CHAPTER 7
The car phone rang as Ryder was leaving the airport and turning onto the highway. He answered on the second ring.
“This is Ryder.”
When that slow, deep voice settled in her ear, Casey breathed a sigh of relief.
“Ryder, where are you?”
He frowned. “Casey, is that you?”
She turned away from the noise behind her, trying to block out the paramedics’ voices, as well as the police officer on the scene. “Yes, it’s me.”
“I already picked him up. Just a minute and I’ll hand him the phone.”
“Picked up who?” she asked.
“Your brother, Miles.”
“I don’t want to talk to Miles. I want to talk to you.”
Ryder’s frown deepened as her voice suddenly shattered.
“I have a problem. Can you come help me?”
Before he could answer her, the ambulance that had been parked behind her took off for the hospital with sirens running. Startled by the unexpected noises in the background of their conversation, it began to dawn on him that there was more behind her request for help than the obvious.
“Casey, what’s wrong?”
He heard her inhale, and then she spoke, and her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear her answer.
“I had a wreck.”
The car swerved beneath him and Miles began to curse from the back seat. Even though it was broad daylight and Ryder was driving down the highway leading into Ruban Crossing, in his mind, he saw light flash across a dark, storm-filled sky, heard the sharp crack of lightning as it struck the fuselage of his plane, and smelled smoke, even though the air inside the car was cool and clean.
His fingers curled around the steering wheel in reflex, and it took him several seconds to realize what he was experiencing was a flashback, and that everything was safe and under control. He took a deep breath and started over, asking what mattered most.
“Are you hurt?”
“No…at least not much.”
An odd tension settled inside his belly. Her voice was shaking. If she wasn’t hurt, then she’d at least scared herself to death.
“Are you at the hospital?”
He thought he heard a sob in her voice as she answered. “No, I’m still at the scene.”
“Easy, honey. Just tell me where you are and how to get there.”
She told him, and only afterward realized what he’d called her, but by then it didn’t matter. He was already sliding to a stop at the intersection where the accident had occurred, and it would seem from the way the back door was flung open, he’d stopped just in time.
Miles leaned out and threw up on the right rear tire as Ryder jumped out of the front seat. After that, Casey didn’t see anything but the look on her husband’s face. She took a deep breath and started toward him.
Ryder felt sick. He could see a bump on her forehead that was already turning blue, and there was a small trickle of blood at the edge of her lip.
Wrecks. Damn, damn, damn, but he hated the sight of spilled fuel and crumpled metal. It reminded him of things he’d spent months trying to forget.
“Come here,” he said softly, and pulled her close against his chest while he surveyed what was left of her car. The front half had been shifted all the way to the right, compliments of a one-ton truck that had run a red light. “Thank God for air bags,” he said, eyeing the one that had inflated inside her car.
Her voice was shaking as she reached up, tentatively testing the size of the bump on her forehead. “It wasn’t my fault.”
Ryder caught her fingers, then lifted them to his lips in a quiet, easy gesture before cupping her face with his hand.
“It wouldn’t matter if it was. What matters is getting you to a doctor. Why didn’t they send an ambulance for you?”
“I told them I wanted to wait for you. Besides, I didn’t think I needed…”
He missed whatever it was she said next. He kept hearing her say she’d been waiting for him. That did it. Whatever hesitation he’d had about holding her close was gone. He tilted her chin, carefully surveying the burgeoning bruises and angry red scrapes on the tender surface of her skin.
“I don’t care what you think. You’re going and that’s that.”
Casey rested her forehead against his chest. How long had it been since she’d had someone upon whom she could lean? When his grip around her firmed, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt safe… really safe. As she ran her tongue along the lower edge of her lip, tears began to well in her eyes.
She looked up at him for confirmation. “My lip is bleeding, isn’t it?”
He wanted to kiss away the shock and the pain and the stunned expression in her eyes. He thought better of the urge and hugged her instead.
“Easy now. Let’s get you in out of this sun. You can wait in the car with Miles while I tell that officer where I’m taking you.”
“It’s probably okay for me to leave,” Casey said. “He already took my statement.”
But she did as she was told, grateful for the fact that someone was taking over. It seemed her good sense and practicality was lost somewhere in the wreckage of her car and she couldn’t think what to do next.
When she got inside, Miles was ominously silent. Casey glanced over her shoulder, wincing slightly as a strained muscle rejected the motion.
His condition would have been funny if it hadn’t been too painful to laugh. He lay stretched out in the back seat with his arm thrown over his eyes, shielding them from the sun. He looked worse than she felt.
“Rough flight?”
He groaned and mumbled something she didn’t understand. She turned around and closed her eyes, wishing that the world would stop spinning so she could get off.
Seconds later Ryder slid behind the wheel. He leaned over and fastened Casey’s seat belt without giving her a chance to respond, then glanced in the back seat at his other passenger.
“Buckle up.”
A brief, quick click broke the silence. It would seem that Ryder had made a believer out of Miles.
The trip to the emergency room was faultless, and it didn’t take the doctor long to address Casey’s bumps and bruises. They were minor. The injury that would take the longest to heal was to her peace of mind.
“While you’re at it, you may as well give this one a going over,” Ryder said, pointing at Miles who was slumped in a chair near the emergency room door.
Doctor Hitchcock frowned. “Was he in the accident, too?”
Ryder shook his head. “No. I had just picked him up at the airport when Casey called. He’s a little the worse for wear. Guess his stomach’s had a longer ride than it could tolerate.”
Hitchcock gave Miles a judgmental look. He’d been doctoring the Ruban family for years, and it wasn’t the first time he’d seen this one in a condition of his own making.
“Looks to me like he just needs a little of the hair of the dog that bit him.”
It was the word hair that did it. Miles’s stomach was too queasy for anything, including metaphors. He bolted for the bathroom seconds ahead of another surge.
Hitchcock snorted beneath his breath, but his eyes were twinkling as he glanced at Ryder.
“Casey will be ready to go by the time you bring the car around. Meanwhile, I suppose I can give the party animal something to help his nausea.”
Casey tried a smile, but her lip was too swollen to do much about it, and her head was beginning to throb. “Thank you, Doctor Joe.”
He patted her on the arm. “Don’t thank me. Thank the good Lord for sparing you worse injury.”
“Amen to that,” Ryder said quietly, and went to get the car.
The doctor stared after him, then turned, giving Casey a long, intent look. “So, that’s the new husband, is it?”
She sighed. “You heard.”
He shook his head. “Lord, honey, who hasn’t? Your sudden marriage has set the biggest piece of gossip in motion that Ruban Crossing has ever known. I don’t know what Delaney’ was thinking when he pulled that stunt, but I can guarantee it wasn’t these results.”
Casey’s eyes darkened in frustration. “I know what he wanted. He’d been after me for years to… let’s see, how did he put it…marry well.”
Hitchcock frowned. He’d known Delaney Ruban all of his life. In fact, they’d grown up together, and while Delaney had acquired more money in his lifetime than a man had a right to expect, he’d been obsessed about overcoming his upbringing as the son of a flatlands sharecropper.
“By that, I suppose you’re referring to a socially acceptable marriage, such as to a fellow like Lash Marlow?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t do it, Doctor Joe. I couldn’t marry a man I didn’t love.”
An odd smile broke the wrinkles in the old doctor’s face. He looked toward the cowboy who was pulling that big white car to a stop outside the door.
“So, it must have been love at first sight for you two, then.”
Casey looked startled. “Oh no! It was nothing like that. Ryder is a good man… at least I think he is. But we have an understanding. I’m just fulfilling the terms of Delaney’s will. Nothing less. Nothing more. In a year, this will all be over.”
Unaware that he’d been the topic of their conversation, Ryder came up the hallway, shook the doctor’s hand, and all but carried Casey out to the waiting car.
Hitchcock had his own ideas about understandings. That’s what you say now, Casey Dee, but a year is a long, long time.
As Miles Dunn staggered out of the bathroom with a wet paper towel pressed to his forehead, Hitchcock reminded himself of the vows he’d taken to administer to all who were sick or in need of heating and took him by the arm.
“Come with me, boy.”
Miles looked out the door toward the car. He could see Casey was already seated inside. “But they’re about to—”
“They’ll wait,” Hitchcock said. “Besides, this will make you feel better.”
The doctor had said the magic words. Miles followed without further comment.
* * *
“Lord have mercy!”
If Tilly had said it once, she’d said it a dozen times since Ryder’s arrival at the Ruban estate. And she was saying it again as Joshua passed through the kitchen on his way upstairs with an ice bag for Miles’s head. The soup bubbling on the stove was for Casey. The tears running down her face were those of relief after she’d seen for herself that her girl was all right.
The house phone rang just as Ryder came in the back door.
Startled by the sound, Tilly jumped and the soup she was stirring sloshed over the side of the pot and splattered with a hiss onto the hot cooktop.
“Lord have mercy!” she muttered again.
“I’ll get it,” Ryder offered, and answered the phone before Tilly burst into a fresh set of tears.
Well aware that the call had to be from someone in the family, Ryder’s answer was less than formal.
“This is Ryder, what’s up?”
Erica’s complaint was left hanging on the edge of her tongue. Somehow she didn’t have the guts to say what she’d intended to say, at least not in the same tone of voice.
“Umm…I was wondering if someone was bringing up the ice bag for Miles’s poor head.”
Miles’s poor head be damned, Ryder thought, but kept his opinion to himself. He glanced at Tilly.
“Erica wants to know about some ice bag.”
“Tell her it’s on the way up.”
“It’s on the way—”
“I heard her,” Erica said. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” Ryder said, and started to hang up.
“Wait!” Erica shouted.
Ryder waited. It was her call. Her question. Her move.
“Is Casey all right? I mean, Miles said she’d had an accident.”
“Come see for yourself,” he offered. “She’s at the apartment lying down, and I think she’d appreciate her sister’s presence.”
The thought of being in close proximity with Ryder gave Erica a chill. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly leave Miles on his own. Grandmother isn’t here and when she comes in, she’s going to be beside herself that all of this happened while she was having her hair done.”
A quiet anger he’d been trying to stifle suddenly bubbled over. “There’s not a damned thing wrong with Miles. He’s hung over, not hurt. Casey is the one who could have died today.” He slammed the phone sharply onto the cradle and hoped that the disconnect popped in her ear.
Tilly hid her reaction, but she was secretly pleased. It was comforting to see someone else willing to champion her girl, especially a man who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind.
Ryder turned, anger still evident in his voice. “Did Casey grow up in the same house with Miles and Erica?”
Tilly nodded.
“Then tell me something—how in blazes did she turn out so right and them so wrong? That pair must have been raised on ice water, not milk.”
“They had each other,” Tilly said. “After Casey’s parents died, she didn’t have much of anyone to baby her. Delaney loved her, but his intentions were focused on giving her the skills to run his empire, and truth be told, Mrs. Deathridge played favorites with the twins.”
“Casey had you,” Ryder said.
Tilly nodded. “Yes, that she did.” She handed him a pot filled with the soup she’d just made. “It’s vegetable beef, her favorite.”
Ryder accepted the offering. “Thanks. Considering the blow Casey took to her mouth, that’s about all she’s going to feel like eating.”
Tilly let him out the door, then watched as he crossed the courtyard, went up the stairs and into the garage apartment, carrying the hot pot of soup as if it were the crown jewels. When he was safely inside, she stepped back and closed the door. For the first time in weeks, she felt confident that things in this household were about to change for the better.
Not only did Ryder seem to respect Casey, but it looked as if he were willing to become her protector. However, just to be on the safe side, she might concoct a little potion. It wouldn’t amount to much. Just a few herbs for good luck that she could sprinkle on their doorstep. Not a real spell.
* * *
Reclining in a nest of pillows, Casey winced as she reached for the phone, then had to shift the stack of papers in her lap to allow room for the smaller pillows beneath each of her elbows. Even though the accident had caused her to miss a stockholder’s luncheon, it hadn’t taken her long to regroup and bring the business to her.
At her request, her secretary had sent files on the most pressing issues and left the others that were pending back at the office. With a bowl of Tilly’s soup for sustenance and the knowledge that Ryder was no farther away than the sound of her voice, she set up office in the middle of her bed and began going over the reports in question.
She read until the pain between her eyebrows grew too sharp to ignore and changed her tactics to returning the phone calls that had come to her office during her absence. It wasn’t any easier. By late afternoon, it felt as if her lip was swollen to twice its normal size and the left side of her jaw was becoming increasingly sore. The last time she’d gotten up to go to the bathroom, she’d groaned at the sight of her face. The abrasion on her cheek was starting to scab, and by tomorrow, she was going to have one heck of a black eye.
Twice during this time, Ryder had appeared in the doorway. Once he’d frowned at the stack of work in her lap before disappearing without comment. The second time he’d come, the glare on his face was impossible to ignore, yet he’d still maintained a stoic silence about her behavior.
But the shock of the wreck was beginning to take its toll. Casey was near tears and wishing she could sweep everything off her bed, curl up in a ball beneath the covers and maybe cry herself to sleep. She heard footsteps coming up the outside stairs, then again inside the apartment. It was Ryder. She recognized the rhythm with which he walked.
He entered her bedroom without knocking just as the phone rang near her elbow. Before she could answer, he had it in his hands.
“Ruban Enterprises. No, I’m sorry, she is out for the rest of the day. Call 555-4000 and make an appointment with her secretary.”
He tossed the portable phone completely out of her reach.
Casey frowned. “Hey! I wasn’t through….”
“Yes, you are. Besides, I brought you a surprise.”
Casey sputtered in useless dismay as Ryder swept aside the files on which she’d been working. When he held out his hand, she sighed and took what he offered, using his strength to lever herself to an upright position on the side of the bed, then groaned when her muscles protested.
“Oh! I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
“That’s not funny,” Ryder said, and scooped her into his arms before she had time to argue. “Besides, if you think you hurt now, just wait until tomorrow.”
If it hadn’t been so painful, she might have smiled. “Thank you for such inspiring words of wisdom,” she said, and slid her arm around his neck for balance as he carried her into the living room.
When he settled her down on the couch, she put her feet up on the footstool and eased herself into a comfortable position.
“Trust me, I know what I’m talking about,” he said. “By morning, every muscle you have is going to protest. At any rate, you should have been in bed hours ago.”
“I was in bed,” Casey argued.
“I meant, alone. Not with a half-ton of papers and that damned phone. If you’d wanted company, you should have let me know. I would have been glad to oblige.”
When she blushed, Ryder knew he’d gotten his point across.
Refusing to give him the benefit of seeing how much his words had bothered her, she folded her hands in her lap and looked around the room.
“So, where’s my surprise?”
He went to the kitchen, returning moments later with a handful of paper towels and a box he’d taken out of the freezer.
“What’s this?” Casey asked, as he plopped it in her lap.
“Popsicles. Assorted flavors. Pick which one you want and I’ll put the others back for later.”
Her delight was only slightly more than her surprise. “Popsicles? You brought me Popsicles?”
“They won’t hurt your mouth, I swear. In fact, it’s going to feel pretty darn good on that swollen lip.” He took the box out of her lap and tore open the top like an impatient child who couldn’t wait for permission. “Which one do you want first? The red ones are cherry. The green ones are lime. The orange ones speak for themselves.”
“I like grape. Are there any grape ones?”
“Grape it is,” Ryder said, as he peeled the paper from a length of frozen purple ice.
Casey wrapped a paper towel around the wooden stick and took a lick, then another, then carefully eased her mouth around the end of the Popsicle and sucked gently. Cold, grape-flavored juice ran over her lips, into her mouth and onto her tongue. She closed her eyes, savoring the uniqueness of a childhood treat she hadn’t had in years.
“Ummm, you were right. It tastes wonderful and doesn’t hurt a bit.”
Ryder caught himself holding his breath and squeezing the box of Popsicles until one broke inside the box under pressure. If someone had ever tried to tell him that women with black eyes and fat lips were sexy, he would have laughed in their face.
Unaware of the war waging inside her husband’s conscience, Casey looked up. “Aren’t you having any?”
Ryder shuddered then blinked. “I’ve had more than enough already,” he muttered, and when someone knocked on the door, was saved from having to explain. “I’ll get it Sit still and eat your Popsicle before it melts.”
Surprised by the unexpectedness of company, whoever it might be, Casey lifted a hand to her face. “I look so terrible.”
Ryder’s expression went flat. “I think your priorities got a little confused. Be glad you’re alive to tell the tale.”
The chill in his voice was only less intimidating than the look he was wearing. At that moment, Casey realized how little she really knew about the man who’d given her his name.
The knock sounded again and Ryder turned with the Popsicles still in hand and strode to the door, yanking it open with an abrupt, angry motion.
Outside heat swept inside, causing moisture to condense on the outside of the Popsicle box. Ryder was speechless. It was Eudora and she was clutching at the tail of her skirt with one hand and holding down her freshly done hair with the other as a hot, hasty wind blasted against the wall of the building.
“Are you going to ask me in, or am I to blow away?” Eudora asked.
He quickly regained his manners and stepped aside. “Sorry.”
Eudora stepped over the threshold and into the apartment as if it were an everyday occurrence for her to be visiting the servants’ quarters, when in actuality, she was quite curious as to the accommodations in which Casey had chosen to live.
The furnishings inside the garage apartment were simple compared to the elegance of the mansion, but to her surprise, the small rooms seemed comfortable…even homey. In fact it reminded her a bit of the first place she and Henry had shared.
Casey waved from where she was sitting. “Gran! Come in! I’m so glad you…”
Eudora gasped and clutched a hand to her throat as she walked toward Casey in disbelief.
“Oh my! Erica said you’d had an accident, but she led me to believe it wasn’t…”
Eudora stopped talking, aware that whatever else she said was going to make Erica out to be thoughtless and uncaring. And while she silently acknowledged that fact from time to time, she wasn’t willing to admit it aloud. Tears welled as she reached out to touch the side of Casey’s cheek.
“Sweetheart, your face. Your poor little face. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
Casey shook her head and then winced at the motion. “I’m fine, Gran. Actually, I look worse than I feel.”
“I doubt that,” Ryder said, and then extended the box toward Eudora. “What’s your pleasure? We have orange, cherry or lime. We’re saving the grape ones for Casey. They’re her favorite.”
Casey tried not to grin, but the shock on her grandmother’s face was impossible to miss.
“Excuse me?” Eudora asked, eyeing the box Ryder had thrust beneath her nose.
“Popsicles. Want one?”
Casey held hers up to demonstrate, then realized it was melting and stuck it back in her mouth and sucked, rescuing the juice that would have dripped into the paper around the stick.
“Well, I don’t think…”
Ryder dangled it under her nose. “Oh, come on, Dora. Have one.”
When she almost grinned, Ryder knew she was hooked. “You’re real fond of cherry limeade, so I’ll bet you’d like a cherry one, wouldn’t you?”
Without waiting for her to answer, he took one out of the box, unwrapped it as he’d done for Casey, and handed it to her with a paper towel around the stick to catch the drips.
“If anyone wants seconds, they’ll be in the freezer.”
Eudora stared at the icy treat he’d thrust in her hands and then straightened her shoulders, as if bracing herself for the worst. But when she lifted it to her mouth, the taste brought back sweet memories that made her heart ache. By the time she’d regained her sense of self, Ryder had made himself scarce..
“Well, now,” Eudora said, and leaned back against the sofa cushions. “He’s something, isn’t he?”
There wasn’t much she could add to what Gran had already said. “Yes, I suppose that he is.”
“The question then remains, what are you going to do with him for the next twelve months? Somehow, I can’t see him playing chauffeur forever.”
Eudora ran the Popsicle in her mouth like a straw and sucked up what was melting with a delicate slurp while Casey thought about what Gran had said. What was Ryder going to do for the next twelve months? Even more important, what did she want him to do?
* * *
The clock on the bedside table stared back at Casey with an unblinking response. No matter how many times she looked, it seemed that time was standing still. It was midnight, and she’d been in bed for over two hours and had yet to relax enough to sleep. But it wasn’t because she wasn’t tired. She was. In fact, so tired that her bones ached.
She couldn’t rest because every time she closed her eyes she kept seeing that truck coming out of nowhere—feeling the jarring impact of metal against metal—hearing her own scream cut off by the air bag that inflated in her face.
She rolled over on her side, then out of frustration, kept scooting until she was out of bed. If she could just get her mind into another channel, maybe she would be able to relax.
The bedroom door was slightly ajar, and she eased into the narrow opening like a shadow moving through space. Her body felt like one giant bruise, and every step she took was a lesson in endurance. As she started toward the kitchen, the room was suddenly bathed in light. She stifled a sigh. I should have known, she thought.
“What’s wrong?”
She turned and then stammered on the apology she’d been about to make. Legs. He had the longest, strongest looking legs she’d ever seen on a man, and they were moving toward her. Casey made herself focus on his face.
“Uh…I couldn’t sleep.”
His touch was gentle on her forehead as he felt for a rising temperature.
“You don’t have a fever,” he said, and cupped her face, peering intently into her eyes and checking for dilated pupils or anything else that would alert him to complications from her head injury.
But that could change at any minute, Casey told herself, and took a step back.
“I thought I’d get a drink of water,” she said.
“I’ll get it for you.” He moved past her and into the small kitchen, sucking up the space and what was left of Casey’s breath.
Moments later, he thrust a glass into her hands. Ice clinked against the sides as she lifted it to her lips and drank.
“Better?” he asked, as she handed it back.
She nodded and turned away. Ryder set the glass down and followed her awkward movements through the room with a thoughtful gaze. This was about more than a restless night. The tension in her posture and on her face was impossible to miss.
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?”
Startled by his perception, Casey turned and then couldn’t hold the intensity of his gaze.
“It’s okay,” Ryder said. “Anyone would feel the same.”
“How do you know so much about what I feel?” she asked.
“Let’s just say. I’ve been there.”
“You mean you’ve been in a—”
He interrupted, and Casey got the impression that it was because he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Want me to sit with you for a while?” When she hesitated, he felt obligated to add, “No strings attached. Just one friend to another, okay?”
Her legs ached, her head was throbbing, and her eyelids were burning from lack of sleep. Maybe some company would help her to relax.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asked.
His eyes darkened and his mouth quirked, just enough to make her wonder what he was really thinking.
“No, ma’am, I don’t mind a bit.”
“Then, yes, I would like some company. But just for a while, okay?”
He nodded. “Okay.” He followed her into the bedroom, leaving the door wide open between the two rooms.
A muscle pulled at the side of her neck and she winced as she started to crawl into bed.
“Easy,” he said, as he helped her slide into a more comfortable position. “Want me to rub something on those stiff muscles? It might help you relax.”
“Yes, please,” Casey answered.
He disappeared into the bathroom and came out moments later with a tube of ointment. Casey’s eyes widened as the bed gave beneath his weight and she rolled over on her side, her heart racing as she bared her shoulder at his request.
She was stiff and nervous and he felt her resistance to his touch as if he’d invaded her space.
“Easy…just take it easy,” he coaxed, and laid his palm on the curve of her arm.
Casey flinched, and then when he began to move, she closed her eyes and let herself go. Gentle. His touch was so gentle. The ointment was a lubricant between his skin and hers, smoothing the way for the pressure of his fingers as he began to knead at the offending muscle.
“Oooh, that feels good,” she said with a sigh, settling into the rhythm of his touch.
Ryder clinched his jaw and tried not to think of what else could be good between them.
The room became quiet and there was nothing to hear but the slide of skin against skin and the uneven breathing of strangers who just happened to be husband and wife. Several minutes passed and Casey had been lulled into letting down her guard when Ryder spoke.
“Casey.”
Her pulse jerked, a little startled by the sound of his voice.
“What?”
His fingers curled around her shoulder, his thumb resting at the base of her neck beneath her hair.
“I’m very glad you’re okay.”
Breath caught at the back of her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut as tears suddenly seeped out from beneath her lashes.
“Thank you, Ryder. So am I.”
“Does your shoulder feel better?”
Her voice was just above a whisper. “Yes.”
She heard him putting the lid back on the tube of ointment and felt the bed giving beneath the movement of his body. And then she thought of the loneliness of the night and the fear that kept coming when she closed her eyes, and asked the unforgivable.
“Ryder?”
Half on and half off of the bed, he paused. “What?”
“Would you mind—” She never finished the question.
“Would I mind what?” he finally asked.
“Would you mind staying with me? Just until I fall asleep?”
She couldn’t see it, but a small smile tilted the corner of his mouth as he turned to her in the dark.
“No. honey, I wouldn’t mind at all.”
Casey held her breath as the mattress yielded to the greater pressure of his body.
“Easy does it,” he whispered, and lightly rubbed her arm to let her know that he was there.
She closed her eyes and so did he, but not for the same reason. Ryder didn’t want to think about the slender indentation of her waist so near his hand, or the gentle flare of hip just below it. He didn’t want to remember the silky feel of her skin beneath his touch, or the way she sounded when she sighed. She had suffered much this day, and didn’t deserve what he was thinking. But as time wore on, he couldn’t get past wishing they were lying in bed for something other than rest.