The Man Every Woman Wants. Miranda Lee
she did that to herself. Did she imagine that this was how a female lawyer should look—tough, hard, and totally sexless?
Anyone could see that she could be a very attractive woman if she tried. She had a good figure and an interesting face with high cheekbones and exotically shaped grey eyes. Admittedly, those eyes were usually as cold as an arctic sky, especially when they looked at him.
So Ryan was startled when their eyes met and he glimpsed not chilly indifference for once but a type of pained regret. She even stopped walking for a second to stare at him.
‘What?’ he said straight away.
‘Nothing,’ she replied, and shook her head. ‘Sorry. Let’s get straight down to business, shall we?’ She sat down, crossed her legs with her usual crisp modesty then leant forward to pick up the first of the contracts which were sitting on the edge of his desk waiting for her perusal.
It was a lucrative endorsement deal he’d personally negotiated for an up-and-coming young male tennis-player whom Win-Win had been lucky enough to sign up the previous month. A lot of Ryan’s work involved negotiating contracts of one sort or another, all of which he always had checked over by one of the best legal brains in the whole of Sydney—which Laura had.
She wasn’t an employee of Win-Win; Ryan didn’t need a lawyer to work for him full-time. His company was more of the boutique variety. She worked for Harvey, Michaels and Associates, an American-owned legal firm with a Sydney branch which was conveniently located in the same building as Ryan’s business and which boasted a stable of brilliant criminal and corporate lawyers.
When Ryan had become one of their clients several years ago, they had originally sent him a young male lawyer at Ryan’s request—a smart guy, but a very bad driver who’d wrapped his car around a tree two years back. When the firm had suggested a female replacement, Ryan had been hesitant at first, especially when he had found out she was only thirty and single. But as soon as he had met Laura Ryan had realised there was no chance of his becoming involved with her. Or vice versa.
She still wasn’t a problem in that regard. But she could be irritating all the same. Ryan wasn’t used to being treated with such patent indifference by members of the opposite sex. It irked his male ego, which was considerable. Sometimes her disinterest seemed to border on outright dislike. It crossed his mind occasionally that she might not be interested in men, but he had no real evidence of this. It seemed more likely that past experiences had turned her into a man-hater—either that or she’d never met a man capable of melting her frozen exterior.
Once, a couple of weeks ago when she’d been particularly frosty with him, he’d been taken by the sudden urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her silly, just to see if he could get a reaction out of her.
He hadn’t given in to that urge, of course. Ryan knew if he did any such thing he’d have a world of trouble on his hands faster than a world-class striker could score a goal—amazingly fast.
Besides, he had a lot more control over his testosterone these days. On the surface, that was. His mind, however, had given way to fantasies about the infernal woman all that afternoon.
A wry smile curved his lips as he recalled what he’d done to her in his head, and how avidly she’d responded.
In your dreams, Ryan!
‘What’s so funny?’
Ryan’s head snapped clear at her caustic question, his amusement replaced by surprise. It wasn’t like Laura to notice anything when she was reading through a contract. She almost never glanced up until she was finished, which she obviously wasn’t. By the look of things, she’d only reached the second page of the five-page document.
‘Nothing to do with you, Laura,’ he lied. ‘Just looking forward to the weekend. I’m going sailing with some friends tomorrow.’ Which he was. Erica was away this weekend in Melbourne, attending a conference.
Laura’s sigh also surprised him. It sounded … envious.
‘Lucky you.’
‘Want to come?’ The invitation was out of his mouth before he could snatch it back.
She blinked with shock before dropping her eyes back to the contract. ‘Sorry,’ she said brusquely. ‘I’m busy this weekend.’
Wow, he thought. That was a narrow escape. Whatever had possessed him to invite her? Still, his ego was slightly stroked by her not having said no outright. Maybe she wasn’t as indifferent to his charms as she always seemed.
Ryan knew most women were attracted to him, as they were to most tall, good-looking, successful men.
No false modesty about Ryan.
He didn’t interrupt her as she finished reading the contract but his mind remained extremely active. So did his eyes.
She really did have great legs. He liked women with shapely calves and slender ankles, and feet which weren’t too big. Laura’s feet were quite daintily small for a girl of her height. Pity about those awful shoes she was wearing!
Her hair was great too: dark, thick, glossy and obviously long. It would look fabulous spread out against a pillow …
Whoops. He was doing it again: having sexual fantasies about her. He really had to stop this.
Swinging his chair round to the huge window behind him, Ryan stared out at the view of the harbour which he always found pleasurably diverting and was one of the reasons he’d rented this particular suite of rooms in this building. The other reason was that it was less than two blocks from where he lived in an apartment building which also had a wonderful view of the harbour.
When Ryan had first retired from soccer, he’d missed spending most of his life outdoors. He hated the feeling of being closed in. He liked space around him, liked to see the sky—and water, he’d discovered to his surprise. He hadn’t grown up with a love of water, mostly because it hadn’t been a part of his life; he had never even been taken to the beach as a child. He hadn’t learned to swim till he was twenty, and that had only happened because he’d been forced to train in a pool for a few weeks whilst he recovered from injury.
After his return to live in Sydney, however, he had found himself very drawn to the water, hence his buying an apartment and leasing an office that both came with harbour views. Recently, he’d developed a real love of sailing, and was considering buying a boat.
There were plenty of boats out on the harbour that afternoon, winter having finally given way to spring. The rain which had plagued Sydney for the past two months was thankfully gone; the sky was clear and blue and the water inviting.
His eyes zeroed in on one of the boats which was just moving past Bennelong Point, heading out to sea. It was a large white cruiser, an expensive toy for someone with plenty of money.
Maybe I’ll buy one of those, Ryan thought idly.
He could well afford it; Win-Win wasn’t Ryan’s only source of income. Back during his goalkeeping days, he’d had the sense to invest most of the huge salary he’d earned each year into property. By the time he had retired, he was the owner of a dozen or so units, all located in Sydney’s inner-city suburbs where the rental returns were excellent and the apartments never empty for long.
His extensive property portfolio was another thing Ryan didn’t talk about, however, knowing it wasn’t wise to broadcast one’s wealth. He’d found it didn’t do to court envy. He had a small group of friends who were successful men in their own right, though not multi-millionaires like him. He enjoyed their company and was loath to do anything to spoil their friendship. Of course, now that they’d all tied the knot, he didn’t have quite as much to do with them as he used to. But they still got together occasionally to go to the football or the races.
None of them owned a boat. The ‘friends’ Ryan was going sailing with tomorrow were not real friends. They were professional yachtsmen whom he’d met through his job and who’d been teaching him the ropes about sailing.
‘I