“Of course not.”

“But I make you nervous.”

“Don’t be ridiculous-” She caught his lifted brow and let out a pent-up breath that blew a piece of hair off her face at the same time. “Okay, maybe just a little nervous, but only when you look at me like…like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re dying of thirst and I’m a long, cold drink of water.”

He decided he liked that, a lot more than he should. “What, exactly, are you saying?” he asked in a perverted need to hear her spell it out.

“I’m saying you fry my brain cells at an alarming rate. Clear enough?”

“Crystal.” And he was quite certain it shouldn’t arouse him.

He wanted to scoop her up and lose himself in her. How was it she was so completely irresistible to him after only days?

“I’m busy,” she said, clearly having not decided, as he had, that this attraction was a good thing.

Oh, yeah, he had a lot of convincing to do. He stroked his hands up her arms and felt her shiver.

“Go away and let me work,” she said, a little less forcefully. “Before I decide to charge you more for the conversation.”

“We’re not talking.” It took nothing to dip his head and inhale the scent lingering on the skin just beneath her ear. Shampoo and soap only, he thought breathing in deeply. No fancy perfumes for this woman. He loved that. “I fry your brain cells? Really?”

With another little shiver, goose bumps appeared on her skin, and proved he wasn’t alone in this attraction.

Good, because he couldn’t tear himself away.

“You know you do,” she whispered, gasping when he connected his mouth with the creamy skin of her throat.

She put her hands to his chest, probably to shove him away, but before she could, he slid his hands over hers, holding them against his chest because he liked the feel of them there.

“I said you fried my brain cells.” She swallowed hard, staring at her hands on him. “Not that I liked it.”

“If you don’t, why are you letting me touch you?”

She stared at him. Then laughed. “I…don’t know.”

“Are you going to deny you like my touch?”

“Ryan-”

He slid one of his hands up her soft throat to cup her jaw. “We never talked about that night, Suzanne. About what happened between us.”

“We were cold and wet. It was dark, and I was scared. We kissed. The end.”

“Not the end.”

“Okay, you’re right. You saved my life. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Now it’s the end.”

Slowly he shook his head while his thumb stroked her jaw, stopping to outline her full lower lip, which trembled and fell open. “Something happened between us,” he said quietly. “You know it.”

She licked her lips, and a vision of him exploring her mouth with his tongue entered his head and wouldn’t go away.

“This is such a bad idea. I’ve given up men, you know.”

It was his turn to stare at her, then laugh.

“I have. Hey, it’s for your sake.”

He thought about that, and the sudden nervous look that appeared in her eyes despite the smile on her lips. “I’m not like him, Suzanne,” he said very softly. “Your ex-fiancé.”

“Which one?” Holding up a hand when he winced at her, she let out a low laugh. “Yeah. There were three. I ruined them all.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, it’s true. I’m on a roll. You should run. Really.”

“Sounds like you only tried the idiots of my gender.”

“I’ve tried more than my fair share,” she admitted.

“And I’ve failed at keeping anyone happy. Badly. I consider myself an expert at them. Failed relationships, that is. But to be fair, I inherited the gift from my father, who was married and divorced six times before he met my mom. I think he sticks with her because she’d kill him if he divorced her, so really, that marriage doesn’t count-”

“Suzanne.” He had no idea why she’d gotten to him so hard, so fast, but his entire heart, locked off to others for so long, squeezed for her. “First, I keep my self happy, I don’t rely on a woman to do that, ever.

No man should. And second-”

“No. No second,” she said quickly.

“And second, I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted another woman.”

He saw in her eyes the wanting in return, before she covered her face. “Oh my God, it’s only been a few days!”

“Five. A lifetime.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this. Why aren’t you running? You should be running. Seriously, I drive men crazy.”

“Suzanne.” He had to laugh, and pulled her hands from her face. “Believe me, I’d love to run, but it’s too late for me.”

“No. Oh, Ryan, no, don’t say it. It’s never too late.” She opened those green, green eyes, and in them was a pleading he couldn’t resist. “I’m already so nervous about the food that I can barely function. Please, you have to go.”

“The food is going to be a huge hit.” Hell, she could have served chips and dip and they’d all be thrilled, but he figured she didn’t need to hear that right now. “Let me help you get ready.”

“Okay, yes.” She put her hands on his shoulders and shoved him toward the door. “Help me by getting out.”


RYAN WAS RIGHT, the food was a huge hit. Suzanne marveled over that a few hours later when all but a few bites of it had vanished.

The crowd was a young one, and given the decibel level of voices and music in the place, they were having a great time.

She was having a great time. Ryan’s brothers were so cute, it was hard not to. They clearly worshipped Ryan, regaling her with stories about the way he’d kept them together, his job, his…what had they called it? His “chick magnetism.”

A magnetism she could resist, she told herself.

Yeah, maybe if she was dead.

Russ and Rafe worked the rooms, keeping everyone in smiles, especially the women, which made Suzanne think they just might be more like Ryan than they knew.

And when they turned down the lights and shoved the furniture back to open the place up for dancing, Suzanne whirled back to vanish into the kitchen.

And came face-to-face with Ryan. He wore khakis tonight, and a plain soft-looking white shirt that showed off his sun-bronzed skin and crooked smile. “Where’s the fire?” he asked.

“Um…”

Before she could come up with a suitable excuse, he took her hand and led her onto the hardwood floor of his darkened living room.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a panicked whisper, pulling back uselessly against his unyielding grip.

“Dancing.” Right in the middle of everyone, he pulled her into his arms.

No one paid them the slightest bit of attention, so unless she wanted to create a scene, she didn’t seem to have a choice but to-ohmigod-dance.

“Relax,” he whispered into her ear when she held herself stiffly to minimize their body contact. He ran his big hands down her spine. “This is supposed to be fun.”

“I don’t really consider dancing fun.”

“Don’t you know how to dance?”

She looked up into his eyes. “I used to dance on top of tables. My second fiancé got me the job.”

“Yes, well, we’ve already established what I think of the men in your past.”

“It…doesn’t bother you?”

“That you danced on tables for what probably was damn good money? Not if you enjoyed it.”

“No, that I’ve been engaged so many times and ruined so many good men.”

“I doubt you ruined anyone, Suzanne.”

She stared at him. “That’s not how the story goes.”

“Did you really fail anyone?” he asked softly. “And before you answer, think about it. Did you lie, steal or cheat anyone? Did you do anything other than be who you are, which is a smart, funny, beautiful, compassionate, amazing woman?”

She swallowed. “You…scare me.”

“Good. You scare me back. Now you’ve stopped dancing. Can’t have that. Here, ease up against me a bit, that’s right, like that.”

Oh God. Their bodies brushed together, hers doing just as he said, easing up against him. Pleasure suffused her entire being, blooming from all the contact points, of which there were many.

She was well aware of how easy it would be to take that pleasure. To give some back. They could spend the night together. Pressed against him as she was, she could feel he was more than ready and able and willing.

But at what cost? She couldn’t do this again. She just couldn’t. Plus, to add to her growing fears, this didn’t feel like any of the other relationships she’d had, this felt…deeper. In less than a week, it felt like more. Oh, God.

The music slowed, and so did Ryan. “Nice, huh?” His low voice was soft by her ear, his hands holding her close, but she had the feeling she’d be this close even without his encouragement, as her body seemed to have a mind of its own.

When he swayed, she swayed, when he turned, she turned. For a man who worked outside with his hands all day long, he was amazingly sensual. Extraordinarily erotic. And being held against him, swaying, dipping, she became those things, too. She was surrounded by him-by his touch, his voice-and nothing in her experience had ever felt so good, so very good. In his arms, her resolve to resist him at all costs faded away to nothing. Less than nothing. In fact, if he scooped her up against him and carried her off to his bed, she’d probably beg him to hurry.

Then they shifted even closer so that the tips of her breasts slid against his chest. Her hips pressed to his, allowing her to feel his hard belly, his hard thighs and the most interesting hard bulge between them. Lifting her gaze, she saw the heat and desire smoldering in his, just waiting for her to acknowledge it.

“You do that to me,” he murmured.

She trembled and forgot why she was holding back.

“Do I do that to you, too, Suzanne? Make you hot? Make you feel like you could just…spontaneously combust?”