her notepad, she stuffed it back into her tote bag in an attempt to terminate their discussion. He wasn’t about to let her retreat so easily.
“You mentioned going in together on a gift for Brooke and Marc,” he said, sucking off a smear of sauce from his thumb. “What did you have in mind?”
She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin as she swallowed a mouthful of soup. “I was thinking along the lines of something for their bathroom, which Brooke mentioned she wanted to redo in peach and greens. We could get them towels, a vanity set, a matching hamper—”
“Well, that’s certainly very practical and sensible,” he drawled, not at all impressed.
She bristled, a flicker of annoyance finally making an appearance in her gaze. “And what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, I suppose, for old married couples.” Done with his cheeseburger, he wiped his fingers on his napkin. “They’re newlyweds, Jessie. Why not get them something fun and sexy for the bathroom?”
She stared at him as if he’d spouted Latin. “What in the world could be fun and sexy for the bathroom?”
Did she honestly have no clue? He shrugged, thinking of the things that would appeal to a woman, and a man, as well. “Lotions, candles and bath products. I’ve even seen some flavored finger paints that couples can use to rub all over each other’s bodies, then lick off.”
Her brows rose in skepticism, contradicting the flush stealing across her face. “You’re kidding, right?”
He searched her flustered expression, and wondered about her sexual experience. She didn’t strike him as completely innocent, but he was beginning to suspect that she’d never experimented beyond basic sex. Had she ever really been seduced by a man? Really seduced, in a way that encompassed every one of her five senses?
Bits and pieces of their conversation yesterday at his office filtered through his mind:
Chemistry is a great start.
Which rarely lasts once the relationship turns physical.
Is that your experience?
She hadn’t given him an answer, but he was beginning to believe that her sexual encounters had been brief, and inadequate.
“It’s a romantic and playful gift,” he argued lightly. “Brooke and Marc would enjoy it. Any couple would.”
“I doubt it.”
Stubborn woman, he thought. She wouldn’t doubt his choice if she knew just how sensual and erotic bath-time could be when you had someone to play with in the tub.
“Tell you what,” he said, more than willing to compromise. “You purchase the practical items, and I’ll buy the fun, sexy stuff. We’ll put it all together and the gift will be a great combination of both.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her mouth pursed with frustration. No doubt she was wishing she’d never agreed to allow him to help with the party and planning.
“You’re not convinced?”
“I just don’t think your idea is a very useful gift, and it’s not what I had in mind.” Her tone was prim, but her words undercut him as a man who knew what women liked. “Maybe we ought to just buy our gifts separately.”
Without further comment, he let the issue slide—for now. It appeared he had something else to teach her—about the many creative ways to enjoy being intimate. And when he was done with her, she’d gladly admit to his expertise.
THE MAN WAS INFURIATING!
Jessica walked into her apartment, yanked off her jacket, and released a loud, aggravated sound that did nothing to dispel the frustration coiling within her. Why couldn’t Ryan just be a typical male and leave the plans for the New Year’s Eve bash to her? Why did he have to put a crimp in her plans and suggestions?
And why did he have to be so gorgeous and sexy and make her want him so much when she knew how foolish any liaison with him would be?
She sank into the old, soft chair that had seen her through many years of pain, anger, tears and confusion. Though the sturdy frame had been reupholstered three times since her parents’ divorce when she was nine years old, the chair was the one thing she couldn’t part with from her childhood. The softness and warmth had become a comfort zone for her, a place that swallowed her up and offered silent solace for her troubles, whatever they were.
Like her disconcerting attraction to Ryan.
It was silly to hang on to the chair, she knew, considering all the bad memories that came with it—but it had been the one constant in her life, other than Brooke. When her father decided that he preferred the single life with a younger woman over the family he’d created, which entailed nearly destroying his wife in the process, Brooke had been the strong one during the turbulent divorce that had ensued. Brooke had taken care of her, and their mother. The separation had been a nasty one, with her father hiring a powerful attorney who had no compunction about taking advantage of her mother’s emotional shock. And since her mother hadn’t been able to afford to hire a decent lawyer for herself, she’d lost most everything to her husband and his new lover.
Bitter memories swamped Jessica as she remembered the years after the divorce, of her mother struggling to make ends meet because their father never paid child support and alimony on time, and Brooke sacrificing her teenage years to help raise her because their mother had to work two jobs to keep a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, and food in their mouths.
An awful childhood, due to the abandonment of her father, and the insensitive, cruel nature of a divorce attorney more interested in his final take than a family’s welfare.
She curled into the soft cushion and rubbed her hand over the powder-blue fabric. This chair had absorbed her tears and had taken all the angry pounding and abuse she would have unleashed on her father had he shown up to exercise his visitation rights. But ultimately, he hadn’t cared for his daughters’ emotional needs, just his own selfish desires. He’d never given a second thought to the family he’d left in shambles.
Neither had his cutthroat attorney.
When she thought of Ryan’s profession, she thought of the lawyer who’d represented her father and coldly and cruelly demolished a little girl’s dreams. A man who’d degraded a good wife and mother to benefit his client and pad his own pocketbook.
But Ryan wasn’t cold and unfeeling and degrading. He was warm and caring and amusing, in a way that made her wonder how he was able to enjoy being a divorce attorney and accomplish all the necessary evils that went along with the profession when it was obvious that his own family ties were tightly woven. She wondered what had prompted his choice of occupation, then dismissed the thought because the answer really didn’t matter—and shouldn’t matter. Between his career and his drive and ambition, Ryan was completely wrong for her.
Closing her eyes, she burrowed her cheek against the plush headrest in an attempt to forget about her oppressive past, and the turbulent present. No matter the problems and afflictions that plagued her mind, the effect of the chair managed to calm her soul.
At the moment, Jessica was more concerned about the state of her heart…and Ryan Matthews easing his way into it. Despite everything he stood for,
