Ridge: The Avenger. Leanne Banks
with it. His gaze flickered between her eyes and mouth, and Dara held her breath. His eyes were tawny, nearly topaz. She’d always thought of them as unusual, and now she knew why. They reminded her of a lion’s eyes, compelling and a bit untamed. A ripple of awareness quivered and quaked inside her.
His closeness was an emotional and sensual seduction more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced. It scraped off the layer of poise she’d hidden behind for months, leaving her bare. His chest was no more than a breath away from her breasts. Her heart pounded, and she didn’t know if she should stop the spell or make it last. But another need surfaced, the need to be known.
“My mother is mentally ill,” Dara confided quietly. “She wasn’t diagnosed for a long time. When she stays on her medication, she does well, but sometimes she forgets.” She took a deep breath. “I always thought it would have been nice to have my dad around, but he wasn’t.” She shrugged, suddenly wondering if she’d revealed too much. “What about your father?”
Ridge’s gaze turned turbulent. “He wasn’t in the picture, either.”
“My father died. He-”
“Mine might as well have,” Ridge said, his tone flat, his eyes giving away the anger.
Dara sensed an immediate distancing from him, and felt upset. It was as if he had teased her by opening the door a crack, then slamming it quickly. Stiffening in distress, she looked down and immediately stumbled, the movement throwing her against Ridge’s chest again. “Oh! I’m sorry. I think-”
“You looked down again,” Ridge said in a low voice that made her too aware of how close his mouth was to her forehead.
Desperately struggling for her equilibrium, she shook her head. “I know, I know. It’s a terrible habit, isn’t it? I think the lesson has lasted long enough.” She pushed ineffectually at his chest. “This sidewalk’s done enough damage to my rear—”
Ridge swore. “Stop pushing me away. You’ll fall again.”
Falling was okay, Dara thought. Falling was easier than being held by Ridge. “Then I’ll just sit down so I can get out of these skates,” she announced, immediately bending her knees.
“Let me help—” Ridge began to kneel.
“No!”
Ridge stared at her.
Dara winced. She lowered her voice and managed a small smile, but she didn’t even attempt looking at him. “I appreciate it, but I can do this much myself. Really,” she insisted when he sat beside her. “You’ve done too much.”
Dara meant that last statement with all of her heart. In more ways than one, and in every way that counted, Ridge had done entirely too much.
After they left the park Ridge gave Dara a wide berth, as much for himself as for her. Quiet and guarded, she kept her conversation with him to a minimum. It was so different from the openness she’d exhibited that he felt a strange sense of loss. He wasn’t totally sure what had happened back there, but he knew it shouldn’t happen again. There was one thing he was sure of, though.
He had wanted to kiss her.
Not just a gentle, friendly brushing of their lips. What he’d really wanted was to taste her, to slide past her lips and teeth and take her breath and let her take his. He’d wanted the tangle of her sweet tongue with his. And if he were honest, he would admit that he wanted to join more than his mouth with Dara.
Stifling an oath, Ridge decided honesty was definitely overrated. He needed Dara for one thing, and it wasn’t sex. He needed her to get to Montgomery.
When they returned to the hotel suite, Dara flipped through her messages and frowned. “I’ve got some calls to make. My mother and Drew,” Dara said, looking worried. She headed for her bedroom.
The expression on her face gnawed at him. “Is she okay?”
Dara glanced over her shoulder, meeting his gaze for the first time since they’d left the park. Caution and need smoldered in the blue depths of her eyes. Ridge wondered how he’d ever thought of her as cool and superficial. “I don’t know,” she said, and hesitated for a moment. Then her lashes swept down, shuttering her eyes from him. “Thanks for asking.”
Two hours later, after Ridge had heard the faint lilt of her voice beyond the wall and the rush of water for her bath, Dara came back into the darkened living room of the suite where he sat watching a ballgame on TV. Dara gave a covetous glance to the two slices of pizza left in the box.
“You can have it,” Ridge offered.
“Are you sure?” Standing in front of the coffee table, she paused, wondering if she should have just stayed in her room the rest of the night. She could have waited until tomorrow to tell Ridge about the change in schedule, but she’d felt restless and hungry.
“I’m sure.” Rising, he took a few steps into the adjoining kitchenette and opened the refrigerator. “Beer or cola?”
Dara nudged the olives off a piece of pizza and took a bite. “I don’t suppose there’s a margarita or two in there.”
Ridge cracked a smile at the wistfulness in her voice. “No, but I’m sure we could get one sent up from the bar.”
“Any Mrs. Fields chocolate-chip cookies?”
Ridge lifted an eyebrow. “Is this a list of Dara Seabrook’s favorite things?”
“A partial list,” she admitted. “But I’ve already indulged myself with a bath.” She shifted slightly. “It’s a good thing I didn’t fall forward on my knees this afternoon. This way, I can hide my misery from the public,” she told him dryly, alluding to the state of her posterior.
“I take it that’s why you’re not sitting.”
Dara smiled grimly.
Ridge allowed his gaze to sweep over that portion of her anatomy. “Should we bring a pillow next time?”
Dara looked at him in horror. “And have the press plaster a shot of that on the comic page? I don’t think so.”
Strolling back into the room, he popped the top on a cola and handed it to her. “I’m supposed to guard your body, and believe me when I tell you, you’ve got a great-”
“I’ll look after that part of my body myself, thank you very much,” she quickly interjected. “I don’t think it’s your job to be quite so concerned with my…” She looked at the pizza, hoping it could provide her with a comfortable term, and waved the crust when she couldn’t find one. “I believe my overall safety is your primary concern.”
Wearing an enigmatic gaze, he crossed his arms and leaned against the sofa. “If you say so.”
“So,” she said firmly. Dara swallowed another bite of pizza and vowed to not let Ridge send her into another frenzy. If this scene was a little too cozy and if Ridge looked too appealing in his worn jeans and partially unbuttoned shirt, then it was just the dim light. In one quick movement, she flicked on the table lamp.
“Is your mother okay?” Ridge asked, watching her curiously as she turned on another light.
Dara nodded. “I’ll call her more often during the next two weeks, though. She sounded a little lonely.”
Ridge waited to see if she would add anything, but the only sound in the room was the muted volume of the TV. It took him a full moment before he realized that Dara was stealing covert glances of his chest. A rush of pure pleasure coursed through his blood. Heat swelled inside him, and fierce masculine pride nearly burst the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Just a couple of glances from beneath her eyelashes, he thought with disgust, and he was ready to rip off his shirt for her. He didn’t even want to think about the state of the front of his jeans.
Inwardly cursing his hormones and ego, he cleared his throat. Twice.