For Her Eyes Only (11 page)

* * *

Ryan sighed as he and Vicky stopped outside of Gavin’s private lounge. They’d been scheduled for the first couple’s therapy session of the week. Not surprising. He shot Vicky a dry look. With their accusations of infidelity, they’d both come out looking a little soap-opera nasty. Still, everyone had walked out of that group therapy session totally convinced that he and Vicky really needed counseling. He frowned. He wasn’t so sure if that was a good thing.

Ryan knocked on the door.

“Just a minute,” Gavin called out from behind the door. Ryan leaned down a little closer to Vicky.

“Just play along with whatever I do, okay?” he whispered to her, and stopped as she nodded.

She smelled...beautiful. Light, floral, seductive, her perfume reached in and created a fog in his brain, distracting him. She was so close, so warm, so...fragrant. She shot him a skeptical look.

“What?” she whispered.

She’d turned her face a little, bringing her cheek so close to his mouth. Ryan straightened.

Back off.
They weren’t married. They weren’t even dating. They were working.
Working
,
Brennan
,
working.
He kept mentally repeating the phrase to himself.

The door opened, and Gavin stood aside, gesturing for them to enter.

“Ah, welcome.” The lifestyle coach smiled warmly at them.
Did he just leer at Vicky?
Ryan brushed past him, using his bulk as a gentle intimidator on the slightly shorter man.

“Take a seat, please.” The counselor picked up a folder from his desk, and Ryan noticed the surface was immaculate. No other files were out, the blotter was clear, the pen and letter opener sitting in their silver-coated, engraved caddy. Expensive, but just a little too kitschy for Ryan’s taste. He noticed Dryden didn’t use the pen from the stationery set, but held an Ultima resort pen to take his notes. He looked away from the desk. All looks and no substance. He wondered if that extended to the man himself.

There was a deep-cushioned sofa and a wing-backed chair, and Ryan sat with resignation on the sofa. The damn furniture seemed to have been expressly designed with couples in mind.

As Vicky sat next to him, her body rolled slightly into his. While there was plenty of room on the sofa, and it was very comfortable, it did create an intimate sharing of space, forcing their bodies against each other in a manner that was beginning to drive him nuts. Or horny.

Both
.

“So, obviously from our discussion this morning, Neil and I decided that one of the first couple’s sessions would be of more benefit to you two.” Gavin said as he sat in the armchair. Ryan nodded.
Great
. Jeffrey and Margie had been scheduled for a couple’s massage, Hank and Deborah were on a sleigh ride around the resort, Elliot and Jennifer were doing a wine-tasting session in the resort cellars with Ms. James, the Guest Services Manager, and Kurt and Paula had a session with Neil.

And here he was, stuck in therapy with Vicky.

Gavin sat back in his chair. “So, Peter, what do you want for your relationship?”

Ryan frowned. Hell. He was in hell. Must be. He really didn’t want to talk about him and Vicky. He wanted out of here. Now was the perfect time to be searching the other guests’ rooms. He looked at Vicky, who was waiting for his response.

“I want us to be happy with each other,” he said, and was surprised at the truth in his words. Vicky shot him an uncertain glance.

“Okay. You don’t feel that you’re happy with each other now?”

Ryan looked between Vicky and the therapist. “Well, we kind of argue a lot,” he commented. She nodded in agreement.

“I see. What do you argue about?”

Ryan shrugged. “Mostly little things. Everything.”

“Like what? Give me an example.”

Vicky sat back and folded her arms, waiting. She looked about as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Who drives,” she muttered quietly.

“Yeah, that’s a good one. We always argue over who drives.”

Gavin stared at him for a moment. “Who...drives?”

Ryan nodded. “Yes. I drive.”

“He never lets me drive,” Vicky said, leaning forward.

Gavin nodded and made a note. “I see.” He looked up and smiled at Vicky. “And what about you, Cassandra? What do you want out of this relationship?”

Vicky unfolded her arms and placed her hands on her thighs. Ryan couldn’t help but look down. She was wearing designer jeans that showed off the length and shape of her legs.

Look away
,
damn it.
Look away
.

“Uh, I want someone who really sees me, appreciates me,” she said. Ryan frowned. He saw her. He was seeing her legs at the moment. He was surprised. He’d seen her wear jeans, but he’d never noticed they looked this good on her before.

“You don’t think Peter sees you?” Gavin asked.

“Well, I think sometimes I fade into the background. You know, someone to pass the time with in between—” she looked at him briefly before returning her attention to the counselor, “—in between business trips.”

Something inside Ryan unfurled at her words, her vulnerability. “I see you, all the time.” He did. They worked together. He kept her in his mind’s eye, always thinking of her, visualizing her. But more than that, whenever he was away on a mission, thoughts of Vicky kept him balanced, centered.

“No, you hang out with me when you’re in between girlfriends,” Vicky muttered.

His eyebrows rose. “I spend more time with you than any of them,” he pointed out.

Gavin coughed as he scribbled furiously.

Ryan ignored him. He liked spending time with Vicky. He did. She could be fun, when she wasn’t busting his chops about something. Admittedly though, he enjoyed that, too. She cared about him. That wasn’t a gift he was prepared to risk. He got to switch off with her, relax. Let down the guard he seemed to always employ with his work.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m too easy for you,” Vicky admitted. “No challenge.”

Ryan snorted. “You? Easy? Puh-leeze.”

She frowned. “I am easy for you. I don’t demand anything from you. Not like bobbleheaded Barbie.”

Ryan grimaced. She was right. Bobblehe—uh, Barbara, had been very demanding, in the end. From shopping trips that still gave him starts at the sound of a cashier bell, to weekends away, to dinners, to picking out damn outfits for her purse-sized puppy.

It had been constant, and she hadn’t been happy. He hadn’t wanted to make her unhappy, so they’d agreed to part ways.

“Barbara is different to you. She fulfilled things in me that you...can’t.”

Sex. Pure and simple. He was talking about sex. Vicky was someone he cared for, and someone he worked with. She had no idea that to him, she was home. He didn’t have family, Vicky had kind of adopted him. He always came home to
her
. She always challenged him, made him laugh, sometimes frustrated him so much he wanted to cry, but all in all, she was special. He didn’t want to complicate what they had with sex. If it didn’t work out, he’d lose everything. His friend. His family. His identity. She was his anchor.

He leaned back into the sofa.
Crap
. He didn’t want to talk about this stuff.

“What about Penny? And Charmaine? Lisa?” Vicky asked, her voice quiet. “Did they...fulfill you?”

Not really. It was just sex. “Uh,” he began, then frowned. “How do you remember their names?”

“Of course I remember their names! I book your damned dates, remember?”

“Whoa—what?” This time Gavin stopped to stare at her in shock. “You make arrangements for your husband to date other women?”

Ryan frowned. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”

“Of course it sounds bad,” Gavin said, then took a deep breath. “Sorry, I mean, it’s a bit of a red flag, I must say.”

“Oh, and let’s not talk about last year’s Christmas party, huh? Talking about it might actually make it seem
real
,” Vicky snapped, then clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

Chapter Twelve

Ryan’s mouth dropped open.
Oh
,
wow.
There it was, front and center. The Christmas party. They’d never spoken about it.

“The Christmas party?” Gavin asked.

“Nothing,” Vicky said quickly. A little too quickly. Ryan’s eyes narrowed.

“No, no, you brought it up. Lay it on me, babe. By all means, let’s talk about the Christmas party. What about it?” Her whole manner had chilled toward him since then, and he’d been the perfect gentleman.

“Wha-what about it?” she repeated incredulously. “Do you even remember it?”

He felt a headache explode behind his right eye. Did he remember it? God, he dreamt of it, awake and asleep. “Of course I remember it,” he muttered. Reese had organized the event for MSA staff at the restaurant of a classy hotel in downtown Chicago.

“Oh, so you remember the balcony?”

He remembered the dark green dress she’d worn that had brought out the deep color of her eyes, the way the soft fabric had clung to her breasts and hips, the way her legs had looked all curvy and sexy in fishnet stockings that had him fantasizing about what kind of underwear she’d been wearing. He remembered that seductive scent, feminine, alluring, sexy. He remembered the balcony, the way she’d swayed up to him, smiled, and waved some mistletoe over his head.

He remembered smiling back, thinking she must have enjoyed a few glasses of champagne if she was stealing kisses from everyone. He remembered a small twinge of regret in that this was the only way he could get close to her. He remembered leaning down to kiss her. He’d only meant it to be a light peck, but she’d turned her face at the last moment, and he’d planted one on her mouth. That was how it had started. Innocent. Fun. He wasn’t sure who was more surprised, but they hadn’t stopped there. No, the kiss had quickly changed from innocent to something decidedly sinful.

Slow, sexy, and completely carnal, his lips had tasted heaven. His tongue in her mouth, his hands on her body, what had started out as fun had set flame to something that burned hot and bright and out of control. He’d backed her up against a wall, hands underneath her dress, before either of them had a chance to think.

And Vicky? No protestations, no hesitations, no reservations. No, she’d given as good as she’d gotten, and if a waiter hadn’t dropped a tray on the other side of the door, then they would have had their own private Christmas celebration.

“I remember. You were tipsy.” She had to have been, to have waltzed up to him with such a seductive smile on her face, daring him with a stolen kiss, tempting him with her uninhibited response. He’d never seen her like that before—confident, sultry. So different than the friend he thought he knew so well. It was ultimately why he’d stopped. When he made love to Vicky, he didn’t want it to be a drunken episode at a Christmas party. Whoa—
when
he made love to Vicky? He caught the mental slip. That suggested inevitability, as if it was a definite. No, not when, if. Wait—if? Only a mere possibility? No, that was worse. Oh, God, just stop thinking about making love to Vicky.

Her jaw dropped. “I was not.”

“You were going around to everyone with the mistletoe, babe.”

“No, I...” her mouth opened, as though she wanted to say something, but she hesitated. She blinked and shook her head. “So, that made it okay for you to leave with another woman?”

Ryan hesitated. She’d seen that?

Vicky nodded. “Oh, yeah, I saw that,” she said, as though she could read his mind.

“It’s not what you think.”

Vicky’s hands rose and fell in exasperation. “You kiss me on the balcony, but go home with another woman? What am I to think?”

Ah
,
hell
. He’d stopped because he cared for Vicky, respected her, and if he was completely honest, just a little spooked by the emotion of the moment. If he hadn’t stopped then, he wouldn’t have stopped at all, and then she would have woken up with a hangover and a ton of regret, and he hadn’t wanted to be one of Vicky’s regrets. That would have changed everything, and he would’ve lost his best friend. His only true friend.

He’d been aroused and frustrated when he’d left, and the woman at the bar had been friendly and willing, only he couldn’t. Vicky had started the fire that had raged through him, and only Vicky could put out the flames of his arousal. Besides, what kind of schmuck would he be to substitute one lover for another? Nobody else would do. He’d dropped the woman off at her door, without even a goodnight kiss, and he’d gone home to a cold and lonely bed.

The next day at work Vicky had been cool, polite, and organizing a date with another guy—who ultimately turned out to be gay, or so Drew had told him. It had been the only thing that had stopped him from hunting the guy down and beating him like the Neanderthal Vicky inspired in him.

“Well, what about all your boyfriends?” Ryan protested, annoyed at the defensive tone that crept into his voice.

“Boyfriends? What boyfriends? I have the occasional date.”

“Well, how do you think that makes me feel?” Ryan demanded. Just the thought of her spending time with another guy, of kissing another guy, or more, made him want to bellow in rage. In pain.

“Nothing, because you never say anything about them,” Vicky shouted. “The only reason you know is because Blabbermouth tells you.”

He didn’t want her to know that Drew didn’t really come to him; he had to go ask Drew.

“Blabbermouth?” Gavin asked.

Ryan ignored him. “What do you want me to say, that I don’t want you to go out with them?” he shouted back.

“Er—” Gavin leaned forward, but Ryan held up a hand in the universal “butt-out” signal.

“Yes!” Vicky exclaimed.

Ryan rose to his feet, warmth creeping into his cheeks. “Yeah, and I can just imagine your reaction. You’d accuse me of being too arrogant. Too high-handed.” Anytime he tried to be protective, she always slapped him down. Hard.

Vicky smacked her forehead. “Oh. My. GOD!” She rose to her feet, and stood toe to toe with him. “You never say anything about what you’re feeling. I ask you about your—” she darted a look at Gavin, “—your day, and you blow me off. We never really talk.”

He gaped at her for a moment. She had to be kidding. “We talk all the damned time!”

“No, we chat, or we fight. We don’t
talk
.”

Ryan gestured between them. “Is this what you want? Is this what you call talking? Well, here we go. You don’t like the women I see, and I don’t like you dating other men. But is that going to change? Probably not.”

Because then they’d have to get real with each other. That couldn’t be allowed. Maintain the status quo, no matter how painful that status quo became.

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” he growled, and stomped out of the room.

* * *

Vicky watched, stunned, as Ryan stormed out and slammed the door.

The room was silent, and she eventually looked at Gavin, who was staring at her.

“Sorry about that,” she said, shifting on her feet. That had been...spectacular. She wasn’t sure what was Ryan, and what was show for the therapist.

Gavin waved a placating hand. “That’s fine. It happens, sometimes. Does he do that sort of thing often?”

What, cut and run when the going got personal? Yep. “Uh, not really. I must have hit a nerve.” Because she’d never seen him so passionate, so emotional about anything. Not even baseball.

Gavin nodded, and jotted something down in his notepad. What she wouldn’t give to see what he’d written about them. Her. All of the guests.

“Well, okay, then.”

She smiled in relief.
Great
. The interrogation was over. Can’t do couple’s counseling without a couple, right?

“Now, let’s talk about you.”

Her eyes widened as she met his calm gaze. He shrugged.

“I see no reason why we can’t take advantage of this time, and discuss you. I’d like to get to know the real Cassandra Winthrop, find out what makes her tick, and why she makes dates for her husband with other women.”

Hell. She was in hell. She was going to make Ryan hurt. Bad.

* * *

Ryan walked down the hall, keeping his expression calm as his insides roiled. Talk. Of course they damn well talked. She even talked in her damn sleep.

He talked a lot of things over with her, and he didn’t just mean the score at the bottom of the ninth. Sure, he dated women. But he didn’t talk with them like he did with Vicky. Why couldn’t she see that? He’d told her about his ultimate holiday destinations, his plans for his career, and eventually his retirement. Some of it had been pie-in-the-sky stuff, admittedly, but she knew he wanted to eventually buy property in Montana—something with a view that extended for miles, that was self-sufficient, where he could just sit, and not have to go anywhere. He’d told her about wanting to breed horses. Oh, not now, but eventually. She’d told him her dreams, too. He knew she liked fishing. He shook his head. Vicky liked fly-fishing. Go figure. She also wanted to take an ocean cruise.

See, they talked. Just not about Christmas parties.

He didn’t really talk about his job with her, either. She was right, there. Vicky was...well, not naive, maybe, or ignorant, just...innocent. Maybe that was it. He frowned. No, because that suggested she was unaware of things, and she was pretty switched on. The number of times she’d made arrangements that had saved his ass on an assignment, without him even telling her, showed that she had more of an understanding of what happened in the field than maybe he gave her credit for.

He knew what she meant, though. They didn’t talk about
them
. He thought of the Christmas party. Nearly a year later, and it finally came up in conversation. She was right. She never pushed, she just let him...be. Just thinking of talking about them gave him the shudders. Talking about them wouldn’t be like ripping off a bandage and feeling the sting of exposed skin.

No, talking about them would be like ripping off skin, pulling it back, layer by agonizing layer, to expose the vulnerability underneath.

Nope, better to keep that Band-Aid in place.

He turned left down a corridor, one that would take him to a rear exit. It opened not far from the maintenance sheds and the garage. He should be able to get a snow mobile and dash across to one of the cabins. He sidled up to the door. The floor was damp just in front of it, and he could hear the whine of the wind outside. He slowly pushed the door open.

It was snowing. He gritted his teeth against the chill winds and glanced down at his casual attire. He wasn’t really dressed for sub-zero temps.

“You’re not really going out there, dressed like that are you?”

He started at Drew’s words. “Jeez.” He looked back down the hall, which remained empty apart from a trolley that Drew must have been pushing. He hadn’t even heard him.

“It’s just me,” Drew said, throwing him a curious look.

Damn. He’d been so involved with his thoughts, he hadn’t heard Drew approach. He’d never live that down. “No, my bad. Wasn’t concentrating.” He nodded at the trolley, laden with empty wine glasses. “Busy, huh?”

Drew nodded. “Uh-huh. I was helping Ms. James in the cellar. Managed to grab Elliot and Jennifer’s glasses before she did. I’m going to lift the prints and send them to Luke and Maggie as soon as I can. What have you been up to?”

Ryan screwed up a face. “Vicky and I drew the short straw, and ended up in Dryden’s office for counseling.”

Drew barked with amusement. “Oh, priceless. I hope you guys worked everything out.” His chest heaved, and he covered his mouth to muffle his laughter. He tried to walk back toward the trolley, before cracking up against the wall.

Ryan frowned. “Shut up.”

Drew held his gut. “Wait...until...I tell...the others,” he rasped, tears streaming down his face.

Ryan turned to him, clenching his fists. It wouldn’t do to knock a resort waiter out cold in the corridor.

“Vicky’s right. You are a blabbermouth.” He watched sourly as Drew wiped his cheeks.

“Hey, I don’t blab. I exchange information.” Drew leaned over and grabbed something from the bottom shelf of the trolley, then held it out to Ryan.

“Please tell me you’ve actually done something other than get your jollies over Vic and me?” Ryan said, reaching for the bundle. A hooded coat and gloves. Excellent.

Drew sniffed. “Of course I have. I’ve checked over a number of areas, and haven’t found that receiver yet. I even checked the linen supplies.”

Ryan eyed him as he shrugged into the coat. He knew Drew. “With who?”

“Mandy. She’s in housekeeping.”

Ryan shook his head.

“What was I supposed to do? She came in while I was looking. I’ve got no reason to be in there. I had to think quickly,” Drew protested.

“I don’t know what’s worse, what you do, or your attempt to justify it.”

Drew grinned. “Oh, it’s the justification, definitely. I can tell you now, I
do
pretty well. By the way, you’re going to need this.” Drew handed over a plastic card. Ryan looked at it. The Ultima Resort crest was boldly stamped on one side, with a plastic strip on the back of the card. A master key.

Ryan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep the smile from his lips.

“Besides, she’s a genuinely nice lady. I think I’m in love.”

“Isn’t that the third time this month?”

“Better to have loved a lot than not at all,” Drew misquoted loftily. “Anyway, gotta go. Gotta get these prints lifted and the glasses back to the kitchen before the boss lady starts looking for me.” He shook his head. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch, you know?”

Ryan frowned. “How do you figure that? I’m in therapy with Vicky while you’re playing hide-and-go-seek with Mandy in the supply room.”

“Which would you rather?” Drew said, and continued on down the hall, not bothering to wait for Ryan’s answer.

Vicky, hands down. Ryan frowned. Now
that
was a problem.

He donned the gloves and raised the hood over his head. If Drew was back with glasses, then that must mean Elliot and Jennifer had finished their wine-tasting session and were free agents. Which meant getting into their cabin would have to wait. Well, that still left three other couples who were otherwise occupied for a while. He shoved his hands in the coat pockets, and was surprised when he felt something hard in one of them. He grinned as he pulled out a pair of goggles. Damn, Drew was good.