Challenging Andie (5 page)

“Is this her?”

Ryan walked over and took the picture out of her hands. “Yes, that’s us a couple of years ago.” A fond smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he looked down at it. “She’d just finished her exams. We were celebrating.”

A stab of jealousy pierced Andie. “She won’t mind you bringing a friend here?” She meant woman friend, but managed to avoid saying it.

Ryan frowned at her. “Why would she?” He replaced the frame on the mantelpiece again. “Bri’s always happy to share.”

Happy to share?
Was he serious? No woman alive was happy to share. Any man who even thought… Andie crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not happy to share. I bet she isn’t either. Anyway, we won’t be going there, so I guess it doesn’t matter.” She looked away, annoyed for actually caring just how he led his life.

Ryan tilted her face up to his. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“If you care about someone…” Andie started.

“Oh, Christ!” A huge smile transformed Ryan’s face. “You think I’m talking about the two of you sharing me? That’s…”

Andie felt her mouth tighten.

Ryan’s smile died. “I’m not laughing at you. I only ever have one lover at a time. Before you say anything else, I guess I better tell you right now that Brianne is my younger sister.”

Chapter Three

An ache bloomed in Andie’s chest.
A sister
. Ryan had a family. Something she didn’t have any longer. Pain lanced through Andie as reality came rushing back in like the tide. After the car ride, she’d still felt sort of disconnected. Like the moment she woke from sleep in the morning and the ghost of dreams still held her in their grip. Before she had to face the cold fact that all of her family was dead. She was alone.

“Andie?”

Ryan’s hand curled over her shoulder, the heat of his palm a welcome link with humanity. He was so close she could see flecks of gold in his emerald eyes.

Andie breathed in the scent of sandalwood.

Awareness of the room faded. Time slowed then stopped, stilling her focus. Andie’s sorrow shifted, replaced with a calm that soothed. Awareness prickled with a long look at his mouth, spiked with each racing heartbeat. Moving closer, Andie pressed her lips to his.

As if knowing the route, eager hands clambered up the rock face of his firm chest. Crested the shoulders covered in soft cotton, and linked behind his neck.

With a sigh signaling surrender, Ryan responded.

The press of warm lips against hers wove a spell of wonder. Of
rightness
. Andie’d been kissed before, but never like this.

It wasn’t enough.

Andie kissed him fiercely, desperate to replace the sadness swirling inside with new, intoxicating sensations. One step and their torsos touched. The sundress was too flimsy to wear a bra, and her chest tingled at the contact. Her head swam with the awareness that two light layers of cotton formed the only barrier between their bodies.

She pulled in a shaky breath, feeling light and giddy. Out of control.

A hand gripped her shoulder.

Ryan pulled back, breathing heavily. “We better slow this down…”

Andie came to her senses as if suddenly drenched by a splash of freezing water.

What was she doing
,
throwing herself at this man?
Kissing him like her life depended on the press of his mouth against hers?
She was never out of control.
Never
. Her few boyfriends had never awakened such a well of passion. It must be the circumstances. She was upset, thrown out of her usual life by recent events. Otherwise she would never act so recklessly. Andie’s hands fell to her sides.

“I’m sorry.” She took a step away. Needing distance.

Ryan’s eyebrows pulled together into a frown. His lips parted, and his chest rose and fell in an irregular rhythm.

It was scant comfort that at least she wasn’t alone in this maelstrom of passion.

A shiver chased up her spine.

Ryan cleared his throat. “You’re cold.”

Andie nodded.

“I’ll get one of Brianne’s sweaters.” As if he couldn’t get away quickly enough, Ryan turned and walked away.

Alone, reality hit with the force of a truck slamming into her body while crossing a road.

Her mother
.

Reporters were clustered around her home, because there was news. In the last few passionate minutes, she hadn’t even wondered what that news might be. Had avoided reality with stolen moments in Ryan’s arms. The thought filled her with self-loathing.

*****

In Brianne’s bedroom, Ryan pulled open the drawers and slammed them shut with unnecessary force until he found the one holding sweaters.

Jeez, Bri’s stuff was a mess. Clothes were rammed in the drawers willy-nilly, making them damn near impossible to close. He couldn’t even identify what she had in there.

After spending frustrating minutes pulling one garment after another from the bottom drawer, he lost it, pulled the whole damn lot out and threw them onto the bed. Turning his attention to the fabric rainbow, he carefully folded each one in turn. Put the red ones together in a pile, then the peacock blue, and took the one, black item that his colorful sister seemed to possess, and put it aside.

He didn’t want to go back down there. Didn’t want to be in the same room with Andie while his emotions ricocheted around like a bullet in a bunker. Slowly, he stacked the folded sweaters back into the drawer. His hands were shaking.

Job done, he slid the drawer shut and sank onto the bed.
Andie’d kissed him, and he kissed her right back.

Ryan lowered his head into his hands and groaned aloud.

The ring of a cell phone pulled him back to the present.

“Hello?”

“Ry, why didn’t you call and tell me you were in the country? What’s going on? You’re plastered all over the news. With that girl…” Brianne’s voice was high and breathy. “Are you okay?”

“I was going to call you.” The lie tasted ashen. He’d hoped to be back to Bekostan without alerting Brianne. “I’m fine. We drove into a press ambush, that’s why I needed the cottage.”

“So she’s with you? Andie Harte?”

“Yes. What are they saying on TV?” He breathed in and held it, hoping to hell Emily’s body hadn’t been found. Andie had had enough shocks for one day, the last thing she needed was more bad news.

“They’ve found a body.”

Ryan closed his eyes. His hands clenched into fists.

“They have to do tests …” Brianne’s voice trailed off. “I’m sorry, Ryan, I know she was a friend.” A moment’s hesitation, then Brianne continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “The body was badly charred. Unrecognizable. It may turn out not to be her.”

“It’s her.” A rock settled in his stomach. “The press wouldn’t be going so crazy if they weren’t sure. There must be more information they haven’t released to the general public yet.”

There was always stuff that didn’t make it as far as the front pages, or the TV. Stories of the painful present and bleak future that were deemed un-newsworthy. These were the stories that consumed Emily Harte. She had been committed to revealing the truth about the regime that ruled Bekostan. In two years, she’d done more than any other correspondent to shine the torch of truth into dark corners even her own network avoided.

She’d been brave and compassionate. A damned fine reporter.

Ryan felt the pressure in his back teeth as his jaw clenched and consciously relaxed his mouth. When he returned to Bekostan he had work to do. Emily’s work. The most important thing on the agenda was to follow up where she’d left off. He would do the interview in her stead, and show the world that the rebel leader was not a man to be feared, but rather a wise and caring man, who, with the support of the international community, could be the salvation of his country.

There was a noise from downstairs.

“I have to go, Bri, I’ll call you later.” Ryan scooped up the sweater and headed for the stairs.

Andie stood in front of the television, staring at the screen. Ryan took the remote control and paused the feed.

“We’re…”

Onscreen was a frozen image of them both captured earlier. Despite the protective arm that curled around her shoulders, fear was evident in Andie’s pale face and panicked eyes. His snapshot self glared at the cameras like a lion defending a kill.

“What else did you see?”

“Nothing, just our arrival at the house…”

Ryan eased her down onto the sofa. “We need to talk.”

Her gaze flickered up, eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“They’ve found your mother’s body.”

At the words, her face crumpled. Dark eyelashes blinked rapidly. After a few moments struggling for composure, she took a deep breath. “Tell me.”

Ryan passed on the Brianne’s news, watching pain bloom in her expressive eyes. “Do you want to watch it?” he asked carefully.

“I think…yes.” She clasped his hand.

Ryan clenched his teeth to avoid reacting to the flash of electricity that shot through him at the contact. He breathed in deep as the whole rotten business was played out in Technicolor.

Just as he feared, they pulled no punches, even showing footage of the charred body briefly. Fragments of scorched white shirt and blue jeans smeared with blood could have belonged to anybody, but he recognized the colorful woven belt as Emily’s. His friend lay dead on the street, and he felt no pain, just a deadened numbness.

Andie started to cry.

Scores of times he’d been in the midst of horror, reported dispassionately on tragedy while all around families howled and wept for the loss of their loved ones. This time, detachment was impossible as Andie’s soft sobs pierced his veneer, jumpstarting the urge to comfort. He snaked an arm around her shoulder and held on tight.

The footage switched to a picture of him and Andie together, the newsreader intoning Andie had disappeared with ‘war correspondent Ryan Armstrong.’

He held her while she cried. Eventually, when her sobs subsided, Ryan fetched a tissue which she dabbed her eyes with, automatically, as if tears were an everyday reality for her these days. “What do we do now?” Her voice wavered. “I suppose I’ll have to contact the foreign office, identify the remains…”