Concentrate! she wrote.
Can do two things at once. God, your skin is so soft.
We’re not doing this again!
And you smell so good.
“Anyway, I’m getting off the subject. Are you and Jaci engaged or not?” Priscilla demanded.
“Not,” Ryan answered, his eyes on Jaci’s mouth. She knew that he wanted to kiss her and, boy, it was difficult to resist the desire in his eyes, knowing the amount of pleasure he was capable of giving her.
“Good, because after that louse she was engaged to, she needs some time to regroup. That stuffed cloak-bag of guts!” Ryan’s eyebrows flew upward at Priscilla’s venomous statement. Shakespeare, Jaci scribbled. Henry IV.
“Jaci was far too good for him!” Jaci jerked her eyes away from Ryan’s to stare at the phone. Really? And why couldn’t her mother have told her this?
“That business with the Brazilian madam was just too distasteful for words, and so stupid. Did he really think he wouldn’t get caught?”
Brazilian? Madam?
My ex liked a little tickle and a lot of slap.
Ryan stared down at the page before lifting his eyes back to Jaci’s rueful face. “Jesus,” he muttered.
“I do hope that she got herself tested after all of that but I can’t ask her,” Priscilla stated in a low voice. “We don’t have that type of relationship. And that’s my fault.”
Jaci’s mouth fell open at that statement. Her mother wished that they were closer? Seriously?
“And what’s going on between you? Are you dating? Is it serious? Are you sleeping together?” Priscilla demanded.
Jaci opened her mouth to tell her that it was none of her damn business, but Ryan’s hand was quicker and he covered her mouth with his hand. She glowered at him and tried to tug his hand away.
“It’s complicated, Priscilla. I’m involved in a deal and, bizarrely, I needed a girlfriend to help me secure it. Jaci stepped up to the plate.” Ryan kept his hand on her mouth. “It’s all pretend.”
“Well, I’m looking at a photograph of the two of you and it doesn’t look like either of you are pretending to me.”
Ryan dropped his hand but not his eyes. “We’re good actors, it seems,” he eventually replied.
“Huh. Well, I hope this mess gets sorted out soon,” Priscilla said. “Not that I would mind if you and Jaci were involved. I have always liked you.”
“Thank you,” Ryan replied. “The sentiment is returned.”
Such a suck-up, Jaci scribbled and gasped when his arm pulled her against his chest. Against her hip she could feel his hard erection, and she really couldn’t help nestling her face into his neck and inhaling his scent. Damn, she could just drift away, right here, right now, in his arms.
“I must go. Take care of my baby, Ryan.”
Ryan’s arms tightened around Jaci and she sighed. “Will do, Priscilla.”
“Bye, Ryan. Bye, my darling Jaci.”
“Bye, Mom,” Jaci replied lazily, the fingers of her left hand diving between the buttons of his dress shirt to feel his skin. Then her words sank in and she shot up and looked at Ryan in horror as the call disconnected.
“She knew that I was here. The witch!”
Ryan just laughed.
Eight
That evening, Leroy, too busy showing off his amazing yacht, ignored them, and Ryan was more than happy with that. He and Jaci stood at the back of the boat, where there was less of a crowd, and watched the city skyline transition from day to night. Dusk was a magical time of the day, Ryan thought, resting his forearms on the railing and letting his beer bottle dangle from his fingers over the Hudson River. It had the ability to soothe, to suggest that something bolder and brighter was waiting around the next corner. Or maybe that was the woman standing next to him.
Ryan stood up and looked at her. Tonight’s dress was a frothy concoction with beads up top, no back and a full skirt that ended midthigh. He wanted to call it a light green but knew that if he had to ask Jaci to tell him what color it was she’d say that it was pistachio or sea foam or something ridiculous. Equally ridiculous was his desire to walk her down to one of the staterooms below deck and peel her out of it. His nights had been consumed with thoughts and dreams—awake and asleep—about her. He wanted her again, a hundred times more. He’d never—he ran his hand over his face—craved anyone before.