Authors: Sally Clements
Challenging Andie (6 page)
“They’ll do that with DNA, the bureau has a DNA profile of all their correspondents. If the agency needs to reach you and can’t, they’ll contact me. I think we should lay low here for a couple of days. Give the story time to be pushed off the front page.”
Deep inside, Ryan knew there was no way this story would burn out so quickly. The press would be desperate to interview Andie. The only hope was that in a few days once the news had sunk in Andie would find the resources deep inside to deal with it, leaving him free to return to Bekostan.
*****
Andie’s eyes flew open in the darkness. Panic squeezed around her ribcage like a vice, and her heart hammered so fast a heart attack felt dangerously possible. She clenched the covers, fighting the urge to scream.
Where am I?
Concentrating on each labored breath, memories slowly returned, lessening the all-consuming terror.
The cottage, Ryan…
Scooting up in bed, she scrabbled for the bedside light.
In the dim light she pushed back the hair plastered against her forehead and neck. The nightdress was damp with sweat from the fevered dream, and she plucked it away from her clammy skin with disgust.
It had taken hours to fall asleep. Despite her best efforts, it had been impossible to banish the show reel of news bulletin highlights that played behind her eyelids. In the dream’s aftermath she despaired of being able to sink into sleep again, even though her exhausted body and wearied mind longed to.
She climbed out of bed. Maybe a shower and change of clothes would help.
In the sitting room, the television was still on, a lissome female extolling the virtues of a thigh-buster. She crept to the sofa. Ryan had put her in the cluttered spare room, and she’d expected that at some stage during the night he would have climbed the stairs to bed.
The sound of deep, even breathing rent the silence. In the dimness long legs could just be seen poking over the couch’s end. He was really much too long for it.
A warm feeling bloomed inside at his remembered kindness. If he hadn’t been there at the house… She shuddered at the thought of being set upon alone. They would have chewed her up for breakfast, and spat out her bones.
Andie pushed the bathroom door open, wincing at the loud creak. Moments later she was under the shower’s refreshing spray, offering up silent blessings for the hot water and efficient pressure that massaged her body with pounding needles of water. By the time she’d dressed in the clean nightie from the airing cupboard—
didn’t Brianne own anything that was longer than the top of her thighs?
—Andie felt human again. And thirsty.
In the kitchen, she poured a tall glass of water and drank. On her return to the sitting-room light pooled on the rug from a lighted lamp. Ryan had shifted from lying to sitting. He must have pushed a hand through his hair, for it stood up in spikes on top. Ms. Thigh-buster had been abandoned in favor of a vapid soap.
“I had a bad dream.” Despite the drink, her voice sounded rusty.
“I heard the water running.” Ryan’s gaze shot to her bare legs then away.
She shouldn’t feel the warmth that flooded her from just one look. Shouldn’t be thinking of climbing onto his lap and running fingers through his long hair. But she was. Resistance was too difficult. The thought of being with Ryan, taking some comfort in his delicious body was a powerful drive that compelled her forward.
She touched his hair with shaking fingers.
“Andie.” Emerald eyes flashed a warning.
“I can’t go to sleep alone,” she muttered huskily.
“It isn’t right. We shouldn’t have kissed earlier. You’re vulnerable—you don’t know what you want.” His mouth tightened.
“I just want you next to me. To keep the memories away.”
She wanted more, with a desperation that heated her blood as never before. She didn’t want to think, didn’t want to weigh the consequences. Couldn’t, if truth be told. Her world had tilted irrevocably on its axis, and would never tilt back again. She didn’t want him forever, but she needed him just now.
And he wanted her, didn’t he? The way he’d responded when they’d kissed couldn’t be faked.
Their gazes locked for long moments, then he nodded. “Okay, let’s go to bed.”
Chapter Four
Ryan pulled in a shaky breath.
This wasn’t happening. Not tonight
. He grabbed her fingers. “Brianne’s bed is big enough for both of us,” he forced out through tight lips. “But don’t touch me, not like that.”
Her gaze skittered away. She bit her bottom lip.
“Not tonight, Andie.” He cupped her face. Stared into wide blue eyes. “You’re in shock.”
She climbed into the big bed soundlessly.
Ryan shucked off his shoes, removed his jeans and slipped beneath the covers.
Andie lay stiff as a board, staring at the ceiling. Tension crackled in the air. Without a signal, she’d stay like that all night, and neither of them would sleep.
Ryan stretched an arm out in mute invitation. She turned, scooted close, resting one hand over his heart.
The need to touch back was almost overwhelming. Instead, Ryan concentrated on relaxing, releasing the tension that locked his shoulders. In mere moments, Andie’s breathing steadied then slowed to long, regular breaths, as sleep claimed her.
The whole scenario was so damned ironic.
Ryan barely slept at the best of times. He was always on tenterhooks, half alert for trouble, and lying in a strange bed was guaranteed to spark insomnia into full blown life. The flat in London was the closest thing he had to home, and even there he woke every few hours in a cold sweat.
And now, Andie was relying on him to help her sleep. As if he held the answers to a calm and peaceful night’s slumber. When in fact the complete opposite was true.
The hotel in Bekostan the press used was luxurious. He’d had the same room for nearly a year now, and yet still hadn’t managed to make it through a complete night without waking with a nightmare. Since Emily’s murder, the recurring dream of being captured and tortured by shadowy figures had been a constant nocturnal visitor.
When he slept with a woman, it was to banish the dreams. To lose himself in their bodies. Find peace, for a while. They were usually women like him—women looking for a distraction to get them through the night. Not women who lived in the sunshine, but ones who dwelled in the darker underworld of war zones, or women who wanted what his body could give theirs. Passion, release, but never love.
He avoided relationships like the plague.
Easing Andie’s slumbering body away, Ryan linked his hands behind his head on the pillow. Love was an illusion; he’d learned that the hard way. The moment you loved someone was the moment you handed them the power to hurt you. The image of his mother’s dull eyes and nightly crying jags when she thought they were asleep was testimony to that.
He glanced at the soft waves of Andie’s hair, gleaming in the moonlight cast through the window. There had been feral want in her eyes in the sitting room. He’d known damn well what she was suggesting when she asked him to come upstairs, and known that if he gave her what she wanted, she’d regret it in the morning.
She wasn’t like him. She was a woman who deserved more. One day, she’d doubtless find it too. A man who would love and cherish her. Not one who wouldn’t, couldn’t love her.
Andie’s soft breath feathered across his shoulder. Ryan’s body tightened in response.
Dammit! He was so attuned to every movement, so desperate for her, that his principles were in danger of drowning in the flood of desire that swept him.
His chest rose and fell. He mimicked her breathing. Slow and regular. Andie’s hand brushed over his chest.
He should push her hand away; tuck it back under the duvet.
But he didn’t. If he couldn’t have any more, at least he’d have this.
*****
“Are you
ever
going to wake up?”
Ryan registered the words through a fog of sleep, and cracked his eyes open.
Andie stood by the bedside, clutching a cup. “I brought you some coffee.”
“What time is it?” Ryan snatched the watch from the bedside table.
“Almost eleven,” Andie answered. “I’ve been up for a couple of hours—you looked so peaceful I took pity on you and let you sleep.” A faint smile tilted her mouth up at the corners a tiny bit.
Eleven
? He hadn’t slept ‘til eleven since…
Since
ever
.
Ryan scooted up in bed, and accepted the coffee. “Thanks.” His mind was in a whirl. Not only had he slept through the night but he hadn’t woken once. Or had the dream. It must be because he was so exhausted.
He pushed the niggling suspicion that it was anything more aside, and glanced at Andie. She wore a long dress in swirling blues and greens that dusted her calves and dipped low in the front. Her feet were bare, and her hair swung around her face. She looked incredibly wild and free and amazingly delicious.
Ryan plumped up the pillow, and shifted to disguise his body’s unwelcome response. “What are you wearing?”
“I borrowed something of your sister’s.” Andie’s skin flushed pink. “It’s not really my sort of thing, but her jeans…”
“Too short?” Ryan asked.
“Too short and too small.” Andie’s mouth curved in a grin, showcasing killer dimples. “Your sister must be tiny.”
“She always was,” Ryan agreed.” “I used to call her Shorty.”
“You
didn’t
!” Andie frowned. “That’s really mean.”
“What can I say, I’m her older brother. That’s what older brothers do.”
A flicker of sadness chased across Andie’s expressive face. “I would have liked a brother or sister. It was lonely growing up alone.”
Ryan knew what she meant. He’d had his mother and Brianne, but after their father walked out, he’d felt alone. It hadn’t been easy relinquishing the role of brother, and taking on the mantle of
man of the house
. Organizing the shopping, making dinner and forcing his mother from the chair by the fire to eat yet another badly prepared pasta dish. Bri’d wanted to talk about his father’s new woman, but he hadn’t. The most important thing was that they survived. It had taken work, but they had.
Before he had a chance to answer, Andie crossed her arms, showcasing her cleavage. “So, are you going to get up
? I’m hungry, and there’s no food in the place at all.
I’ve looked
.”