InHap*pily Ever After (Incidental Happenstance) (44 page)

Lexi
was more pissed than hurt by the time she got home. Her first instinct was to
call her best friend, to bitch to her about what an asshole Ryan was being and
get some sympathy, but she was afraid that she’d let the wrong thing slip and
inadvertently spill that Ryan was harboring animosity toward Dylan. One of the
things that pissed her off the most was that she could see Ryan’s point—at
least in some respects. She’d seen the effect Dylan had on people whenever he
was in a room; besides the fact that he was a huge celebrity, he was a warm and
genuine person, and had a knack of making people feel comfortable as well as
mesmerized in his company. It would be hard for Ryan, or any guy for that
matter, not to feel at least a little less significant in his shadow. But it
certainly wasn’t Dylan’s fault, and she sure as hell didn’t deserve to be
punished for it.

The
wedding thing was a valid point as well, damn it; there would be a lot of
interest in her and Ryan’s wedding that had nothing to do with the bride or
groom; especially if it fell in such close proximity to Dylan and Tia’s own
nuptials. She’d had to deal with people like Candy trying to score invitations
to her wedding and asking if they could sit at Dylan’s table, and because of
her television and tabloid interviews, she’d also been approached by strangers
on the street wanting to know inside scoops about the celebrity couple. But she
knew absolutely that their choice of a wedding date was not meant to intrude on
her own celebration—if they didn’t take advantage of that time window they’d
have to wait nearly another year to get married themselves. 

She
was pulled from her thoughts by the chirp of her phone. She saw Ryan’s number
on the display, and groaned. For a second, she contemplated picking it up, but
then his comment about her still wanting to fuck Dylan brought the anger
bubbling up again. Instead, she poured herself a glass of chardonnay, and ran a
steaming hot bath with lots of smelly bubbles. When Ryan called again, she took
one look at the display and tossed the phone back on the table and sank into
the tub, hoping the combination of hot water and alcohol would loosen her tense
muscles.

Lexi
wasn’t picking up her phone. Ryan was leaving messages and sending texts, but
he was getting no response from either. He was tied up in knots, and he wasn’t
at all sure what he was feeling. Part of him was actually surprised that she
hadn’t been a little more understanding—he’d sort of convinced himself that
she’d see the merit of putting off the ceremony in order to secure a better
future for themselves. He’d known she’d be pissed in the beginning, but he
thought that once she’d had time to think about it, she’d see that it was in
everyone’s best interest. Damn it, he never should have opened up his mouth
about Miller, though—he knew that was a stupid mistake—but shouldn’t she have
seen his jealousy as a compliment instead of a lack of trust? He knew now that
she’d never really cheated on him and he certainly knew that she would never be
anything but loyal to her best friend. But in the back of his mind, if the
situations were reversed and he had the chance to cheat without consequences
for one night, would he do the right thing? And because he had the shadow of a
doubt about himself, he couldn’t help having a shadow about her, as well.

Over
the next few days, he kept calling and texting, and even sent her flowers. He
went to her apartment twice, but her car was not in the lot. She was doing a
great job of avoiding him, and the more she did, the more pissed off he got.

At
least the inquiries about Dylan slowed down. The buzz about their engagement
was dying off a bit—another celebrity going into rehab after a drunken brawl
had taken over the headlines—and his secretary had finally figured out how to
handle the calls that weren’t business related.  He was still amazed that some
of these people had the balls to call him up and ask him to hook them up with
Miller.  They obviously knew that they couldn’t get Dylan directly, what with
him being such a big star and all, but why the hell did everyone think that he
and Miller were best buds?

He
was so pissed off by Tuesday that he went straight to the gym to burn off some
negative energy. He was twelve minutes into a vigorous run on a treadmill when
Tiffany hopped onto the machine beside him. “You look like a man on a mission,”
she smiled. “I think I see smoke coming off your feet.”

Ryan
grunted. “Just making it count,” he said between gasping breaths. He looked
over and saw her leaning on the treadmill next to him in a tight workout outfit
of bright purple and lime green swirls that showed off her smoking hot body
perfectly. Her hair was twisted into a messy ponytail, and she was smiling at
him out of the side of her mouth. He couldn’t help it—he slowed his pace and
smiled back.

“Want
to tell me about it?” she asked sincerely.

“What
do you mean?” he asked.

“It’s
obvious you’re trying to run away from something,” she observed, “but in case
you didn’t notice, you don’t really get anywhere on a treadmill.” She smiled
bigger, her head tilted just slightly, and he could see the sincerity in her
look.

“Nah,
it’s nothing,” he said, smiling back and feeling his spirits slightly lifted.
“Just wondering when you were going to get here—I was getting a head start.”

“Afraid
you can’t keep up with me, huh?” she asked, more than a hint of suggestion in
her voice.

“Oh,
I can keep up with you just fine,” he flirted back. It was harmless, right? And
despite the seeming gallon of sweat soaking his shirt and the fact that his
calf muscles felt as if they’d turned to lead, he felt lighter than he had in a
while. “I like to stay a couple steps ahead, if you want to know the truth.”

She
set up her treadmill and joined him for the rest of his workout, pushing her
pace past his. He laughed, and it felt good. Tiffany was completely neutral
territory for him—she didn’t know anything about his connection to Dylan Miller
or the fact that his life was turning to shit, and he planned to keep it that
way. It was a relief to have someone see
him
; instead of seeing him as a
way to get to Miller. Although, he thought, neutral territory was a bit of an
overstatement. She was beautiful, sexy, and obviously flirting with him, and he
was enjoying the only positive attention he’d gotten in quite some time.
Dangerous territory might be a more accurate statement, but she made him feel
good, damn it; and he deserved it.

“So
you think you can stay a couple steps ahead of me, do you?” she challenged,
cranking up the speed and incline on her treadmill. “We’ll just see about
that.”

Ryan
set his own machine up to her breakneck pace and happily accepted the
challenge.

From
the treadmill they went into the weight room, and he set about impressing her.
He peeled off his shirt and pushed his muscles to the limit, watching her watch
him from the corner of his eye. She was easy to look at as well, her well-toned
body pulsing and flexing beneath the spandex that hugged her impressive curves
in the most tantalizing ways.

“You
take care of yourself, Stallworth,” she said, smirking. “I like that in a man.”

“I
could say the same about you, Miss Truitt,” he replied, adding, “it is
Miss
Truitt, right?”

“Yes,
it is,” she said, her eyes blazing into his.

They
held each other’s gaze for a heartbeat too long, until Tiffany suggested they
hit the pool for some laps. “Do you ever quit?” he smiled, exhausted, but finding
himself more than a little curious about seeing her in a swimsuit.

“What’s
the matter,” she teased. “Afraid you can’t keep up?” And with that, she bolted
toward the locker room, tossing back over her head, “I’ll see you in the
pool…or not. We’ll see if you can handle me.”

Ryan
smiled at her retreating figure and headed toward the men’s locker room to
change into his suit. At this point, he wasn’t at all sure he could keep up
with her, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

His
breath hissed between his teeth when she stepped out of the locker room. Her
suit was a one-piece, but it rode alluringly high on her hips and dangerously
low over her breasts, allowing him a generous view of her creamy cleavage. She
tossed him a flirty look, and dove neatly into the water.

He
really shouldn’t be here right now, and he knew it, but the simple fact that
she was appreciating him for a reason other than his connection to Dylan Miller
was keeping him here. But if he wanted to be honest with himself, that wasn’t entirely
true. She was a beautiful, successful woman, and she was blatantly flirting
with him. That she worked for Truitt Industries, a client for whom his own
company was attempting to secure more business, namely in the international
market, was also a bonus. Although Wes had virtually guaranteed his
partnership, it wouldn’t hurt if he could help to increase the firm’s bottom
line by securing an ‘in’ within Truitt; plus he could almost justify spending
time with Tiffany as part of his “big project.” And if he got to do some
careless flirting along the way, what was the harm in that? He didn’t have to
stand in anybody’s long dark shadow with Tiffany, and he was more than all
right with that part of the situation.

She
swam like she did everything else—effortlessly, and with incredible grace. She
cut through the water like a knife, barely disturbing the surface, gliding like
a mermaid across the length of the pool. Here, no matter how he tried, he
couldn’t match her pace, and when he reached the deep end, breathless and
nearly exhausted, she floated, her head bobbing slightly in the water, smiling
warmly at him.

“OK,
you got me there,” he said. “I’m man enough to admit defeat when I’ve been
bested.”

“Four
years on the high school swim team,” she boasted. “State champs.”

“Football,”
he said, pointing at himself. “Not exactly the same kind of conditioning.”

“Well,”
she said. “I’m glad to know you’re not one of those chauvinistic men who can’t
concede to a woman. The only question now is, are you man enough to let me buy
you a drink?”

The
word ‘chauvinistic’ reminded him of his blow-up with Lexi a few days earlier,
and he realized he hadn’t checked his phone for a message from her since he
left the office. He still couldn’t understand why she was being so goddamned
testy about the whole situation—now that she’d had four days to think about it,
couldn’t she see that postponing the wedding was best for both of them? She’d
been completely ignoring him, and although at first it was more of an
aggravation, now it was really starting to piss him off. She was probably off
hanging out with Tia and Dylan somewhere, soaking up the limelight and basking
in her own quasi-celebrity. She probably couldn’t have cared less that he’d
been waiting on her call. He felt like he was becoming a liability.

“I’m
more than man enough for that,” he smiled slyly. “Would you think it was
chauvinistic of me to insist that I’m buying?”

“There
is a fine line between chauvinistic and chivalrous,” she replied, smiling back,
“but I prefer to consider the latter.” She squeezed water from her hair and
hoisted herself out of the pool with almost no effort. “Give me twenty
minutes,” she said, “and I’ll meet you in the lobby.” He watched droplets of
water drip off her fine ass as she sashayed toward the locker room door.

He
followed her out of the city to a little pub off the beaten path. At first he
was nervous that she’d take him somewhere where lawyers hung out, and he
worried that word would get back to Lexi that he’d been out with another woman.
But then he realized that he had a legitimate reason for being out with her.
Although they hadn’t discussed business at all, nor had he yet questioned the
progress of their newly forming international division, he would at some point,
and he could always pass off being out with her as work.

She
was a regular at the place, which became obvious when she was greeted by name
the minute they walked in. “The usual, Tiff?” the bartender called out as they
found a cozy little booth in the corner, away from the bar.

“Yeah,
thanks, Jimbo!” she called, turning to Ryan. “What’s your pleasure?”

For
the briefest of seconds, an image of Tiffany naked imprinted on Ryan’s mind. He
shook his head slightly, and turned toward the bar. “Gin and tonic, with a
lime—Hendricks if you’ve got it,” he called. The bartender nodded, and he and
Tiffany slipped into the booth.

“So,”
she began, looking down at his hands. “All cleaned up and no wedding ring. How
is it that you’re still single, Ryan?”

He
felt a momentary twinge of guilt and pushed it away. He wasn’t married, so
technically he was still single, and Lexi hadn’t returned his phone calls in
days. He sucked it in, and turned to her. “Work keeps me really busy,” he
answered. “I’m on the verge of making partner at the firm, and I just haven’t
had the time to get married.” Technically, not a lie, he thought to himself.

Their
drinks came, and he squeezed the lime; stirred the clear liquid with the tiny
straw before taking a healthy pull. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground
here. She was obviously attracted to him, and he’d made no attempt to thwart
her advances. She was a client as well, or at least her company was, and he had
reason to keep their relationship on a professional level. Still, he was really
enjoying being himself with her, and he found it too hard to walk away.