“Hey, Jax.” The voice of Ryan’s PA floated through the speakers of the phone. “Jaci’s mother is on the phone and she sounds...determined. I think Jaci needs to take this.”
“Sure, put her through.”
Jaci shot up and pulled her hand across her throat in a slashing motion. Dear Lord, the last person in the world she wanted to talk to was her mother. She still hadn’t told them that she was working as a scriptwriter, that she was pseudo-dating Ryan...
“Morning, Priscilla.”
Jaci glared at him and grabbed the pen out of his hand and scribbled across the writing pad in front of him. I’m NOT here; she underlined the not three times.
He cocked an eyebrow at her and quickly swung his right leg around the back of her knees to cage her between his legs. Jaci sent him her death-ray glare, knowing that she couldn’t struggle without alerting her mother to her presence. As it was she was certain that Priscilla could hear her pounding heart and shaky breathing as she stood trapped between Ryan’s legs.
“Ryan, darling boy.” Priscilla’s voice was as rich and aristocratic as ever. “How are you? It’s been so long since we’ve seen you. I can’t wait to see you at Neil’s wedding next weekend.”
Jaci slapped her hand against her forehead and stifled her gasp of horror. She’d forgotten all about Neil’s blasted wedding. It was next weekend? Good Lord! How had that happened?
Jaci quickly drew a hanging man on the pad, complete with a bulging tongue, and she felt the rumble of laughter pass through Ryan as he exchanged genialities with her mother, quickly explaining that Jaci had just left his office. Ryan was talking about his duties as best man when she felt him grip the waistband of her pants and pull her down to sit on his hard thigh. Jaci sent him a startled look. Being this close was so damn tempting...
Oh, who was she kidding? Being in the same room as Ryan was too damn tempting. Jaci closed her eyes as his hand moved up her back and gripped the nape of her neck. His other hand briefly rested on her thigh before he pulled the pen from her hand and scribbled on the pad with his left hand. Huh, he was left-handed... She’d forgotten.
Jaci looked down at the pad, and it took a moment for her to decipher his scrawl. Why don’t you want to talk to your mother?
“Yes, I have my suit and Neil told me, very clearly and very often, that he didn’t want a stag party. He couldn’t take the time away from work.”
Jaci grabbed another pen from his container of stationery and scribbled her reply. Because she doesn’t know what I am doing in New York and that we’re...you know.
Why not? & what does “you know” mean? Sleeping together? Pretending to date?
Jaci kept half an ear on her mother’s ramblings. After nearly thirty years of practice, she knew when she’d start slowing down, and they had at least a minute.
All of it, she replied. She—they—just think that I’m licking my wounds. They don’t take my work—
Jaci stopped writing and stared at the page. Ryan tapped the page with the pen in a silent order for her to finish her sentence. She sent him a small smile and lifted her shoulders in an it-doesn’t-matter shrug. Ryan’s glare told her it did.
“Anyway, what on earth is this nonsense I’m reading in the press about you and Jaci?”
Ah, her mother was upset. Jaci, perfectly comfortable on Ryan’s knee, sucked in her cheeks and stared at a point beyond Ryan’s shoulder.
“What have you heard?” Ryan asked, his tone wary. The hand moved away from her neck to draw large, comforting circles on her back. Jaci felt herself relax with every pass of his hand.
“I have a list,” Priscilla stated. Of course she did. Priscilla would want to make sure that she didn’t forget anything. “Firstly, is she working as a scriptwriter for you?”
“She is.”
“And you’re paying her?” There was no missing the astonishment in her voice.
“I am.” Jaci heard the bite in those two words as he drew three question marks on the pad.
Not serious writing, Jaci replied. Ryan’s eyes narrowed at her response, and she felt her stomach heat at his annoyance at her statement. Nice to be appreciated.
“She’s a very talented writer,” Ryan added. “She must have got that from you.”
Thanks, Jaci wrote as his words distracted her mother and she launched into a monologue about her latest book, set in fourteenth-century England. Jaci jumped when she felt his hand on the bare skin of her back. His fingers rubbed the bumps on her spine and Jaci felt lightning bolts dance where he touched her.