Suzanne was drowning in pleasure

She had the cold counter at her back and a hard, warm Ryan at her front and she’d never felt so hot in her life. The shadows lent to the intimacy, which threatened to overwhelm her.

“This is just what we said, right? No more, no less,” she said on a gasping breath.

“Sex.” Ryan’s deep voice sent another thrill through her.

“Just sex. And when we’re done…”

“We’re done,” he finished. Was she imagining things or did he sound skeptical, as though he didn’t believe what he’d just said?

“Right. Itch scratched.” She was panting now, and so was he.

“Right.”

For the longest moment he just looked at her, her dark and beautiful man. Then he groaned, pulled her even closer and she melted against him. His mouth was so firm, and so deliciously demanding, she couldn’t help but sink into the mindlessness of it, needing the mindlessness of it. He had a wonderful mouth, a make-her-forget-everything mouth, and he knew just what to do with it to make her wild.

And she intended on getting very, very wild….

Dear Reader,

I’m so excited about this book, as it’s the first in my three-book Temptation miniseries SOUTH VILLAGE SINGLES. I loved the idea of writing a series about three friends who make a vow of singlehood. And I started thinking about the sexy, irresistible men who could tempt them to break that vow. Just what kind of man would it take to break a vow between friends—especially since we’re talking about strong, independent women! Guess you’ll have to read on to find out.

I hope you enjoy reading Suzanne’s story—and have fun with her as she tries so hard to resist the very charming Ryan. Be sure to catch Nicole’s story in Tangling With Ty available in February, and Taylor’s story, Messing With Mac, available in March, as all three of them fall hard and fast in the most unexpected ways….

Happy reading,

Jill Shalvis

P.S. I love to hear from readers! You can reach me through my Web site www.jillshalvis.com or by writing me at P.O. Box 3945, Truckee, CA 96160-3945.

Roughing it with Ryan
Jill Shalvis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Kelsey, this one is for you.

You might be my oldest, but you’ll always be my baby.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

1

SUZANNE CARTER glanced between the apartment-for-rent ads and the balance in her checkbook. No matter how much she squinted, added or subtracted, she was pretty much S.O.L.

With what she had, she’d be fortunate to get a place that had four walls and a roof, never mind such luxury items as hot water and a bathtub.

And yet, anything would be better than where she currently lived, which was nowhere. As of this morning, her fiancé—ex-fiancé, she reminded herself, her very ex-fiancé—had politely stacked her things outside the apartment they’d shared. Honest to God, she’d thought he’d been kidding.

Until her key hadn’t worked. Seemed the joke was on her. Damn if the joke wasn’t always on her.

In any case, she’d finally realized the truth. She was relationship cursed. If she hadn’t been, then she could blame any one of her other ex-fiancés—there had been three in total, not that she was counting—for the relationship failures, but the fault was hers alone. She seemed to possess the single-handed ability to destroy a good man. She’d destroyed Tim to the point he’d cried every night, wanting her to talk about her feelings, begging her to open up. She’d felt horrible, but deep down she knew she didn’t want a man who also cried at long-distance commercials and when he talked to his mother on the phone. Daily.

Not that Tim hadn’t helped commit their relationship to doom by getting caught performing sexual gymnastics against the front door with his cleaning lady. But he’d pinned that on Suzanne as well, saying his heart had been so broken by her distance and lack of commitment that he’d needed the release.

Uh-huh.

This latest relationship disaster only confirmed in her own mind that she was cursed. And so, as of this moment, she was vowing to give up men to save them from herself. Too bad no one could save her from these dismal rental listings. Maybe she should have fought for the apartment, but she no longer wanted it. With a sigh she lifted her red pen and circled the very cheapest ad in the paper she could find. That’s right, get thrifty, she could hear her mother say with approval. And regimented.

Everyone said Suzanne needed some regimentation. Well, everyone but her father, from whom she’d gotten her “lack of.” Just ask her mother.

The ad she’d circled boasted a cheap, cheap, cheap one bedroom/one bathroom walk-up. Cheap, cheap, cheap sounded right up Suzanne’s alley, given that, one, she was currently homeless with no savings, and two, contrary to popular belief, chefs made next to nothing. Home Sweet Home, she thought, she hoped, and got in her car.

Being a Monday, South Village was hopping in a way she still couldn’t get used to. When she’d been young, the area, just outside of Los Angeles, had been little more than an outdated, neglected area of commerce, the buildings all falling apart, the homeless camping on the corners. Then some historical committee had come along, and the next thing Suzanne knew, the place had incorporated and rebuilt itself, creating a delightful cosmopolitan area that people came from all over to visit.

It was considered the hot spot, filled with trendy cafés and restaurants, art galleries and unique shops, all designed to draw in urban singles by the BMW-load.

She managed to park her not-even-close-to-a-BMW at the correct address and pulled her sunglasses down her nose to get a better glimpse at the building. It didn’t help. No matter how she looked at it, the view was the same.

Bad. The building’s turrets, mock balconies and many windows, while charming, couldn’t quite disguise the fact that it needed major repairs—or demolition.

However, this was South Village, which meant that on either side of the falling-off-its-foundation-dump sat beauty personified. For blocks in either direction, all the other once decrepit old buildings had been restored to their former glory.

Not that she could afford one of those places. But that wasn’t the point, she reminded herself. Today was a new day, and a chance to prove to the world she could do this without screwing up and without bringing another man to ruin. This was her chance to learn to be responsible and mature. To be regimented.

Which, really, by the age of twenty-seven, she should have learned already. “So. It’s come to this,” she said to the building in front of her, and slid out of her car.

The bottom floor appeared to be meant for commercial use, though its glory days were long past. There were two storefronts, with surprising potential given the picture windows and brick work, but both were vacant and dark, the area out front overgrown with weeds.

Since the apartment listing read walk-up, she assumed she needed the second or third floor, and was sort of hoping maybe she’d gotten the wrong place altogether when the tree right next to her started to shake. It was an oak tree, full and majestic, one of many surrounding the building.

And it was shimmying and shaking like crazy.

In her next breath, a man dropped right out of the thing. And not some normal man either, but a tall, dark, leanly muscled man, and given his scowl, she could add attitude-ridden to the list.

Straightening his broad shoulders, she got a quick impression of wavy sable hair and deeply tanned features while he stared up at the tree. Still not noticing her, he shoved his sunglasses up on his head, then put his big hands against the huge trunk and…pushed?

Suzanne’s gaze dropped from the back of his head to his now straining body in shocked curiosity. For the life of her, she couldn’t look away.

He was beautiful.

Maybe beautiful was the wrong word, as it brought to mind female qualities and there was nothing feminine about this man and his superb form. Holy smokes, just looking at him, she needed a cup of ice to soothe her suddenly parched throat.

He wore faded Levi’s over legs that went on forever, and a white T-shirt that was sorely stressing at the seams against his working muscles, of which he seemed to have plenty. Not that he was overbuilt, no sirree, not like a bodybuilder, who in her opinion was usually over the top. No, this man was more like a long, lean boxer.

Not that it mattered! My God, she was so done with men. Had she forgotten she destroyed them on a fairly regular basis? She didn’t need yet another one on her conscience, thank you very much. But in spite of herself, her mouth dropped open a little as she took in his tough, sinewy back and shoulders, vibrating with power while he beat up this tree. He was quite determined about it, too.

But then he caught her staring. When he did, a smile crossed his face that transformed him from merely take-another-look to…wow.

“Sorry if I startled you,” he said and scooped up a discarded clipboard. And because she was weak, and he was so…yummy, she stared at his butt while he bent over, then jerked her gaze upward when he straightened.

Bad girl.

He had tanned, rugged features that spoke of an outdoor life, and dark, dark eyes, with the sort of laugh lines fanning out from them that would so horrify a woman but looked so sexy on a man. He made a quick note on the clipboard, and, whistling now, turned and entered the building.

What had he said? He was sorry to have startled her? Presumably because he’d dropped out of a tree like Tarzan.

If he only knew what had startled her was how he seemed to trigger everything feminine within her, despite the fact she wasn’t interested.

Not at all. Not even one little bit. She had a life to fix, and regimentation to put into it. Lifting her chin, she put Gorgeous Crazy Tree Guy right out of her mind and entered the building as well.

“Hello?” she called out. Her voice echoed and it appeared she was alone.

Not a gorgeous crazy tree guy in sight.

Taking the stairs to the second floor, she found two doors—both locked—presumably leading to apartments. From above she heard voices, so she took the stairs to the third and final floor, which opened to a loft apartment.

She stepped into what was probably meant to be a living room, but the room was empty and as filled with dust as the hallway had been. It was also small, yet the picture window facing the street somehow made it okay. Sunshine streamed in fully to the wooden floor, and as the dust bunnies danced through the air, Suzanne could see the place had potential.

Because the kitchen was separated by only a minibar, she could see two people standing in the cramped space, huddled over a set of blueprints laid out on the counter. The woman had a hand to her mouth, deep in concentration. As Suzanne’s sandals clicked across the floor, the woman looked up.

She appeared to be about Suzanne’s age, only that’s where the similarities ended. Unlike her own unruly Little Orphan Annie mop, this woman had glamour hair—blond and pulled back in a careful, elegant twist Suzanne could never manage to do for herself without pulling both arms out of their sockets. The woman also wore glamour makeup and glamour clothes to match. Surrounded by dust and the cramped loft, she looked as out of place as a princess on a frog’s lily pad.

Suzanne might have dwelled on that, and the fact that she always wrinkled whether or not she stood absolutely still, except that the man looked up, too.

It was him. Gorgeous Crazy Tree Guy.

He looked right at her, his big body dwarfing the small space. Wouldn’t you know it, his eyes were the perfect color of a double chocolate mocha—her favorite—and held an intensity that spoke of passion. She could have drowned in them.

If she hadn’t given up men. Which she had. A shame really, because he definitely had a face designed to tempt women—sort of saint and sinner all packed into one very well put together unit.

“Hi,” she said, a little self-consciously. “Is this the apartment marked in the paper as…” she unrolled the newspaper and quoted the ad, “Cheap, cheap, cheap?”

The woman laughed, not the snooty sound one might have expected either, and pushed at a nonexistent stray strand of hair with a long-fingered, well-manicured hand. “I hope that didn’t turn you off.”

“Are you kidding?” Suzanne pictured her own decidedly unhappy bank account. “It drew me here like a moth to the flame. How cheap exactly?”

“We’ll talk. But first…” She turned to the man. “Can we finish this later?”

“Later is going to be too late, Taylor.”

Suzanne should have guessed he’d have a tempting voice to go with that face, low and serrated and sexy. His face didn’t hide feelings, and at the moment he appeared to be highly annoyed as he rolled up the plans.

If the woman was annoyed back, she had too much class to let it show. “I need a tenant.”

“You need to fix those trees. Any one of them on the east side could blow over in the next good storm, which by the way, is due tonight.”

“Ryan.” She touched his arm, and Suzanne watched as the man gave in with a sigh.

Suzanne had never in her life tamed a man with just a touch, much less a man like that—a big hulk of a man who wouldn’t tame easily.

Was it the expensive clothes or the way the woman wore them, Suzanne wondered. Self-conscious, she ran her hand down her sundress, which was not only not in style with its long, flowing flowery skirt, but was wrinkled. She wore it because it hid her flaws, the biggest one being her fondness for her own cooking. A great fondness. As in ten extra pounds fondness.

“Relax, the weather channel is never right.” Taylor patted the man’s arm again. “Tomorrow will be soon enough to decide on the trees.”

He shook his head, his dissatisfaction showing in the tension in his big body, in the heat radiating in those riveting eyes.

Fascinated in spite of herself, Suzanne watched him. The men in her life—the only one at present being her father—never showed their real feelings. In the Carter household intense emotion was the source of great amusement, and all adversity was met with laughter. Footloose and fancy-free, that was the Carter family motto. Her fiancés had followed a similar pattern, hiding their emotions behind masks, even Tim with his big, teary eyes disguising his cheating, manipulative ways.

And until right this very moment she’d never once realized there was any other way for a man to be.

Gorgeous Tree Guy—Ryan—brushed past her with an acknowledging nod. Their shoulders touched, his mouth curving slightly in apology.

Embarrassing to admit, but her pulse scrambled and she craned her neck to watch him go. Apparently deciding she was cursed and swearing off relationships didn’t affect the lust genes from operating.

“Yeah.” Taylor had come to stand beside her. “He’s quite fine.”

Suzanne agreed, but kept her opinion to herself.

“And though he’s far too kind to show it, he’s royally pissed at me at the moment.” She gave an elegant shrug. “He’ll live.”

They both moved to the door to watch him vanish down the stairs, momentarily absorbed in the way his T-shirt so nicely outlined his wide shoulders and strong back, and then there were those jeans, so lovingly cupping his long, well-defined legs, not to mention the best-looking butt Suzanne had ever seen.

The woman standing next to her—looking far more suited for a fancy luncheon than standing in the dusty room—sighed lustily, then shrugged it off. “So. I’m Taylor Wellington. I placed the ad. Do you want the apartment?”

Suzanne might have utterly failed in the love department—three times—but she hadn’t been born yesterday. “I think I should see the rest of it first.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Taylor took a look around her, then cut her gaze back to Suzanne’s. “Just remember, it’s cheap, okay? Really cheap. Now here’s the bedroom, just off the front here.” She opened a door that Suzanne had assumed was a closet.

It wasn’t much bigger than one, but it did have a window to the street, where she could see an array of shops and galleries, and people walking up and down the sidewalks. It charmed her, and was infinitively better than sleeping in her car.

Then she caught the sign for the shop directly across the street and her heart leaped. “An ice-cream shop?”

“Open until 11:00 every night,” Taylor confirmed. “You just keep that in mind now, as you look at the bathroom.”

The bathroom was the size of a postage stamp. No tub, Suzanne thought with a sigh, but it had all the basics—a shower, a sink and a commode.

“Everything’s in working order,” Taylor promised. “That is if you don’t try to make toast and use a hair dryer at the same time. And hey, with a good scrubbing, the place might even be cute. What do you think?”

“I think if the price is right, I’ll take it.”

“The price is right,” Taylor promised. “Come with me downstairs, I have the forms. When would you move in?”

Suzanne thought of her belongings all wedged into her car. “I hope now is good.”

Taylor laughed. “If you have first and last month’s rent, plus a small security deposit, now is perfect.”

Damn. “Uh…how attached to the security deposit idea are you?”

Nicole stopped and looked her over. “Hurting for cash?”

“You could say that.” Tim had let her purchase his very expensive bedroom furniture with her savings several weeks ago. Furniture he now claimed had been her gift to him. Gift, ha! She could have fed a small country for a year on what she’d paid. Odd how mad that made her now, when she’d so happily given him everything only a month ago. “But I do have a job,” she said positively, which was true. “Will that help?”

“Yes, a job is good.” Taylor thought it over. “We can skip the deposit.”

They started down the stairs again, Taylor in her fancy wear, looking like royalty visiting the slums, and Suzanne with her gypsy dress, fitting right into her immediate surroundings.

“What is it that you do?” Taylor asked.

“I’m a chef at Café Meridian.” As Suzanne mentioned the café only about five blocks from this very spot, a flicker of unease rolled over her shoulders. She’d moved up from a less esteemed kitchen when Tim’s sister had purchased the place and Tim had insisted Suzanne would love working for his sister.

Now that they had broken up, Suzanne hoped it wouldn’t be awkward to continue working there. Though she’d taken less money than she’d wanted to, she loved the job.

Okay, so she loved food. Period. But she needed the job. Without it, she’d have to rely on her catering, which was simply a hobby and would stay that way. Running a business would be…well, too regimented. Far too regimented.

Sorry, Mom.

Carters in general—meaning her and her dad—didn’t do serious. Which was why her mother couldn’t talk to either of them without her jaw getting all bunched up. Her father was still a struggling stand-up comedian at nearly sixty years of age. On the outside it looked like he was a slacker left over from an age when that was a good thing, but the truth was, he loved his carefree life. Material possessions and corporate success meant less to him than his freedom.

Suzanne, according to her mother, was a chip off the old block.

She and Taylor came to the second floor landing, where Taylor unlocked one of the two apartments, then gestured for Suzanne to enter. “This is my place.”

Suzanne stood in the empty living room not so different from the one on the floor above, except this place had been cleaned spotless. “But it’s…empty.”

“I’ve just moved in myself, and into the bedroom only. The rest is a job for this week.”

“You own the building?”

Taylor slid a very tasteful beige pump, which probably cost more than Suzanne’s entire wardrobe, over the smooth floor. “I do now.”

“Pardon my frankness, but you’re dressed to the nines, dripping elegance and sophistication, and yet I have the strangest feeling that you don’t have any more money than I do.”

Taylor sighed and rolled her head on her neck. “What gave me away? The not wanting to put money into the trees?”

“Let’s just say desperation recognizes desperation.”

Taylor laughed. “You know what? I like you. Okay, here’s the humiliating truth. I grew up with the proverbial silver spoon in my mouth—the best of schools, the whole works. College at Brown University, courtesy of Great-Grandpa’s Swiss bank account. After graduation, I traveled Europe for fun.”

“Also on Grandpa’s Swiss bank account?” Suzanne guessed, and when Taylor nodded, she shook her head. “I’m not feeling sorry for you yet.”

“I know, we’re getting to that.” Taylor lifted her hands in a surrendering gesture. “I was spoiled rotten, I admit it. I never worked a day in my life, never worried about money, nothing. Then Grandpa, who I only saw every few years when he felt the need to see firsthand how his money was paying off, up and died on me.”

“How inconsiderate,” Suzanne murmured.

“But he left me this building.”

“It’s prime real estate. It’s got to be worth a for tune.”

“Yeah, if you have a fortune to spend on it.” Taylor grimaced. “He didn’t leave me any money to go with it, not one single dime. I’ve never had to save money and I don’t have a job so I’m flat broke.”

“Except for this building.”

“Except for this building,” she agreed. “Obviously I need tenants, as I’ve found I’m rather fond of eating.

I figure I can get cash flow from the rentals. And as it all starts to come in, I promise to fix the place up. If you want to help, I’ll give you a break on the rent. So…still want the loft?”

Suzanne might have grown up with her comedian father, who thought everything was a joke, but she did have a brain. “Why not just sell and pocket the dough?”

Taylor vehemently shook her head. Not a single hair fell out of place. “Cave on my first real challenge? No way.”

Suzanne felt herself let loose a genuine smile—her first since finding her belongings stacked in the hall and the locks changed. “You know, I think I like you back.”

Taylor’s return smile came slow and easy. “Good.” There seemed to be relief in that smile. “Here are the rental forms. Just you, right?”

“Just me. Single forever, from this point on.”

“Ah. Something else we have in common.”

“I mean it. I’m…” What the hell. “I am relationship cursed.”

Taylor laughed, then when Suzanne didn’t, her laughter faded. “You’re…not kidding.”

“Not on this, believe me.” She lifted a hand and made a solemn vow. “No matter what the temptation, I shall resist.”

“I’m with you. No matter the temptation,” Taylor agreed just as solemnly. “Even temptation in the form of a magnificent tree man with an ass that makes my knees weak.”

Suzanne’s lips twitched. “Even that.” She signed on the dotted line.

“To us,” the pretty blonde said, lifting an imaginary toast. “And a prosperous future all on our own. No men. Soon as I can afford it, I’ll buy real champagne to toast with.”

“To us,” Suzanne agreed with a smile. “Good luck, Taylor.”

“And to you, Suzanne.”

Suzanne raised both her imaginary glass and her gaze to the ceiling, picturing her loft above.

Luck? She, for one, was going to need it.

2

RYAN ALONDO stood in his shower, head bent as the hot water beat down on his back. His hands braced on the wall kept his exhausted body vertical because he wasn’t certain he could trust himself not to fall asleep right there on his feet. He stood that way until the hot water gave out and he turned off the flow of water.

And then found not a single towel in sight. “Angel!”

“I know, I know, I took the last clean towel.” A giggle followed from just outside the bathroom door. “Sorry.”

Great, she was sorry and he was bare ass naked. And cold.

Outside the small beveled window of the bathroom came the sounds of a whipping wind. A storm was definitely brewing but he was too tired to think about what that might mean to the countless property owners who had disregarded his recommendations that old trees be cut down before they blew down. Right now he just wanted to dry off, eat something and then sleep for a decade or two. Since no towel had materialized, he shoved his wet legs into his jeans, wincing when the thick denim clung to his wet body.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, Angel’s voice came from the kitchen. “Your fridge is empty but I found a can of soup. I heated it up for you.”

His fridge wouldn’t be empty if she hadn’t had friends over studying until all hours the night before, but he refrained from pointing that out because, as he walked into the kitchen, she was smiling at him.

As always, the heart he’d never learned to harden caved.

“I know it’s a pain in your butt having your baby sister crash at your place,” she said softly, watching him sit at the table and pull the bowl of soup closer. “But Russ and Rafe are such pigs I can’t handle their place.”

Their brothers were pigs, so he nodded and started eating. He was starving. But soup wasn’t going to cut it, so he could only hope something more substantial still existed in his cupboards. Anything.

“Lana’s place will be ready by the weekend, and I’ll move in with her.”

Ryan put down his spoon, and looked at his baby sister. She wasn’t really a baby anymore at eighteen but as he’d practically raised her, it was a tough image to dispel. The baby sister he’d taught to read, slug a baseball out of the park and drive a car in between the dotted lines was going to move in with Lana, a fast, big-mouthed girl whose behavior made his jaw feel too tight. “I thought Lana had a live-in boyfriend,” he said carefully when what he really wanted to say was “no way.”

“She kicked him out.”

Much as he wanted his own space back, including his clean towels, he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he thought Lana’s no-good boyfriend was around. “Promise?”

“Promise.” From behind, Angel wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his. “You’re cute when you’re worried. I love you, Ryan.”

He groaned. “Oh no, the I-love-you card. What do you need?”

She laughed in delight. “Nothing. For a change. Absolutely nothing.”

Ryan crossed his arms, taking a stand with the only child/woman who’d ever bested him. “Nothing really? Or nothing, I don’t want to tell you yet?”

“Nothing really.” Her smile was indulgent. “You worry too much about us.”

Sheer habit. Their parents had been little more than kids themselves when they’d had Ryan. “A blessed accident” his mother had called him. It had taken years for them to get established, which was why his three siblings hadn’t started to come along until he’d been thirteen.

His parents had been deliriously happy with their late-in-life family, until they’d been killed in a car accident seven years ago. That had left twenty-five-year-old Ryan to raise an eleven-year-old Angel and twin twelve-year-old boys, Russ and Rafe. A nightmare by any standards.

“We’re not lost little kids anymore, okay?” Angel said. “You can ease up on the overprotective thing.”

He probably could, but raising all three of his siblings from teenagers, by some miracle getting each of them through those years without any unplanned pregnancies or drug addictions, he still felt…tense.

Kissing his cheek, Angel leaned over and grabbed the check he’d left for her on the table. “Thanks for my tuition and book money.”

He shoveled in some more soup and grunted. God, he was tired. It was so bad his eyes were closing right there on the spot.

“Oh, Ryan, get some sleep tonight. No hot date, okay?” She patted the top of his head. “Unlike last night, I might add.”

Last night he’d been at college, same as she, only on the other side of the campus, where he’d been feverishly attempting to finish the landscape architectural degree that would get him out of the tree business once and for all. Not that he had explained that to Angel or his brothers, which is why they believed him to be some sort of sex fiend who dated one woman or another three nights a week.

He could have told them the truth. After putting his life on hold for so long to take care of them, they’d understand and support him.

But for once, he wanted to do something alone, not by Alondo committee. As much as he loved his siblings, he didn’t need their advice about courses, academic life or any other topic they considered them selves experts on. Plus there was the added bonus…if they believed him to be a wild man, they’d stop trying to set him up on disastrous blind dates. So far the plan had worked like a charm. “No hot date,” he murmured. No class. Just his bed. Alone.

Heaven.

And it was that. So much so that when he finally crawled under his sheets, practically whimpering with gratitude, he was out before his head hit the pillow.

And stayed out until he woke with a jerk when the phone rang at one o’clock in the damn morning.

Sorely tempted to ignore it, he stared at the offending receiver. Sleep was trying to tug him back under, but it could be Russ or Rafe, in some sort of trouble. Or worse, Angel, in need of his help. “Better be good,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

“Ryan?”

Not Russ, not Rafe. Not Angel.

“Ryan, it’s Taylor Wellington.”

And not the police or hospital, thank you God, just Taylor, the woman with the nightmare oak trees.

He’d been surprised, and quite honestly disappointed, when she hadn’t seen the urgency of her own situation. After all, she’d called him, greeted him in an outfit that cost more than his truck, then turned her nose up at his price to take down the trees, which had been damn reasonable, if he said so himself.

“Taylor…is everything all right?”

“No. Remember that tree you warned me about?”

“Which one?”

“All of them, but most importantly the one on the east side of the building. It just fell on my roof and through the loft apartment’s bedroom. I really need you to clear it. Now.”

That particular tree had been at least one hundred years old, massive and severely damaged from the last few Santa Ana winds. The sheer size of the thing had worried Ryan, with good reason apparently. “At least the apartment is empty.”

“Was empty. Tonight it has my new roommate in it, Suzanne, the woman you saw me interviewing today.”

The image of Suzanne flashed through Ryan’s mind—long, wavy, dark-red hair, a lush, generously curved body beneath a flowing sundress. Crystals hanging from her ears, and the biggest, greenest, most expressive eyes he’d ever seen.

There’d been awareness in those eyes, an awareness he might have been interested in, if his life could handle one more interest. Now dread filled him. “Is she—”

“She’s okay, but the way the tree fell, it’s blocking her way out.”

“I’m on my way,” he promised and hung up the phone, only to immediately lift it again to wake up his crew, made up of Rafe and Russ, his two younger, very groggy twin brothers. At least they’d been in their apartment, alone and available, he thought with relief, racing for his truck. Old habits were hard to break, which meant he still felt like mom, dad, boss and older brother all at the same time—too many hats for any one person.

He lost five minutes stopping at his office, but if he was going to be pulling a tree off a building, he needed the big rig from the yard there.

As he switched trucks, rain slashed through his clothes, aided by a vicious wind that wouldn’t help him tonight.

She’s okay, Taylor had said, but the devastating possibilities made him go as fast as he dared. South Village was deserted, unusual for the trendy streets, even at this hour. The storm had sent everyone scampering home.

When he finally pulled up in front of the building, his stomach tightened. The huge old oak had indeed hit the roof. And as Taylor had said, just the far east corner, which was both good and bad. Good, because the main structure and all three floors were intact. Bad, because the crash impacted the loft apartment, specifically the bedroom, where according to Taylor, Suzanne was at this very moment. The window was gone, blown out, as well as the entire left half of the front wall, where the tree protruded obscenely.

Ryan squinted past the downpour and squeezed the arm of a worried Taylor, who stood on the porch in a silk lounging robe, looking as absolutely glamorous at one in the morning as she had twelve hours earlier.

“Her bedroom door is blocked,” she said, gripping the edges of her robe tight against the wind, staring through the stormy night to the destroyed window three stories above them. “The way the tree fell, she can’t get out.”

“We’ll get her.”

“Hurry. And Ryan,” she added when he turned away to get to work. “I’m sorry. So sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

“It’ll be okay,” he said. And hoped he could make it so.

His crew went to work, and when the rig ladder had been set parallel to the fallen tree, Ryan started climbing. Rain and wind whipped his face and body, but if he felt unnerved, he could only imagine what poor Suzanne was feeling, and he climbed faster. From below, Rafe directed a spotlight, highlighting Ryan’s way.

When he got to the top, he could understand why Suzanne hadn’t been able to get out. The tree had fallen diagonally across her bedroom, trapping her in the far corner of the room, away from both the blown-out window and the door.

He was at the hole now, but the massive trunk and branches blocked his view. Craning his neck, he tried to see past the dark and the driving rain and all the drenched greenery. He moved from the ladder to the ledge, wedging his body in with the tree.

Still couldn’t see a damn thing. “Suzanne?”

“H-here!”

Hunkering down, he was able to crawl on his belly beneath the trunk, ignoring the sharp branches scratching his arms and back. He slicked the rain from his face, and still couldn’t see her. Where was she?

A sudden female sneeze gave him his answer, and he moved forward until he saw ten toes. Pulling himself up, Ryan squeezed into the cramped little space with her, letting out a pent-up breath because she was here. Alive.

She’d indeed found the one small safe haven available to her, and as he pulled the flashlight from his belt and turned it on, his heart clenched. She was huddled, back to the wall, knees to her chest, her arms wrapped tight around her legs.

Careful of the broken glass, he shifted up to his knees. “Suzanne? You okay?”

Her long hair, wet from the blowing rain, clung to her head and shoulders as she gave him a jerky nod paired with a shudder. She relaxed her position slightly, not huddling quite so tightly.

Her arms and legs gleamed in the glow of the flashlight, bare and also wet. No longer dressed in her long, flowing sundress and crystals, she wore only a tank top and a pair of panties, and even as he looked her over for injuries, trying not to linger on the way the material clung to her breasts or the way her nipples were so clearly defined, she continued to shake. The hem of the tank top didn’t meet her panties, showing him the smooth skin of her belly. It quivered with her every shallow breath, whether from fear or cold, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

Reacting only to the fact she was shaking so violently—probably in shock, damn it—he simply put down the light and pulled her close.

3

SUZANNE DOVE INTO Ryan’s long, strong arms, nearly whimpering in gratitude. Despite the fact he was as wet as she, warmth radiated off his body. She felt like a heat-seeking missile, burrowing close, then closer still, not caring at the moment that she didn’t know him from Adam.

Later she’d worry what he’d thought of her when she crawled up his big, hard body and pressed her face to his throat. Later she’d worry about her less than half-dressed state, or that she’d arched her body to a perfect stranger’s in mindless terror. Later.

But for right now, never more thankful to see another living soul, she just closed her eyes against the storm blasting through the broken window, wrapped her arms around him tight as she could, and held on through the wild tremors that shook her body in uncontrollable waves.

He made a rough sound of wordless comfort and pressed her closer. In spite of the urgency of the situation, she became startlingly aware of him and how he felt plastered to her. And how he felt was…incredible.

The wind continued to blow, bringing in more cold rain and the tinkling sound of glass scattering over the floor. “The glass from the window,” he murmured in her ear, and slipping an arm beneath her, he lifted and turned her so that she lay in his lap, his body hunched over hers, protecting her from the elements the best he could. As a gesture, it was the sweetest one that anyone had ever made for her. But the sweetness contrasted sharply with the decidedly not sweet feelings making themselves known within her.

“Are you cut?” His voice was hoarse with worry, probably because she was staring at him like an idiot—as she sat there realizing her best intentions to stay away from men for their own good were about to fail.

“Suzanne?”

Still shaking—though now she wasn’t sure it was all from the cold—she shook her head.

He cuddled her closer, one hand on her still quivering belly, his face only an inch away. His gaze burned into hers, dark and intense. “Are you sure?”

The shivers had really taken over her body now, so she nodded. Weak with relief and fear, it was about all she could do.

Clearly not willing to take any chances in the dark, he reached for the flashlight on the floor at his hip and ran it over her, looking for himself.

She glanced down and saw what he saw… Her wet, clinging, now thoroughly see-through tank and panties, both of which had risen to levels they shouldn’t have, both of which revealed her in all her unwieldy glory, and she slammed her eyes shut.

“It’s okay,” he whispered roughly, clearly mistaking her movement for fear. Holding her close, he cupped her head in his big hand. “You’re okay. Let’s get you out of here, how does that sound?”

“I—I’ll be f-f-fine.”

“Oh yeah, you will.” Still holding her, he used his free hand to lift a radio to his mouth.

Because her ears seemed to be ringing, she didn’t quite catch the conversation. Exhausted, she set her head on his chest, which allowed her to feel the vibration of his deep voice, and for some reason, it was horribly seductive. He smelled good, her sexy hero. And Lord, he felt good, too.

How had this happened? One moment she’d been in a deep slumber, dead to the world. The next she’d been startled right out of that sleep by the loudest crack of thunder she’d ever heard, followed immediately by another crack, not from Mother Nature this time, but from the tree.

She’d leapt off the mat Taylor had let her borrow, just as the tree crashed through the ceiling and window.

Overwhelmed by the near-miss, a little stunned that she was alive, she’d sat there until she’d heard Taylor’s frantic voice calling for her.

Now she’d been rescued by the man who’d so mesmerized her earlier, the most amazing, strong, sexy man she’d ever laid eyes on.

But he was just a man.

And for better or worse, she’d sworn off the entire species. She’d even vowed so to Taylor. Handy that vow, as without it, her resolve might have been weakened by the feel of his rock solid, incredibly warm body against hers.

A flash of blinding lightning lit the room, and with it came an accompanying boom of thunder that seemed to echo inside her head, making her act impulsively, which meant she tried to crawl up Ryan’s body.

He hugged her. “We’re getting out of here, I promise.”

She gave a jerky nod, and he rewarded her with a gentle squeeze of his hands. “In the meantime,” he said. “Pretend you’re somewhere else, anywhere…like your nice, toasty bed, fast asleep, okay?”

She could imagine the bed part, if he was in it.

No. Bad girl. Bad, bad.

“Anywhere,” he repeated, his voice like silk in her ear. “Name it.”

“Well…” She cleared her rough throat. “When I’m stressed, I…”

“You what?”

“I…eat ice cream.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah. I could really use a gallon about now.”

He let out a bark of laughter. “An entire gallon, huh? That’s good, that’s real good. Make it chocolate and I’ll join you. Deal?”

She lifted her head and blinked into the dark until she could almost see his expression. A man who’d eat chocolate ice cream out of the gallon with her? He had to be saying that just to fool her, no man was that astute. “You like chocolate ice cream out of the container?”

His hands on her had been nothing but light. Comforting. But now, while their gazes were locked, his hands seemed more than just protective, they seemed…hungry. “A beautiful woman asks me to share a delicious dessert with her?” He smiled a smile that made her hormones stand up and beg. “I’d eat bugs on a stick.”

Her last fiancé would have scrunched up his face and “how unsanitary.” Her first fiancé would have known exactly how many calories and fat grams that would have equaled. Not this man, her hero. He’d do anything to make her feel safe.

A flash of lightning fully illuminated Ryan’s face an instant before a crack of thunder hit. At the sound her body jerked. Ryan slid his hands up her arms to cup her face. “Shh,” he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of her lower lip. “We’re getting out of here. Right now, okay?”

She stared at the tree stuffed into what had been her new bedroom. The tree that blocked her door. Knowing she was three stories up, and that he hadn’t flown to get here, she swallowed hard and tried not to panic. “We’re going to go the way you came in, I suppose.”

“Yep.” He lifted some branches, illuminating with his flashlight the way he’d come in. “If we go through here about eight feet, we’ll come to the window.”

Or what used to be her window.

Up on his knees now, he unbuttoned his long-sleeved chambray shirt and stripped it off, leaving him in a dark colored T-shirt. “I’m sorry it’s wet, but it’s better than nothing.”

While she shoved her arms in the sleeves—grateful the hem came down to her thighs and more grateful for the body heat still in it—he said, “I’m going first so I can sweep away glass shards as we go. Stay close.” Even though it was dark she could still see his intense gaze and the worry in it as he looked at her.

That concern cloaked her in strength, and fueled her own. She could do this. And yet she wished he’d touch her again, for comfort, for… She could still feel his fingers on her jaw. Could imagine them sinking into her hair—

“Suzanne?”

“Ready,” she said quickly before he thought she was having a meltdown. If she was in danger of a meltdown, it was one of the senses, not of fear.

But how could she explain to herself the panic she suddenly felt wasn’t due to the storm at all, but in stead was due to the fact that she could feel her heart thumping painfully at the touch of this incredibly appealing stranger? She didn’t want this adrenaline rush that signified awareness of him as a man. She didn’t!

He tugged her hand until she was on her knees facing him, and at the reassuring look in his eyes, she swallowed hard. She knew he would do whatever he had to in order to keep her safe. It made her knees weak. It made her yearn, when she’d promised her self no more yearning.

“We’ll be out of here before you know it.” Another harsh crack of thunder reverberated through their small space, and Suzanne just about plowed him over in her haste to follow him.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Stay close.”

Stay close? She’d be on top of him if she could. On her hands and knees, she crawled after him, under the fallen tree, squinting against the howling wind, thinking her life was literally in the hands of this man in front of her.

Which really explained her odd reaction to him, she decided. Fear and adrenaline were powerful emotions. No doubt, in the light of day things would be back to normal. She’d go to work, balance her checking account, figure out if she had any money this week to start buying furniture—

Boom.

The thunder startled the breath right out of her, but Ryan was right there, helping her out from under the branches, slipping an arm around her waist. “Hey, just Mother Nature moaning and bitching. We’re okay.”

They were okay. Good. Okay was good. She lifted her head and found his mouth only an inch from hers.

He had a wide, firm mouth, and she suddenly, inanely wondered…did it know how to pleasure a woman?

His eyes were dark, gazed locked on to hers. Oh yeah, she thought shakily. He knew.

Oh, God, where were these inappropriate thoughts coming from? They were coming from her own desire, a desire she didn’t understand. As she realized it, in the dim glow of the night, she saw the dangerous flare of a mirroring desire in his eyes.

And for a long heartbeat, neither of them moved.

“You ready?” he finally asked.

“Yeah. I’m…ready.”

His gaze shifted to her mouth, he slowly nodded. “We’re just going to climb through the opening and get onto the ladder.”

Right. Climb through the opening and onto the ladder. “Got it.”

The next flash of lightning, immediately followed by a bone-rattling boom of thunder came so suddenly after the stillness, they both jerked.

“Oh, God,” she whispered a little tearfully, her heart in her throat. “I really could use that ice cream.”

“I wish I had some.” The thunder continued to echo around them. “But as far as distraction goes,” he murmured. “I do have this.” Lifting her against him, he surrounded her with his heat, his strength, before closing his mouth over hers.

Her hands fisted in his hair, looking for balance in a world where there was suddenly none to be had. His kiss was glorious, made more so by the dark of the night, by the wet of the storm, by the lingering fear and adrenaline.

But then he slowly pulled back. Suzanne just barely managed not to cry out her protest. Through the darkness she could hear his ragged breathing—a ragged breathing that matched her own—as he stared at her and it was all she could do not to yank him back to her. Just as that thought formed in her mind, he lowered his head again, brushing his mouth over hers, almost in a question. She answered by slanting her mouth to better fit his, and then with a grateful, mutual groan, they sank into another wet, hot, long kiss.

With all that had happened to her already that night, a mere kiss shouldn’t have been able to send more sensation rocketing through her, but that’s exactly what it did. And then he was looking down at her, his breath coming hard and fast, a sort of stunned wonder on his face that she knew matched her own.

While she stood there, dizzy and weak-kneed and hot-blooded all at the same time, he ran a finger over her jaw, then turned back to the chore of getting them out.

SUZANNE FIGURED going down the ladder in Ryan’s flapping shirt and little else, being greeted by his crew, a freaked out Taylor and the fire truck that had come to help, would headline her nightmares for some time to come.

But when it was over, less than an hour had passed since she’d been awakened by the tree hitting her bedroom.

A horrified Taylor insisted Suzanne share her own second story apartment, which had not been touched by the storm. There was no electricity, but with the flashlight Ryan had given her, she had no trouble seeing Taylor’s bedroom, and the finery in it. The bed was a four poster king that even she, in all her antique ignorance, knew had to be worth a hefty fortune.

“I know,” Taylor said, her voice husky with exhaustion. “I’m cash poor and asset rich. Stupid, huh? I could sell this stuff and get rid of the nation’s debt.” She looked around, a sadness in her eyes that said there was far more to her story than she’d let on. “After spending so much time searching and buying it all…I just can’t. I love the pieces too much.” She shrugged off the melancholy and shoved what looked like very expensive, very silk pajamas into Suzanne’s hands. “Here, take these things and help yourself to a hot shower. Or I could draw you a bubble bath, if you’d rather.”

“Oh, no, I—”

“And while you’re soaking, I’ll fix you a snack—”

“Taylor—”

“Do you like cheese and crackers? I have some wine—”

“Taylor.” She smiled into Taylor’s pensive features. “I’m okay. Really. I’m not going to sue you or anything.”

Surprising her, Taylor suddenly sagged a little, then grabbed Suzanne close in a fierce bear hug that sucked the oxygen right out of her. “Do you think I care about money?” she asked in a horrified whisper. “My God, you’re my friend and my attempts at cost-cutting nearly got you killed tonight.”

A little flustered, Suzanne pulled back. “Friend?”

“We bonded over our singlehood together, didn’t we? Do you think I do that with just anyone?” Abruptly, Taylor turned away. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stared out into the dark, stormy night. “I’m so sorry, Suzanne. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened tonight, for what could have happened.”

“But I’m okay. Taylor, look at me.” Suzanne held out her arms, still wearing Ryan’s shirt. It smelled like him, and for a moment she remembered exactly what it had felt like to be held by the man who owned that delicious one-hundred-percent male scent. “Not a scratch on me.”

“Are you going to leave?”

“Well…it might be hard to live in a loft without a roof.”

“You can take the apartment next to mine.”

“That’s very sweet, but these units are twice as big.

I’m sure I can’t afford it.”

“You can, because I’m going to give it to you for the same price as the loft. This month free of course, as reimbursement for what happened tonight. Please Suzanne, please stay.”

The thought of finding another place exhausted her, but she felt as if she was taking advantage of the situation. “Taylor—”

“It’s important to me. Already you’re important to me.”

It had been a very long time since someone had wanted her around, really wanted her around. Oh, her family loved her, she was certain. But they didn’t show love easily, if at all. And lately, true to Carter form, she’d followed suit, drifting from one relationship to another, making sure to ruin the men emotionally before she got too attached.

This strange bond with Taylor threw her because of its immediate depth, and yet it made her feel good at the same time. “Thank you,” she said simply.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a thank God, yes, I want to stay.” Suzanne let out a sheepish smile. “I don’t really care to see how warm I can get my car right now.”

Taylor let out a grateful smile, then bustled Suzanne into the shower.

BY THE TIME Suzanne stepped out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, there was hot cocoa waiting.

“Don’t get used to this,” Taylor warned. “I’m far more used to being served than being the server.” She slipped into one side of the bed, leaving Suzanne with enough room on her side for a small army.

Climbing into bed required the last of her depleted energy. She pulled up the silky sheets and weighty blanket, grateful for the warmth. “It would be a shame to sell this bed. It’s so luxurious.”

“I know, but with it, and all the other antiques I have in storage, I could start the renovations.”

“Wow, that’s terrific.” Suzanne felt awed by the collector’s spirit, something she’d never personally experienced. Somehow her lifestyle to date made it easier to travel light.

“It’s been a terribly expensive hobby,” Taylor admitted, fluffing her pillows. “And one I can no longer afford, obviously. But no worries. First thing tomorrow we’ll get you down from the loft and into the apartment next door. Then after Ryan is done with the tree extraction, I’ll start on everything else. I’ll need an architect, a contractor—”

“Ryan.” Just the sound of his name had Suzanne wide awake again. She’d never again think of him as just the Gorgeous Crazy Tree Guy. He’d become her hero. And as such, a man to avoid at all costs. He was tempting enough to make her forget her vow to remain single and she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she destroyed her hero like she’d destroyed her ex-fiancés. “He’s going to be around then?”

“All week, I imagine, getting that tree out and the others down.”

All week. Would he talk to her in that voice of his, the one that said she was the only woman he saw? Would he touch her with those warm, sure hands? Or better yet, would he lean in and put that incredible mouth back on hers…?

Oh, boy, there it went again, her vivid imagination. She didn’t want this inexplicable attraction. No sirree. She didn’t need anyone or anything but herself and her chef job.

No matter how much her tingly nipples told her otherwise.

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