Man Of Her Dreams. Patt Marr
lose sight of Beth’s Jeep on the freeway. The three of them caravanned to Beth’s condo where they planned to put the awfulness behind them and have a good time.
Her first New Year’s resolution was to make the rest of Ry’s visit fabulously happy. She would tease him, play along when he teased back and keep the mood full of fun, just the way he liked. A short-term resolution, she knew she could keep it, especially if she kept her head and remembered he was her old buddy and pal.
For a minute there, when they’d kissed at midnight, she’d turned into mush. What a joke on her! His soft kisses brought back the old longings she’d had as a kid when her crush on him was too big a secret to share with anyone, not even Beth.
But, not to be too hard on herself, they were very good kisses. When she had more time, she should analyze them thoroughly. Mr. Right ought to kiss like that. Maybe Ry could give him lessons.
She grinned, laughing to herself. Maybe she should tell Ry. In the old days, that would have tickled him. It wouldn’t make up for the memory of that awful scene in the Brennans’ study, but she wished something could.
It had just killed her, seeing his mom treat him like that. How had he taken her abuse without fighting back? Beth was a fighter, and she was herself. But not Ry. He seldom had to be. As a kid, he’d charmed his way through life.
Ry had been their peacemaker, mediating the back-and-forth between Beth and herself, calming their storms, and so secretive about his own feelings that she sometimes wondered if she really knew him.
One thing she did know. Ry hated conflict enough to walk away from it. Look at the way he’d done that tonight. A lesser man could not have kept his cool, but Ry had. She’d always wondered what happened to cross the line of his tolerance and make him leave all those years ago. She had blamed his dad, Trey, Uncle Charlie, Uncle Al and Ry’s grandfather. Tonight it seemed that it must have been his mother all along, shoving the great Rylander Hamilton in her son’s face.
It was amazing how Mrs. Brennan had come up with that plan to drive Aunt Jackie to Palm Springs rather than spend time with an unfavored son. She’d made that trip up on the spot. Trey and Isabel’s surprise gave that away.
Poor Isabel. What a life she would have. That flare of Trey’s jealousy was amazing. Ry was an outrageous flirt, but he wouldn’t be interested in Isabel. Anything that appealed to Trey was an automatic turnoff for Ry. Beth and she used to make a game of noticing that if Trey wanted a purple lollipop, Ry chose red. If Trey switched to red, Ry switched to green. It was always like that.
She’d hated how Trey still put Ry down. Trey had such a lot going for him. Why did he have to do that?
Trey was almost as good-looking—when he wasn’t looking down his nose at a person. Ry had been the standout athlete, but Trey had done okay, playing tennis and golf. Ry had tons more charm and charisma, but Trey had a good career, a beautiful home and a trophy wife. Shouldn’t that be enough?
A pickup slid in between Beth’s car and Ry’s as their exit came up, blocking his vision of the lead car. Meg turned on her signal indicator, hoping that Ry would notice. He did and moved into the exit lane. Ry wouldn’t get lost. He was too smart for that.
The three of them pulled into the spacious lot by Beth’s condo, a place Beth couldn’t afford on her resident’s pay, but Grandma Hamilton had left trust funds to see that her grandchildren could live well.
Beth parked and waited for them by the elevator. Ry walked over to open Meg’s door, offering his hand to help her out. Just the touch of his hand set off those silly tingles again. It was absurd how her body seemed to be out of touch with her brain.
“Cool car,” he said, scanning her pride and joy, a white convertible with a tan top and tan leather interior. “Not particularly safe, but very cool.”
“Since when were you interested in safety, Motorcycle Man?” she challenged, more aware of his nearness than she ought to be. A soft breeze on her bare shoulders made her shiver.
“You’re cold,” he said, shrugging out of his leather jacket. “Put this on, and don’t give me any back talk.”
The jacket, warm from his body, did feel good, though not quite as good as his arm would have felt. She locked and slammed the car door shut, congratulating herself on remembering the keys. That ought to prove that Ry hadn’t muddled her mind.
“Did you want to take your purse in?” Ry asked, nodding toward it on the seat inside. “And the bag in the back?”
Of course she did. “Maybe I should,” she said, pretending she did have a brain.
She retrieved the purse and bag, locked the car again and tried to breathe in the small space between them. He took the bag and slung the strap over his shoulder.
“Hey, you two,” Beth called. “Come on up when you get tired of counting stars. I’ll put the coffee on.”
Ry glanced at the sky and dropped his free arm around her shoulder. “Stars,” he said. “That’s a bonus for the trip. You don’t notice stars much in a New York winter.”
The way he tucked her beside him, so casual and brotherly, was no call for the butterflies in her stomach to act up again or for her heart to race as if she were fourteen, not twice that.
But as long as she had a shoulder to lean on, she rested her head there, all the better to see those stars. “Do you like living in New York City?” she asked, proud that she could make small talk in spite of bodily chaos.
“Sure. It’s home.”
He snuggled her close, just a buddy thing, her mind insisted, though she shivered again.
He must have thought she was freezing, for he snuggled her closer. His chin nuzzled her forehead, a skin-to-skin move that set the butterflies spiraling.
“Ry, what are you doing?” she teased. Teasing, flirting, playing along—that was her operational mode, making this a fun trip for him to remember.
“What do you mean?” he asked innocently.
She looked up at him, checking his expression. A full grin cancelled the innocent act.
“I’m just keeping my best girl warm,” he claimed, flirt that he was.
His best girl? Not likely, but she could be that for tonight. Ry was a “love the one you’re with” kind of guy. Day after tomorrow, he would hop on that plane, probably find a new “best girl” among the passengers or have one waiting to drive him home from the airport. Meg would be lucky if she saw him again in another decade.
“Who’s your best girl in New York?” she teased, letting him know she didn’t take him seriously. “Or is there just one?”
He could get used to the way Meg felt, snuggled next to him, and he loved hearing her sass. It was getting more and more difficult to think of her as his buddy and pal. “You know me,” he said, hoping his drawl would disguise the state of his mind. “It’s my job to spread love around.”
She looked up at him, concern in those big eyes. “But aren’t you getting tired of that, Ry? Isn’t there someone you’d like to settle down with?”
Him, settle down? No, thank you. He’d had all the family life he ever wanted, but he couldn’t get enough of teasing Meg. “You’re not applying for the job, are you?”
“Me?” her voice squeaked. “Are you crazy?”
He laughed, chalking up a point for his side. “Why not you? You’ve become a real babe.”
“Wow, thanks,” she muttered, pushing out of his arms.
“Think about it, Meg,” he said, enjoying the game. “You could be my motorcycle mama, riding behind me on my Harley. What do you think?”
She whipped his jacket off and shoved it at him. “I think you’re just as goofy as ever, Ry Brennan.”
Maybe,