1.3 The Taste of the Wrong Man

The fine linen of the tablecloth felt impossibly stiff beneath her fingertips, though Leana barely noticed. Her pulse hammered in her ears louder than the soft classical music that floated through the restaurant. She barely breathed, barely moved, as if any wrong gesture would make the world collapse entirely.

Across the table, Ryan’s stormy gray eyes locked on hers. His face, calm and unreadable, held that familiar smirk that tugged at her nerves in ways she had spent the entire cab ride trying to suppress. But there it was, just a fraction wider, just a flicker before his expression shuttered into cool neutrality again.

No one else seemed to hear her whisper. Her mother was beaming at David. But Ryan heard.

He then gestured to the man who had just tilted Leana’s axis off its foundation. “Leana, this is my brother, Ryan. He just flew in from the West Coast last night to finally meet everyone. Ryan, this is Julie’s daughter, Leana.”

The formal introduction was a brutal piece of irony. Introduced as strangers to the man whose taste she could still recall, whose scent was still on her skin, whose marks were hidden beneath her sweater. But Ryan looked entirely unshaken, his expression carefully neutral, as if they had never existed outside polite conversation.

He extended his hand. “Leana,” he said, his voice that same low baritone that had whispered sinful things in the dark, now perfectly polite. “Pleased to meet you.”

Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his. His grip was firm, warm, and his thumb brushed almost imperceptibly against her inner wrist. It lasted a fraction of a second too long before he released her.

“Likewise,” she choked out, snatching her hand back as if burned.

Her pulse skipped again when he offered the faintest tilt of a head, the corner of his mouth twitching with something unreadable.

“Please, sit, sit!” David urged, oblivious to the electric current crackling across the table.

The seating arrangement was a special kind of torture. Leana was placed directly across from Ryan. There was no escape from his gaze.

David and Julie oblivious to the silent war unfolding beneath their cheerful small talk, immediately launched into getting-to-know-you chatter.

“So, Ryan, how was the flight? Settling in well?” Julie asked brightly.

“Smooth,” Ryan said, tone even, eyes trained just above her shoulder, pretending to focus elsewhere.

A sommelier appeared and David launched into a discussion about wine. Leana focused on her menu, the elegant script blurring before her eyes. She was hyper-aware of Ryan’s presence. She dared not meet his eyes for longer than a fraction of a second, because every time she did, her pulse jumped and her face betrayed her.

Ryan’s controlled mask never broke. “So, Leana, you work in design, right?” he asked.

He was looking right at her, his gaze intense. She felt like a butterfly pinned to a board.

“Yes,” she managed, clearing her throat. “Architecture. I… uhh… started at a firm.”

“Ah, yes. And your projects…” He leaned back, hands folded casually on the table. “I imagine they must be impressive.”

David chuckled. “Listen to him, already talking about work. Don’t scare her off, Ryan. We’re here to get acquainted as a family.”

“My apologies,” Ryan said, not sounding sorry at all. He held Leana’s gaze. “I simply find it fascinating when someone is passionate about their work. It’s a very attractive quality.”

The compliment felt like fire on her skin. She nearly choked, fumbled her words, and had to take a sip of water to calm herself.

He was toying with her and he was enjoying it. Every innocuous word was layered with the memory of the night before. She stared at her salad plate, suddenly fascinated by the arrangement of microgreens.

Ryan was relentless, he engaged David and Julie in conversation, yet his attention was a physical weight on Leana.

By the time the main course arrived, Leana felt like she was suffocating. The air was thick with unspoken words and the ghost of his touch. She needed air. She needed to escape his penetrating gaze for just one minute.

“Please excuse me,” she said, pushing her chair back abruptly. “I just need to use the restroom.”

She didn’t wait for a response, weaving through the tables toward the back of the restaurant, her heart hammering against her ribs. The restroom door closed behind her and she braced her hands on the cool marble sink, staring at her reflection. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide with panic.

“Get a grip, Leana,” she whispered to her reflection. “He’s just a man. This is just a bizarre coincidence.”

The door opened behind her. She expected another woman, but the reflection that appeared in the mirror over her shoulder was tall, male, and unmistakable.

Ryan.

He locked the door with a soft, definitive click. The sound echoed in the silent room.

She spun around, her back hitting the sink. “What are you doing? You can’t be in here.”

He didn’t answer immediately. He just stood there, leaning against the door, his hands in his pockets, looking devastatingly handsome and completely at ease. He let his gaze travel over her, from her flustered face down to her trembling hands.

“You ran out of there like the place was on fire,” he observed, his voice a low, intimate murmur that filled the small space.

“I needed a minute,” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re flustered.”

“I…” Leana’s words failed her.

He pushed off the door and took a step toward her. He was in front of her now, so close she could smell the familiar scent of his cologne, mixed with the faint, clean smell of his skin.

“That’s unexpected,” he teased, his smirk finally widening just enough to make her chest ache.

“A fact I was as unaware of as you were,” she whispered.

He reached out and his knuckles brushed her cheek, a feather-light touch that made her gasp. His touch was her undoing. All the tension, the panic, the sheer, unbearable wanting, coalesced into a single, desperate need. Her eyes fluttered closed for a second. When she opened them, his face was inches from hers. His gaze dropped to her lips.

Before she could stop herself, she reached for him. Their mouths met in a kiss that was fierce, unrestrained, a reclamation of the night they had shared. His hands moved to her waist, pressing her close. She felt the heat of him, the familiar weight, the magnetic pull that had undone her entirely once before.

“You drive me insane,” she murmured against his lips.

“This changes nothing between you and me,” he murmured, his voice rough. “It just makes it more interesting.”

“Interesting?” she echoed, a hysterical laugh bubbling in her throat. “Ryan, we’re about to become family.”

“Are we?” he asked, a dangerous glint in his eye. “I think we’re something else entirely.”

He gave her one last, searing kiss, then stepped back, adjusting his suit jacket with an infuriating calm. “You should go back later. Your lipstick is smudged.”

Leana turned back to the mirror, her face was flustered. He was right. She looked thoroughly, passionately kissed. She fumbled in her clutch for a tissue, wiping away the evidence with trembling hands. She smoothed her hair and straightened her sweater, trying to regain composure.

When she turned back, he was gone, the door swinging shut silently behind him.

She took five more minutes to compose herself, splashing cold water on her face. When she returned to the table, Ryan was listening intently to a story David was telling, the picture of an attentive brother.

Leana’s face burned as if she had been caught committing some grave crime. He glanced up as she sat down, his expression neutral, but his eyes held a secret, smoldering heat that promised the conversation in the restroom was far from over.

The rest of the lunch was agony. Every time she looked at Ryan, she saw the intensity in his eyes from the lounge. Every time he spoke, she heard the whisper of his voice against her skin.

Finally, the meal drew to a close. As they all stood to leave, David clapped a hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

“This is wonderful. Ryan, I’m glad you’re here. Since you’re staying with me for the week, we should make it a proper family affair.” Then he turned to look at Leana and Julie. “Julie, Leana, why don’t you both come over for dinner tomorrow night?”

Leana froze. The room seemed to spin. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. Ryan’s expression remained unreadable. She opened her mouth to formulate an excuse, any excuse.

Julie’s face lit up, oblivious to the storm raging between Leana. “Oh, that would be perfect.”

David continued, beaming. “And Leana, it’s perfect. You and Ryan are in the same field. You can pick his brain. He’s always looking for sharp, talented people for his firm. Who knows? If things go well, maybe he’ll have a position for you.”

The horror was complete. She was being set up for a job interview with the man who had just had his tongue in her mouth in the women’s restroom. She dared a glance at Ryan. He had the faintest, perfect, infuriatingly calm smile, like a man who knew exactly what he had just done to her.

“Yes,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “I’m always on the lookout for unique talent. It should be a very productive evening. I’ll look forward to it, Leana.”