A Fortune's Children's Christmas (13 page)

“This place is as packed as Times Square at midnight on New Year’s Eve,” Joanna complained, wriggling to make more room for herself.

Plastered against him as she was, she both heard and felt Ryder’s sharp intake of breath. Her eyes widened, and she moved again. Was that what she thought it was?

“Don’t,” Ryder whispered hoarsely, his lips against her ear.

Joanna shivered at the feel of his warm breath caressing her skin. His body surrounded her completely, and there was no mistaking the hard bulge pressing insistently against her bottom.

“Everybody is dancing.” Ryder’s voice sounded choked, and he turned her, maneuvering her body as easily as he would a doll. He didn’t remove his hands from her waist, and they naturally seemed to slide lower to her hips.

She felt small and soft, and Ryder was stunned by the effect her petite but very feminine form was having on him. The result of his sustained period of abstinence, he decided frantically. Well, he had been abstinent too long, when merely touching his executive
assistant—whom he was not attracted to!—turned him on faster and harder than anytime during recent memory.

Joanna’s eyes were fixed on him. The jeans and rugby shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, were a surprise. She stared at his bare forearms, strong and dusted with dark hair, at the virile fit of his jeans. In the office she’d seen him only in tailored business suits—except for that first memorable day when he’d stripped to show her his scar, of course. She thought of his well-muscled chest. Her memory might lag when it came to retaining sequential information, but she had perfect recall of that divinely masculine sight.

Joanna felt her face growing hot. Her head was spinning. And not from the effects of her Surf City citrus slush, she was sure of that.

Tonight Ryder looked very different from the formal, immaculately groomed executive she saw at the office every day. His hair was slightly mussed, a shadow darkened his jaw and chin. He looked…sexy. And if her body heat kept rising, she was going to melt into a puddle right here in the middle of Surf City.

“Maybe we should dance.” Ryder’s eyes were glazed as he stared down at her.

“To ‘Surfer Girl’?”

“I know, it’s surreal. But consistent with the theme of this place, hmm?”

It was surreal, all right, Joanna thought dizzily. The music, the people dressed for summer while temper
atures hovered below freezing outside, the hungry glitter in Ryder Fortune’s eyes…

Perhaps she was coming out of anesthesia, lying in the recovery room after yet another operation. She’d had some incredibly weird drug-induced dreams, and this one was right up there among the strangest.

Whatever, she thought, deciding to go with it. Her arms crept up around his neck. She had to extend them because he was so tall, and her sandals didn’t provide even an extra inch of height. Their bodies were so close, each could feel the imprint of the other.

Sandwiched in the crowd, they swayed to the music. Joanna laid her head against his chest. Suddenly she felt too weak, too languid to hold it up. She could hear his heart pounding in her ears, and her own heartbeat took up the rhythm. Her eyes closed and she clung to him.

Ryder held her tight, resting his chin on the top of her head. She felt so good in his arms. His hands began to move slowly over her back. Joanna arched even closer.

“Ryder,” she whispered urgently, her breathing as erratic as his.

He began to knead the sensitive area at the base of her spine with one hand while his other slipped around to gently cup the underside of her breast. Joanna felt sensual lightning jolt through her. She jerked backward, blindsided by her volatile response to his nearness, to his caresses.

There was a civil war going on inside her: common sense was beating a fast retreat while desire surged to
win.
“You have to remember to always stop and think before you act, Joanna.”

The mantra penetrated her consciousness. Joanna remembered. She thought and did not act.

“Ryder, stop!” she whispered desperately. She was trapped in a frustrating sexual paradox, needing him to stop as much as she needed him not to.

“I can’t,” he fairly groaned the words. She was right, this was too much, it was too intense. And they were in public! But he couldn’t let her go. “I—don’t want to. Do you, Joanna? Do you really want me to let you go?”

She raised her head to look up at him at the same moment he lowered his. The noise and the other people seemed to fade into the background. She was aware only of Ryder, of his big hands holding her, his lips so tantalizingly near. Another inch and their mouths would be touching, they would be kissing….

“Hey, Ry, you’re kickin’ tonight!” Charlotte squealed, crashing into them.

Joanna jumped away from Ryder. If she could’ve, she would have run out of the place, but she was trapped by the crowd. She stared dazedly at the bikini-clad young woman—one of the ones she had watched get tossed from the surfboard—who had draped her arms around Ryder.

“This is my sister, Charlotte,” Ryder said stiffly, his jaw clenched. “Unfortunately, she’s the type of reckless reveler that a place like Surf City attracts.”

He did not appear glad to see his sister. But Joanna felt inordinately grateful to Charlotte for literally fall
ing upon them because she’d been on the verge of…she’d wanted to—

“Aw, Ry, you sound like a school principal or somethin’,” Charlotte slurred her words and stumbled, as if unable to walk and talk simultaneously. It was obvious that she’d had one drink too many.

Very obvious. She proceeded to accidentally spill the bright pink concoction she was holding onto Ryder’s shoes. “Oops!” Charlotte giggled. “Sorry about that, Ry-sie.”

“You’re going home right now, young lady,” Ryder said sternly.

“Now you sound like Daddy. Thank God you can’t ground me or cut off my allowance!” Charlotte hiccupped.

Joanna couldn’t suppress her grin.

Ryder noticed. “Don’t encourage her, Joanna. It’s not funny.” He glared from her to his sister. “Will you help me get her out of here?”

She couldn’t refuse, Joanna decided. A woman in Charlotte’s impaired condition really shouldn’t be bouncing around in this free-for-all atmosphere. Especially not in such a brief bikini.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Though the other woman towered above her, Joanna slipped her arm around Charlotte’s waist. Her action brought her within touching distance of Ryder once again. Their hands, their arms, brushed, and Joanna nearly succumbed to a sensual relapse.

She cast a swift, covert glance at Ryder, whose face was set in a taut mask of disapproval. There was no
sign of the man who’d held her, who said he didn’t want to let her go. He looked so cold, so forbidding. Clearly, he regretted their intimate little interlude. His scowl was directed at her as well as his inebriated sister.

She’d almost kissed him! Looking at him now, Joanna could hardly believe it. Her boss had nearly kissed her, and she’d wanted him to. She shivered. That Arctic stare of his cleared her head like a blast of polar air. What if they had kissed?

“I’m not leavin’, it’s too early,” protested Charlotte.

Ryder ignored her complaints. “I assume you wore a coat. And shoes. Where are they?”

“Over there,” mumbled Charlotte. “By the fruit smoothie snack bar. My flip-flops and Mommy’s old fur. Somebody dumped a piña colada on it. A peach one, I think.”

Ryder’s expression spoke volumes. He looked the way he did when Joanna made a mistake. She felt instant sympathy for Charlotte.

“I’ll go get her shoes and coat and meet you at the front door,” Joanna volunteered, pointing herself in the direction of the boardwalk. How hard could it be to find a fur coat reeking of peach piña colada?

It wasn’t hard at all, and she soon rejoined Ryder and Charlotte, who was singing and dancing to “California Girls,” her exuberant spirits unquashed by her brother’s dour demeanor. Joanna helped Charlotte into her coat, then drew her own brown wool coat around
her, belting it. They inched their way toward the front door.

“Thank you for your help,” Ryder said stiffly.

“No problem. What’s an assistant for?”

“Assistant?” Charlotte picked up on that. “The idiot assistant?” She blinked, trying hard to focus on Joanna. “Who? You?”

“The idiot assistant,” Joanna repeated. So that was the way Ryder talked about her? And he must do it often and emphatically enough for the term to have stuck in Charlotte’s liquor-soaked memory. “Yes, that would be me.”

She was angry. And after their near kiss tonight, she was hurt. That was the worst part.

“You work for my brother,” Charlotte appeared to be concentrating very hard on putting together the facts. “And you’re here with him tonight…” She flashed a triumphant smile. “No wonder Ryder doesn’t mind stayin’ late at work these days. You two are having an office romance!”

“No, we aren’t,” Joanna countered quickly. “Think about it, Charlotte. Would your brother romance an idiot?”

“Joanna, I was—” Ryder began, looking chagrined.

Joanna didn’t notice. She took advantage of a sudden opening in the crowd to move ahead of the pair. She’d reached the club’s front door, which led to the elevator banks of an indoor parking garage, when she nearly collided with a well-built, impossibly handsome man with a model-gorgeous woman on his arm.
Both were dressed in designer-label, very skimpy beachwear that showed off their impressive bodies. The man flashed Joanna a charming smile.

“That’s cousin Chad.” Charlotte snickered.

Ryder didn’t speak at all. He hooked his fingers around the belt of Joanna’s coat and jerked her backward.

She whirled around, startled by the possessive grab. Ryder used his grip on her belt to pull her back even closer to him.

Ryder didn’t glance back. He thrust through the doors, out of Surf City, half dragging the two women toward the elevators. The abrupt switch, from noisy to quiet, from packs of people to deserted corridor was jarring. Joanna gazed about, trying to establish her equilibrium.

Ryder was treating her as if she were a naive schoolgirl! Joanna was irked. “You didn’t have to hustle me away from him. I—”

“I saw the look Chad was giving you,” growled Ryder. “If you’d given him an ounce of encouragement, he would have dumped that siliconed swizzle stick with him and—”

“Well, I didn’t give him any encouragement at all,” Joanna said frostily. “Furthermore, I’m perfectly capable of making up my own mind about people.”

The elevator arrived and Ryder pulled Charlotte and Joanna inside. He hit the number four on the panel as the doors closed.

“My car is on level two,” said Joanna.

Ryder made no attempt to press that button, and they passed the floor before Joanna could reach it.

“You’re riding with me, Joanna,” he said with a dictatorial air that made her fume.

“We’re not at work, Ryder. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“No?” The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor.

“No!”

“Just watch me.” Ryder hauled Joanna out of the elevator, with Charlotte stumbling along with them.

“L
et me go!” Joanna tried to wrench herself free. His grip was inexorable, and she did not succeed.

“The roads are bad, and I’m not going to allow you to drive, Joanna.” Ryder was adamant.

“You’re not going to allow me?” Joanna repeated, momentarily diverted.

He sounded so very authoritarian. She tried to remember the last time someone hadn’t
allowed
her to do something and guessed it must’ve been back in her teens, when her parents were still alive.

Ever since the accident Julia, her sole surviving relative, had offered only encouragement.
“You can do it, Joanna.” “If that’s what you want to do, go for it, Joanna.”
Occasionally there was big-sisterly advice like
“Watch out for cousin Chad. Chad the Cad is heartbreak waiting to happen,”
and
“Taking a daily vitamin is an excellent idea.”
Brother-in-law, Michael, supplied useful reminders about her car.
“Remember to get the oil, the antifreeze, the air in the tires checked,”
along with his own Chad Fortune warnings.

But the phrase
not allowed
had disappeared from her vocabulary. Simply hearing it was a novelty. “You sound absolutely parental,” Joanna blurted out.

Ryder glowered, his nostrils actually flared. Joanna stared at him, fascinated. She’d always thought flaring nostrils were a literary device, but Ryder made it happen in the flesh.

Ryder clenched his jaw till it ached. Parental? How on earth had she reached that conclusion? Possibly the last thing he felt toward Joanna Chandler right now was fatherly.

“You are as spacey as ever, Joanna,” he said. “And you’ve been drinking. There is no way I’m letting you get behind the wheel of a car tonight.”

“I only had one drink. You make it seem like I’ve been boozing it up all night!”

“I kind of was,” Charlotte interjected. “Are you mad at me, Ry?”

“Yes,” Ryder said grimly. “Neither you nor Joanna should’ve been at Surf City tonight or any other night. Haven’t you ever heard of the drug that slime-balls slip into women’s drinks? Well, Surf City is the type of place where that sort of thing happens. Probably on a regular basis.”

“No way,” argued Charlotte. “Surf City is a fun place. Y’know, you’ve really changed since you came back to Minneapolis, Ryder. You’ve totally lost your sense of adventure. These days you make
Daddy
seem zany.”

Staid James Fortune was the antithesis of zany, but just in case Ryder had missed his sister’s less-than-subtle accusation, she verbally bludgeoned him with it. “So that makes you like a—a Puritan or something! Strict and uptight and absolutely no fun at all!”

“If I’m a Puritan, then you’re a sybaritic socialite, Charlotte.” Ryder was frowning as he hurried Joanna and Charlotte through the chilly parking garage. He finally halted beside his big black Range Rover. “Get into the car, both of you.”

“Is he this impossible and bossy at work?” A sulky Charlotte asked Joanna. “’Cause if he is, I’d quit if I were you. I don’t have a choice, I can’t resign as his sister.”

“I usually make it a point to stay out of sibling cross fire,” Joanna said drily. “But since you asked, as a boss, your brother is—” she paused to glance up at Ryder, the beginnings of a smile curving her lips “—okay.”

He arched his brows. “Thanks for the ringing endorsement, Joanna.”

“Anytime, boss.”

She was aware that they were flirting in a covert way. It was confusing, yet oddly exhilarating, the way their interactions tonight seemed to bounce from one extreme to another. Hot, then cold. Now a thaw was definitely in the works. She could literally feel him warming toward her, a tentative smile responding to hers.

“I guess I might’ve overreacted when I saw Chad look at you,” Ryder admitted, a little sheepishly. “I apologize.”

And watching that dog eye Joanna like a hungry wolf brought out a possessive, protective streak he’d been unaware of. Until now.

“I understand.” Joanna turned to Charlotte. “My
sister, Julia, mentioned that Kelly Sinclair was involved with Chad. Julia was worried about her. She said Kelly is too sweet and trusting, and Chad is a heartbreak waiting to happen. Michael says he’s toxic.”

“Finally, something we can all agree on,” Ryder said heartily. “All right, let’s go, little sister.” He took Charlotte’s elbow and steered her into the back seat.

Which left the front for Joanna. She slid into the wide bucket seat, trying to pretend she wasn’t nervous.

But she was. She was very nervous indeed as she contemplated the attraction simmering between her and Ryder. She couldn’t seem to stop thinking about those earlier intimate moments between them, when a very different Ryder had emerged. She wanted to spend more time with that man, who was so unlike his impatient, order-barking alter ego. She wanted to explore the enthralling feelings he evoked.

Bad idea, Joanna,
she cautioned herself. No matter if Ryder had more sides than the
Three Faces of Eve,
the bottom line was that she worked for the man. As his idiot assistant. It would be truly idiotic to forget her status—and that critical evaluation of his.

A streak of anger galvanized her. “How am I supposed to get to work tomorrow if my car is here?” she demanded crossly as Ryder took his place behind the wheel. “And don’t even suggest that I take the bus!”

“I wouldn’t dream of suggesting the bus. We’ll
swing by here tomorrow morning and pick up your car.” Ryder’s tone brooked no argument.

And then he calmly, audaciously covered her knee with his big hand.

“Ryder, you—can’t.” Joanna tried to quash the rush of edgy excitement surging through her. To take control of the situation.

“No?” His voice was seductive. “I can’t do this?” His fingers began a gentle massage as he slipped his hand just underneath the skirt of her dress to caress her inner thigh. “You don’t want me to?”

Pleasure shimmered through her, spreading deeper, hotter. Keeping control began to lose its appeal. When she made no protest, no reply at all, his hand moved higher.

A wave of heat sent her reeling. The intention and possession of his touch was unmistakable.
“We’ll swing by here tomorrow morning and pick up your car,”
he’d said. The implication was clear. They would be together tomorrow morning because they were going to spend the night together. Tonight.

Unless she said no. Suddenly, Joanna was right back in the sensual morass that had enveloped her before Charlotte’s precipitous arrival. She lifted her eyes to Ryder’s face and found him watching her intensely. There was raw desire and hunger in his gaze that evoked a deeply feminine response within her.

He drove the Range Rover out of the parking garage into the blustery March wind. A few blocks farther down the road, a traffic light turned red and Ryder braked the car to a stop.

“Come home with me, Joanna,” he murmured.

She turned her head to look at him, her lips parting as she drew a short shuddering breath. He leaned in and touched his mouth to hers, gently at first, then more passionately as her mouth opened to him. Her tongue touched his, retreated, then surrendered to the bold strokes of his tongue as he pursued hers.

“
Excuse me,
I haven’t felt like this much of a third wheel since—since never!” Charlotte whined petulantly from the back seat. “This is absolutely the worst. And why doesn’t the damn light turn green? Is it broken or something?”

Ryder muttered an incoherent response as he lifted his mouth from Joanna’s. But he couldn’t make himself move away from her, couldn’t bring himself to break the contact between them, despite his sister’s very vocal presence. He kissed Joanna’s neck, savoring the soft feel of her skin, the alluring scent of her perfume.

Joanna shivered as his lips trailed a path to the sensitive spot below her ear. And then her eyes happened to connect with Charlotte’s in the rearview mirror.

Ryder’s sister was staring at them, watching with unconcealed curiosity. Joanna blushed.

“Ryder,” she whispered huskily. “Look.”

Reluctantly he lifted his lips, following her gaze to the rearview mirror.

Charlotte gave a little wave. “Oh, yeah, I’m still here.”

Ryder groaned. Joanna bashfully hid her face in the
comforting warmth of his shoulder, her body trembling from the provocative little interlude.

“For a couple not having a romance, I’d say you do a pretty good imitation of it,” Charlotte observed. “Do me a favor, run this stupid light and take me home so you two can just get on with it, okay?”

“I never run traffic lights,” Ryder said loftily. “But I’ll be delighted to comply with the rest of your command, Char.”

His hand continued to rest on Joanna’s thigh, but he didn’t try to kiss her again. There was no chance, because every traffic signal blazed bright green, and they had to keep moving.

“You have to remember to always stop and think before you act, Joanna.”
That much-repeated therapeutic advice kept echoing in her head. Taking Charlotte home and depositing her in her apartment had provided plenty of time to think.

Which was fortunate, of course, but it would’ve been so much easier to simply act on impulse, Joanna mused wistfully.

Should she go home with Ryder and spend the night making love with him?

She wanted to, but Joanna knew better than most that you could not always do what you want. Her mind began to drift. Or get what you want. Julia said that happiness wasn’t having what you wanted, but wanting what you have.

Joanna found herself pondering this. Julia was very wise.

“You’re so quiet, Joanna,” Ryder said at last.
Without Charlotte in the car, absolute silence reigned. “What are you thinking about?” He smiled a sexy smile. “It must be pretty intense because you’ve managed to sit still for nearly five full minutes.”

“A record for me,” Joanna conceded. “And if I tell you what I was thinking you’ll be—”

“Excited?” Ryder prompted. “Even more turned on than I already am?”

“Try irritated,” she interjected flatly. “You’ll be exasperated.”

“Never, sweetie.” He was flying on a testosterone-adrenaline-fueled high. “Not with you.”

“Not even if I admit that I wasn’t sitting here spinning erotic fantasies about you? That my mind was off on one of those irrelevant tangents that drive you crazy? Though I prefer to call them mental detours.”

“Joanna.” Ryder groaned. “Everything about you drives me crazy. I—”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
Painfully aware!
“Which is why we shouldn’t, uh, act on these urges tonight. Or…or any other night.”

Her mind might work circuitously, but she knew she’d made the right decision. When a man admitted upfront that a woman got on his nerves, he was definitely talking one-night stand. And Joanna didn’t do one-night stands. Never.

She didn’t sleep with her boss, either.

“Life is complex enough without adding impossible complications,” she murmured. Somebody—Dear Abby? Oprah? Dr. Laura? she couldn’t remember who—had said that once, and it stuck in her head. And
proved to be an uncanny take on this particular situation.

“Going to bed with someone who drives you crazy out of it, practically guarantees disaster,” she added solemnly. Dear Abby, Oprah and Dr. Laura would surely all agree on that.

“Joanna, I…hope you know that I meant that in the most complimentary way. You have to know that!”

Ryder could tell she didn’t, though. Her withdrawal was tangible; she’d inched as far away from him as the seat belt would allow.

Tension, sharp and unrelieved, coursed through him. His impassioned declaration hadn’t come out quite right, but did she have to misinterpret him so completely?

“Joanna, I didn’t mean to imply—honey, let me start over. I want to—”

“Take me straight home, Ryder. I’ll ask one of my roommates to drive me to the parking garage tomorrow morning to pick up my car.”

“Baby, let me change your mind.” Ryder pulled the Range Rover over to the curb, idling the engine as he tried to take her into his arms. He realized it was the act of a desperate man. Hell, he even sounded desperate!

Joanna shrank farther against the door. She knew if she let Ryder touch her again, she’d end up in bed with him. Her body was hell-bent on betraying her good sense tonight.

That couldn’t be allowed to happen. Joanna silently listed the reasons why. Ryder was everything she was
not: well-educated and rich, a member of the most prominent family in the state. Such inequalities might not matter in a fairy tale—she thought of her small nieces’ collection of storybooks and videos, where such impossible couples abounded—and dismissed them as kid stuff. Joanna Chandler was firmly grounded in reality.

But Ryder wanted her, he was caressing her…

Trembling, she caught his wrists with her hands to fend him off. “Don’t, Ryder.”

Ryder stared at her, startled by the distress in her voice. She looked small and anxious. He immediately backed off.

“You don’t have to look at me like I’m some sort of…of rabid gorilla,” he rasped. Though, admittedly, he rather felt like one. By the expression on her face, he must’ve been acting like one, too.

Joanna flinched. She hadn’t meant to insult him. “It’s just that we have a good working relationship, Ryder,” she said, trying to make amends. “And a friendship. Let’s not jeopardize either by a crazy impulse brought on by a…a crazy place.”

“Is that what you think? That the antics at Surf City inspired me to make a pass at you?” Ryder was outraged. He might have been behaving somewhat primitively, but how could she misread him so thoroughly? “Of course, you’re an expert at misreading things,” he continued. His patience, never too plentiful on the best days, was totally obliterated by the combination of exhaustion and sheer sexual frustration. “On the
matter of our
good
working relationship, for example. We—”

“You’re still mad about those plane reservations.” Joanna swallowed hard. She knew she wasn’t misreading his expression—it was that of a disgruntled boss viewing his most unsatisfactory employee. His idiot assistant.