The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
sorry about the high school incident,” he said to Adrianna. The regret in his voice was real. He hadn’t known she’d be in the middle of changing her clothes when he’d led the charge into the locker room. “Truly if I knew you—”
“Didn’t have any clothes on—”
“—I never would have entered the locker room.” His voice was low, for her ears only. “Please accept my apology.”
Her gaze narrowed. She searched his eyes. Then a smile lifted her lips. “Accepted.”
Ryan reached over and took her hand, lifting it to his lips. “Thank you.”
Satisfaction flowed through him when she didn’t pull away. Her skin was warm and smooth beneath his lips. But he found he couldn’t fully enjoy the moment.
Not with Benedict holding Betsy’s hand, right across the table from him, with that familiar predatory gleam in his eyes.
“She accepted my apology.” Ryan handed Betsy a glass of wine and sank into her sofa. He ignored the Pomeranian’s growl of displeasure.
After they’d left Adrianna’s, Betsy invited him to her apartment for a recap of the evening. Outside, snow had begun to fall in earnest, but Ryan scarcely noticed. Betsy’s apartment was warm and inviting. Unlike most of the women he knew, her place had a homey, rather than a designer, feel.
There were rag rugs on the hardwood floors, and the furniture had that comfortable, lived-in look and feel. Her coffee table was rugged with various nicks and stains. When he asked if she had a coaster before he set down his beer can, she’d waved a hand and told him not to worry.
She’d flipped on a couple of table lamps that cast a golden glow over the room, making confidences come more easily. He’d just relayed his conversation with Adrianna. Ryan couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say about Benedict. He lifted the can of beer to his lips but didn’t take a sip. “So what was going on with you and Benedict?”
“He’s a nice guy. We were just talking.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Did you like the dinner?”
“It was good. Adrianna said you made most of it.”
“I helped,” Betsy said modestly. “Cooking is a passion of mine.”
“My favorite was the sweet-potato casserole.”
Betsy paused. Were they really going to sit here and talk about the food? When there were so many more important things to discuss?
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I saw you kiss Adrianna’s hand.”
He took a sip of beer before speaking. “Do you think it was too much?”
Was he really asking her for dating advice? She, who hadn’t been out on a date in almost a year? She was willing to help him out, but not now. Not this way. Not until she’d given herself a fair chance.
“Trust me, you don’t want to rush Adrianna.”
“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”
To her surprise Ryan didn’t seem all that upset. He was a strange one. Like tonight. Unless it was just her overactive imagination, she could have sworn that he’d spent more of the evening watching her than flirting with Adrianna.
“Do you want to play Monopoly?”
Betsy jerked her thoughts back to the present. “What?”
“Monopoly. I haven’t played in years. I see it on your shelf.”
Betsy followed his gaze. There was a bookcase against the wall filled with games and puzzles. She didn’t know what surprised her most—that Ryan had wanted to come in her apartment in the first place or that he appeared to be in no hurry to leave. But she wasn’t complaining. Hadn’t she just this morning made a vow to get to know him better? And let him get to know her?
“Sure,” she said, rising to her feet. “But I’ve got to tell you one thing first.”
“What is that?”
Her lips curved up in broad smile. “I play to win.”
* * *
Two hours later, Ryan landed on Park Place. He let out a groan that could be heard around the world. The rent for the four hotels Betsy had placed on the expensive property took the rest of his money. He leaned back against the soft fabric sofa. “You’re one tough businesswoman, Ms. McGregor.”
Betsy scooped up the paper bills. “It’s a pleasure taking your cash, Mr. Harcourt.”
“Shyster,” he said beneath his breath.
“What did you say?”
“I said I’d be happy to help you pick up.”
“Yeah, it sounded like that.”
They worked together to put all the pieces of the game back together. Ryan couldn’t believe how relaxed he had been all evening. Even though they’d eaten a big dinner, Betsy had brought out some homemade snickerdoodle cookies, and they’d munched on those while playing the game. She hadn’t even objected when he’d asked if they could have the football game on in the background.
To his surprise she was as much of a football fanatic as he was. Yes, he decided, it had been a good evening. Unfortunately now he was going to have to brave the cold and the icy streets and head home alone.
At least he’d had only two beers and those were hours ago. After finishing the one Betsy had given him when he arrived, he’d switched to milk, which went better with cookies anyway.
Betsy scrambled to her feet and put the game away.
He stood, oddly reluctant to have the evening end. “I can’t remember a nicer Thanksgiving. Thanks for inviting me.”
She retrieved his coat from the hall closet. “I had a good time, too.”
He wanted to ask her what she was doing this weekend but thought better of it. Besides, it shouldn’t really be her plans he should be inquiring about; it should be Adrianna’s. “Is it okay if I give you a call tomorrow?”
Betsy nodded. “I’ll be around.”
Ryan shrugged on his coat, making sure the zipper was all the way up. When he walked out of Betsy’s front door, he’d be outside. No enclosed hallway or common foyer for this apartment complex. Certainly no covered parking. While Ryan hadn’t looked outside lately, he had no doubt the weather had worsened.
He reached for the knob but stopped when he felt her hand on his sleeve.
“Drive safe,” she said, her eyes dark and unreadable. “The roads are bound to be snow-packed by now.”
Ryan turned the knob and reluctantly pulled the inner door toward him, then pushed open the storm door. The wind immediately tore the door from his hands, flinging it against the siding. Snow filled the air, whipping against his face, making it difficult to see. With Herculean effort he finally got both doors shut, then paused to wipe the ice particles from his face. “I thought the forecasters said we were only getting a dusting. It’s a blizzard out there.”
Betsy’s brows pulled together in a worried frown. “You can’t drive home in that.”
“I don’t see that I have another option.” He pulled the gloves from his pockets, praying he’d put the scraper back in his truck’s cab.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Betsy lifted her chin. “I won’t allow it.”
“Why, Miss Betsy,” Ryan said in an exaggerated Southern drawl, “are you inviting me to spend the night?”
“I’m not inviting,” she said