to her feet and her heartbeat hurtled into high gear. She limped backward a step, never taking her eyes from him. She wasn’t frightened. At least not of him.
Whether he was teasing her or not, she knew she wasn’t in any physical danger from him. He hadn’t had to let her go. She knew as well as he did that her fist hadn’t done the slightest bit of damage to him.
The only thing worrying her now was her reaction to him. Mike and Patrick Ryan were more different than she had at first thought. Oh, they looked alike, there was no denying that.
But she had never experienced this sizzling rush of desire for Patrick. Not once had she imagined rolling around on the floor of his office with him...burying her fingers in his hair...feeling the scrape of his whiskers against her skin.
As those images rocketed around in what was left of her brain, she took another uneven step back in self-defense. What in the world was happening to her? Only moments ago, she had been fighting him, sure that he was some maniac out to destroy her. Now, she trembled at the thought of being kissed senseless by that same maniac?
Oh, she was in big trouble.
Mike smiled. A slow, seductive smile that told her he knew where her thoughts were going.
And that he approved.
Short, shallow breaths shot in and out of her lungs.
She grabbed at the remaining bulk of her shoulder bag and clutched it in front of her as though it were a magic shield, designed to keep lechers at bay. Her fingers worked the leather, locating her wallet and car keys. One corner of her mind realized just how much of her stuff she’d thrown onto the floor. Her purse only weighed about half as much as usual.
The hell with it, she thought, keeping one eye on the man opposite her. She could get the rest of her things later.
“I’m leaving now,” she said and took another hobbling step. “I assume, since you’re Patrick’s brother, you’re not here to rob the place?”
“Good assumption,” he countered and moved a bit closer.
“Then why are you here, anyway?”
“How about we go get a drink and get acquainted?” Mike asked and took another step toward her. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know about me.”
All she wanted to know was why he had such a strange affect on her. But she wasn’t about to ask him that.
He smiled at her again.
Run, her brain screamed. Run now, before it’s too late.
It was the rational thing to do.
It was the only thing that made sense.
So why did a part of her want to stay?
“What do you say?” he repeated. “A drink?”
He reached out one hand toward her.
Denise looked from that hand to his eyes and shook her head, more disgusted with herself than she was him. She mentally shoved her raging hormones aside. “Ryan,” she said slowly and distinctly, “if this was the Sahara and you had the only map to the last Oasis in existence, I still wouldn’t have a drink with you.”
Then she turned and clomped inelegantly from the room and down the hall with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances.
As the elevator doors slid soundlessly closed behind her, she heard him laughing.
Two
Mike stood in the doorway looking after her for a long moment, then turned around to stare at the mess strewn across his brother’s office. In her hurry to find her pepper spray, Denise Torrance had thrown the contents of that huge purse of hers all over the room.
He snorted another laugh and shook his head. Next time he volunteered to fix his twin’s air conditioner, he’d make sure to find out if there was going to be a pint-size tornado dropping by.
Of course, if the tornado happened to have short blond hair, wide blue eyes and a dusting of frekles across her nose, he wouldn’t work too hard to avoid her.
From down the hall, he heard the discreet hum of the elevator as it carried her farther away. He’d thought about chasing after her, but then realized that he didn’t have to.
He’d see her again.
As he bent and scooped up some of her belongings to stack them neatly on the desk, he muttered, “She has to come back. Hell, she left half of her life behind.”
Quickly, he went around the room, snatching up the items she’d tossed. As he grabbed the can of pepper spray, he winced and told himself it was a damn good thing he was quicker than she was. He almost set the can with everything else, to be returned to her, then thought better of it and stuffed it into his jacket pocket instead. No sense in arming the woman, he told himself.
He placed the last of her things on the desk and took a long look at them. Everything from a hairbrush to a tube of toothpaste and a neatly capped toothbrush sat atop the mahogany surface. Shaking his head, he noted the foil-wrapped sandwich, a package of Ding Dongs, a screwdriver set and a package of bandages. But then his gaze fell on the jumbo-size bottles of aspirin and antacid tablets, two black eyebrows lifted high on his forehead.
Ms. Denise Torrance apparently led a very stressful life.
Even as he wondered why, he told himself that it was none of his business. He made it a point never to know too much about anyone. With knowledge, came caring. With caring, came pain.
A small, shiny object on the floor caught his eye and he leaned over to pick it up. His long fingers turned the key over and over as he studied it. A smile crept up his features and he glanced at the wall of file cabinets across the room from him.
The only way she was going to get back into this office was with a key. And she’d left hers with him.
Folding the key into his palm, he pocketed it, then walked back to the faulty air-conditioning unit in the corner.
Whistling softly, he told himself that just because he wasn’t going to get involved, that didn’t mean he had to avoid her completely. Besides, anyone so stressed out that they carried enough medication to dose a battalion was desperately in need of some relaxation.
As he pried the metal cover off the unit, he smiled. It would be his distinct pleasure to introduce Denise Torrance to a little fun.
In the soft morning light, Denise stood outside the brick-and-glass building and stared at the foot-high letters painted on the front window.
Ryan’s Custom Cycles.
That unsettled feeling leapt back into life in the pit of her stomach and she sucked in a gulp of air, hoping to quiet it. It didn’t work.
Her fingers clenched and unclenched on the soft, brown leather of her shoulder bag. It hadn’t been hard to locate Mike. Patrick had once mentioned his twin’s motorcycle shop, so a quick glance through the
