His Girl Next Door: The Army Ranger's Return / New York's Finest Rebel / The Girl from Honeysuckle Farm. Trish Wylie
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but he’d probably just made her uncomfortable. Bringing up terminal cancer as a subject made people react differently. He should have realized that.
“Ryan, didn’t you mention something about bruschetta before?”
His mouth watered. “Sure did.”
“Why don’t we share it? See if it’s as good as it used to be.”
Ryan raised his glass, pleased to see the sparkle back in her eyes, that sweet, natural smile back on her lips.
“To old times,” he said.
“To friendship.”
They clinked their glasses together, before he took a long sip of red wine from his.
It was good. Better than good.
This whole night felt great.
“I’ll only say yes to bruschetta if we can finish the night with gelato,” he teased.
Jessica sat back, wineglass tucked in her hand. “You’re lucky I like my food.”
They both laughed.
He’d done the right thing, inviting her out tonight. If they stayed just friends, then he’d be happy. But if something more happened … Ryan took another sip of wine before leaning in closer to Jessica across the table.
If something else happened then he wasn’t going to say no.
He’d have to be a stronger man to resist. And after years of not being interested like this in a woman, it felt seriously good.
Jessica smiled at Ryan as he attempted to cut a huge piece of bruschetta, piled high with tomato, onion and basil. Her insides felt kind of fluttery, her brain kept firing her warning signals that she was electing to ignore, but she was still enjoying herself.
Hearing Ryan open up about his wife, hearing the dreaded C word … it had rattled her. She knew he’d noticed the look on her face, seen the blood drain from her skin temporarily, but she’d managed to recover fast enough that he hadn’t called her out on it.
But still. Cancer? Part of her was pleased she’d never told him. After the way he’d talked about what he’d gone through, talked about what he never wanted to go through again, it had been clear he might not be sitting with her right now if she’d been honest from the beginning. He might not have even wanted to write to her if she’d told him.
But her chance to confess, to share what she’d been through, had passed. There had been a moment, a tiny window of opportunity, where she could have stopped him and told him what had happened to her. But she hadn’t.
And she had no intention of telling him now. Maybe not ever.
“Jessica?”
She looked up. Ryan was watching her.
“This is delicious.”
Jess reached for the large piece of bruschetta he had sliced off for her. The smell of the balsamic alone had her mouth watering. She could feel him watching her as she took a bite, trying to be dainty but struggling given the portion size.
“Mmmmm.” She finished her mouthful. “You’re right, it is delicious.”
When he smiled at her, before finishing what was left on his plate like it was no more than a snack, she knew deep down that she couldn’t tell him. If he was only here for a short time, who was she to be the one responsible for turning that happy smile into a frown? Why should her problems—health problems she’d dealt with on her own—be a reason not to have fun with him?
It wasn’t like she was embarking on a long-term future with the man. They were friends, and friends kept their secrets sometimes. It just so happened this was one she didn’t want to share with anyone who didn’t already know about it.
“More wine?”
Jessica internally shrugged off her fears and eliminated all thoughts of Ryan’s earlier words.
This was about having fun. Enjoying herself with a handsome soldier who would be back with his unit before the year was out.
“Please,” she said recklessly, holding up her glass.
Ryan tipped the bottle of red and filled her glass to the halfway mark.
She took a long, slow sip, and leaned across the table toward him. “Tell me all about the guys you serve with. I want to know what it’ll be like for you going back to them.”
Jessica twirled her fingers around the long stem of her glass as Ryan sat back, his body relaxed against the chair.
“I don’t know how exciting a story it is,” he protested.
She shook her head, laughing as he grimaced. “You’re not getting off that easily, and we’ve got all night.”
“So gelato, huh?”
Ryan laughed. He seemed to do a lot of that around her.
“Believe me, when you’re hot and sticky in the desert, thinking about gelato is like torture.”
“And now you finally get to indulge.”
He passed her the waffle cone before reaching back for his own. They were only a few blocks from where the car was parked, close enough to walk.
“Good?”
“Mmmmm.”
Jessica was too busy swirling her tongue around the Italian ice cream to answer. She just kept making the noise in her throat to indicate how tasty it was.
Ryan gulped and tried to focus on his own dessert. But dragging his eyes from her mouth, from her tongue and the way her eyes were dancing as she watched what she was eating …
She looked up.
Whoops. Caught out like a dog trying to sneak a leg of lamb from the kitchen bench.
He watched in fascination as this time her throat worked slowly, swallowing, running her tongue over her lips then letting her hand drop lower as if she’d forgotten the gelato completely.
Ryan wanted to look away. He tried, he really did. But he found his body moving instead, toward her. The look in her eyes tormented and taunted him, pulled him into her web. He had to fight not to drop his cone to the ground.
Ryan could hear his own breathing, and he could hear hers, too. It was as if there was nothing else in the world around them, like they were the only two people on the street, in this moment.
He raised his arm, high enough to reach out and touch her face, and wiped the tiniest bit of ice cream from Jessica’s mouth. Maybe he had imagined it, maybe he’d gently wiped away nothing. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to get closer to her, to be pulled toward her like a magnet to metal.
His arm ached, he felt a dull throb as he held it up, but he didn’t care. He’d felt worse, and she was worth it. Touching her was worth any lick of pain, no matter how bad.
“Thanks,” she whispered, eyes flickering low then higher again.
Ryan stood there. He gave her the chance to walk away, to move back so their bodies weren’t so close. When she didn’t he closed in, stepped forward and leaned toward her. She was tall but not as tall as him, the top of her head just higher than his chin.
“Jess,” he murmured.
She nodded.
He pushed her arm down slightly, so she had to move her cone away from her body. It allowed him to get closer. Their chests were close, hovering, but not pressed together.
Ryan dipped his head, waited in case she wanted to move away. But she didn’t.
Jessica raised her chin, inclined it up toward him.
He took a deep breath, looked at her mouth, couldn’t pull his eyes away, then dropped his mouth to hers. Gently, ever so gently, he brushed