“I’ll dig out that study I told you about, if you think it would be any help,” Ryan told Daniel as he fished his apartment key out of his pocket.
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble…”
“No trouble. And no hurry either,” Ryan assured him, and winked.
He promptly disappeared, quietly closing his door to leave Daniel and Greer in privacy. Greer, for no reason at all, felt doubly furious. Actually, she knew the reason. It was that wink. That condescending wink. As if inviting Daniel to try out a passionate clinch with Greer.
She couldn’t think of anything else the whole time Daniel worked up to his good-night kiss. While he methodically slipped off his glasses and started clearing his throat, Greer debated whether or not to ask him in. They’d been out several times in the past few months. One of these nights she’d planned to…well, at least see. Daniel’s kisses were warm, undemanding, lovely. He obviously wanted more. She really wouldn’t know how she felt about him until she tested it out. To hell with her neighbor. Daniel’s shyness was thawing; he might just be a very good man if she could coax him out of his shell.
Ryan had evidently already coaxed him halfway out of his shell. Greer was still mulling over the problem when Daniel startled her with his kiss. There was a tiny trace of aggression in the way he swung his arms around Greer…though she could taste the breath mint he’d popped into his mouth as they left the restaurant.
Her head tilted back, and she closed her eyes and felt Daniel’s moist lips touch hers. The taste was interesting, kind of like a peppermint-soaked sponge. She’d have given up her life savings to feel some kind of wild response to his kiss, but it was like that small problem of silk purses and sows’ ears. Dammit. Daniel’s touch was…clumsy. His tongue flickered out like a tiny serpent and, thank God, almost instantly withdrew. “You’re so beautiful, Greer,” he whispered. “Don’t worry; I’m not about to press you. I know you’re not the kind of woman who wants to rush things.”
A moment later, he left. Behind the locked door of her apartment, Greer tossed down her purse, tugged off her shoes and flopped into the couch. Truce instantly soared to her lap and settled in with approving purrs for her return. She patted the cat absently, then stood up, letting Truce drape himself around her neck, and paced.
Through thin walls, she heard a door opening, Ryan’s voice. Then Daniel’s.
She paced some more. That man. He wasn’t just tricky; he was becoming seriously dangerous. Whatever happened to rules? When a man was coming on to you, he was supposed to play by a certain set of rules. On a chessboard, there were few aggressive moves Greer couldn’t counter. In life, the same.
Ryan wasn’t playing fair.
Monday night, she didn’t arrive home from work until ten after seven. Love Lace had abruptly decided to gear up for the coming trade show. Greer had figured out a long time ago that people in the garment industry thrived on seasonal frenzies rather than advance preparations-actually, so did she.
Except that the air conditioning had been off all day; she was hot, irritable and tired after nine hours at her desk. Dropping her purse on the counter, she headed directly for the shower, peeling off clothes en route.
Underneath a deluge of soothing tepid water, she felt at least four of two dozen tense muscles begin to relax. Dinner and a few hours with her feet up would do the rest. She was rinsing her hair when the telephone rang.
Afraid it was her crank caller, she tensed instantly…and calmed down just as instantly, knowing it was her mother. She always called her mother at seven o’clock on Mondays, and when the ritual varied by even a few minutes, Greer’s mother worried. Hurriedly flicking off the faucet as the phone rang again, Greer stepped out of the shower, groping blindly for a towel.
Her eyes blinked open. She had shoved the towels in the washer at six o’clock that morning; she hadn’t thought to replace them. The phone rang again. Shivering, she raced out to the living room stark naked, Truce standing guard by the phone with his tail switching, limpid eyes interestedly following Greer’s drips all over the carpet.
“Hello. Mom?” Some days her breather called three times, sometimes none. Although she was sure it was her mother, she didn’t feel the surge of apprehension disappear until she heard the familiar voice. Greer relaxed, pushing back her damp hair with a grin, shivering. “No, I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t call on time; I hadn’t forgotten. I was going to call within another-”
The apartment door flew open. Greer’s jaw dropped in shock.
Ryan barreled in on a clear beeline for her telephone. He was wearing suit pants and an unbuttoned shirt that waved around his thighs; his feet were bare. Nothing on him, though, was quite as bare as she was, and the look in his eyes was nothing’s-going-to-stop-me determined.
Their eyes met, clashed, collided. He couldn’t possibly not have noticed her dripping bare skin, but his hand was still firmly extended, demanding the receiver. Greer’s mother was chatting about gardening.
Greer dropped promptly behind the couch, the phone to her ear, furiously waving him away. Her fingers were weaving on the right side of the couch; his face appeared over the top on the left side.
“You’re not talking to anyone. Is it him?” he demanded.
Amazing. Her breasts could blush. So could her navel. Would you get out of here, she mouthed frantically, and finally managed to interject a comment into her mother’s monologue. “That’s wonderful, Mom. Really. I…”
Ryan disappeared. Within seconds, the door to her apartment closed again. Cautiously, she peeked over the back of the couch. “Of course I’ve been listening,” she told her mother indignantly. “You were telling me about Mrs. Inger’s arthritis-”
He was gone.
Later, when she was fully dressed and fed, and the dishes washed and the cat petted, and the clock had long ago ticked past her bedtime hour, Greer was still sitting on the couch, thinking.
Around one, she finally figured out that the sole reason Ryan had come over was to protect her from her breather. She went to bed, yawning with overtired exasperation. She hadn’t expected him to come over for any other reason, of course.
Except that he’d come on like a freight train when they were dancing. He’d packed kisses like explosives, and in more subtle ways showed a very definite interest. For three days after that, they hadn’t seen each other, and when they did she was naked.
But then, he hadn’t even blinked twice when he saw her naked.
Half her life, Greer would have given gold for men who didn’t look at her figure.
She plumped up the pillow for the fourth time, pushed Truce off the bed for the third time, and stared at a night-black ceiling with her eyes wide open. Don’t you fall in love with him, lady. Stick to the kind of men you can handle.
Her conscience was always good for a pep talk. Greer was too honest to kid herself. Ryan…she couldn’t handle him. And her feelings around him…she wasn’t very good at handling those, either. Moorings shifted; landmarks disappeared; mental fogs rolled in when he was around.
Greer was safe just as she was. In time, perhaps, she’d want marriage again, but to a man she felt comfortable with. Ryan didn’t make her feel comfortable; she felt perfectly miserable around him. Those blue eyes of his invited wanton, deliciously decadent behavior, but Greer wasn’t playmate material. She’d never played, not where her sexual feelings were concerned. Sex was a serious business. And if she hadn’t taken it seriously, she would have been used more than once in her life.