Roughing It with Ryan. Jill Shalvis

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “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 СКАЧАТЬ