The S Before Ex. Mira Lyn Kelly
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take it slow. Weather seems safe.”
Claire swallowed, fighting to keep the twitch at the corner of her mouth from giving in to a grin. “Polite.”
“Superficial.”
“Benign,” she offered with a little wave of her hand, amused by the preliminaries of selecting a suitable topic for discussion.
“Mundane. But what the hell …” He yawned with an indifferent gesture toward the window.
“It’s a shame you’re seeing the place like this. Two days ago it was gorgeous. Sun shining, temps up about seventy-five. This time of year the weather can change on a dime.”
Mundane was right. There’d been a time when they’d made a habit of talking the whole night through. When conversation between them was so compelling it physically hurt to end a call or say good night. To her recollection the weather had played into their interaction only once. A quiet Sunday morning in bed. Ryan’s strong hands running soft across her hips as he pulled her astride him, describing in exquisite detail how he wanted to make love to her in the rain. What the scattered beads of water would look like across her breasts, how the cool chill of them would make her nipples tight, hard, achy … and the hot contrast of his mouth as he closed over her, licked and sucked, would make her moan.
Her nipples puckered as the memory of Ryan sliding hot and hard inside her racked her body and stole her breath.
Oh, no. Not good.
Suddenly, the weather seemed a threat beyond compare and Claire was anything but amused. She didn’t want to think about how it had been. She didn’t want to react to the point where it was taking every ounce of will not to squirm in her seat.
Rubbing her temple with two fingers, she stared at her knees, wondering how she could still feel the sheets beneath them.
“Your turn, Claire.”
The combination of her name and the un-subtle snapping of fingers jerked her attention to Ryan’s eyes steadily focused on her. Waiting, watching, studying her with an intensity that did nothing to diffuse the slow, stirring heat deep in her belly.
God, what did he see?
She needed out of this car. Away from this man before he caught on to the wet, rain-soaked direction her thoughts had taken or how shocking her response to them truly was.
“H-hotel,” she stammered stupidly, immediately wanting to slap her forehead in the hopes of jarring her brain loose.
Ryan looked out the window, scanning their surroundings, and then back to her again. “What?”
“The hotel where I’m staying,” she clarified, managing a “silly me” roll of her eyes, though there was nothing silly about how she felt. Desperate, more like. Confused. “Just drop me on the way in. I’ll get settled and then—”
“No hotel,” he cut in with a dismissive wave, his brow smoothing in understanding. “You’ll stay at the house.”
He couldn’t be serious. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Sure it is. There’s a small day staff to clean and shop while we’re there. Don’t be surprised if you don’t see much of them. They’ve got a knack for being conveniently absent and yet amazingly available. Anything you need, they’ll get. And I’ve got a car for you in the garage.”
“No.” The single word snapped out with more force than she’d intended, but suddenly she felt cornered. After spending hours trapped in close quarters together, the only thing that had kept her from bursting out of her skin had been the promise of having some time to herself. Knowing she’d be able to get away. Have a private refuge from her body’s disconcerting reaction to the proximity of his. A place where the subtle, sexy, masculine scent of Ryan didn’t permeate every corner of the space she inhabited, as it had for the last dozen hours of travel.
And that was before he’d gone and brought up the weather!
No way. Trapped in his house, she’d be breathing him in for seven days straight.
“Not even willing to discuss it, Claire?” Ryan asked, irritation evident in his tone.
She turned to him, striving for a calm that threatened to slip fast from her grasp. “We’re hashing out a settlement—even under the most amicable terms, by the end of the day I’d imagine we’d both appreciate having some distance between us. Being able to unwind without the other there breathing down their neck.”
Ryan’s lips twitched at one corner and then pressed flat as he turned to study the passing terrain. “So it’s the neck breathing that’s the problem then. And here I’d always assumed you enjoyed it as much as I did.”
Oh, that was perfect. A little sexually charged banter between them. Just what she needed.
Not.
Eyes fixed on the roof of the car, she shook her head. “You never change.”
“Everybody changes, Claire. And everyone stays the same.” He drew a deep breath, and let his head fall back against the rest. “It’s just not always easy to see exactly how, is all.”
The suggestive teasing tone of a few seconds before was gone.
No doubt he recognized how utterly out of place it was in an exchange with the woman he was divorcing, and packed it away for a more appropriate partner.
Easing back against her seat, she thought about what he’d said. About the changes between them.
He was right, of course. In too many ways, the man seated across from her wasn’t the one she saw when she let her mind’s eye search for her husband’s face in her memories. The one who jogged the streets of downtown Chicago with that deceptively easy stride of a natural athlete, or sprinted the steps of their Boston walk-up, dressed sharply in suit and tie, working his pitch for some meeting or another. In her mind, he was forever the man he’d been, burgeoning with boundless optimism and ideas. A visionary yet to hit success. Young. Enthusiastic. And so gentle and tender, it made her heart ache to remember what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that kind of care.
Ryan was a multibillionaire now. Riding around the globe in his sleek private jet. So smooth and cool. No more nerves. No more pitches. Not since the Journal had started calling him Midas and the world at large began lining up to pitch to him. But that was just success. A surface change, like the deepened lines and furrows around his mouth and eyes.
Inside? She couldn’t say. There were a few obvious things. He was harder now. More callous. Cynical. But beyond that basic awareness, she didn’t know him. Didn’t know if she wanted to.
And she imagined Ryan felt the same way.
Looking past her hair and eyes, he probably couldn’t even recognize the girl she’d been.
But then, there wasn’t much left of that girl now.
At eighteen years old her wants, hopes and dreams had been painfully simple and completely revolved around Ryan. She’d barely known her own mind back then. Hadn’t even tried to figure out all there was to her. She’d been about looking pretty. Having fun. Laughing. Music, parties, clothes, shoes and dates. She’d enjoyed school, done well at it. But she’d been a freshman and hadn’t had the time to find her niche before circumstances required her to drop out and everything changed so completely. When her parents discovered how she’d let them down, and all the love and support that, to that point, had been the foundation for her life was suddenly revealed as conditional.
She’d been so grateful to Ryan for being there for her. Standing by her. He’d taken care of her. Loved her. Married her. Brought her with him when he’d moved for his career.
He’d treated her like gold, but she’d treated herself like some kind of accessory to his life, rather than an equal partner in it. So dependent on him she’d been afraid to step outside his shadow. So in love she’d convinced herself he was