Eight

Ryder turned off the television and picked up his cell phone. For the past few days, he’d been checking his phone in hopes of receiving a message from Angela. Despite the fact that he’d been the one who declared that they should take a break.

Angela was a proud woman. She was a Perry, for God’s sake. Still, there was a part of him that needed to know she missed him as much as he missed her.

There was a text message from Annabel reminding him she wouldn’t be home tonight. But since she failed to mention the Marriott hotel, he was fairly certain she’d altered her overnight plans in some way.

He’d been forced to learn the fine art of reading between the lines of Annabel’s text messages in the years following her mother’s death. She was now twenty-three years old. Yet, he still worried about her. And he couldn’t help wondering where his daughter was spending the night at a time when she must still be feeling heartbroken and vulnerable.

In response to his directly worded text, asking where she was, he received a second message from Annabel.

Don’t worry, Dad. I’m at the beach with a friend. Frankie knows exactly where I am. I’m fine. I promise. Love you!

Ryder shook his head and chuckled. Annabel was going to be the death of him. She had a flair for the unexpected.

He wasn’t thrilled to hear that she’d purchased a couple of run-down old buildings and had started a business without consulting him. But he admired her gumption. If anyone could make a successful business out of something as nonsensical as playing fairy godmother and doing some makeovers, it was his middle child.

Ryder gripped the phone rather than returning it to the table. He took a deep breath, then dialed Angela’s number.

The phone rang several times. He wondered if she was still at the gala. The one they had planned to attend together as a proper date. He was about to end the call when suddenly her sweet voice came through the line, hesitant and tentative.

“Ryder, I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight.”

He hadn’t expected to call. But the need to hear her voice and to know that she was okay had been too strong.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I just... Well, I really needed to hear your voice is all.” He cleared his throat to fill the silence that stretched between them. “So how was the gala?”

“Good. The usual, I guess. You know how these things go.”

“I do.” His mind reached for something else to say to keep her on the line. “By the way, I thought you should know I told Annabel and Xander about the rumors and the paternity test. I didn’t want them to be blindsided.”

“I wish my father had had the insight to do the same. Then I wouldn’t have reacted so poorly when I first heard them from Lavinia.” She sighed. “And I did react poorly. I stormed into your house, accusing you of God knows what, barely giving you a chance to talk. I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve known that you weren’t that kind of man. And that, despite their disagreements, my mother would never have passed off another man’s child as my father’s. I wasn’t fair to you or my mother’s memory, and I’m sorry. I only hope that one day you can forgive me for that. Or at least understand how devastating the prospect of it being true was to me.”

“I do,” he said quickly. Before she could hang up the phone.

“You forgive me, or you understand why I completely lost it over the possibility of you being my brother’s father?”

“Both.” He sighed.

“Does that mean...”

“I don’t know what it means yet. Other than the fact that I’ve been missing you every moment that we’ve been separated.”

The line was silent for a moment. Finally, Angela responded, “Me, too.”

“Well, that’s mighty good to hear.” His heart danced in his chest. They’d hit a snag in their relationship, but he couldn’t deny his feelings for her.

Falling for someone who wasn’t the daughter of his sworn enemy would’ve surely made his life much simpler. But Angela was the first woman, since he’d lost Elinah, who’d made him want to open his heart again and explore the possibility of love.

“I realize that it’s late,” Angela said. “But if you wanted to come over, I could show you just how sorry I am that I ever doubted you.”

Ryder chuckled. “Darling, I’ll be there before you know it.”

He grabbed his keys and left a note on the counter for Annabel.

* * *

Annabel stared out at the dark water and enjoyed the cool salty sea breeze as she stood on the beach in her bare feet beside Roarke Perry.

She’d traded her elegant gown for a pair of cutoff jeans and a tank top. He was wearing an old T-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans. His dark blond hair rustled in the breeze.

He seemed at peace in a way she hadn’t seen him before. Because there was always something about him that made it seem as if the entire world were weighing on his shoulders. A hazard, she imagined, of being raised by a man who believed he’d been fathered by the man he hated more than any other.

Yet, despite the world-weariness that hung about his shoulders, there was something about Roarke that had captured her attention the moment she’d laid eyes on him at the coffee shop. She’d dismissed it because the break of her engagement to Mason had been so new. And she’d only broken the news of its dissolution to her friend Frankie just minutes before. But when she’d encountered him again at the gala just a few days later, she’d been even more sure there was something special about him. Something that made her determined to get to know him. Despite his last name and the false rumors regarding her father.

Rumors that had easily been disproven.

“I see why you chose this house. This spot on the beach is a slice of heaven.” She slipped her hand in his.

He seemed startled initially, but he tightened his grip on her hand and shoved the other in his pocket. “You’re right. The house is nice enough, and I can always upgrade the finishes later, if I’d like. But this view and this peaceful little spot... I fell in love with it right away.”

“I can’t believe you don’t spend more time here. You have not one, but two workspaces inside. It’s the perfect spot for a working vacation.”

“That’s the lie I told myself when I bought the place.” He chuckled. “Maybe eventually, I will come out here on weekends. That way, even if I’m working, at least I’ll have a beautiful view.”

“You should.” They walked for a while in silence until she shoved him with her shoulder. “You know all about me and my horrible relationship choices. What about you?”

“Not much to tell.” He turned and walked back in the direction of the house, still holding her hand. “I’m not involved with anyone and I haven’t been in some time.”

“You’re easy on the eyes, you have the right job title and you’re from a prestigious family. So there’s no shortage of women after you.” It wasn’t a question and he didn’t object. “So why is it that you’ve chosen not to get involved with anyone?”

“Wouldn’t be fair when I’m pretty much married to my work.” He shrugged.

“You mean you have yet to meet a woman whom you find more compelling than your work.”

“Do you always just cut to the chase and say exactly what you’re thinking, Annabel Currin?” He stopped and turned to her, studying her expression in the moonlight.

“I find it best, whenever possible.” She grinned. “Saves time and aggravation. If you don’t count the fact that people are sometimes aggravated by my stating the truth plainly.”

“There is that.” He chuckled. “The truth sometimes hurts.”

He turned and started to walk again, her hand still firmly in his as they cut through the dunes and approached the house.

“It does,” she said quietly, the humor suddenly gone from her voice.

If she’d been as honest with herself as she was with everyone else, she would’ve realized things would never have worked out between her and Mason.

“Hey.” Roarke stopped at the bottom of the staircase and squeezed her hand. His warm gaze met hers. “Everything okay, beautiful?”

Annabel lowered her gaze, her cheeks warm. Butterflies flitted in her belly.

There was something about Roarke Perry that was so damn appealing. His warm honeyed voice and the genuine concern in his blue eyes wrapped her in a sense of deep comfort. The kind Mason had never made her feel.

“I’m fine. I...” She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his mouth. Couldn’t stop thinking of how his lips had felt against hers for even the briefest moment when she’d kissed him earlier that night.

She tugged her lower lip between her teeth and tried to control the shallow little breaths that made her chest rise and fall rapidly.

Roarke tilted his head and closed the space between them, pressing his mouth to hers in a tentative kiss that sent a shiver down her spine and caused a slow burn low in her belly.

Roarke slipped his arms around her waist and tugged her closer, till their bodies were flush.

She gripped the fabric of his shirt and tilted her head, her lips parting to meet his. Annabel sighed softly as he slid his firm tongue between her lips, gliding it along hers as he deepened their kiss.

Her nipples pricked and liquid pooled between her thighs, her desire for him growing. Like a tiny flame fanned into a raging, out-of-control fire.

Suddenly, the sound of voices and laughter approaching from down the beach pulled them both out of the daze they’d fallen under. He pulled his mouth from hers, both of them still breathing heavily.

“Annabel, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Maybe we should go inside.” Annabel trotted up the long, wooden staircase and waited for him to open the door.

She didn’t want to hear Roarke’s apology. He’d just given her the most amazing kiss. The last thing she wanted to hear was that he believed it was a mistake, when what she wanted was more.

More of his kiss. More of his touch. To spend the night in the comfort of his strong arms.

Roarke opened the door and extended a hand, indicating she should enter first.

Annabel grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Then she called good-night over her shoulder as she ascended the narrow spiral staircase to her room.

She flopped down on the mattress in the dark and stared at the ceiling, her heart still racing.

* * *

Roarke sank onto the sofa and scanned television stations in search of something tolerable to watch. He settled on a home renovation show hosted by a husband-and-wife team with four adorable little kids.

He’d hoped that the discussion of changing rooflines and possible loadbearing walls would cool down the fire raging inside him that made him feel like he was going to combust. The ice-cold bottle of water on his lap had helped abate the raging hard-on he’d been left with. But he couldn’t stop thinking of that kiss and how her mouth had tasted. Or how the smooth skin of her back had felt beneath his palms as he’d glided them up her back, beneath the little tank top she wore sans bra.

Roarke sighed, angry with himself for almost breaking his number one rule.

When he’d started his law practice, he’d drafted a set of personal conduct rules for himself. It was his way of ensuring he would never become the kind of businessman who played fast and loose with ethics, as his father, Sterling Perry, did.

Do Not Sleep With Clients was at the top of the list.

Besides, Annabel had just gone through a breakup. Whether or not she was willing to admit it, even to herself, she had to be experiencing some level of vulnerability. And maybe a bit of fear that she’d bitten off more than she could chew with her new business.

He wouldn’t take advantage of Annabel. Wouldn’t capitalize on the volatile mix of emotions she must be feeling.

No matter how much he wanted her.

Roarke turned off the television, went upstairs, stripped out of his clothes and took a cold shower. He fell into bed, exhausted. Still, he was unable to sleep.

The kiss he and Annabel shared played over and over again in his restless mind.