Matchless Millionaires: An Improper Affair. Elizabeth Bevarly
intended to put in a full day’s work, setting up additional furnishings that had been previously delivered.
Ryan, however, had had other plans. After they’d worked for three hours, he’d taken the vase she’d been holding and announced they were playing hooky for the rest of the day.
It turned out he’d already had a picnic basket packed and, what’s more, he’d rented a sailboat.
She had taken one look outside at the glorious weather and had found it impossible to resist.
Now here they were on the vastness of Lake Tahoe—blue skies overhead accentuated by the occasional lazy puffy white cloud, wavy aqua waters below dotted by the occasional watercraft.
Ryan had rented a sloop, which had a single mast and two sails. Because she’d been on a sailboat just once before in her life, Ryan had taught her the basics of trimming the sails and handling the helm before they’d left the dock.
Once they’d gotten under way, however, Ryan had done most of the work. Except for handling the helm when Ryan trimmed the sails, she was able to sit and enjoy the ride.
“Where did you learn to sail?” she called to him now. Then before he could answer, she added, “No, wait. Let me guess. You took Sailing 101 at prep school.”
He flashed a grin. “Good guess, but in fact, I learned to sail right here on Lake Tahoe. It’s a place where we vacationed when I was younger.”
He’d been to Tahoe regularly?
She tilted her head. “That first day at Distressed Success, you acted as if you were unfamiliar with the area. You asked me where you could find a good meal—“
“I was hitting on you.”
A tremor of sexual awareness ran through her as something indefinable, but palpable and strong, passed between them.
Silhouetted against the blue sky, he was breath-takingly handsome. He wore khaki pants and a polo shirt paired with a windbreaker and reflective sunglasses. He looked as if he could have been in an ad for Ralph Lauren.
She hadn’t known they’d go sailing, but she was glad now that she put on pants and espadrilles that morning. A windbreaker that they’d found for her at the lodge protected her from cold and damp.
As Ryan again busied himself with the sails, she reflected on the events of the weekend. She hadn’t intended to reveal so much during their meal at Clearwater’s. Still, she could understand Ryan’s anger better now, as well as identify with it since Brenda, like Webb, hadn’t been the most responsible parent in the world.
Finished with what he was doing, Ryan came toward her and jumped down to where she sat. “Time for lunch. I’m famished.”
She laughed. “I can’t believe you prepared a whole picnic basket!”
He grinned slyly. “Gourmet everything … courtesy of the concierge service at one of Tahoe’s poshest nouveau places.”
Eight
Kelly found that the next week passed in a blur of work, decorating and, above all, Ryan and more Ryan.
By the following weekend, she realized somewhat surprisingly that her work at the lodge was nearly done. She also knew she couldn’t have done it without Ryan’s help.
She hadn’t heard anything more from Webb Sperling, but she pushed the thought aside.
She had time, she told herself. Deep down, though, she knew she didn’t want to upset her newfound accord with Ryan.
As she prepared to leave the lodge late that Sunday afternoon, Ryan surprised her by saying, “Why don’t you come on in? We’ll sit on the deck and watch the sunset.”
“I should be getting back.” The words flew out of her mouth in automatic response.
“Why?” he asked bluntly. “We both know Distressed Success is closed on Mondays.” He smiled. “In fact, since you’ll want to be working here tomorrow, it makes sense for you to stay the night.”
She felt a strange fluttering sensation in her stomach, then caught the teasing glimmer in his eyes.
“After all,” he drawled, “you’re already familiar with the guest bedroom.”
She held her palms up. “I didn’t bring any clothes—“
His smile widened. “Do you really want to hear my solution to that problem?”
She felt herself heat in response. She still wasn’t used to his teasing.
The past week had been wonderful, but he hadn’t tried to kiss her again. He hadn’t done anything, in fact, that could be interpreted as a come-on, even by her fevered imagination.
She, on the other hand, had become attuned to his every breath, every expression, every stretch of hard, lean muscle.
Ryan reached out and touched her arm. “Hey,” he said soothingly, “come on. Let’s just open a bottle of wine and contemplate the meaning of the universe.”
She relaxed a little. “Okay.”
Minutes later, they stepped out onto the deck, Ryan holding two wineglasses in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other.
She tried not to look at the hot tub, remembering how she’d first spotted him at the lodge.
“I can vouch for its relaxing properties,” he murmured.
“What?” she asked, startled.
“The hot tub. It’s great.” He paused, a glimmer in his eyes. “Want to try?”
“No, thanks!”
Her response was immediate and automatic. Just the thought of getting into a hot tub with Ryan Sperling sent her senses into overdrive.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never been in a hot tub,” he teased.
“Some of us weren’t born into the hot-tub-and-wine set.” Then she added, relenting, “In any case, I have nothing to wear.”
His eyes crinkled. “Why let a lack of clothing stand in your way?”
At her look of forbearance, he shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He paused, then added thoughtfully, “I could lend you one of my undershirts and a pair of boxers. You could even keep your bra and underwear on underneath.”
His lips twitched. “I know how important underpants are to you.”
She wondered how much of his sexually charged teasing she could withstand, then asked suspiciously, “And what will you be wearing?”
“Swim trunks.”
“I shouldn’t agree to this.”
He grinned. “But you are.”
They headed back inside. He handed her some clothes and, after they’d both had time to change, she met him on the deck again, padding outside in bare feet and shivering in the cool night air.
Soft jazz filtered out from iPod speakers set up on a table.
He stood holding two full wineglasses and swept her a look from head to toe, his gaze heating. “I had no idea my shirts and boxers could look so sexy.”
She flushed. It felt impossibly intimate to be wearing his clothes, albeit over her own.
He’d already started the hot tub, and the tub’s jets created frothy water, illuminated from below by recessed lights.
It looked so inviting, she thought as she shivered again.
He set the wineglasses down on a small tray at the side of the tub, then straightened and held his hand out to her. “Come. Let’s warm you up.”
He warmed her just by looking at her with