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“You talk about it as if it’s one of the better times in your life.”
“It was.”
“Did you find it difficult being an only child?” “Did you?” he countered. “It was more difficult being Brenda Hartley’s daughter.”
He raised his wineglass in silent salute. “I felt the same way.”
“It was as if the college partying days never ended for Brenda,” she elaborated, “except she never went to college….”
“But you did,” he prompted.
“Yes,” she said, looking at him in surprise. “How did you know?”
He shrugged. “A good guess.”
“I worked my way through community college in Reno to get a degree in business administration.”
The conversation moved to the challenges of starting a business. Kelly found herself fascinated by the tales he had from his climb to the top of the cable-communications world.
After a while, he said, “Now I have a question for you that I’ve been wondering about. Why did you settle around Tahoe or, more specifically, Hunter’s Landing?”
She sighed. “How I got where I am is a lot less interesting than how you got where you are.”
“I’m all ears.”
She regarded him. He really did seem genuinely curious. “I knew I had to get out of Clayburn,” she said eventually. “I knew I didn’t want to go to Vegas, but Reno wasn’t too far. Once I found a job in Reno, I enrolled at a community college and, on weekends, I’d take cheap day trips to Tahoe.”
She shrugged. “I fell in love with the area and, since there’s a big tourist trade here, not to mention lots of seasonal residents, it seemed like the perfect place to try to open a business.”
“You’ve got good instincts,” he said.
They’d both finished their wine by this time and the music had died away, replaced by the stillness of the night.
She looked around. “I could lie in here forever, but I’d be a wrinkled prune!”
“Ready to head in?” he asked.
“I think so.”
They’d been having such a relaxed, quiet conversation, she’d started to forget they were barely dressed.
Now, however, she was nervous about emerging from the tub.
He placed the wineglasses and wine bottle to one side on the deck and rose. Water sluiced from his body as he climbed out of the hot tub, and awareness shimmered through her as she got a close-up of sheer male virility.
He turned then and made to help her.
She took his outstretched hand and stood up, stepping on the tub ledge, then out onto the deck.
He picked up a couple of towels and handed one to her.
“Th-thank you,” she said, and attributed her stutter to chattering teeth caused by the cold.
Except when her eyes accidentally met his, she’d noticed he was looking fixedly at her body.
She looked down at herself, and realized what he saw.
His white shirt was dripping wet and clung to her like a second skin, defining all her curves. Her nipples, made hard by the cold air, were pronounced against the thin cotton of her bra and his shirt. She looked more top-heavy than she did under her own carefully chosen clothes.
She shivered, and his eyes narrowed.
He dropped his towel and slowly reached up and brushed back wisps of her hair.
Then instead of withdrawing his hand, he trailed the back of it along the curve of her jaw, down her neck and lower….
His hand traced the curve of her breast, then moved up to touch a lock of her hair. “Tempting curves, siren hair.”
She sucked in a breath.
He looked as if he was still waging a battle with himself, caught between desire and something else.
“I should hate you,” she whispered. It was a desperate last bid to avoid what was happening between them.
“No, you don’t. Not really. Not anymore,” he whispered back.
“I want to hate you.”
“I wanted to hate you, too,” he admitted without a trace of apology, “but I can’t. I want you.”
He looked into her eyes, his full of desire, then cupped her neck and drew her near.
He searched her face for a moment before he bent his head and touched his lips to hers.
As she let go of her towel, she thought that this moment had been inevitable since the first time he’d walked into her shop.
If he hadn’t discovered who she was, and she hadn’t found out who he was, they’d probably have reached this point long before now.
His lips claimed hers in a deep, searching kiss. Her body came up flush against his, molding to him, seeking welcoming heat where before there had been just cold.
Her hand moved to the back of his head, pulling him down to her, and she kissed him back, feeding their passion.
A voice inside her head insisted this was wrong. But the voice of scruples was faint, drowned out by the strength of their desire.
He made her feel vibrant and alluring and full of life. The clothes between them warmed from the heat of their desire.
Moments went by before he finally lifted his head and breathed deep.
“I want you,” he stated baldly.
“Yes.”
He searched her face. “Yes?”
“Make love to me,” she breathed, throwing caution to the wind.
It was all the encouragement he seemed to need.
He bent and scooped her up in his arms. “Let’s get inside. It’s freezing.”
He stepped into the house and crossed the great room to the staircase. He took the stairs deliberately, not showing the least exertion from carrying her up.
When they got to the upper level, he went down the hall and into the master suite, setting her down near the bed.
As he lowered her feet to the floor, she brushed against him, doing a slow slide to a want that went bone deep.
“Kiss me,” he said, and she complied because it was the only thing she felt she could do.
The kiss went on and on. Their labored breathing filled the stillness of the room and their bodies moved against each other, straining to be closer.
Liquid warmth pooled between her legs.
He pulled his lips away from hers finally and groaned against her mouth. “I want you badly.”
“Yes.” She felt the same way. A faint tremor shook her hand as she raked it through his hair.
He sat back on the bed and bent to take the tip of one breast into his mouth, groaning as he did so and bending her backward.
She gasped and grasped his shoulders in order to anchor herself. The sensation of him heating her wet and tender flesh was delicious. “Ryan …”
When his mouth moved away, she was burning with hunger for him.
He pulled the shirt over her head and she raised her arms to assist him. Then he tugged down the boxers she was wearing—his boxers—and did the same for her panties. Both pieces of underwear dropped to the floor. Then he pulled her down on the bed for another searing kiss.
When her hand accidentally brushed against him, she stroked his erection and he groaned. Finally, when it seemed as if he couldn’t take any more, he pulled his swim trunks off.
She wrapped her hand around him without invitation and his breath hissed out.
A faint smile touched her lips. It felt wonderful to have Ryan Sperling in her grasp, literally, and on his knees, figuratively.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she denied, but caught the sudden urge to tease him. “Just thinking about giving you pleasure … having you in the palm of my hand—“
He tilted his head, his eyes heavy lidded. “Oh, yeah?”
In the next instant, he pushed her back on the enormous bed and came down beside her, anchoring her.
She squealed and he nuzzled her breasts.
“That first day at Distressed Success,” she said, striving to keep her train of thought, “before I knew who you were, I was immediately attracted to you.”
He lifted his head, his expression roguish. “I wanted you like crazy.”
Her eyes widened. “You did?”
He nodded. “I already admitted I was hitting on you. Of course I had the hots for you.”
“I thought—”
“What?” He smiled. “You think I hit on every young female entrepreneur selling mismatched china?”
She pretended to look offended.
With a grin, he looked at her bra and slid a finger under the band. “Are you going to take this off for me?”
“It’s front closure.”
“In that case—” He raised himself up and undid the clasp between her breasts, allowing them to spill free.
“You’re beautiful,” he said reverently, tracing the outline of one breast.
Then he kissed her and caressed her all over, bringing her to a fever pitch. When he dipped a finger into her damp heat, she went dizzy with sensation.
“Ryan,” she said hoarsely.
But he pressed, making rapid little movements, like the beating of butterfly wings.
She moaned, mindless with pleasure.
Then, all at once, she went up and over and into the vortex, her grip on his arm the only thing anchoring her to the world.
He pressed his mouth against her damp heat, making her gasp again and jerk, even as her fingers threaded through his hair.
She felt the tension within her build again and she trembled against him. Turning her head to one side, she pulled a pillow toward her, trying to muffle the way he made her feel.
Within moments, however, he pulled the pillow from her grasp.
“I want to hear you,” he said hoarsely.
And then he enjoyed her until she felt liquid fire dance along her nerve endings.
Her release was fiery and rapid, bringing tears to her eyes.
She lay limp afterward and thought dimly that her limited experience had not compared to this … had not prepared her for Ryan Sperling.
He pressed kisses to her inner thighs, then levered himself up off the bed. He pulled open a dresser drawer and retrieved a foil packet.
“Because you just never know when you’ll need it,” he explained.
