses into overdrive.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never been in a hot tub,” he teased.
“Some of us weren’t born into the hot-tub-and-wine set.” Then she added, relenting, “In any case, I have nothing to wear.”
His eyes crinkled. “Why let a lack of clothing stand in your way?”
At her look of forbearance, he shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He paused, then added thoughtfully, “I could lend you one of my undershirts and a pair of boxers. You could even keep your bra and underwear on underneath.”
His lips twitched. “I know how important underpants are to you.”
She wondered how much of his sexually charged teasing she could withstand, then asked suspiciously, “And what will you be wearing?”
“Swim trunks.”
“I shouldn’t agree to this.”
He grinned. “But you are.”
They headed back inside. He handed her some clothes and, after they’d both had time to change, she met him on the deck again, padding outside in bare feet and shivering in the cool night air.
Soft jazz filtered out from iPod speakers set up on a table.
He stood holding two full wineglasses and swept her a look from head to toe, his gaze heating. “I had no idea my shirts and boxers could look so sexy.”
She flushed. It felt impossibly intimate to be wearing his clothes, albeit over her own.
He’d already started the hot tub, and the tub’s jets created frothy water, illuminated from below by recessed lights.
It looked so inviting, she thought as she shivered again.
He set the wineglasses down on a small tray at the side of the tub, then straightened and held his hand out to her. “Come. Let’s warm you up.”
He warmed her just by looking at her with his hot eyes, she wanted to say. Instead, she put her hand in his and stepped into the tub.
“Careful,” he cautioned, but she knew she was being anything but—with him, with anything.
He followed her and settled on an underwater ledge across from her.
She sighed as the hot tub’s jets pounded her gently, massaging her muscles. She closed her eyes and leaned back, relaxing against the tub’s side.
“Better?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
After a few moments, during which she heard him lift and sip from his wineglass, he instructed, “Look up.”
She did, and gazed at the inky black sky. Dozens of little stars twinkled back at her.
“My guess is that you haven’t had much time to stargaze in your life,” he commented.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Neither have I.”
She looked down at him, and asked, “Why do you think Hunter wrote a stipulation in his will that you and his other college buddies have to stay at the lodge?”
“Why didn’t he just give the money to charity, you mean?” She nodded.
“We’d made a promise to one another all those years ago, on a night after too many beers. We’d vowed to become huge successes—on our own, not riding on our families’ coattails—and then reunite in ten years. Once Hunter got sick, the rest of us forgot that crazy night. But Hunter never did.”
He looked heavenward. “Maybe he knew we’d need to do this. And somehow he knew it would be up to him to get us to come here just to take a moment and look up at the stars.”
“I guess he was right, because it’s been a while since you’ve taken time to look at the stars.”
“Ages,” he answered absently, then he lowered his head to look at her. “How about you?”
“Ages,” she concurred.
A companionable silence followed. She sipped her wine and looked off into the dark trees, then out at the dark waters of Lake Tahoe.
Finally, she asked, “So you and Hunter were close friends?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I didn’t have siblings, so all six of the guys from college were like brothers to me.” A wry smile touched his lips. “We called ourselves the Seven Samurai.”
She laughed. “Who came up with that name?”
“Blame it on too many late nights chowing down on bad pizza and watching Kurosawa movies. We studied hard, but partied harder.”
