“From the bakery on the corner,” Ryan informed her, reaching into the bag for one of his own. “The clerk swore people come from all over town to get them so I figured we’d give ’em a go.”
He took a bite of one of his own and quickly nodded his agreement with her assessment. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” His gaze caught on the newspaper lying on the table, the cover story hers, though no one would know.
After penning the story, Sabrina hadn’t been able to let the credit go to someone else, and she suspected Frank had known that would be the case. They’d settled on yet another pen name to keep her anonymous from the staff, which had allowed her to write from the heart. The governor had blamed post-traumatic stress disorder for the soldier’s criminal activity, and after some research, Sabrina had found it wasn’t uncommon for soldiers in wartime to suffer such problems and not be properly diagnosed and treated.
Ryan frowned and finished off his muffin. “That soldier didn’t have post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“How can you be so sure?” she asked, perking up with interest.
“I know,” Ryan said.
Excitement started to form. “Are you saying you served with this man, Ryan? You knew him?”
“No,” he said, quickly leaning forward to point out the newspaper.
There was a photo of the soldier, right before a sharpshooter killed him.
“See his wrist, right above the cuff? The symbol tattooed on his arm.” Sabrina nodded and he showed her his own wrist. “That soldier was Special Ops. Unbreakable. He wasn’t a trauma case. Ask yourself what was the bigger picture here.”
There was an innuendo to those words that said he understood the soldier a bit more than he wished he did, and it made her curious. Why had he gotten out when he seemed so dedicated to being a soldier?
He slapped his legs. “Listen, your coffee has to be cold and my cup is empty.” He headed to the kitchen, both their cups in hand. Surprised, Sabrina followed his path with her hungry stare. He was so, well, manly. A soldier, honorable. A gentleman, filling her cup, not because it was expected, but because it was second nature. She could see that in his casual demeanor, his comfort in his own skin. Ryan seemed to just be Ryan. What you see is what you get, though the missions he’d run, the things he’d seen, said that might not be true. He confused her, he interested her. Too much. For the first time in a long time, she realized she might be able to fall for a guy. And get hurt. It was a frightening feeling. She had to rein this back in, get a grip, get some control. Starting now.
“How do you take your coffee?” he asked, rounding the end of the counter.
“Oh,” she said, hopping to her feet in delayed reaction and rushing to the kitchen. “I was thinking I should have come to make it myself.” In her haste, she’d put herself in her rather compact kitchen, with only inches separating her and Ryan.
They simply stood there, staring at each other, sexual tension snaking between them, sensuous in demand. Ryan took a step forward, and she stepped back. “Wait. Ryan. About last night.” Okay. That wasn’t exactly what she’d planned. “It was…”
He arched a brow. “It was…?”
Exciting. Scary. Perfect. Wrong. “A mistake.”
One she would remember for the rest of her life.
8
“WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT…” Ryan began, backing Sabrina against the counter and framing her legs with his own, the soft clean scent of her firing up his senses, “was hot. You were hot. We were hot. Everything about it was hot.”
Her hands went to his shoulders, rejection in her soft features. “We almost had sex in the stairwell and that, by the way, is probably illegal.”
“Did I mention it was hot?” he asked.
She blasted him with a look meant to ice the fire burning between them. It only stoked him further. Everything about her lit him up. “You’re very sexy when you’re mad.”
Disbelief flickered in her face. “Are you trying to make me feel better or worse?” she demanded, and then cut her gaze, shoving at his chest. “Let me by. I can’t do this, Ryan. That’s not who I am.”
Ryan held his steely position, gently capturing her wrists. “You think this is all about sex?”
Her eyes flashed with challenge, her cute pointed chin tilting upward. “Isn’t it?”
“No,” he said. “Or yes. I have no idea. How can I? How can you? We just met. But whether it turns out we’re both living out some fantasy about a politician’s daughter and a cowboy, or maybe something deeper, the only mistake is calling this a mistake before we find out.”
Her lips parted. “A fantasy about a politician’s daughter and a cowboy?”
“I’m teasing you,” he said, running his hands up and down her slender waist. “Well, mostly teasing. Sabrina. Seriously. You just left New York. I just left the military. Let’s explore together and see where it goes. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’m the guy you can do it with, and it stays with me. Hell, I know government secrets that could get me killed.”
“Killed?” she asked. “Who would kill you?”
He shook his head. “My point is that anything you want to explore with me is just with me. Between us. And if that is sex, or if it’s a movie, or a place you want to go, or whatever, that’s cool. Let’s just have some fun and see where it goes. You’re safe with me. In fact—” he released her and stepped back “—we won’t have sex until you say we have sex. I won’t pressure you. I won’t even make a move. I’ll want to and it’ll be torture, but—” he held his hands up “—I’ll wait until you say you’re ready. Which, by the way, won’t be easy, but I’m committed to the cause.”
“I decide?” she asked, incredulously. “I can’t decide.”
“Why not?”
“That’s too much pressure.”
He wiggled an eyebrow. “We could spend the day making love and put the anticipation and nerves behind us. Certainly won’t hear any complaints from me.” Especially after he’d spent the entire night thinking about just that, something no other woman had ever done to him.
With a look of amazement, she accused, “You really say whatever comes to mind, don’t you?”
He pressed his hands on the counter behind him. “Would you rather I play political word games?”
“No,” she said quickly. “No political games, please. Most definitely not.” Her hands went to her sides for emphasis. “Stay as you are.”
Her answer pleased him, though he doubted she knew how poisonous those political games she’d come to despise could really be, or the blood they could spill. He did, though. He did and he’d left it behind.
“Then we agree,” he said approvingly. “We shoot straight with each other. That leaves only having one last thing to address.”
“Do I dare ask?” she teased, obviously relaxing a bit now. She laughed, a soft musical sound he felt like a punch in the gut. His groin tightened, zipper expanded. What the hell was he thinking, promising to keep his hands off her?