With a wave of his hand, Braden motioned over his lead waitress, Jenny, who brought him a Greek salad. “You saw her naked? When was that?”
“Last night. In the dream. Keep up, man.”
Braden stabbed a piece of tomato with his fork. “I’ll do my best.” He ate a couple of bites of salad before speaking. “What is it you want from her? I thought you planned on getting her to sell the house by any means necessary. Are you saying your game plan has changed?”
What did he want? Did it make him a selfish son-of-a-bitch if he wanted it all? He wanted Portia, wanted to see what would develop between them, and to sell the house? Their chemistry had been off-the-charts since they met in that elevator, and since then, they’d become friends. Combine the two and there wasn’t a chance in hell they wouldn’t be compatible in bed. But she wouldn’t sell the house, and he needed that money. He wanted the money to prove to his family he wasn’t a worthless rich kid, but a trustworthy adult. He wanted his family’s forgiveness. He wanted Portia to intuitively understand that wherever his money had gone, it was for a good reason. He wanted her trust.
He wanted everything that woman had to give.
“I’ve amended my game plan, but I’m not going to bend on the house. It’s sucked all the money we’ve gotten from the estate so far plus my savings. It’s not worth the aggravation. She can’t buy me out, so she’ll have to sell. I wish I could change her mind rather than disappoint her, but it can’t be helped.”
“And what does she want?”
What did Portia want? She wanted a house, a permanent home. Security. But did she want him?
The food Braden had practically force-fed him must have helped absorb some of the alcohol’s effects. The room no longer spun. Damn, he was sobering up. Some friend Braden was.
Ryan mopped up the sauce from the pastitsio with some pita. “Other than the house, she wants to teach dance to kids. And until today, I was convinced she wanted me.”
Braden sat back in his chair and laughed. “Oh, she still wants you.”
Ryan dropped his bread. “You know this how?”
“You said it yourself, she went from climaxing and kissing to agreeing to a date with another guy within the blink of an eye. That’s a little too quick even for the most fickle of women. No, I’d bet my left nut she’s using this guy to drive you away. You’ll think she’s off the market and give up on her; she doesn’t have to face the temptation anymore. This date? It’s nothing but a cock block. Now, the question is, are you going to let her get away with it?”
Portia switched off the ignition and sat in the driveway, staring up at the house.
Well, that plan had royally failed. Dillon was a nice guy, much nicer than she’d given him credit for. Without Ryan around, she’d noticed his good looks, humor, and especially his perceptiveness. A half-hour into dinner, he’d called her out on the real reason for her about-face regarding their date.
They’d spent the rest of the night discussing Ryan. Apparently, Dillon had recently gotten out of a long-term relationship, which was one of the reasons he was considering the move to Michigan. It explained why he’d thought it acceptable to take a bite of her food on a first date—he’d only ever dated one woman.
Contrary to his behavior last night, Dillon actually liked Ryan and encouraged her to give him a chance. She kind of got the feeling he’d noticed Ryan bringing her to climax on the dance floor, but was too gentlemanly to say so.
They ended their date as friends, and she hoped he’d make the move because she didn’t have many of those in Michigan.
She glanced at her cell phone and placed her hand over her stomach, quelling the butterflies. Five minutes before curfew. She’d better get inside. Shivering as she approached the front door of the house, her exhalations formed small clouds. Soon she’d be cozy in their bed.
Oh, Lord. When had she stopped thinking of it as her bed and accepted it as theirs?
Although they slept on opposite sides, Ryan’s body always emitted a warmth that wrapped her up like a butterfly in a cocoon. She felt safe with him sleeping beside her, a sense of security she’d never experienced before. That’s why she hadn’t pushed him on why his bed hadn’t arrived yet. She had always believed she wouldn’t feel secure until she owned a permanent home, but Ryan’s presence alone gave it to her.
What if owning a house wasn’t enough anymore?
She stepped inside the dark foyer, shut the door, and flipped on the lights.
“You almost missed curfew.”
Spinning around, she saw Ryan sitting on the third step of the staircase. He was dressed for bed in gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt which accentuated his chiseled biceps, and his hair was messed up as if he’d tumbled out of bed only moments ago. Her heart pounded so loudly, she was certain he’d hear it. She set her purse on the floor. “I wouldn’t do that. I know what’s at stake.”