Chapter Twenty-Three
The city spread before him in a glorious interplay of man and nature, from the white-and-gray rooftops to the random pops of greenery. The metropolitan crowding was cut off by the blue expanse of the San Francisco Bay and the rolling gray-and-green hills beyond, the distance too great to expose the population crammed onto it.
The million-dollar view was partner-level perfect, and Ryan saw none of it. His mind was buried deep in the paths and obstacles that kept him from moving forward. The quiet surrounded him yet it offered no peace. Work waited, decisions called and still he sat, staring blindly.
They’d returned to work after their night of sex and morning of...sex wasn’t the right word. It was too...cold. He didn’t have a replacement, though. Not one that worked in his landscape.
Not his old one anyway.
A knock sounded on his office door to shatter his thoughts. Good. They were going nowhere.
Brie poked her head in. “Do you have a moment?”
His chest did that strange undefinable clench-and-release thing. How could he define what he didn’t understand?
“Yes.” He swiveled his chair to face her. “Come in.”
Her hair was pulled into a loose tail at her nape, her pantsuit standard navy with a patterned blouse. She kept her smile to that artificially pleasant curve he’d grown to hate since their night together. The one that screamed Wakeford. Just Wakeford.
And for that, he had no choice but to respect her.
“I have these briefings for you to review.” She handed him a small stack of folders, all marked with printed labels. “And you need to follow up with Morrison on filing for a court date.” She clutched the rest of the folders to her chest, her stance calm. “I’ve spoken to his paralegal and confirmed that they’re done with depositions.”
“For now,” he added. He’d faced the opposing counsel before. Morrison was a cagey bastard.
“For now,” she agreed. “Mr. Cummings has asked about my time. I told him I’d check with you. We’re winding down our discovery and our case has solidified—”
He held up a hand, cutting her off without words. Annoyance seethed in a quiet ember of self-derision. Brie had shifted back to Wakeford without further question after her one push last week. The one he’d shut down when she’d still been wrapped in his arms.
And here they were: in a stalemate of his making.
Her smile fell in a flat line that wiped her expression clean. The marble mask held the same frosty gloss that’d greeted him when she’d stepped from his bathroom that morning. He hadn’t countered it then, not when they’d needed to get to work. Not when his world had been turned upside down from the...sex that morning.
And sex was what he had in the Boardroom, not his bedroom.
Not with Brie.
His moronic attitude was going to sink him if he kept it up.
He came around his desk, decision made. She tracked his path to the office door where he closed it. A small frown had formed to pull her brows in slightly, but that was it.
Everything she was showing him was a hundred percent appropriate for work. He should respect that. He did. Yet...
She stared at him as he approached, her frown fading. He let his intent show. The unleashed want and frustrated desire. The anger at himself and the driving urgency to have Brie back.
To be seen again.
“Tell me no, Brie.” Her name ghosted out on a note of longing.
That dark stormy blue shifted into her eyes, her lips parting. Her breaths turned heavy, but she didn’t look away. Her forced swallow telegraphed her answer before it came out. “I don’t want to.”
He cupped her face and dove in for the kiss he shouldn’t take. Just add it to the list of many shouldn’ts. Her moan vibrated into his mouth and urged him deeper. He sought and found the sweet taste that’d locked into his memory as her. Brie.
Her hand came to his chest, eased up to cup the back of his head, urging him on. Relief spread to beat back the chill that’d encroached. Brie was still his. Still here.
When he’d given her no reason to be.
He slowed the kiss to a soft peck. A little nibble. A last brush. He rested his forehead to hers, breaths long and full.
“Thank you,” he murmured, eyes still closed, the weight on his chest gone.
“For what?” Her breath warmed his lips and tempted him back for more.
He laid one last kiss to her temple and shifted back. He used his thumb to wipe away a smear of lipstick below her lip. Gone was the distant mask. In its place was the open smile and lustful gaze that danced with secrets and promises.
“Letting me do that, to start,” he said for lack of a better explanation. “I’m not very good at this.” The honesty came out on a rush of trust he rarely extended.
She ran her fingers through the short hairs near his nape, inciting small shivers that chased each other to his heart. “I’ve noticed.” Her smile matched the teasing spark in her eyes. “And I get it.”
His brows dipped. “You do?”
She lifted to press her lips to his in a short but gentle kiss. “I do.” Her tongue traced a quick path over her bottom lip. “It’s a little new for me too.”
“You?” He shook his head. “I can’t see that.”
Her brow lifted in staunch reprimand. “Getting fucked by my boss in a room full of watchers is not something I can claim experience with.”
He grunted at the verbal punch, yet his smile lifted with that damn appreciation she continued to earn. She didn’t cower or back down when the facts were in her favor.
He tugged her in for a hard hug that pressed into his soul and calmed the riot of protests raging there. “You—” he forced back the laugh that threatened, muffling it to a dismayed chuckle “—are so right.” He covered his floundering with a quick kiss.
Brie smiled back at him. “Remember that.”
“I don’t know how I forgot.” He stepped away before he let his base needs override all his logic.
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep reminding you.” She waggled her brows in a completely unprofessional way as she teased him.
“I’m sure you will.” And for some unknown reason, he was looking forward to it. “Do you have plans tomorrow evening?”
She secured her folders under one arm, smoothing a hand over her hair. “I can check my calendar, but I believe I’m free. Why? Do you have another deposition to conduct?” She set her folders on his desk, opening her notepad to scan the page, frowning. “I don’t have a note on that.”
Her expression was void of confusion or inquiry. She’d simply stated a fact without inference or assumption. The quality was so damn rare yet invaluable in this line of work.
He understood why Charles was ready to have her back. And Ryan wasn’t ready to let her go. Not even the Wakeford portion.
“Good.” He moved around his desk to stand by his chair, victory gracing his steps. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something nice.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
He held back his humor for a long moment before his smile escaped. “I’m asking you out, Brie. I have a fundraising event at Berkeley. I was hoping you’d be my guest.”
“You...” Dismay switched to amusement on a slow shake of her head. She flipped her notepad closed, placed it on top of her folders and tucked the stack back to her chest. “You need to work on your approach.”
“I need to work on a lot of things.”
She smirked. “Facts can’t be disputed.”
He lifted a brow, but opted to skip the debate around that. “Do we have a date?”
Brie headed to his door, turning back before she opened it. “I’ll see you at seven tomorrow night. And,” her smile softened, “thank you for the blouse. You didn’t have to.”
“I told you I’d replace the one I ruined.” He’d had a new one shipped to her, just like he’d promised.
Her nod was small before she opened the door, pausing again. “I’ll be working on a case for Charles this afternoon. Let me know if anything comes up on Palmaro.”
Her exit sucked the air from the room until he let a broken laugh burst free. Fuck. He scrubbed a hand over his face, but refused to answer the doubts peppering for attention.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Burns?”
Ryan whipped his head up to see his assistant wearing a concerned expression. “I’m fine, Carla.”
Her wary once-over could’ve been applied to the crazy guy on the corner who rambled warnings about the coming apocalypse. She gave a soft humph, eyes narrowing. “You should do that more.” She motioned to him.
He held in his sigh, his reserve crawling up to block out his boundaries. “Do what?”
She pulled her shoulders back. “Laugh.” The kind grandmotherly smile warmed her face and tempted one from him. “It looks good on you.”
She departed before he could respond, his mouth gaping when few in his life had had the ability to draw that response. He stared at the empty doorway for another beat before another laugh tumbled out. He let it flow, the levity worming through cracks and sealing up emotional holes left open since childhood.
“Thank you,” he called when he could speak again.
“You’re welcome.” The cheery note floated into his office on the solid tone of understanding. Carla may be absentminded and appeared incapable to many, but she saw things most missed.
He sat, his head still shaking. The landscape had changed when he hadn’t asked for a remodel, yet returning to the old view held no appeal.
His humor died in a slow dawning of clarity. Had his parents really fucked him up so badly that he’d shocked his assistant by laughing?
No. They hadn’t. He’d done that all on his own.
He flipped open the top folder that Brie had left for him. She was right in assessing her workload. They’d packed up the conference room two days back and were ready to move forward.
They were handling their relationship just like he’d said. A load of words and an extended discussion weren’t needed to clarify things. He’d created stress where none was needed.
And that was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.