A Bride by Summer

She was shaking her head before he’d uttered the last word. “Oh no you don’t. Uh-uh.” Gritting her teeth, she said, “That isn’t what I meant.”

Two motorcycles chugged into the alley, the riders conversing over their revving engines. Stifling irritation that seemed to be directed toward him, she opened the door a little farther and said, “You might as well come in.”

She didn’t add Enter at your own risk, but she might as well have. Again, he had the strongest inclination to smile. His curiosity piqued, he followed her inside.

He closed the door but remained near it as he looked around. The living room had dark paneled walls and high ceilings and worn oak floors. A doorway on the left led to the kitchen. On the right was a shadowy hallway.

Ruby veered around half of a large sectional sitting at an odd angle in the center of the room and didn’t stop until she reached a low table on the far wall. Her back to him, she quickly reached down for the volume button on an old stereo. No seeing man could have kept his eyes off the seat of those tight little shorts.

She spun around and caught him looking. While she narrowed her eyes, he reminded himself he had a legitimate reason for being here.

He’d come to—

It had to do with—

Discretion. Yes, that was it. And valor, and honor and responsibility and, huh, other important things, he was sure.

Apparently experiencing a little technical difficulty with the neurons in his brain, he took a moment to reacclimatize. It wasn’t easy, but he forced his gaze away and once again looked around the room. An old trunk had been pushed against the wall, a carpet rolled up in front of it. There was an overstuffed chair and a floor lamp, too, and a few dozen boxes stacked two and three high. The fact that she’d been unpacking and arranging heavy furniture explained the sheen of perspiration on her face. He wasn’t sure what to make of her irritation.

“Is something wrong, Ruby?” he asked.

* * *

Wrong? What could possibly be wrong?

Ruby didn’t know whether to huff or, gosh darn it, swoon. She’d never really cared for her name, and yet Reed Sullivan made it sound like a treasure. He had one of those clear, deep voices perfectly suited for late-night radio shows and the dark. She almost wished he would keep talking.

He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t keep hers off him, either.

He wore dark pants and a dove-gray shirt, and it must have been hours since he’d shaved. He’d politely kept his distance, and yet the shadow of beard stubble on his jaw suggested a vein of the uncivilized. Her imagination took a little stroll that made the possibilities seem endless. The fact was, she liked the way he looked in that shirt and she was fairly certain she would like the way he looked with the buttons undone, too.

Whoa. She had to put a stop to this.

She’d made a promise to herself. She’d listed her goals when Amanda and her parents had been here hours ago. They had to do with pride and determination and succeeding and nothing to do with the way the air heated and her senses heightened every time she came within ten feet of Reed Sullivan.

She gave herself a firm mental shake and reminded herself that she really needed to focus. “Here’s the thing,” she said sternly.

There was a slight narrowing of his eyes, but he remained near the door, watching her, waiting for her to continue. His brows were straight and slightly darker than his hair, his face all angles and planes, his lips parted just enough to reveal the even edges of his teeth. She wondered what his mouth would feel like against her lips, her throat, her—

Grinding her molars together, she straightened her spine. She supposed she couldn’t legitimately fault him for the color of his eyes or the way his pants rode low at his waist.

She blinked and refocused.

While the fan whirred behind her, she said, “I’ve been known to make bad choices, but I’ve never gotten thoroughly lost and I’m not about to start now. Do you understand?”

“This has something to do with getting lost?” he asked.

“I went the wrong way today, but I was not lost.”

“I see.”

He was being polite again, and patient, which only increased her frustration. Holding out her hand in a halting gesture, she said, “Yes, you’re tall, with a capital T. And you have a slightly sinful smile you don’t overuse. All that aside, you’re just another good-looking guy in a fine broadcloth shirt. No offense.”

“None taken.” There went that sinful smile he didn’t overuse. And there went the feeling in her toes.

She sighed. “It’s true that I have fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants tendencies. My father expects my new business venture to fail, and my cheating ex-boyfriend believes I’ll come crawling back, and maybe I have made rash decisions in the past, but I never get lost. It has to do with my photographic memory. Technically it’s called eidetic imagery.”

He assumed a thoughtful pose, his left arm folded across his ribs, his chin resting on his fist.

Ruby’s clothes were beginning to feel constricting, her bottom lip the slightest bit pouty and her pulse fluttery. And her toes, well, blast her toes.

While twenty-year-old heavy-metal music played in the background far more softly than Aerosmith ever intended, Reed rested his hands confidently on his hips and said, “In essence, you’re saying you got lost today and it had something to do with me.”

“Not lost,” she countered. “Slightly turned around. I don’t want— I just don’t think— I shouldn’t.” She shook her head, straightened her spine. “I won’t.”

The old stereo shut off. Without music, the whir of the fan was a lonesome hum in the too-warm room.

“I’m spontaneous,” she said, trying to explain. “Unfortunately, I bore easily. Believe me, it’s a curse. I had a dream job in L.A. that I hated, and now I’m here, and I don’t want to go back to my dad’s towing service. I bought this tavern and I need to focus on getting it open and running and keeping it that way, not on some guy who, it turns out, is tall.”

“With a capital T.” He met her steadfast gaze. “Isn’t that how you put it?”

The air heated and her thoughts slowed. It was all she could do not to smile.

Time passed slowly. Or perhaps it stopped altogether. She found herself staring into his blue-gray eyes, and doing so changed everything, until there was only this moment in time.

She swallowed. Breathed.

Yes, he was tall, she thought, and he didn’t scream expletives after he’d been run off the road, and the color of his eyes was as dense and changeable as storm clouds. It was unfortunate that staring into them had wiped out the feeling in her toes, but it wasn’t his fault.

“Ruby?” Reed said.

“Yes?”

“I stopped by to pick up Lacey’s cameras.”

She blinked. For a second there she thought he said he’d stopped by to pick up Lacey’s cameras.

Ohmygod. That’s what he said.

She hadn’t blushed since she was thirteen years old and she really hoped she didn’t start again now. Since the floor failed to open up and swallow her whole, she whirled around, stuck her stupid tingly toes into the nearest pair of flip-flops, grabbed the key ring off the peg in the kitchen and started for the door.

She darted past him, down the stairs and around the barrel of purple-and-yellow petunias blooming at the bottom. Every concise little thud the heels of his Italian loafers made on the stairs let her know he was following her.

She unlocked the tavern’s back door, and as the heavy steel monstrosity swung in on creaking hinges, she said, “You could have stopped me.”

Surprisingly, his voice came from little more than two feet behind her. “Only a fool would stop a beautiful woman when she’s insinuating she’s profoundly attracted to him, too.”

Ruby must have turned around, because she and Reed stood face-to-face, nearly toe to toe, his head tilted down slightly, hers tilted up. Holding her breath, she found herself wondering why it seemed that the smallest words in the English language were always the most poignant and powerful.