Chapter Seventeen
Monday morning. First thing. Ransom slammed down the phone. Luckily, Ava’s poor assistant had already hung up, or he might have broken her eardrum.
Ava was sending Naomi Wells to deal with him on the catering issues.
He’d thought things had changed after yesterday, after she helped him set up the cake, after they’d talked so pleasantly. He’d thought she was softening when she thanked him for the wedding menu he’d made just for her.
Obviously, he’d thought wrong. And now his blood boiled. He’d told Ava right from the start that he would deal only with her. Yet she had the gall to have her assistant call and say she’d be coming over instead of Ava.
If anyone was going to check out his progress and ask him questions, it would be Ava herself.
He had to tackle her now—not tomorrow, not later, now. Grabbing his jacket off the hook, he flung open the door and marched past his assistants, growling, “I’ll be back,” without further explanation.
While his feet ate up the distance between their offices, he seethed—a thing Ransom didn’t normally do. Ever. He was not letting her run away, which she was obviously trying to do. He would work with Ava, or the work would stop. That was their deal.
Once in the building, he stabbed the elevator button so hard his finger actually ached. In her office, he stalked past her assistant, who held up her hand, shock raising her eyebrows, calling, “Mr. Yates—wait—”
Ava’s door was open, she was seated at her desk, and he closed the door behind him.
“Why did you close the door?” She stood, her voice halfway between indignant and terrified.
“Because I don’t want anyone interrupting us when they hear a lot of shouting.” He marched to her desk, facing her over the expanse of wood. “I said I’d only work with you.” He jabbed his finger—still smarting from the elevator—at her. “But you tried to send your assistant.”
“I thought you’d need a break from me after working so hard on Gideon and Rosie’s wedding.”
“That’s a load of crap, and you know it. If I needed a break, then you’d be the one working with my assistant.”
Dammit, it had all been going so well yesterday. At least, after she’d dragged him out the front door to accuse him of spilling the beans about their history. It had been obvious to everyone—except her—how he felt about her. After that minor tiff, though, she’d seemed mollified. No, more than mollified. They’d talked, laughed. It was like the San Juan Bautista trip.
And now this. He didn’t get it.
“What happened yesterday?” he asked, softening his voice, taking the edge off his angry tone. “We worked so well setting up for the cake. You liked everything on the menu. And you were the one who asked me to help Gideon and Rosie. Why would you do that if we weren’t getting along?”
She didn’t soften. Instead, she gritted her teeth. “That was a wedding, and I was grateful you did it. But this is business, and I’ve got a lot to do today. All I wanted was for Naomi to check on your progress.”
“You’re lying.”
Her face reddened, either because he was right or because he’d pissed her off.
“Let’s not pussyfoot around,” she snapped. “We both know that when you’re done with this catering project, you’ll say, ‘So glad I could help out.’” She waved her hands while she mimicked him. “‘And now I’m returning to my fabulously famous chef’s life. See ya later, bye.’ We both knew this was only temporary. We never talked long term.”
“I never even thought about saying anything like that.”
“Right.” She lasered him with amber eyes so hot they turned gold in the sunlight streaming through the windows. “But how do I know that’s not what you’re thinking? ‘Time’s up, gotta go.’”
“I never gave you a time limit.”
Frustrated, or maybe because she didn’t want to answer, she threw her pen down on the desk. “Of course there was a time limit. You never thought this was long term.”
He asked very softly, “Did you think it was?”
“I—well—” she stammered, as if he’d knocked the wind out of her. But then Ava straightened her shoulders. “I just thought that since you’re the master of leaving…” She left it at that.
If he’d knocked the wind out of her with his question, she blew away all his righteous indignation with those words.
He’d planned to come back, to finish the conversation, to have it out with her, and yes, to bring her around to his way of thinking. But the truth was, fifteen years ago he’d left at the height of the biggest fight of their relationship, the only real fight. When she hadn’t texted him, he hadn’t texted her, as if they were playing some sort of teenage game. Then he’d come back, and she was gone. Technically she’d left him; he’d been telling himself that for years. Justifying himself.
Yet, from her point of view, he’d walked out, and he hadn’t communicated. How the hell was she supposed to know he was coming back? Had he actually told her so? He couldn’t remember. And it didn’t matter. Being older, he should have been the more mature.
There was nothing left to say but the absolute truth. “I was an idiot back then who couldn’t see the forest for the trees. I thought chasing fame and fortune would make me happy. But nothing has ever made me as happy as I was when you and I were together.”
He’d never stopped loving her. Not then and not now. He felt it all so clearly. He’d known the day she walked into his office that he’d never forgotten her, that no woman had ever measured up to Ava. That he had screwed up royally.
His leaving, their lack of communication, the texting blackout, had all lost her to him. Because he’d never been able to explain what he was thinking.
It was too late to say all that. They had to deal with each other in the now, with this moment’s issues, not the ones from their past.
Taking a step closer, so she could scent him, feel the heat of his body, he said, “Now you’re the one shunting me off to an assistant because you don’t want to deal with what never ended between us.” Another step. He wanted to round the desk and haul her into his arms. But he lowered his voice to a gentler note. “You’re not just hiding from me now. You’re hiding from fifteen years of our unrequited feelings for each other.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. “Don’t tell me that you haven’t felt something for me all these years.”
He’d been furious when he came in. And as she stalked around her desk to meet him toe to toe, she was beyond furious now. “What I remember is how you treated me. How the entire world revolved around you and your needs and your wants, never what I wanted.”
They were getting down to the nitty-gritty. And he didn’t let up. “How did I do that? I was going to give you the world.” Yet he had discounted her dreams. He had taken her acquiescence to his plans for granted.
But she couldn’t read the thought bubble that was surely hanging over his head. “Seriously?” Blood dripped off the point of the word. “Give me the world? You were going to make up some random position in your company as you hauled me from city to city while you made your name. That was giving me the world?”
He’d subjugated her dreams to his. Or at least he’d tried to. Her words chastened him. She’d read his thought bubble and said exactly what he’d been thinking more succinctly… and less in his favor.
But he wasn’t the complete ass she made him out to be. After all, she’d walked out without letting him explain. She could have stayed and talked it out. She could have said yes, they’d have had an amazing adventure, and she could have returned to her studies in a year, or two years. Would that have really been so terrible?
“Any other twenty-one-year-old woman would have jumped at the offer,” he said.
She reared back like a rattler ready to strike. “One—” She stabbed her index finger close to his face. “I completely disagree.” She raised her middle finger, luckily without lowering the first. “And two, that’s how you saw me? Like any other woman?”
He’d known his mistake the moment he’d said it. But she’d heard it even worse. “That isn’t what I meant.”
She laughed, a sound so lacking in humor it was as brittle as glass. “Funny, your words used to come out wrong a lot.” So close to him now she could spear him with her gaze, her voice was deadly. “Do I have to remind you how you pretty-womaned me? Do I have to remind you how you ghosted me, just erased me from your life? And do I have to go through it all again like I did fifteen years ago?”
He was shaking his head. “Pretty-womaned you? I don’t even know what that means.”
That seemed to make her even angrier. “You just flew away for your big important meeting and left me behind.” She waved at the sky outside, where a jet was passing overhead. “That’s the problem. You don’t know what I’m talking about because you couldn’t even bother to watch one little movie.” She stabbed his chest with each of the last three words.
He was losing her. He’d come here completely justified in his indignation, and she’d turned it around on him. Because she was right. He remembered it all now—her reference to that movie. And he’d blown it off. Watching it had never even been a consideration. It was just a chick flick.
But not watching Pretty Woman had been the biggest of all the mistakes of his life.
He backed up then, until the backs of his knees hit the sofa, and he slumped onto it, holding his head in his hands, muttering, “Dammit, dammit, I’m screwing this up again.”
He let out a long sigh so heavy it seemed to crush his chest. He was supposed to tell the truth. But instead, they were battling with words again. Looking up, his voice holding all the feeling he could muster, he said, “Ava, what we had, it never died for me. And I don’t think it died for you either.”
She glared, what he’d said meaning nothing to her. “Don’t tell me what I felt then or what I feel now.”
He nodded, rising from the sofa, approaching slowly, no longer wanting to crowd her or push her. “I know I can’t tell you what you feel.”
Her lips were so soft, her scent so sweet. And he made what could be the next biggest mistake of his life, whispering, “I’m pretty sure that also means I can’t…” He took yet another step closer, then another, until their lips were only a hairbreadth apart.
Something glittered in her eyes. He hoped it was desire, prayed it was. They breathed the same breath, and her nostrils flared slightly, as if she were scenting him the way he scented her.
He waited for that little nod, a small but clear sign that she wanted what he wanted.
When he thought he saw it in the burn of her eyes, he kissed the breath out of her, kissed a low, sexy moan out of her, kissed her until her lips parted, until she was kissing him back with the same fervor he felt beating in his chest.
Kissing him with a passion he needed to go on forever.
* * *
The kiss was so passionate, so breathtaking, so overpowering. Ava melted into him, savoring his taste as his tongue mimicked making love to her. God, she’d dreamed of this, wanted it, needed it. Even if it was the worst thing she could ever do. But she was beyond caring.
Until Ransom stepped back.
Not much, just a couple of inches, but enough to sluice cold water down her spine—even as her heart cried out for him not to stop, cried out, Please don’t leave me again.
“Go ahead,” he said softly. “Deny the sparks we just felt.”
She’d never been a liar. And she couldn’t lie now. “Dammit.”
She shoved her hands through her hair, all the pins of her careful chignon flying. She was furious with herself, felt it pump through her veins, furious because she was actually done fighting. Because that kiss, quite possibly the most perfect kiss of all time, had drained every ounce of fight out of her. All she wanted now was to throw herself into his arms.
So she did.
Literally threw herself at him, arms around his neck, pulling his head down, taking his lips, opening hers, dragging him inside, and kissing him until she couldn’t think. Because this had nothing to do with thinking. He hauled her up against him, letting her feel every hard muscle, letting her feel how badly he wanted her. She was drowning in his taste, his scent, his heat.
Drowning…
With only one brain cell still firing, she pulled herself out of his arms. When he looked at her as if she’d crushed his world, she could only whisper one word. “Door.”
On trembling legs, she crossed her office to lock it. She didn’t care that Naomi might hear that soft snick.
Ransom stood right behind her, so close she could smell his pheromones without even turning.
In the next moment, she turned, grabbed him by the lapels, and pushed him up against the door. He dropped his hands to her bottom, pulling her against the hard ridge of him, and went for her neck like a vampire, kissing, licking, sucking, biting.
She didn’t let him restrain her for long, breaking free and stripping off his tie. She couldn’t wait a moment longer—yanking off his jacket, grabbing his shirt, tearing the buttons as she shoved it down his arms.
Before she lost all coherent thought, even as she was jerking open his belt and pulling down his zipper, she said, “Condom.”
“In my wallet. Back pocket.”
She pulled back a moment to look at him, her heart ramming her chest. “Do you always carry a condom in case you get lucky?”
He shook his head. “Only since yesterday, after the wedding.”
Blinking, she stared him down.
“Only because I was praying for the moment you finally let me in.” He reached for his wallet.
It was so sexy, so beguiling. That he’d actually rushed to a drugstore right after the wedding. Just for her.
Even as she wanted to strip off her clothes and take him, a voice in her head shouted, Don’t do this. You’ll regret it, while a warring voice answered, Shut up. Don’t tell me to stop now. Not when it’s so damn good.
The devil and the angel perched on her shoulders.
The devil won. And she threw herself at him again.
He was so beautiful—even more beautiful than before. His muscles were hard, his skin taut. Even as she tore off her suit jacket, she put her mouth to his. Because, oh God, his taste. She’d never forgotten the erotic taste of him. Sweet like fruit, rich like coffee.
Someone moaned, and she realized it was herself. She needed him so bad.
Then their clothes were flying, and he hoisted her up. Or maybe she climbed him. And, oh God, the feel of his skin against hers. The curly hair of his legs against her calves set off tingles throughout her body. She wasn’t wearing pantyhose today, all the better to feel him everywhere.
With her legs wrapped around him, he carried her to the desk and set her down, her bottom on the smooth wood. She sent the papers and pens flying out of the way. He tugged on her panties, and she yanked at her bra clasp, needing it off, needing his skin against hers, his lips on her, his mouth everywhere.
When all she wore were her high heels, she tore at his boxer briefs, and with a whisper of awe, she reached out. “You’re so beautiful.”
The moment before his lips captured hers, he murmured, “And you dazzle me. More now than ever before.”
Everything was more than before. His lips on hers were like a fever, burning her up from the inside. His fingers branded her with his heat. He spread her legs, and there were no preliminaries except donning the condom. She didn’t need anything else.
She pulled her mouth from his, needing to breathe, needing to whisper, “Please.”
She needed this, she needed him, inside her, now.
His hands on her hips, he gave her exactly what she wanted, plunging deep. She bit her lip to keep the scream inside. So good. So perfect. Thick and hard, he touched every part of her, inside and out. She clung to him, breasts against his hard muscles, the soft hair of his chest a gentle stroke against her skin—his mouth, his lips, his tongue taking her the way his body did.
He’d brought her to climax so many times, and yet, it had never been like this. His harsh breath caressed her ear. His erotic male scent filled her head. Then he took her hard and fast, the way her body craved.
It had been so long since anyone had touched her this way. Touched her deep inside, touched her soul, touched her heart in a way no one but Ransom ever had. Pleasure coiled inside her, and ecstasy wrapped around her as tightly as his arms. She hovered on the edge, desperately wanting to fall over and yet needing this to go on forever.
A chant rose up from her, “Oh God oh God oh God. Please, please, please.”
The coil inside her sprang loose. She clung to him, riding it through, her body pulsing, her mouth on his so she couldn’t cry out. As he throbbed deep inside her, she drank in his groan of ecstasy. Her ecstasy. Then she gave in to it completely, gave in to him. Gave him everything.
She’d never known this level of bliss. Not even back then, with him.