The Best Is Yet to Come & Maternity Bride Read online

  "They were prospecting for dreams, I imagine," he said, and for a moment, his eyes were dark with hunger as he looked at her profile. "God knows, some dreams are worth any price."

  "Are they?" she murmured absently. She stretched lazily. "I'm starved!"

  He chuckled. "That's my line. I'll get the basket."

  He went back to the four-wheel-drive, and, minutes later, they were feasting on cold cuts and salad off of paper plates, washing it all down with cold soft drinks from the cooler.

  "Paradise," she sighed, smiling across at him. They were sitting on the stone steps, using a wall of the foundation for a makeshift table. Around them, the sun shone brightly and the wind blew. "I'll bet people had picnics here back when the mine was worked. Children probably played on those big boulders," she gestured toward them, "and women walked up from the settlement to shop at the store."

  "Store?" he asked, frowning.

  "Oh, they had to have one," she said with conviction. "This far from any settlement, with the men at work in the mines, there had to be a store where women could buy cloth and flour and coffee and sugar. There were probably other kinds of places, too. Didn't Jerome have a brothel and several bars?" she added with a shy glance.

  He laughed with pure delight. It had been so long since he'd felt so lighthearted, so at peace with himself and the world. Watching Ivy made him feel whole again. She was beautiful, he thought, from her long black hair to her gentle heart. He'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted her.

  "Yes, Jerome had its entertainments," he agreed. "But a small settlement like this with close family ties probably wouldn't have tolerated a brothel."

  "You mean, the wives wouldn't," she said, grinning at him.

  "Absolutely." He pushed his hat back on his head and studied her blatantly. "You look more relaxed than I've seen you in months."

  "You haven't seen me in months," she reminded him with gentle humor. She toyed with a long strand of her hair. "I think getting away from home has helped more than anything," she said, smiling at him. "You've been so good to me, Ryder…"

  "I don't want gratitude," he said tersely, looking away toward the cliffs. "I needed an assistant, you needed a job. It was business."

  Her heart fell. She'd hoped for something more than that, but she didn't dare let her disappointment show. What had she expected, anyway, she wondered, when the past had killed any hope of a future between them? Besides, there was Ben and her guilt still standing in the way.

  She folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them. "It was still kind of you," she said doggedly. "Mama said I was wasting away. Maybe I was. After…after Ben died, I lost interest in everything."

  He took off his wide-brimmed hat and pushed an impatient hand through his thick, dark hair. "I suppose that's natural enough," he said shortly. He glared at her. "But he's dead and you're not. You've wasted enough time trying to live in the past."

  That was truer than he knew, but it wasn't because of Ben. It was because she wanted so desperately to go back to that night Ryder had first kissed her, to have a second chance with him. And that was impossible.

  She sighed. "Have I?" she mused. She gathered up the refuse and put it into a plastic bag. He put that, and the hamper and cooler, back into the four-wheel-drive while Ivy sat at the bottom of the unattached stone steps and stared out over the beautiful emptiness of the plain that led to the mountain chain.

  Ryder came up beside her, frowning slightly as he stared down at her. "No brooding," he chided.

  "I wouldn't dare." She smiled gently. "Do we have to go right away?" she asked. "It's so nice here."

  "No, we don't have to rush off." He moved to the step above hers and sat down. Then, abruptly, he slid behind her, so that his long legs enveloped hers, his lean hands folding below her breasts to hold her. "Don't panic," he said when he felt her stiffen. "We'll just sit and watch the wind blow. All right?"

  She swallowed. The feel of all that warm strength behind her, around her, was intoxicating and she was afraid of what she might inadvertently reveal about her vulnerability. But it was too sweet to protest.

  "All right," she said softly, and forced herself to relax, to let him hold her. Her eyes closed and she let her head rest naturally on his broad chest. Just this one little taste of heaven, she promised, and she'd go back to work without complaint.

  She felt his arms contract around her. so that his broad chest and flat stomach were completely against her spine.

  "Comfortable?" he asked at her ear, his voice deep and slow in the windy stillness of the valley. They might have been the only two people in the world.

  "Oh, yes," she said, her voice hushed because she didn't want to break the spell.

  His cheek nuzzled her hair. He felt at peace for the first time in years, without the fierce restlessness that had possessed him for the past few months. She smelled of roses, and he remembered long nights when he'd ached for the feel of her in his arms. Amazing, he thought, that she was letting him hold her. Perhaps she felt the closeness as he did, felt the need for touch in this desolate remnant of the past.

  She glanced down at the darkly tanned hands holding her, at the paleness of her own fingers against them. His hands were enormous.

  "Your hands are so big," she murmured, touching them delicately, tracing the flat, immaculate nails.

  "Yours are elegant," he replied, his deep voice rumbling from the chest so close against her back. "You never studied music, did you?"

  "No. I wanted to, but there was never much money. Dad died when I was very young, you know."

  "I never knew him. We moved to Albany when you were in grammar school, but there was only you and your mother by then."

  "Your family was so good to us," she recalled. "I loved your mother."

  "Everyone did," he said quietly. "She was a lady. A real lady."

  Her eyes opened and she stared at the changing shades of red and orange and yellow on the bare cliff face, still scarred from mining days past. "Your father always seemed remote, somehow," she said. "Was he?"

  "He liked making money," he said, drawing her closer as the wind kicked up and grew cool. "He loved my mother, in his own way. But he hurt her. He was never an affectionate man. Even now, Eve and I are lucky to hear from him at Christmas. He isn't big on family."

  She rested her hands on his. "Are you lonely, Ryder?" she asked softly.

  His face tautened. He stared down at her long black hair, his blood surging as the feel of her warm body worked on him. "Yes, I'm lonely," he said tersely. "Aren't you? Isn't everybody?"

  "I suppose so." She traced one of his deeply tanned fingers to the flat nail, unaware of how sensual a gesture it was until she heard Ryder's breath catch and felt his hands contract under her.

  "Careful, honey," he murmured roughly at her ear. "I could misinterpret that."

  Her heart skipped. That note in his deep voice was unmistakable. It made her knees weak, and she was glad she was sitting down.

  "Could I ask you something?" she queried softly.

  "What?"

  "Why haven't you ever married?"

  His long-fingered hands drew her closer before they slid down to her jean-clad thighs and rested there with easy familiarity. "Marriage is serious business," he said. "I don't believe in divorce."

  "You must have…have thought about it," she faltered. She really should protest that intimate touch, but it was intoxicating. Her body was alive as never before.

  "Thought about what?" he whispered at her ear, just before his strong teeth caught the lobe and bit it gently.

  She gasped audibly. "A…about…marriage," she managed.

  "Once, perhaps," he whispered. His hands slid up her thighs and over her flat stomach to come to a hesitant rest underneath her breasts. "You're trembling."

  "Well…what do you expect…when you touch me…like that?" she exclaimed hoarsely.

  "Like this?" he murmured at her ear, and his fingers moved over her full breasts in a light, teasing
touch that made her nipples go hard and sensitive.

  "Ryder!" she cried.

  "Surely it doesn't shock you?" he asked at her ear, his voice faintly mocking. "You're a widow, after all, not an innocent virgin."

  She shivered as his hands pressed suddenly into her taut, swollen flesh, dragging her closer. "I was…that night," she said, burning with pleasure. "You pushed me away…!"

  "Yes." That night. He could hear her soft voice pleading, taste her silky skin under his lips, and his body made a sudden involuntary movement. He bit off a curse and released her abruptly, getting to his feet before she had a chance to feel what had happened to him. He turned away, moving up two more steps so that the temptation of her was out of his vision until he could get hold of himself. He could have kicked himself for letting things get out of hand like that. It was too soon. He seemed to lose control the minute he touched her. He was going to have to keep his distance.

  Ivy, watching him, didn't understand what was wrong.

  She was shivering with reaction. She could hardly believe he'd actually touched her like that, except for the evidence of her tingling body. She crossed her arms over her sensitized breasts and felt the cold biting into her. She hadn't even noticed that it had grown cold because of the warmth of his body so close to hers.

  "We'd better get back," he said curtly a minute later. He turned and started toward the Jeep, leaving her to follow. He opened the door for her, but he didn't touch her or even look at her as they got underway.

  She felt too unsure of herself to speak, so there was a tense silence all the way back to the motel. Incredible, she thought, that things had gone wrong so quickly. But she was too shy to ask what she'd done or said that had made him so cold. When they reached the motel, he was courteous and polite, and all business. But it didn't escape her notice and he kept a stiff, formal distance between them for the rest of the day.

  She knew, because he'd told her once, that he'd gone a long time without a woman. Perhaps it was just proximity, and any reasonably good-looking female would have done. She had to think about it that way and not go chasing rainbows. Ben was dead. She was responsible. She couldn't give in to her need for Ryder, so it was just as well that he hadn't let things go any farther. It wasn't, after all, as if he was in love with her or anything. It was just that same fierce, frightening desire that he'd felt for her when she was still in her teens, arousing an equal, shaming desire in her.

  They went home the next day. Ryder dropped Ivy off at her house.

  "Can you get in to the office all right tomorrow?" he asked quietly.

  "Yes, thank you," she replied. "I'll be there at eight-thirty sharp. And thank you for the trip, too," she added formally, avoiding his gaze. "I enjoyed it."

  "Until I spoiled things, you mean," he chided, his face hard, his eyes cold. "Well, it will be easier here. Plenty of people around, to keep me in line."

  She stared at him curiously and started to speak.

  "Let it go," he said, his whole look a challenge. "See you tomorrow."

  "All right." He was obviously in a hurry to leave. She got out, and he deposited her bag on the front porch, barely staying long enough to exchange greetings with Jean before he got back into his car and drove off.

  "Did you have fun?" Jean asked with a smile after she'd hugged her daughter warmly.

  "It was work, Mama," Ivy reminded her, "not a vacation. But, yes, I did have a good time."

  Jean didn't ask any more questions, and Ivy didn't volunteer any more information. She didn't really want to talk about it.

  Ryder had one of the women from the secretarial pool work with Ivy the next day to help her catch up, and he managed time himself to show her the more important aspects of her work. He was at least a little more approachable, for which she thanked her stars.

  "I know it seems like a lot," he said when she had a good idea of what her duties would involve. "But you'll have help for a while, and you'll adapt."

  "Of course I will," she agreed. She was wearing a simple business suit with a pink blouse, and her hair was in a neat French twist. She looked elegant and professional, all at once.

  "I like the way you look in pink," he murmured absently, letting his pale eyes wander over her exquisite complexion, the faint pink of her soft mouth. "Very, very pretty."

  She colored, enhancing her complexion, and smiled up at him. He towered over her, big and strong and deliciously masculine. Her eyes went to his wide, chiseled mouth and she wanted to reach up and put hers against it. The fierce, unexpected need made her pulses race.

  "Thank you," she said breathlessly.

  He couldn't drag his eyes away. She made him helpless. At the same time, she made him ten feet tall and bear-strong. He sighed angrily at his own vulnerability.

  "Did I do something wrong?" she faltered. That scowl made her uneasy, and the other people in the office were beginning to murmur a little at the tableau.

  "What do you mean?" he asked absently.

  "You're glaring at me."

  "Am I?" He shrugged and averted his gaze. "Well, if you've got the hang of it, I've got a board meeting."

  "I think I can cope," she said. Her dark eyes ate him for an instant before she quickly lowered them. "Thanks for the tour."

  "My pleasure." He started past her and abruptly stopped, looking down straight into her eyes. He was wearing a dark vested suit, without a hat, and he looked every inch the businessman. The fabric was expensive enough to fit properly, and it molded the powerful lines of his body. Ivy almost groaned aloud at the sheer masculine perfection of him.

  "I'd take you to lunch," he said softly, "but we'd raise eyebrows."

  "Yes." She smiled shyly. "Thanks for the offer, anyway."

  "You have to come over Saturday."

  "Why?" she asked, stunned by the sudden change of subject.

  "Salmon croquettes," he said simply.

  "You mean, like in that Walt Disney movie? You got Kim Sun started and now you can't stop him?" she asked with a gleeful laugh.

  "That's right. You have to teach him how to make something else before I sprout gill slits and scales."

  "All right."

  "No argument?" he murmured.

  She shook her head. "Kim Sun is a very apt pupil. I like him."

  "He likes you, too." He made a sound deep in his throat and smiled faintly. "See you later."

  He walked away and she watched him go. He had to be the world's most puzzling man. He looked, she thought, so alone. Even in a crowd, even in the office, he was remote. She wondered if she was ever going to get close enough to really know him.

  One of the other assistants called to her and she went to answer a question about the Arizona project, mentally consigning her worries about Ryder to the back of her mind.

  After all, she was here to work, not daydream about the boss.

  Chapter 5

  It was a good thing that Ivy enjoyed traveling, because the very next week, Ryder had to fly down to Jacksonville. He took Ivy with him, checking them into a luxurious hotel right on the St. Johns River, in a suite this time. The bellboy came right out to the rental car Ryder had hired at the airport, got the luggage, and carried it up to the room for them. Ivy wasn't used to such grand treatment, but Ryder seemed to take it for granted. It was one of the many differences between her lifestyle and his.

  They ate in a restaurant just down the street from the hotel, a fabulous place that looked as if the whole thing had been carved out of a gigantic tree. It featured some of the best seafood Ivy had ever tasted, and the service was wonderful. Afterward, Ryder walked with her beside the river on the way back to the hotel, silent and brooding, as he'd been ever since their arrival. They were both in casual clothes—dark slacks and a pale yellow pullover sweater for him, a simple oyster-white dress with a colorful burgundy patterned scarf for her. She wondered how many other women he'd been here with, because he seemed to know his way around very well. But she didn't dare ask him such a personal question.
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br />   A couple with three small children came toward them, and as they watched, a well-dressed little boy made a sudden dash toward the river. The mother screamed, but Ryder was quicker than the overweight father. He caught up with the boy and lifted him in big, secure arms, laughing as he carried him back to his horrified parents.

  "He's quick," he told the couple, who were closer to Ivy's age than his.

  "Quicker than you know!" the mother laughed with pure relief. "Thank you very much! We'd never have reached him in time."

  "I guess I'll have to lose a few pounds," the father said as he added his gratitude to his wife's. He took the squirming child from Ryder. The little boy had blond hair and blue eyes and a purely mischievous smile. He squirmed trying to get down again.

  "Fish," he told his father. "Mama says the river has fish. I want to see."

  "You almost got a firsthand look, tiger," Ryder murmured, smiling gently at the child. "Better stick to aquariums for now."

  "I'll see that he does," the boy's father promised. He greeted Ivy as she joined them, his eyes all too appreciative on her slender figure. He noticed Ryder's sudden rigidity and the set of his head in the nick of time and turned his attention back to the threatening taller man. "Are you and your wife here on vacation?" he asked with a nervous cough.

  "A working vacation," Ryder replied tersely before Ivy could contradict the man. He slid an arm around her thin shoulders and drew her closer. "We'd better get to it. Good night."

  "Good night," they echoed.

  Ryder watched them walk away, and under the streetlight, Ivy saw something like anger on his lean, dark face.

  "What is it?" she asked. "You look irritated."

  "You didn't notice that he was undressing you with his eyes?" he asked, his tone mocking and faintly savage. His own eyes slid down her body with a look she couldn't make out in the sparse light from widely placed street lamps.

  "Ryder, he had three children…" she protested.

  "He was a man, wasn't he?" he demanded. He took a slow breath. This was getting out of hand. He couldn't afford to show that kind of jealousy, it might frighten her off.