Russ narrowed his eyes. “But you are dating. You dated Allene just last week.”

“I did go out with Allene, but only because Rafe set it up and I didn’t pay attention enough to say no. I’m not kidding you, I’m taking classes three nights a week and between that and work and Suzanne, it’s killing me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I…just wanted to do this for me.”

Angel stared at him, then wound her arms around his neck. “Oh, Ryan. College! We’re college buddies! I feel so proud of you!”

“Landscape architecture?” Rafe repeated slowly, then grinned. “How cool is that?”

“But what about the business?” Russ asked.

“The tree business will be here as long as you guys want it.”

“So…” Rafe scratched his head. “You’ve been doing all of it? Just for us? Bro, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did.”

“I don’t want to make this a chick-flick or anything,” Rafe said a little thickly. “But that’s pretty damn cool of you.”

“Landscape architecture,” Rafe said slowly. “Yeah.

Sounds cool. But…you’re not dating the entire female population? Really?”

“Really.” Ryan gave Angel, still in his arms, a squeeze. “Sorry.”

She pulled free to narrow her gaze on him. “So who’s Suzanne?”

“The one.” He swallowed and faced the cold, hard truth. “She’s the one.”

“She’s- Oh my God.” She put a hand to her mouth while her gaze never left his. “You’re serious.”

“I’m serious.”

Russ groaned and sank theatrically into a chair. “He’s fallen and can’t get up.”

“So what are you going to do about her?” Angel wanted to know.

“Well…I’m going to convince her she feels the same way.”

“Why do you have to convince her?” his sister demanded. “Why doesn’t she already love you? What’s the matter with her?”

“Nothing.” Ryan grinned. “She just isn’t quite as sure of me as you are.”


SUZANNE FOUND a part-time chef position at a restaurant across town. After being her own boss for weeks, she had to admit…working for someone else wasn’t as much fun as she remembered.

South Village was fun to live in, and fun to cook in, but this restaurant was upscale. Which meant she was cooking for people who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to say so. Very quickly she got tired of the same menu every night, and not being able to deviate for fear of insulting a patron.

One morning about a week after what she thought of as “the ice cream” incident with Ryan, she tripped over a package outside her door. Frowning, she picked up the plainly wrapped, odd-shaped box with the pretty silver bow. It was nearly two feet long, several inches wide, and gave off no other clue as to what it was.

She glanced left and right down the hallway of the second floor landing, but there was no one there, so she pulled off the ribbon, then the paper.

And found herself holding a set of beautiful teak-wood cooking utensils.

A card fell out, and she scooped it up, her heart accelerating at the words.

Suzanne,

For your catering. I know, I know, it’s just a hobby. But maybe you’ll think of me when you use them, as I’m thinking of you.

Ryan.

Ryan, the man who’d made her smile and yearn and burn. Ryan, the man who haunted her dreams every night.

Ryan, the man who could single-handedly destroy her in a way no one else ever could.

The gift wasn’t some empty-handed gesture, as flowers might have been. The utensils had been bought with her in mind, which meant the gift came from his heart.

That alone made her throat tight, because she couldn’t remember ever receiving a gift like this before.

Lord, she must be tired. She hadn’t slept well in days. Ryan’s fault, as she’d been dreaming about him. If she wasn’t dreaming about him, she was thinking about him.

Again, his fault. He’d called, he’d stopped by, and much as she wanted to remain indifferent, she couldn’t. Not when every time they easily talked, easily laughed…and easily could have taken it further.

She’d say it was all physical, but that was a lie. It was far more than physical now, and she knew it.

Which made it no less terrifying. She’d failed in her determination to keep him out of her heart. Utterly failed.

That evening when she got home, there was yet another package. Small this time, with another silver bow.

She opened the thing like a kid at Christmas, then right there in the hallway had to sit down.

It was a pewter pin in the shape of a chef’s hat, lying on velvet. Etched on the hat was her name. The detailing was beautiful, the pin was beautiful.

And so was the gesture.

This time her fingers shook when she opened the card, and just seeing his words-the ones he’d written in his own hand-made his voice come alive in her head. Her body reacted as if he’d touched her.

Suzanne,

I’m so proud of you. Be proud, too.

Ryan.

That night, wearing the pin on her pajamas and holding the teak utensils in her hand, she sat on her bed and picked up the phone. Dialed. Listened to Ryan say hello in that low, sexy voice. And panicked.

Why had she called?

To tell him to stop buying her presents, that’s why.

To tell him to stop making her think of him. To tell him this had to stop because she was losing her mind.

“Hello?” Ryan said again.

She bit her lip. Tell him. Tell him!

“Suzanne?”

Oh God.

His voice deepened, became intimately familiar.

“Suzanne, is that you?”

She closed her eyes. “How did you know?”

“I’d recognize your panicked breathing any where.”

Terrific.

“I’m glad you called,” he said quietly. “I’ve been thinking of you.”

“I…have to go.”

“Suzanne-”

“Bye,” she whispered in a choked voice and hung up.

It wasn’t possible to be more pathetic, really it wasn’t. And then, as if he could still hear her, or worse, see her, she lay down and put her pillow over her head.

12

THE NEXT MORNING Suzanne woke and ran to her front door. Hauling it open, she looked down at her feet, and let out a helpless little hum of pleasure.

Ryan had come. She unwrapped a set of votive candles, vanilla scented. Her favorite, which he knew, and she melted all over again.

This time the card read:

Suzanne,

I couldn’t find chocolate ice cream scented candles…

Ryan

She laughed.

Then she cried.

She stood there holding the teak utensils and candles, with her pin on her pajamas, staring out into space. What would happen if she gave in?

No. No giving in. Had she forgotten what she did to men? Good men went bad because of her.

Damn, this wasn’t funny. This wasn’t something she could walk away from. Suddenly furious at herself for getting in too deep, she headed down the hall.

Suzanne found Taylor in one of the dusty, bottom floor storefronts, looking as put together as always in tan slacks and a pristine white blouse.

“Hey there,” Her friend said, not turning around. “I’m getting this unit ready. We need someone with lots of bucks to come in and open a shop or something. I was thinking- Uh-oh.” She’d finally turned and took in Suzanne’s rattled appearance. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you know where Ryan’s current job is?”

“Um…” Taylor smoothed her perfectly glossed lips together. “If I say yes, are you going to storm off in your pajamas, holding what looks like salad tongs and a set of candles?”

Suzanne looked down at her sweat bottoms and tank top. Women wore less than this every day. So her hair was undoubtedly rioted and she had no makeup on, so what? She wasn’t here to win a beauty contest. “I am, yes. He’s…he’s sending me gifts, Taylor.”

“The bastard.”

“I know!”

Taylor stuck her tongue in her cheek. “So what did he send?”

“Not generic flowers. No, nothing as simple as that. He sent good stuff. Stuff I want but would never go buy for myself.”

“Really,” Taylor said with a tsk and a serious face. “The nerve.”

“It gets worse.”

“Do tell.”

“Well…I think he likes me for more than just the sex.”

“Again, what a bastard.”

Suddenly Suzanne laughed. Just as she’d always laughed in the face of such emotion. It felt good.

“Oh, honey. Give it up. Marry him.”

Suzanne’s amusement faded. She stared at Taylor, utterly confused, and miserable in it. “You’re as crazy as he is.”

“Really? What else is he doing to you besides the gifts and great sex?”

“He won’t get out of my head, that’s what!”

Taylor grinned. “He’s at the Pasadena Target store, taming a humungous set of palm trees.”

The store wasn’t far at all. She could march over there and tell him this was not funny, that he had to knock it off, and still be back in half an hour. “Thank you,” she said, and shocked them both when she hugged Taylor.

Taylor squeezed her back. “What’s this for?”

“For laughing at me. I needed that.”

She was halfway to the door when Taylor called out. “You going to give him hell, or a big, fat, juicy kiss?”

“Hell,” said Suzanne, a thought straight from her head.

But her heart cried out for the big, fat, juicy kiss.


HELD UP BY safety gear, Ryan carefully balanced himself about sixty feet above ground, one foot braced on the roof of the building, the other on his rig ladder. Time to tackle a palm tree.

While he contemplated his next move, something from the corner of his eye caught his attention. A figure striding directly toward Russ on the ground.

A wildly curved, wildly red-haired figure. Her arms were full, her posture animated.

And even at sixty feet, he could feel the fury.

“You’ve got company,” Rafe noted from his high perch.