her untimely death.
Zoe liked Ryan’s home, and the fact that it lacked the uptight, artificial feeling she’d feared she’d find here, gave her hope. Hope that Ryan had more of the man she liked inside him.
It had been a day of contrasts, she thought. Her mind strayed back to the incident at the rest stop with the pig. He’d thought nothing of his own safety or his good clothing, as he’d dived into the dirt to save Ima because he knew how much the animal meant to Sam. And because he knew his life wouldn’t be worth squat if Sam lost her pet.
His expression when he’d handed the pig back to Sam had been priceless, a man so proud of his accomplishment—until he’d realized even Zoe hadn’t trusted him enough to ask permission to take Ima along. The hurt and desolation in his gaze stayed with her even now.
But then there was the moment at the car when he’d brushed off his filthy pants and arms. He’d been dirty, disheveled and sexy. A man comfortable in his own skin. And when he’d laughed—oh, when he’d looked up and flashed those dimples—Zoe could have sworn the sun shone more brightly in the sky. She’d felt the heat and happiness and wished it could always be that way between them.
“I’m unpacked!” Sam bounced into the room and onto the bed.
“Someone’s in a good mood.”
“Yeah well, you-know-who said Ima could stay with me in my room.”
“No kidding? Well make sure you keep her in her crate, so she doesn’t mess the floors,” Zoe warned.
“Yeah, yeah. So how long do we have to stay here before we can go back home?” Sam asked.
Zoe shivered, not wanting to admit to Sam that for all they knew, this would be her home.
Chapter Nine
To Zoe’s surprise, they spent the next few days having a lot of fun. Ryan took them to Faneuil Hall, on the Duck Tour, and they hit many historical landmarks. They had dinner at Legal Seafoods one night and at Union Oyster Bar the next, and Davio’s, an Italian restaurant in the North End on the third evening.
Now they found themselves at Ryan’s office where he proudly showed off the brownstone where he and his partners worked. He’d wanted Sam to meet his associates and the rest of the staff, and perhaps because she was still experiencing twinges of gratitude over his saving Ima, Sam went without argument. For Zoe, it was a chance to see Ryan in his own environment without his family pulling at him and without hers changing him.
Zoe waited until Sam headed off to get something to eat with Ryan’s secretary before she inclined her head toward his office, indicating she wanted to talk to him alone.
He gestured for her to go on in and he followed, shutting the door behind them. “Like it?” he asked.
She glanced around at the typical attorney’s surroundings, dark wood desk, bookshelves, diplomas and a row of windows with a view of the cloudless blue sky. Clearly, Ryan did well for himself, and he cared about what she thought.
“It’s perfect,” she said, stepping toward the plate-glass windows.
“Meaning?”
She sensed him come up behind her, his body heat warmer than that of the sun shining through the glass. Ignoring her awareness of him in his apartment was getting more and more difficult, especially since her bedroom shared a wall with his. She knew when he woke up and when he went to sleep—and when he tossed and turned as fitfully as she.
She turned now to find him closer than she’d realized and she stepped back toward the window. He came forward.
Zoe sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly. “We need to talk,” she told him.
“We damn well do.” He reached up and loosened his tie.
The effect of him looking so relaxed and slightly rumpled in his power suit was devastating to her senses. Her knees shook as though she was a school-girl on her first date.
“I need to hold you, or I’m going to go insane.” His deep gaze burned into hers. “I have to taste you.” His hands came to rest on the window above her shoulders, as he dipped his head closer. His determined expression told her he wasn’t about to be deterred.
She trembled, wanting the same things. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about,” she managed to say, despite being breathless with anticipation.
He lowered his head, his forehead touching hers. “What is it?” He sounded resigned to listening first and kissing second.
Disappointment filled