The Rebel's Own(5)

“This is for Riley,” she muttered to herself over and over.

“Who’s Riley?”

Kennedy turned towards the voice that had haunted her dreams for years. Ryan Carville was actually here, standing in front of her. Her eyes took him in, and as much as she hated to admit it, he was still as beautiful as she remembered, if not more so. His shoulders were wide and defined and from under his suit jacket, she could see his thick biceps struggling to be set free. Ryan carried an indefinable aura of wealth and power and that set off a zing of awareness that zipped through her body. It took everything in her not to succumb to the warmth that welled up inside.

His handsome face spread into a wide smile, slow and seductive. She forced herself to smile back and could hear her jaw cracking from the effort that it took.

“Who’s Riley?” he repeated.

“Who’s asking?” Kennedy turned her body towards the bar, afraid that it would betray her and curl itself around the hunky man standing in front of her.

“Ryan Carville.” His voice sounded uncharacteristically nervous and unsure, and hearing it made her more confident.

“Bailey. And Riley is just a dear person to me.” She cleared her voice, trying to keep from betraying the emotions that cropped up just saying her son’s name. Sadly, she feared she’d failed and regretfully exposed a weakness.

“Is Riley here with you?” Ryan looked around the room and Kennedy could tell he was searching for a man.

“It’s ten o’clock, and if I know him as well as I think I do, he’s probably in bed by now,” she said with a smile.

Ryan didn’t appear bothered that there seemed to be another man in her life. She knew that he was taking her as a challenge. He was competitive, her past and present was evidence of that.

“So, do you like football?” he asked. Kennedy hesitated to answer the question. She disliked a lot of things that were related to Ryan a long time ago. “I’m a Rebel.”

Of course, he was going to use the “I’m a sports star” card. If he only knew he didn’t need it … Kennedy chuckled and Ryan’s eyebrows rose. Bet he didn’t get that reaction too often.

“I’m a Bruins kind of girl.”

• • •

Ryan couldn’t suppress a smile at the mysterious beauty’s unfounded challenge. So that’s how she wanted to play it? “Well, can a lowly quarterback buy you a drink anyway?”

“From the quality of your suit, I guess you can afford it,” her honey-glazed voice teased.

Ryan emitted a short laugh. “What are you drinking?”

“Martini, shaken not stirred.” Her lips had turned up into a sly smile and her voice, low and sultry, woke up every nerve in his body.

“James Bond-style,” he muttered, as his head lowered to hers.

“No, my style,” she said coolly. “And tell them to make it strong. I have a room upstairs, so I’m not driving anywhere tonight.”

“Are you sharing that room with anyone?” His mind raced as the tone in her voice had his erection fighting for freedom.

“No,” she pouted playfully, leaning into him and toying with his tie, “I’m all alone and so lonely.”

The sound of a glass shattering broke the spell. Ryan lifted his head to see the bartender watching them. The man’s face was flushed as he stared at Bailey with a look of complete sexual desire. Ryan wanted to shout at him to find his own girl, but truthfully, he couldn’t blame the guy.

A smile passed over her lips as her fingers combed through her wavy hair. Ryan wanted to do that. He wanted to do that and a whole lot more. “Would you like some company?”

“I would love some,” she smirked, then added, “but you’re a Rebel.”

“I hit harder than any clown with a hockey stick.” Ryan froze. Since when did he mix sports metaphors and sexual suggestions?

“Well, then—”

“Ryan!”

Frustrated and stymied, he whipped around to stare at Clara. Her hand was on her waist as her foot tapped the hardwood floors impatiently. He felt like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar by his mother. He was about to say something, when he felt Bailey’s hand graze his backside. Ryan stiffened, wondering if he’d imagined the caress.

“I can see the two of you have something to talk about,” Bailey said smoothly, as she rose off her stool. “How much for the drink?”

“Free of charge.” “It’s on me.”

Ryan groaned in annoyance when he noticed that he and the bartender had spoken in unison “I got it,” he insisted with sudden savagery.

“Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you later, Rebel.”