Chapter Twenty-Four
Music streamed over the terrace in a pleasant flow of background noise that dampened the low hum of conversations. Brie glanced over the crowd, her social smile in place. To say she felt at home would be a stretch, yet she understood the vibe and how to navigate it. Now if only she could get a handle on the man beside her.
Was this a personal date, a social interaction for professional benefit or a combination of both? And what did that mean for her?
“Can I get you another drink?” Ryan motioned to her empty wineglass.
She hesitated, aware of the effects already mellowing her thoughts. “Sure.” She could sip it.
He set their empties on a table and wove his way through the people to the bar. He cut an imposing path that had heads turning even in the affluent crowd, not that she was surprised.
The late-summer night held a gentle nip of cool that hinted at the approaching fall without tipping the temps into cold. A breeze blew over the lawn behind them, and she lifted her face into it. The scent of fresh-cut grass greeted her with unheeded memories of home. Her childhood hadn’t been bad. She’d spent hours playing outside, laughing with her sister and friends before her mother’s social ambitions had been thrust upon her.
“Here you go.” Ryan handed her a glass, his other hand coming around to rest on the small of her back. Their spot by the concrete railing provided a quiet escape along with an advantageous viewing point. “We don’t have to stay too much longer.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, absorbing the comfort and sense of belonging that came with his simple touch. Out here, in the open among his peers. That was...good. It warmed her in a way far softer and more dangerous than his passionate caresses.
Yes, he was still her boss. People would talk, no matter how inconspicuous or professional they were in the office. She should care, yet she wanted to be with him more—wanted this more. It was irrational and totally against her character—for Brighton. And maybe that’s why Brie was okay with it.
She studied his profile as he scanned the terrace. His serious nature kept so much hidden. His invite to this event after a week of business as usual had come as a surprise, yet not. Nothing was planned or normal with him.
“I’m fine,” she informed him, softly. “We don’t need to leave on my account.”
He snapped his focus back to her, brows drawn. “Did I say it was on your account?”
“No.” Her lips quirked. The debater was always quick to counter. “I’m just saying, I’m fine.” She glanced over the terrace. “They did a nice job on the remodel.” He’d given her a tour of the renovated library when they’d first arrived. “Did you spend a lot of time here?”
The giant alumni sign would’ve tipped her off that he’d graduated from the university if Berkeley Law hadn’t been stamped under his company profile.
He looked at the building, took a drink of his wine. “At one point in my life, yes.” The note of sad whimsy caught her attention.
“When was that?”
He huffed a laugh. “Years before technology overtook paper.”
“So you’re ancient. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Careful,” he warned, a teasing light in his eyes. He leaned close, pulling her in with the gentle urging of his hand. “I’m still young enough to fuck you against a wall.” She gasped, hitting him lightly on the arm, but the Libido Bitch hummed her wicked pleasure at the memory. His smile held a devious gleam. “We can repeat that, unless you’re worried that I might hurt myself.”
Nope. No worries on that front. Now, her own damn heart? That was already walking too close to the line of fire.
She narrowed her eyes, reaching up to flick her fingers through the edge of his hair. “I don’t see any gray yet.”
He gave her butt a light pat. “Behave.”
The jolt wasn’t close to painful, but the heat spread to warm more than her bottom. “Why would I want to do that?” she taunted when she would’ve punched any other man. But he was...different. Everything was different.
“Good question.” His eyes danced with heated amusement.
“I’ve been known to have a few of them.”
“Among other things,” he murmured before stepping back. He made a casual gesture to the building. “I probably spent more time in there than my dorm room.”
“Why was that?”
His shrug was meant to be casual, but she saw the stiffness. “I needed the grades.” He took a sip of his wine, evading her eyes. “And I generally disliked my roommates.”
She laughed at that. “I’m not surprised.”
His glare had no heat when he directed it at her. “Do I dare ask why?”
“Like you don’t already know.”
He flicked his brows in the impression of a shrug. “And the geek is now the partner.”
She squinted at him, shook her head. “Nope.”
“What?”
“I can’t see the geek.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “Now, the focused asshole...” She made an exaggerated nod. “That I see.”
“Even assholes have a place in society.”
He fell back into debate mode without a hitch. Her heart softened, regret slipping in. He’d opened up to her and she’d...missed the opportunity.
She laid a hand on his chest. “You’re not an asshole, Ryan.”
He looked away, stiffening. “I can be one. I know that.”
“Can I ask why?” There was no point in denying it further. But she also knew that there was so much more behind the asshole image he projected.
A distant wariness held in his eye when he looked back to her. He hadn’t shut down though—or shut her out. “An asshole doesn’t get teased, because he doesn’t care.” He winced, his lips compressing. That little movement showed more than his words. “People try, but when nothing takes hold, they move on to more vulnerable prey.”
And he refused to be vulnerable. The unspoken ending defined him so clearly.
She bit her tongue to hold back the sympathy welling in her chest. Yet her heart ached for the boy who’d had to figure that out and the man who still believed it. “How old were you when you learned that?”
“Eleven.” No hesitation. No emotion. Nothing.
The music kicked up, and he grabbed her hand. “Come on.” He set his glass on a table and did the same with hers.
“Where are we going?” she asked, allowing him to draw her along. Their conversation was done, and she wouldn’t continue to push, yet she’d still wonder. What had happened? Would he ever tell her?
She saw the man Ryan was, pitfalls, walls and all, and she still wanted him. The last week of being just Burns and Wakeford had shown that she could do this. She could remain professional at work and have a personal relationship with him.
He was her boss, but he was also just a man.
Brie smiled at a group of people tracking their path across the terrace. She’d been introduced earlier, but their names had been lost beneath the mass of introductions. Her mother would’ve been so disappointed in her.
And what about herself? How did she feel?
She caught the eye of an attorney she recognized from another law firm. This man didn’t even attempt to crack a smile as he studied her, calculation marching over his expression. She tightened her hold on Ryan’s hand, meeting the man’s challenge with a strength of her own. The Bay Area might be huge, but the legal community was very intertwined.
Her inner battle sprang to life in a crash of fear and want. Her Brighton instincts urged her to push Ryan away before her mother heard about him or her professional reputation was ruined. But the stronger, awaking Brie desires had her hand tightening around his.
Tongues would wag after tonight, but one thing she would never be was a secret. Her personal pride overruled her work pride on that point.
Her career had been her priority since she’d left home, but now, with Ryan, she had a chance at something that was growing to be just as important, if not more. And it had nothing to do with her mother.
Ryan spun around at the edge of the small dance area. She gasped, smiling when he drew her into his arms. “Dance with me.”
He didn’t give her a choice and she didn’t object. Why would she? “I didn’t know you danced.” He fell into an easy two-step with a grace that didn’t surprise her.
“You know me better than that,” he murmured. He tucked her close, his hand holding hers, the other possessive on her lower back.
Her soft laugh was one of understanding and acceptance. “I do.” She really did. Knowing how to dance was an image requirement. One she was all too familiar with. She melted into him a little more, that empathy spreading until she imagined it wrapping around him in a protective embrace. “How’d you learn?”
“Classes.”
Of course. Her quiet laugh soothed the hurt she’d tried to ignore for the last week. Logic hadn’t stopped her doubts from dropping bombs each day. This was so right and wrong at once. And perfect in so many stunning ways.
“Me too.” Before her sweet-sixteen party. It hadn’t mattered to her mother that most of the boys had only known how to shuffle back and forth.
Ryan did an easy step and turn that managed to draw her closer. Any premise of a respectable space between them was now gone. She was fully aware that he was making a declaration, both to her and his peers.
This was personal.
She could object, ask more questions.
She didn’t.
Worry fanned a small breeze through her chest before she let it go. He’d only push back, shut down, and she didn’t want to lose this right here.
The blindfold was gone. Her eyes were open, and Brie wanted this. Him. The passion and the ice. The quiet and the frantic. The distance and the impossible closeness.
She closed her eyes and blocked the stares from reaching her. They still prickled over her nape and slithered down her spine with their intrusive power. But she was safe here, within his arms. His strength held her strong when the impropriety threatened to weaken her. He had her, both in and out of the Boardroom.
“There’ll be talk,” she murmured. She breathed him in. His scent eased the tension and warmed her with knowledge, of who he was and who he could be.
“There will.” He squeezed her hand. “I won’t let it hurt you.”
His reassurance blended with her understanding to anchor her doubts. “You have a plan.” She didn’t leave it as a question.
His breath warmed her temple and soothed its way to her heart. “Company policy doesn’t prohibit this.”
This. She squeezed her eyes against the onslaught of dreams. Nope. Not yet. Not...yet. She forced a lightness to her voice. “This? As in dancing?”
“Dancing.” He made another smooth step-step-spin that freed a laugh from her. “Kissing.” His lips held on her temple in a press of intent that replaced her laugh with a choking ache of longing. It melted her heart and released her hope. He nudged his lips near her ear. “Fucking.” He nipped her earlobe. The sting raced to her core on a cry of want.
She sucked in a breath and locked down the express ride to love her heart was attempting to make. Dancing, kissing and fucking could happen without a hint of love in the mix.
The song changed. Couples departed the floor. Ryan kept dancing, and she moved with him, willing to follow where he led.
She looked up at him, her emotions swirling in a murky mix of unknown. He didn’t hide from her when she’d feared he would, especially here. His eyes burned with passion and softened with a tenderness reserved just for her. The knowledge sank into her heart and breathed of a freedom she never dared dream of.
He dipped her, halted. His breath ghosted over her lips, but his eyes never left hers. “Tell me no, Brie.”
Blood roared in her ears. Shivers spread from her heart to shimmer over her skin and flutter in her stomach. Her pulse jack-rabbited its doubts, but a quiet, sweet calm settled into her bones.
“I don’t want to,” she whispered.
Something flashed in his eyes that had her heart stuttering and her dreams singing. His lips touched hers, her eyes drifted closed and she let herself fall. Into his arms. His kiss. Him.
And he caught her. Claimed her.
The kiss was gentle, so soft she wanted to package it up and keep it with her. He made one small pass of his tongue over hers, another, before he withdrew.
She opened her eyes to find his. Understanding flowed between them on a current stronger than words. The very one that’d blazed in the Boardroom and bound them still.
She couldn’t define it, but she refused to fight it. Words weren’t needed when her heart spoke directly to his. The thought was foolish, reckless. Yet that was the only way she could describe it.
He led her from the dance floor, his arm wrapped around her. He nodded at everyone who met his gaze, and she let the tenderness spread into her smile. Happiness bubbled inside her to twist with an unspecified fear. At the unknown maybe? Or the risk? Or the awareness of the gigantic leap she’d just made?
They didn’t talk about the change. Not on the way back to his condo. Not as they climbed into bed. Not as he stared into her eyes and filled her. Not through the multiple times they came together over the night and into the next day.
And not when he dropped her off at her home with a tender kiss and no promise to call. But he did, that night.
It didn’t come up over lunch the next day or on their walk along the Embarcadero. Nope, it didn’t come up the entire weekend. He held her hand, kissed her roughly and just as tenderly, laughed at her stories and shared a few of his own.
And at some point between leaving the fund-raiser and heading back to work on Monday, that fear eased.