Simone laughed, the sound easing the knot in Ryan’s chest, if even for a moment. “I’m pretty sure that’ll never happen. But I am glad to see you two are on speaking terms again.”
“Ryan can’t stay mad at me,” Mitch said. “I’m the only friend he’s got.”
“Yeah, like that’s true.” Ryan turned his attention toward Simone. “Any chance you can swing staying at Annie’s tonight?”
“You mean Kate’s?” Her gaze cut to Mitch.
“Yeah. I don’t want her out there all by herself.”
“I have Shannon. She’s with a sitter at home. Kate and Reed could come to our house, I guess.”
Annie reemerged from the bathroom, and they all fell silent.
“Quick,” she said stepping up to them at the bar, working for a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Change the subject. She’s back in the room.”
Mitch draped his arm around Annie’s shoulder, the move so casual, so comfortable, Ryan ached to be able to do the same. “So far we’ve covered sex and drugs. Rock-n-roll’s the next topic on the list. Pick a group.”
A grin spread across her face. One that tightened Ryan’s chest. He’d missed that and so much more these last five years.
“No?” Mitch raised a brow. “Okay, how about sleeping arrangements. Take your pick. You can have Simone, me, or Ryan.”
Her gaze darted from face to face, finally settling on Ryan. His heart bumped under those watchful eyes, and heat pooled in his gut. He’d give anything to have her come home with him.
“You guys aren’t serious, are you?”
“Afraid so.” Mitch sighed. “Consensus is you shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“Kate,” Simone said. “You’ve had a stressful day. Just humor us for tonight.”
“I have Reed to think about.”
“He and Julia are with Mom and Dad,” Mitch told her. “They’re probably swimming in the hotel pool or raiding the minibar. Trust me, he’s fine.”
She bit her lip. Tension flowed from her body, and when she reached up to rub her head, Ryan’s fingers itched to slide into that mass of curly chestnut hair and rub it for her, to take away some of the stress he’d ultimately caused. If she’d let him, he’d do just about anything to ease that anxiety and worry running through her whole body.
“Okay,” she finally said. “You win. I’m too tired to fight about this tonight.” She glanced at Simone. “But I know you have Shannon to worry about.” Then to Mitch, “And if this is as bad as we think, it’s not smart for Simone to be alone, either. It was made common knowledge today that she’s my lawyer. That she’s the one who recognized me first.”
“Kate—” Simone started.
“Humor me, Simone. I’ll feel better knowing you’re not alone, either. I don’t want to be the cause of anyone getting hurt. And we’re not all invading your house.”
“I’m not—”
“Don’t argue with the woman,” Mitch said quickly. “She’s always been smart.”
Simone frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. But in her eyes, Ryan saw she wasn’t going to argue. She was as freaked out by all of this as the rest of them. “This doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about anything, Mathews.”
“Yet,” Mitch said with a grin.
Ryan wanted to laugh, but the situation was anything but funny. Then he realized what it all meant. When he looked toward Annie again, she was already eyeing him. His stomach flipped.
“I guess that leaves you and me,” she said. “My place or yours?”
Ryan tossed his keys on the entry table and closed the front door behind Annie. She wandered into his living room without a word and stopped in front of the fireplace, where a series of framed photos of their life together still sat on the mantel. Their wedding photo, the day they’d brought Julia home from the hospital, a picture of the two of them on a hiking trip up one of those stupid mountains she’d always been dragging him to.
What did she think when she looked at those pictures? Did she feel anything? His palms grew sweaty. His stomach churned like it was set on the spin cycle of a washing machine.
Guilt slithered in as he watched her look from photo to photo, clamped on tight to his heart. Guilt for not looking for her when he should have. Guilt for what was happening now. Guilt over the fact someone had purposely hurt her five years ago and that it could possibly be because of him.
He raked a hand through his hair, knowing dwelling on that guilt wasn’t going to change anything. The only thing that mattered now was keeping her safe. “Are you tired?”
She turned to face him. Moonlight spilled through the picture window, illuminating her features. Those deep green eyes, the high-set cheekbones, that mass of curly hair that fell to her shoulders and which he ached to slide his fingers through. “Exhausted.”
Her tired voice was like velvet and sandpaper all wrapped up together. He wanted to hear her say his name in that same sleepy tone like she had so many times before. Wanted to pick her up and take her to his bed. Wanted to wrap her in his arms, slide inside her body, and block out the rest of the world.
But he knew he couldn’t. She still wasn’t sure of him. He’d been an ass to her when he’d first found out who she was, and now they both knew he was indirectly responsible for her accident. Her wariness was warranted, and he didn’t want to push her. As much as he wanted—needed—to touch her, he wanted her to want him back. Even if it was only a fraction of his want for her.
“Come on,” he said, gesturing for her to follow. “I’ll show you the guest room.”
He picked up her bag, the one they’d driven out to Moss Beach to get, and headed up the stairs. Her feet shuffled behind him, her sweet scent of lilacs drifted in the air. He hardened at just the thought of her lying in a bed down the hall from him tonight, so very close. So completely alive.
Cold shower. That’s what he needed right now. Maybe two. Or ten.
He pushed the guest-room door open, and when she eased by him, those silky strands of hair brushed his shoulder. Heavy tingling sensations shot straight to his groin.
“This is nice,” she said, turning a slow circle as she took in the pale blue walls, the white comforter on the queen-sized bed, the whitewashed furniture a decorator had picked out.
But nice wasn’t the word he was thinking of. Dressed in jeans and a fitted T-shirt, she was gorgeous. Curvy at her hips, tight through her legs and ass, and when she turned, the swell of her breasts tempted not only his body but his control. He’d had his hands on those luscious breasts earlier today, wanted his lips there now.
“Ryan?”
He glanced up and noticed her curious expression. “Sorry. Punchy. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, I guess it has.”
He set her bag on the bed, moved to open the adjacent door, and flipped on the light. Tried like hell to stop being so aware of every sound and movement she made. Couldn’t. “Bathroom’s through here.”
“Did I live here before?”
The soft-spoken question drew him around. What would it be like not to remember who or what you were? To have to rely on others to fill in the gaps? For the first time since she’d come back into his life, he realized how hard this must be for her.
He checked the urge to reach out to her and instead shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “No. I bought this house about four years ago.”
“Oh.”
She ran her hand over the blue-checked bedspread. He wished she’d touch him like that, couldn’t help but remember the way heat had sizzled all along his skin when her hands had brushed over him earlier in the day.
“Where did we live before?”
“We had a place in the city. After you…left…I couldn’t stand being there by myself.”