The Man Every Woman Wants (7 page)

O
NE
look at Aunt Cynthia gave Ryan a clue as to why Laura was so tense.

The woman was formidable looking to say the least, tall and solidly built, with a manner of the sergeant major about her as she stood there at the top of the front steps with her arms folded over her battleship bosom and her thick-ankled legs slightly apart. The skirt and top she was wearing was battleship grey as well. Possibly in her late fifties, she had very short, tightly curled blonde hair—probably permed and dyed—large facial features and the hint of a moustache above her thinly pressed lips. Her eyes were small and closely set, widening slightly as Ryan braked the convertible to a halt at the bottom on the front steps.

‘Don't you dare get out of this car,' Ryan muttered under his breath as Laura automatically reached for the door handle.

When her eyes jerked round to his he bestowed a one-thousand-kilowatt smile upon her, then bent over to graze her right cheek with his lips.

‘Just do as I say,' he whispered at the same time. ‘And smile, for pity's sake.'

She didn't smile, he noted. But she did as he said, staying put while he exited the car and strode round to open the door for her like a gentleman of the old school. Ryan deliberately didn't look up at Aunt Cynthia until Laura was standing up, her hand safely enclosed in his.

By then he was gratified to see true surprise on the woman's face, along with an almost welcoming smile. She'd even unfolded her arms by the time he dragged Laura up onto the verandah with him. Thankfully, the woman was staring at him and not at her rather robotic niece.

‘You must be Aunt Cynthia,' he said, beaming broadly. ‘What a lovely place you have here!'

When she stepped forward to extend her hand, her beady eyes, which turned out to be a faded blue, actually sparkled at him.

‘We think so. It's so nice to meet you at last, Mr Armstrong.'

Ryan shook her hand with his right hand, at the same time keeping his left tightly clasped around Laura's lest she bolt for it. Which she just might do, judging by the tension in her fingers.

‘Call me Ryan, please,' he insisted warmly. ‘And perhaps you'd allow me to call you Cynthia? After all, you're way too young to be
my
aunt.'

‘Oh, go on with you,' she simpered in return, her cheeks going pink with pleasure as her free hand fluttered up to touch her hair.

Laura could not believe it—Aunt Cynthia, actually blushing. The man was a menace all right. But this was why she'd brought him with her today, wasn't it? To see this kind of reaction from her family, and Aunt Cynthia most of all. It was worth taking the risk of making a fool of herself with him in private to experience this moment of public satisfaction.

When her aunt turned stunned eyes towards her, Laura found a slightly smug smile along with a surge of confidence.

‘He is gorgeous, isn't he?' she said.

Ryan was momentarily thrown, not only by Laura's compliment but by the smoky voice she used.

Wow, he thought. A guy could get used to her talking to him like that. Of course, he knew it was just an act, but a very convincing one. It looked like he didn't have to worry about her making a hash of their charade.

‘Thank you, darling,' he said, giving her hand a little squeeze. ‘You're so sweet.'

Laura almost laughed out loud at the look on her aunt's face. Dear, but it was priceless! Like she had something stuck in her throat.

‘How's Gran doing?' Laura asked whilst her aunt was still floundering.

Cynthia blinked. ‘What? Oh… Er, not too badly.'

‘Can we go and see her straight away?'

‘Perhaps we should take our things in first,' Ryan suggested. ‘I'd like to freshen up as well.'

‘Yes, yes, of course,' Cynthia said, quickly recovering her composure to play the perfect hostess, gushing over the car whilst Ryan collected their luggage. He carried Laura's bag as well as his own, though he left Laura with the coat-hangered dress to carry, along with his dinner suit, which was also underneath a plastic cover. Ryan was glad now that he'd brought a suit with him, rather than more casual clothes. It wasn't a tux, just a dark grey, single-breasted number which looked good on him and fitted in with any occasion.

The house was as grand inside as out, Ryan noted, with a wide foyer covered in black-and-white tiles an elaborately carved hall-stand which had to be an antique, and an impressive curved staircase made of a rich red wood.

‘It's cedar,' Cynthia informed Ryan proudly when he asked about it. ‘There's quite a lot of cedar in this house,' she continued as she led the way upstairs. ‘The house was built back in the thirties before the war almost ruined everyone, the racing industry as well. Did Laura tell you this was once one of the most successful racehorse studs in Australia? No, of course she didn't,' the woman rattled on before Ryan could reply. ‘Laura's not all that interested in this place or its traditions.

‘Now I didn't put you in your usual room, Laura,' she threw over her shoulder towards her niece who was trailing a little behind. ‘It's way too small for two people. Shane and Lisa aren't staying the night, so I made up the main guestroom for you,'
she said, opening a brass-handled door on their right with a flourish.

Ryan heard Laura make a small choking sound which, thank heavens, her aunt didn't seem to notice, perhaps because she was busy bragging about the people who'd once slept in the very large four-poster bed which dominated the room. She mentioned a past prime minister, as well as a governor general, a couple of English aristocrats and a Hollywood star along with her very wealthy lover.

‘This house has a lot of history,' she finished up by saying.

‘It's a very beautiful house,' Ryan complimented, having dropped both their bags by the door to wander across the room to the French doors which led out onto the verandah. ‘And a very beautiful room.'

He turned to see a pale-faced Laura still standing in the doorway, staring over at the bed. ‘But Gran won't like us staying in the same bedroom,' she suddenly blurted out.

Cynthia made a dismissive gesture with her hand. ‘Jane doesn't need to know,' she said airily. ‘She's not allowed to walk up the stairs any more.'

‘So where's she sleeping?' Laura asked as she entered the room and draped the coathangers over the back of a chair.

‘We've refurbished the old servants' quarters for her.'

‘The servants' quarters!' Laura exclaimed, her face flushing.

‘Before you blow a gasket, missy,' her aunt said sharply, ‘Jane is very happy with the arrangements. So don't you go making a fuss and making her unhappy.'

‘Laura would never do or say anything to make her gran unhappy,' Ryan defended her, moving over to put a protective arm around Laura, warning her with a sharp squeeze not to lose her temper.

‘Yes, I do appreciate that, Ryan,' Cynthia said through slightly pursed lips. ‘But Laura has the bad habit of opening her mouth before her brain is in gear.'

‘She
can
be a bit impulsive,' he said, tightening his arm
again around her shoulders. ‘But she always has people's best interests at heart. Especially her gran's.'

‘I suppose so. But, as I said, Jane won't find out unless you tell her. Of course, if you'd
prefer
to have separate rooms, then…'

‘Absolutely not!' Ryan broke in forcefully. ‘I've been dying to get Laura away for a romantic weekend together. And, let's face it, that bed has romance written all over it.'

Laura might have enjoyed the flash of envy on her aunt's face if she hadn't been in a state of complete panic. Her worst fear had come about, that of having to share a bed with Ryan. It was bad enough having to stand where she was with his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, but at least they were dressed, and there was someone else in the room. How would she be able to cope lying side by side whilst wearing next to nothing with no one else in the room to stop…
To stop what, exactly?

Laura knew full well that Ryan would never force himself on her. So what was she afraid of?

Herself again, of course. That self which even now was trembling inside at his touch.

‘Now, my dears, I really must go downstairs and tell Jane you've arrived,' her aunt said brightly. ‘I thought since it's such a nice day we could have afternoon tea together out on the back verandah. Could you join us there in, say, fifteen minutes?'

‘No trouble,' Ryan said when Laura remained silent. ‘See you shortly.'

The moment Cynthia closed the door after her, Laura twisted out of his hold. ‘That woman is just so impossible!' she exclaimed heatedly. ‘Fancy just presuming we'd want to share a room.'

‘It's perfectly logical that we would,' Ryan said. ‘It's not as though we're teenagers, Laura. We're an adult couple, having an adult relationship. Of course we'd be sleeping together.'

‘But we aren't, damn it! And now we'll have to—actually
sleep together, that is. I mean, just look around you. There's nowhere else to sleep in here except on the floor.'

‘Well you can count me out on that one,' Ryan said, marching over to lift his bag up and carry it over to the bed, where he dumped it down on top of the richly embroidered red-velvet quilt. ‘I'm not sleeping on any wooden floor. Look, this is a very big bed. You can put some pillows down the middle if you like. That should stop me from accidentally brushing up against your very desirable female body and ravaging you on the spot. Which is exactly what you're thinking, isn't it? That I might not be able to control myself.'

Laura just stared at him for a long moment, before dropping her eyes and shaking her head irritably. ‘That's not what I was thinking at all.'

‘Really? What
were
you thinking, then? And don't say nothing. You are never thinking nothing, Laura.'

She turned and walked over to collect her own bag, wheeling it across the room before hoisting it up onto the bed on the opposite side to where he was.

Her eyes, when they finally lifted to meet his, were decidedly mutinous. ‘I don't have to tell you what I'm thinking. And I don't have to sleep in the same bed as you.
I'll
sleep on the damned floor if I have to.'

Ryan scowled at her. She was one seriously irritating woman! ‘Be my guest,' he said. ‘Just try to do it quietly. I don't want to be kept awake with your moaning and groaning.'

‘I don't ever moan and groan,' she snapped.

Ryan gave her a droll look. ‘Now
that
I can believe.'

‘Very funny,' she bit out.

‘Actually, I'm not finding any of this at all funny,' he shot back. ‘To be perfectly honest, I wish to God I'd never made this ridiculous offer in the first place. I must have had rocks in my head if I thought I could bring off pretending to be your Mr Right.'

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Ryan regretted them. Not that she didn't deserve some criticism—she
wasn't making his job easy—but he hated seeing the crestfallen expression on her face. Hated having hurt her like that.

‘I'm sorry,' he said straight away. ‘That was uncalled for.'

‘No no,' she said, shaking her head unhappily. ‘You had every right to say what you did. The way I'm acting… It's silly and, well, it's just plain silly.'

‘Then you won't be sleeping on the floor?'

‘No,' she said, her chin lifting in an oddly defiant gesture as though it was a big deal, agreeing to share the bed with him.

‘Good. Now I have a very important question to ask you before we go downstairs for afternoon tea.'

‘What?' she replied, looking worried again.

‘Where's the bathroom?'

L
AURA
showed him the door which led into an absolutely huge bathroom, the like of which would never have been seen in a modern house. There was a claw-footed bath sitting against the far wall of the black-and-white-tiled room, a brass-framed shower stall in a corner to its right, a toilet behind the door and a large marble-topped vanity table which had an equally large mirror on the wall above it.

‘Wow!' Ryan said. ‘I don't think I've seen a bathroom quite like this one before.'

‘It is rather old-fashioned,' Laura said.

‘Maybe, but I like it.'

‘That other door there—' Laura pointed out before she left ‘—opens out onto the main hallway, so don't forget to throw the lock or you might have an unwanted visitor.' Though she couldn't imagine who. Uncle Bill and Aunt Cynthia would be the only others sleeping upstairs tonight, and the master bedroom was at the other end of the hallway, complete with its own private bathroom.

‘Fine,' Ryan said and Laura left him to it, relieved when he closed the door and left her alone in the bedroom. It would be good to be away from his disturbing presence, even for a short while, give her the chance to calm the butterflies in her stomach and to find some much-needed composure.

Unpacking her bag, however, didn't help much, especially when confronted by the pink satin nightie she'd brought with
her. Whilst not overly provocative, it was still rather low-cut, with spaghetti-thin straps. At least she'd had the foresight to pack the matching robe, though she could hardly wear that to bed, could she?

Her stomach contracted at the thought of how she would feel, sleeping next to Ryan tonight. She wouldn't be getting much sleep, that was for sure.

He emerged from the bathroom and she took the opportunity to escape.

‘I won't be long,' she said, snatching up her toilet bag and dashing past him.

Ryan shook his head at her body language. He wondered what he could say or do to calm her down. It wasn't afternoon tea that she needed, he decided as he hung up his suit and unpacked the rest of his things, but a good, stiff drink. Either that or…

Ryan chuckled with dry amusement. It would be a bit difficult to relax Laura with some sex if just the thought of sharing a bed platonically with him horrified the life out of her. Which it obviously did.

The idea that she might not trust him to keep his hands off irked Ryan a little. What had he ever done to her? Okay, so he probably had a reputation around Sydney as a bit of womaniser. But he wasn't a sleazebag, or a cheat.

Not that making a pass at Laura would make him a cheat, given he and Erica had now split up. But that was beside the point. Even if he fancied Laura—which he didn't, not
really
—no way would he want to start something this weekend that could only cause him trouble in the future. Laura was a valued work colleague. She was also of a much more vulnerable nature than Ryan had realised.

To contemplate seducing her, even out of a perverse sort of compassion, went totally against his rules. Not that Laura would
let
him seduce her, he conceded ruefully. She would have to be attracted to him a little to do that, which she obvi
ously wasn't, so why was he even having this stupid conversation with himself?

The bathroom door opened and she came out, looking a little less harried. Which was just as well, since he was beginning to run out of patience with her.

‘Don't forget what I said about smiling,' Ryan advised brusquely as they made their way down the curving staircase ten minutes later. When she didn't say anything in reply, he stopped at the foot of the stairs to throw her a firm look.

‘Come on, show me some of those nice white teeth you have.'

When Laura attempted a smile, Ryan scowled. ‘Good God, is that the best you can do, woman?'

Laura winced. ‘Sorry. I guess I'm nervous.'

‘Lord knows why, with me by your side.'

‘Are you always this incorrigibly egotistical?' she demanded to know.

Ryan shrugged. ‘I suppose so. It comes with the territory of having been a successful goalkeeper. You have to have total confidence in your abilities or you're dead in the water, because you're alone out there. You can't let a single negative thought creep in or you're done and dusted. But you're not alone today, Laura. You have me to help you. Though you still do need to help yourself. So, smile and make it convincing.'

She smiled, but she still didn't look like a woman in love.

‘Only marginally better,' he said, feeling totally exasperated with her and with himself for being so affected by her. ‘Here, give me your hand.'

When she hesitated, he suddenly grabbed both her hands then yanked her hard against him.

‘The trouble with you, madam,' he ground out as he glared down into her shocked eyes, ‘Is that you've been way too long between men.
And
kisses.'

He didn't mean to do it. Hell, he didn't mean to manhandle her in any way, shape or form. But all of a sudden his much
valued control slipped and his mouth came crashing down on hers.

For a split second, Laura froze. This was what she'd feared after all, Ryan making a pass at her at some stage. Not that you could call what he was doing a pass. It was more of an onslaught. He even dragged her hands behind her back and pressed them into the small of her back, forcing her breasts against the hard wall of his chest.

Laura knew at the back of her whirling mind that she could still escape his captive embrace if she chose to. All she had to do was lift her knee into his groin and he'd let her go, quick smart. But she didn't lift her knee or do anything else. Instead, she just stood there and let him do what he was doing. She didn't fight him. She didn't even make a sound.

But the moment he pried her lips apart and sent his tongue deep into her mouth she definitely did make a sound.

It was a moan, soft and throaty and full of sensual surrender.

Ryan moaned too, though not quite so softly. For a few more mad moments, the impassioned ravaging of her mouth continued before he abruptly wrenched his lips off hers, stepping back to stare down at her with shocked eyes. His prominent cheekbones had spots of red slashed across them, and his chest was rising and falling in a ragged rhythm.

Laura hated to think what
she
looked like, standing there with eyes wide and the back of a trembling hand lifting to hide her still-burning lips. ‘Stunned' did not begin to describe her own feelings. How could she possibly have liked what he had done? Yet she had—more than liked, actually. She'd thrilled to his forcefulness. Even now the heat he'd evoked was still charging through her veins. She tried to feel ashamed of what she'd just allowed and enjoyed. Tried to feel angry with him. But she couldn't, and didn't. How utterly and perversely amazing!

Suddenly he smiled, a warm, tender smile which confused her even more.

‘I don't think you dislike me as much as you think you do,' he said as he stepped forward to take her still-flushed face within the cradle of his large palms.

Before Laura could say a single word in her own defence, he was kissing her again, a much gentler kiss this time but still deep, his soft lips and less-savage tongue seducing her just as easily as the first time. Somehow her arms found themselves clamped around his waist as she rose up onto her toes, pressing herself harder against him.

‘Oh!' a female voice exclaimed from somewhere near them.

‘Don't move,' Ryan muttered into her startled mouth before she could spring back from him.

With considerable
savoir faire
he casually dropped his hands to her hips and turned her round. Laura tried to match his nonchalant attitude at being caught kissing, but she could still feel her face flaming. Fortunately, however, Aunt Cynthia seemed to be worrying about her own embarrassment, not her niece's.

‘I'm so sorry,' she blurted out. ‘I just came to see what was keeping you. I didn't mean to, er, um…'

‘It's perfectly all right, Cynthia,' Ryan said smoothly. ‘We're the ones who should be saying sorry for keeping you waiting.' And he gave Laura's right hip an affectionate little squeeze.

Laura didn't say a word; her throat was as dry as parchment and her thoughts in total disarray.

‘I fully understand,' Cynthia said, gushing at him again. ‘But Jane is very anxious to meet you, as you can imagine.'

‘And I to meet her,' Ryan returned. ‘Do please lead the way, and we'll be hot on your heels.'

During the short walk from the front entrance hall to the back verandah of the house—during which Ryan took her hand firmly in his—Laura struggled to get her composure back.

It was difficult; her head was all over the shop.

Seeing her gran, however, sitting there on the back verandah in a wheelchair, was enough to push aside any worry over
what had just happened. Laura's heart contracted at how fragile she looked. Fragile and old.

‘Hello, Gran,' she said softly, extracting her hand from Ryan's as she bent to kiss her grandmother on the cheek. ‘How are you feeling?'

‘Fine, love, just fine. Now that you're both safely here,' she added, glancing up at Ryan. ‘So this is the young man you've been telling me about.'

Laura could not help feeling proud of Ryan as her grandmother's still-sharp grey eyes raked over him, no doubt taking in everything from his face, to his clothes, to his impressively built body.

‘You've done well this time, granddaughter,' she said, smiling with obvious approval. ‘How do you do, Mr Armstrong?' she added, and held out one very thin, wrinkly hand towards him.

He cupped it gently within both of his. ‘I will do very well, ma'am, provided you call me Ryan and not Mr Armstrong.'

‘Of course…Ryan,' she agreed, her smile turning a little coy. ‘But only if you promise to call me Jane. Now, sit down here next to me and tell me all about yourself.'

Ryan laughed, but he sat as ordered. ‘You must be planning on a long afternoon tea, Jane.'

‘I'm planning on finding out if your character matches your good looks,' she shot back without missing a beat.

‘Gran!' Laura exclaimed, slightly horrified at her grandmother's directness.

‘It's all right, darling,' Ryan reassured her with a warm smile. ‘I have nothing to hide. Besides, if I know you, you've already told your gran everything about me.'

‘Well, yes, I suppose I have.'

‘Then there's nothing to worry about, is there?'

Nothing except that you just kissed me twice and reduced me to mush both times!

Don't think about that, Laura
, she lectured herself.
Think
of the reason you did this in the first place. Think of making Gran happy, even if only for this weekend.

It actually turned out to be rather interesting, listening to Ryan's answers to her grandmother's many questions. Laura soon realised that, whilst she knew about Ryan's sporting and business successes, she knew very little about his family background, except that at some stage he'd been brought up by his grandmother. It turned out he was the only child of a single mother, born and bred in the Western suburbs of Sydney. His father had done a bunk before he was born and his mother had died of breast cancer when she'd been only thirty-four, leaving him to be raised by his maternal grandmother who'd been a widow and lived on a pension.

‘She had very little but what she had she gave to me,' he said with a slight catch in his voice. ‘She was a wonderful woman. I loved her to death.'

‘I presume she's passed on now?' her gran asked quietly.

‘Many years ago, actually. Before I began to earn big money. She never saw me play for any of the famous European teams, though she did see my local team win a few grand finals when I was a teenager. Not that she actually
saw
them,' he said with a wry chuckle. ‘She used to get so nervous that she would walk around the fields watching other games rather than mine. Then, whenever a loud cheer went up, she'd race back to see if it was my team scoring or the other one.'

‘I used to get nervous watching Shane play soccer,' Cynthia piped up as she offered Ryan a plate of lamingtons. ‘Shane's my son. Did Laura tell you that he's coming to dinner tonight just to see you? You're one of his soccer heroes.'

Ryan smiled as he took one of the cakes. ‘She did mention it.'

‘I hope you don't mind.'

‘Not at all.'

And that was how the afternoon tea continued, with Ryan being charming in the extreme and Laura sitting there in the late-afternoon sunshine, basking in her grandmother's ap
proval. She could not help looking at him all the time and thinking how incredibly handsome he was. Handsome and sexy.

Before long she started playing some crazy ‘if only's in her head.

If only Ryan was her real Mr Right and not a pretend one.

If only his kisses from a while ago actually meant something to him.

If only he wasn't the kind of two-timing womaniser who was obviously not beyond taking advantage of the situation to try to get into her pants.

Alison had been right about that, Laura conceded with a twist in her heart.

But, even as this brutal truth hit home, she had difficulty ignoring the fact that she'd not only enjoyed his kisses, she wanted more. More kisses. More of everything a man like Ryan had to offer.

He would be a good lover; she could see that by his kisses. Wildly passionate, but tender and gentle as well. Brad had been an ignorant and selfish lover, uncaring of her pleasure. Mario hadn't been all that much better. Neither of them had ever kissed her the way Ryan had just kissed her, like he was a man dying of thirst in the desert and she was a sweet spring which would bring him back to life. At the same time, she had responded in a way
she
never had before—boldly. Brazenly. Blindly.