Leanne Banks - Ridge - The Avenger

The only thing that proved, he told himself, was that his hormones were in working order.

“I don’t want to sound vain,” she said, “but this is something I really don’t want to see on the evening news for the rest of my natural life.”

Clarence nodded sympathetically. “Forrester should have asked you first, but you know how he is when he gets going. I suppose we could attempt to cancel,” he said, his voice full of doubt.

“It would be easier to die.”

Ridge tried to put the pieces of the conversation together. He knew Drew Forrester was Montgomery’s cracker jack media specialist. “Cancel what?” he finally interjected.

Both heads turned toward him. Reservation shimmered in Dara’s eyes. She’d deliberately ignored him since last night. Ridge wondered if that was a result of his actions, and felt the slightest sting of regret. He’d intentionally made her uncomfortable because he’d seen that reckless glint in her eyes, the womanly curiosity. Perhaps he could have let it pass if he hadn’t felt an answering flicker of restlessness inside him. But, hell, the last thing he needed was for Montgomery’s goddaughter to spin her feminine wiles around his head and seduce him.

“Cancel what?” he repeated.

Clarence cleared his throat. “Well, it seems that Mr. Forrester accepted an invitation for Miss Seabrook to participate in an athletic event for the purpose of promoting Mr. Montgomery’s campaign.”

Dara threw Clarence a long-suffering glance. “What Clarence means is that Drew promised the three major television networks and the rest of the free world that I would skate in a parade next week.” She pulled the pair of hot pink and black in-line skates from the bag and spun one of the wheels. “I’m surprised this wasn’t in my file, too,” she muttered darkly under her breath, then tossed Ridge a look of defiance. “I can’t skate, can’t ski, can barely dance. It took me a long time to get used to high heels.”

Her confession amused him, but he restrained himself from laughing. “And you can’t cancel,” he said, confirming her earlier statement.

“Drew doesn’t understand the meaning of the word ‘no,’” she said glumly.

“Quite true,” Clarence agreed. He paused, assessing Ridge. “I don’t suppose you know how to—”

“Absolutely not,” Dara said, rising from the sofa. “It’s not in Mr. Jackson’s job description to teach me how to skate. Besides, I’m sure he hasn’t spent the last few years whizzing around on in-line skates, so—”

“I could teach you,” Ridge casually intoned. “I’ve been on rollerblades a few times. And a fair portion of my misspent youth,” he added cynically, “was spent on skateboards.” There’d been so much darkness when he was a teenager, that sometimes all he could recall of that time was his mother and her addictions. He was surprised by the faint glimmer of his fond memory. “I even won a ribbon once.”

“That doesn’t mean—” Dara began.

“What size skates do you wear?” Clarence asked.

“Eleven.”

Clarence was already on his way out the door when Dara called after him. “Clarence!” She ran to the door. “Wait! I don’t want—” She groaned in exasperation when the door closed behind the campaign coordinator. “Oh, Lord, save me from controlling men.” She turned around to face Ridge. “You really don’t know what you’re getting into. You may carry a gun and know how to go hand-to-hand with the bad guys, but you are really out of your league on this one. This is going to take more than patience.”

Ridge had to confess that Dara was turning this into the most interesting job he’d had in years. “I’m a patient man,” he said in a mild voice.

She waved her hand dismissively. “This is going to take more than skill.”

“I have plenty of skill.”

“You don’t understand. This is going to take a miracle. We are talking about a woman who gets dizzy walking across the beginner’s balance beam. I never could balance a book on my head for my finishing school class. I’m not a balanced kind of person.”

Complete silence followed. Ridge cleared his throat to cover the chuckle he couldn’t contain.

Dara narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Ridge agreed, but couldn’t keep his amusement from his voice.

“I meant that I have a problem with keeping my balance.”

“Right.”

Dara gave him a withering glance. “If I hear you make one crack about my being unbalanced, I’ll—” Tossing her head, she glared at him, obviously trying to come up with a suitable threat. “I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll do something rash,” she promised, all heat and bluster.

Something rash. Ridge irreverently wondered what that would be. He’d love to see it. “I haven’t said a word.”

“Yes, you have,” she muttered. “You just didn’t say it out loud.”

Three hours later, in a quiet little park, Dara’s rear end came into intimate contact with concrete for the twentieth time. “That’s it!” She began tugging at the laces to her skates. “I won’t be able to sit down for a whole week.”

“You’re quitting.”

Dara heard the surprise in Ridge’s voice and glanced at him. “I wish. No. This is just a temporary retreat. I’ll try again in a couple of days.” She turned her attention back to the laces and felt her own jolt of surprise when Ridge’s strong, warm hand covered hers.

“One last try,” he said, leaning down beside her. “This time I’ll pull you.”

Dara had rejected this suggestion every time he’d made it. She could handle the instructions, and though he hadn’t made any jokes, she could have handled them, too. She just didn’t want him touching her. He made her feel flustered. “We’ve been over this. You won’t be able to pull me in the parade. I need to be able to do it myself.”

“And you will. This is just one of the steps m learning. C’mon.” He gently urged her to her feet.

Immediately feeling her feet roll in opposite directions, she grasped for Ridge. “I’m going to fall again,” she said, half warning, half plea. “I’m going to—”

Ridge pulled her flush against the front of him. “No, you’re not,” he growled, his voice full of determination, his body a wall of rock-solid strength.

Struggling for a sense of balance that was depressingly elusive, she looked up at him and shook her head. “You’re taking this personally and you really shouldn’t. I warned you it would take a miracle. I told you—”

Ridge’s hard gaze met hers and Dara bit her tongue. “You will learn to skate. I’ll make sure of it.”

She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Have you always been this strong-willed?”

Something flickered in his eyes, perhaps a memory, Dara thought, because his expression relaxed slightly.

“Yeah, I guess I have,” he said. “What about you?”

She was surprised by his assessment. Most people didn’t remark on her will. For the most part, Dara thought she kept that quality well hidden. She glanced down. “No. As a matter of fact, I haven’t.”

“Make your skates face forward,” he told her. “And hold on.”

“Don’t worry,” she murmured, concentrating on her feet.

“Look up. If you watch your feet, you’ll end up tripping. You have to watch where you’re going.”

He started skating backward, pulling her gently along. “So when did you develop your stubbornness?”

“I thought we used the term strong-willed.” Keeping her gaze trained over Ridge’s right shoulder, Dara tried not to think about the warm, bulging biceps she was clinging to, the way Ridge’s hands curled around her waist, and the brush of his spearmint-scented breath over her face as he chuckled.