Jill Shalvis - Roughing It With Ryan

“I’ve got to go, Suzanne.”

“Tim-”

She heard nothing but static. Fake static.

“Don’t you hang up on me- Damn it!” Yanking the phone from her ear, she glared at it. “I’m going to kill him,” she decided and stuck another huge spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

“But then you’d have to go directly to jail without passing Go.”

Whirling around, she faced…oh, good Lord. Ryan. Ryan, now shirtless, and damp from what had undoubtedly been hours of hard, physical work. A fine sheen of sweat covered his chest and the light dusting of dark hair that ran from pec to glorious pec. She could feel the heat of him and suddenly could barely breathe.

Yeah, right, she needed a sexual therapist! What she needed, apparently, was a cold shower. Slowly she reached up and took the spoon out of her mouth.

“No man is worth jail,” he said in the same voice he’d used on her last night, the one that made her shiver and quake from the inside out. “Even a scum like…Tim, did you say?”

Great, he’d heard it all, the entire, humiliating listing of the recent events of her pathetic life. “You were eavesdropping.”

He didn’t defend himself, just slowly crossed his arms over his chest and gave her that same crooked smile, accompanied with a raised brow that made her look around.

With growing horror, she realized that in her quest for phone reception, she’d backed herself right in the middle of his work zone. She was surrounded by wood rounds, chain saws and a sea of sawdust.

On either side of Ryan were two younger workers. When they caught her staring, they smiled sheepishly and turned back to their work.

Not Ryan. He just stood there looking at her. She put the spoon into the container and looked right back. From the bottom of his work boots to the top of his dark hair now decorated with wood chips, he was even more amazing than she’d remembered from last night, and she remembered him as pretty amazing.

Tim had been very good-looking, in a scholarly, professorly sort of way. Medium height, lean.

Not hard and sinewy tough, like Ryan, who looked as if he’d spent years and years honing that body with hard physical labor. She’d never really gone out with anyone like Ryan.

And didn’t intend to! She was through with men, done with destroying them. She really needed to remember that.

It felt odd to be standing here like this, exchanging their first words since he’d had his arms around her the night before. When it had been dark. Raining.

Urgent.

Where she’d probably, if he’d kept on kissing her as he had, would have been willing to perform any sexual favor he wanted.

What would a sexual therapist say about that?

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Me? Oh, sure.” She managed a laugh and hoped she didn’t have a chocolate mustache. “Dandy.”

“You lost your job.”

“What?” Taylor came out the front door of the building, reached for Suzanne’s hand. “You lost your chef position at Café Meridian?”

“Her ex got her fired,” Ryan offered helpfully, still watching her very carefully. “Sounds like good riddance, wouldn’t you say, Taylor?”

“Definitely.” Taylor hugged Suzanne close, and while her free hand lifted and hugged back, she stared at Ryan over her shoulder. Not just because he was shirtless and magnificent, but because of the way he was looking at her.

And okay, partly because he was shirtless.

All right, mostly because he was shirtless.

But he wasn’t smirking. Why wasn’t he smirking?

He wasn’t looking at her as if she was the biggest idiot on earth. Instead, his gaze was compassionate and seemingly sincere.

She didn’t buy it. Didn’t want to buy it. “I’m fine,” she said, and patted Taylor. “Really.”

“Of course you are.” Taylor pulled back and helped herself to the spoon sticking out the ice cream. “You’ll just have to come up with something better, that’s all.” Stabbing Suzanne’s spoon into the air, she said around a mouthful, “the two of us together against the world. Mmm, this is heaven. Ryan?” She offered him a bite, which he leaned over and took, opening his mouth to get it all, using his tongue to lick off the corner of his mouth.

Suzanne stared at that mouth, torn between running for the hills and demanding another kiss, right here, right now.

“Let me help you move today,” Taylor said.

“But I’m jobless.”

“So?”

“So…jobless equals poor. How can you possibly still want me as a tenant?”

“Do you always have ice cream available?”

“Are you kidding? Always. And I cook a lot, too.”

“Thank you God,” Taylor said fervently. “That’s good enough for me.”

“So why aren’t you a caterer?” Ryan lifted his hands when both women turned to stare at him. “I’d think that would be a natural progression, from chef to caterer. And you could work for yourself. Not some flighty jerk who’s going to pass off your job to your ex’s new girlfriend.”

Taylor turned to Suzanne, excitement lit in her eyes. “You haven’t seen it yet, but the unit you’re going to move into has a huge kitchen.”

“I cater all the time,” Suzanne said slowly. “As a hobby. But that’s all it is, a hobby.”

“So make it more,” Taylor said.

Suzanne stared at her, then laughed. “It’s not that easy. In fact, it’s damn near impossible. Running a business just isn’t my thing.” Too regimented and, as her mother would attest, she just didn’t do regimented.

“Hey, Ryan, you need a caterer,” one of his laborers called out, making Suzanne realize everyone stood around listening even while they pretended not to.

The identical laborer swiped his arm across his forehead and bobbed his head. “Yeah, for our birthday party! Friday night, remember? You promised you’d have it at your place, cuz we’re too young to hit the bars until next year. We need food, lots of it.”

“Lots,” agreed his twin.

Ryan stared at them both, then shook his head with a little laugh. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

When he looked at Suzanne expectantly, she let out her own little laugh. “No. No pity jobs.”

“Turning down a client, Suzanne?” Ryan asked, an unmistakable dare in his gaze as he cocked his head and made her knees weak with just one look.

Her heart pounded, and not from the dare either. Her poor body apparently hadn’t gotten the memo her brain had sent, that it wasn’t going to get lucky with this man.

“Don’t forget, great kitchen,” Taylor said. “And as your landlord, I give you permission to run your business out of your place.”

Suzanne felt like a fool with all of them looking at her, but she was putting her foot down on this one.

Opening a catering business was as bad as…as dating. A recipe for failure, and she’d failed enough. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“Would you excuse us a minute?” Taylor asked the men, and hooking an arm around Suzanne’s neck, backed them up a few feet. “Are you crazy?” she whispered. “This is an excellent opportunity. A job and a hunk, all in the same turn.”

“We swore off men,” Suzanne whispered back.

“No, we swore to remain single. Nothing was said about living like a monk. Suzanne, have you seen him look at you? Do this. Do him. It might relax you a bit.”

“Taylor!”

“Oh, it’s just a job. A one-nighter at that. And hey, if I can sell off my beloved furniture to keep us in this damn building, you can make a few snacks for a party.”

It burned, but Taylor was right. With a sigh, Suzanne turned back to the waiting men, then nearly swallowed her tongue at the way Ryan was looking at her, a little smile curving the lips she knew tasted better than even ice cream. “Okay.”