Just Ask (17 page)

“Ryan,” she rasped a moment later, her voice hoarse.

“I didn’t offend you, did I?” She choked again, her blue eyes tearing, and he winced. “I don’t understand it, either, if it helps. I was fairly sure I was straight. This has nothing to do with you.”

She waved a hand, catching her breath as she stared at him for a long, long time. “I don’t think you’re gay or bi or whatever. I think you found what you were missing to make you human.”

Only Samantha could explain it all without using the word love. “And what if I’m not what it takes for
him
to be human?”

“Then you find another piece that fits, just like you would find a company to meet the needs of a different aspect in your portfolio.” She shifted in her seat, again all business and efficiency though her eyes looked a little watery still. “There are seven billion people on this planet. There are many, many someones out there, waiting to help you be human.”

“I’m sorry it wasn’t you.” He was, on so many levels. Loving Samantha would be much easier than loving Ryan.

“Don’t be,” she scoffed. “We’re friends first, and though the sex was wonderful, you don’t make me any more human than I made you.”

That hurt a little, but he deserved it. “What about you, Sam? What do you need to be human?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed and looked tense. “My mom isn’t doing well, and I’m regretting this move to Germany. I can’t move her there, and I can’t seem to get here enough. I love my job, but I’m not focused here or there. I need to somehow come back to the States.”

Jordan nodded. Samantha’s mother had Alzheimer’s, and balancing work and her mother’s needs were an issue. Thank goodness, she made enough to afford the level of care needed to manage her mother’s illness. He’d offered assistance many times, whatever she needed, but Sam was a smart, rich, independent cookie.

Jordan brushed a lock of blonde hair from Sam’s worried face, his hand lingering on her cheek. “Come here,” he whispered.

She slid over and into his arms, her cheek against his chest. So different to hold her than to hold Ryan. “You don’t hate me, do you?”

“No, of course not. I’m a little jealous. Maybe a little hurt that your special someone is a guy. But my self-esteem is strong, and you can’t choose who you love. I know you, too. You didn’t want to be in love in the first place.”

“Yeah.” He kissed her temple, and she settled into him, her soft body comforting. “I did not go to an island to find love.”

They sat together for a long moment, Jordan rubbing her back, wishing the sparks that used to fly would return and ignite. Then his definition of home would be something he knew, not some wild, crazy version of foreign.

“So,” she whispered, sounding so small, nothing like the fierce lioness she reminded him of usually, strong and brave, ready to make the kill. ‘What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s bullshit, Jordan. You
do
know.”

Jordan winced. The lioness had returned. “How can you say that?”

“Because I know you, the business side of you, anyway. You
do
know.”

He knew. For her to be so cock-sure, so steadfast in her belief in him and his decision-making skills made him…wary. But maybe a little relieved, too. “What if what I want is crazy as all fuck?”

Samantha laughed—fucking laughed—like a possessed hyena, with not one shred of gentle femininity. She snorted and wiped her eyes after a moment. “
You
think you’re sane. You, Jordan Hill. Sane.”

“Well, yeah.” Wasn’t he?

“Oh, Jordan.” She sighed, her smile a touch sad. “Buying Tremacorp wasn’t crazy? Or that deal you did last year with the Chinese? That wasn’t fucked up?”

“No?” Okay, maybe to someone with no money, it was fucking crazy to buy two broken, bleeding out companies valued at way too much on gut feeling alone to turn them around into multi-billion dollar deals. But it didn’t seem so crazy to him. It was his world, his pool, and he knew where he could leap big and where to stick to the shallow end. “Okay, maybe.”

“Definitely.” She shook her head. “That’s why you’re richer than Midas, because you are fucking insane and no one knows where the hell your enlightenment comes from, but they all want a piece of that.”

“I’m not
that
crazy.”

“You
are
that crazy, Jordan, but in the best way, and I love you for that. You are one crazy, impulsive man in the business world.” She smiled, the love in her eyes evident now that Jordan let himself see. Love that was so different than what he’d seen in Ryan’s eyes that last time. “You’re just really careful when it comes to living. Way too careful.”

Maybe he
was
too careful. Maybe it was time to jump into the deep end of the living pool, off the rocks like Ryan had done, first time out. He looked down at Sam and decided to see if crazy could float. “How much notice do you have to give your job?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. Why?”

“How would you like to come back to New York and be me?”

She sucked in a breath, the wheels in her mind turning furiously. “I can’t ditch my job in Germany for a one week thing.”

“I’m serious.” He needed this. But he couldn’t just stop his life as he knew it and leave. It was way too radical for him and made him sweat bullets. But if he eased out of his life, made a transition, had an exit plan, maybe it would work and not make him panic. “Would you do it if no matter what, you could keep the job? So if it the island life doesn’t work out, you could still work with me.”

Her berry lips pursed with dismay. “You want to work with me? We’ve discussed this before and decided we’d kill each other.”

Yes, they would kill each other, probably in a raging bloody battle, too. That was probably another reason why a relationship more than casual sex and friendship hadn’t worked for them. They were too much alike in a lot of ways. But Jordan trusted Sam to make the right decisions because they
were
alike. It was high time he started doling out the projects, handing over the responsibilities. It would reduce his stress level immensely.

“I’m serious, Sam. I’ll make it work, and if it doesn’t, I can work from a different location. Tokyo, maybe.”

He loved Tokyo a lot more than he liked Manhattan. Hell, why not? If he could move to Fiji, then he could easily move to Tokyo. And if he didn’t like it, he could move. He had enough money. He could live in a tree house in Kenya with giraffes as pets if he wanted to.

“You sure?” she asked, hope creeping into her voice.

“No matter what happens, I need a change.” Jordan nodded, very sure. “Tokyo should give you enough distance to be the office lioness.”

For some reason, having an exit plan made going back to Bendura that much easier. It made him stronger, less terrified, because his idea wasn’t looking quite so crazy at this point, just difficult. But what in life that was really good was easy?

But Sam needed a nudge. He leaned in and smoothed the hair from her forehead. “Think how much this would help your mom. You could be here, for her, and not be so stressed. You don’t need to work eighty-hour weeks, either. Just go to the office, make sure Hill Ltd. doesn’t implode. Twenty-five, thirty hours tops. I’ll do my end in Fiji for the time being.”

Samantha’s blue eyes grew wider, as if she, too, were questioning her sanity, but her smile was broad and grateful. “Yes, I’ll come home to be you.” She hugged him tight, a laugh bursting from her lips.

But then she sat up and met his gaze, hers stern and commanding. “I’ll do this only if you promise me you’ll go to your island and not be an ass. You go, be human, and tell Ryan exactly what you told me, and then some. None of this boardroom smoke and mirrors shit you’re so good at.”

God, he was going to miss her. “Would you come visit? I’ll show you the waterfall, and you can ride Ryan’s horses. Snorkel naked.”

“Horses, a waterfall, and naked snorkeling?” Her eyes took on a wicked gleam. “Maybe I will visit.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“I love you, Jordan. I’m so happy you’re going to finally live your life. Blake would be so proud.”

“I love you, too.” Jordan smiled as he hugged her closer. Admitting his love for her hadn’t been that hard. Actually, it felt really good. How would it feel to tell Ryan the same thing? “Blake is probably jumping like a fool up on cloud nine.”

For the first time since he’d been home, in New York, he felt at peace. Probably because he realized where home was for him. He had to go back to Bendura and Ryan and rebuild that same peace. If Ryan still wanted him.

Chapter Eleven

Ryan sighed as he fucked up the account sheet again, for the fifth time. The stable office wasn’t even toasty, seeing the air conditioner was churning along in the window, so he couldn’t blame the heat.

Every time he started in, something would happen to drag his thoughts off on a tangent. The date at the top of the screen reminded him that Jordan had been gone two weeks with no word. The Murphy’s name dredged up memories of that first ride out to the waterfall, which led to memories of the second trip, which led to more memories that fucked royally with columns of numbers.

So many memories of Jordan for such a short amount of time. Running naked down the beach. Laughing as they rode, snorkeled. Making love on the rocks, feeling so complete and one with Jordan right before he bolted with his tail between his legs. Granted, Ryan had let him. Hell, he’d done everything but shove him out the door, telling Jordan not to let it hit him in the ass on the way out.

But Jordan had to make this decision on his own. Ryan remembered well the panic he’d felt before moving to Bendura. It was scary as shit to shift your life half way around the world to a land of spotty cell service and blistering summer heat every day. Jordan’s decisions were greater, though, because he’d have to go against his business sense if he were to call Bendura home.

Never mind what it must be like for Jordan to realize he was at a sexual crossroads. That right there was messed up enough for a guy with his act together. Not that Jordan didn’t have his act together—he did. But Ryan sensed that all of these little things were enough to break any strong, sturdy camel’s back just by floating over it. No straws needed.

There was a knock at the door and Ryan sighed. “It’s open.” He didn’t look up, because he’d finally gotten a hold of these fucking numbers, and he had to finish. “Give me a minute, please.”

Whoever entered sat in the chair desk side, and Ryan caught a hint of familiar cologne mixed with something…tantalizing. He glanced up and blinked.

Jordan sat in that chair, his ankle crossed over his bare knee right below his khaki shorts, sandals on his feet, his blue Hawaiian shirt obnoxious as hell. So handsome yet pale again, maybe a little thinner, definitely tense, though he tried to hide it.

“Holy shit.” Not exactly what Ryan dreamed he’d say, and he’d gone through the gamut of first lines over the past two weeks. Holy shit wasn’t one of them.

Jordan laughed. “Holy shit to you, too.”

“You surprised me this time.”

“I didn’t go through the hotel.”

“No?” He must not have, because Ryan had again asked for them to call over if Jordan made arrangements. He’d wanted to be prepared for this meeting, to be calm, cool, and collected when he signed away his end of paradise while inside he’d want to die a quick, painless death. He was greedy, wanting the guy and the island. He’d pay for being greedy.

“No.” Jordan left it at that. “We have a lot to discuss.”

“Yes.” Ryan swallowed, his throat feeling about two centimeters wide.

Jordan tossed a folder on his desk in front of him, filled with paperwork that made Ryan’s stomach bottom out and sink. He was selling. Karma was a bitch.

Ryan averted his gaze from Jordan’s. He tugged the file closer, opening it with a finger, afraid to read in black and white the words that would end his dream. He scanned, ignoring the lawyer mumbo-jumbo to get to the good stuff, and then his breath caught.

No, Jordan was fucking crazy. He re-read the important paragraph, his stomach flipping over, wallowing in some weird, giddy emotion that still made him want to barf.

“You want to sell me your half of Bendura for…” Ryan read that line again and snapped his gaze of disbelief to Jordan’s, calm and steady. “I think you’re missing a zero or three. Four or five, actually.”

“No, that’s the right amount, ballpark. I’m willing to negotiate.” Jordan shifted. “I didn’t know what number to put there, and that will depend on something else that you’ll dictate.”

“Okay.” Ryan knew this was too good to be true.

Jordan settled back in his chair, looking every inch the haggling businessman despite the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt. “You told me I had to buy something for myself, as part of the challenge. Artwork or something. I know what I want to buy.”

Jordan was definitely insistent. Ryan frowned and studied the contract again, looking for hints. “My painting isn’t for sale.”

“I want Brownie.”

“Brownie.” Ryan lifted his head and stared blankly at Jordan. His mind refused to process anything except the fact that Jordan was crazy. Jordan had gone home infected with some tropical disease that made him return to spout off insane things.

“Brownie, the horse?” Jordan prompted. “I don’t know how much he’s worth, but I figure that amount should buy you a replacement and cover the costs to ship it from Texas. If not, I can pay more, and that’s what we’ll use as the number for the Bendura sale.”

Definitely a tropical disease. “You’re selling me your share of Bendura for the price of a horse.”

“If you agree, yes.” Jordan nodded as if they were talking cool millions and mutual funds. “I like Brownie and I missed him while I was gone. He’d be something I bought for me, and I don’t want to sell him. I don’t think horses make good investments, so he meets all of the requirements of your challenge.”