Turn The Page (Kissed by A Muse Book 2) (19 page)

Ryan grinned, pleased to suspect that Leigh was the kind of person who deep down, probably still believed in Santa a little- and also because she had just played right into his all too eager hands. ‘You’re not going to spin me a tale about the power of wishing and believing, are you?’

‘Why not?’ Leigh asked. ‘Stranger things have happened, and wishes come true for people all the time- so why not for the man who was kind enough to take in a weary traveller from the cold night air?’

Ryan stirred the eggs again, and then put the flip down. ‘That’s a good point, but I’m still sceptical.’ He turned back to her and drummed his fingertips on the countertop. ‘But in the name of Christmas miracles, I’ll humour you and give Santa a request list…’

Leigh grinned. ‘Let’s hear it then!’

Ryan pretended to think it over. ‘Okay- I want my memory back… by Christmas. I’d like to start the New Year feeling like I belong in the world.’ Leigh’s entire face fell and he had to keep a sly grin in check. Clearly, she’d wanted him to rattle off something that she could have picked up from Wal-Mart.

It’s okay honey I’m gonna make this real easy for you...

‘Oh…’ she glanced over at the toaster, then back at him. ‘What else?’

‘I want you to be less nervous around me- until you go.’ He smiled at her. ‘I’ve been nothing but honest with you Leigh, which means you’re officially the person in the world who knows me better than anyone right now.’ He took a step toward her and rubbed his thumb over her cheek. ‘I don’t want you to be afraid that I’m keeping things from you, or that I only brought you back here to see if I can’t break your rules, okay? So some faith in me would be a wish granted.’

Leigh slumped a little, some of the weight of her face pressing into his palm. ‘Oh Ry… of course. If it means that much to you-’

‘And to prove that-’ he added quickly, stepping into her, a move akin to stepping up to a fireplace. ‘I want you to kiss me. Not just because I’m asking though, because you want to.’ He tilted her stunned face up to his, seeing his own blue eyes reflected in her lenses.

Leigh swallowed. ‘Where do you expect a kiss with me to go?’

Ryan smiled. ‘To another kiss. And then another… ’ He smiled sadly at her. ‘I can’t give you anything but kisses Leigh, and I know you know that. And thanks to this other guy- you can’t offer much up in return.’ He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, breathing her in. ‘But I’m so drawn to you, it’s not even funny and I need to touch you in whatever way I can.’ He opened his eyes. ‘Hold your hand. Cuddle up next to you and read… be with Leigh while I can, because I don’t want to be anywhere else. I know it’s-’

Leigh sighed- and then she moved and suddenly, her hands were on his shoulders, her tiny body was stretched tautly on tiptoe- and lips as soft as rose petals were pressing against his, warm, wet and soft.

Whoa!

Ryan sucked in a shocked breath, feeling drunk on her scent immediately, the sweetness of which overwhelmed even the obnoxious scents of cooking bacon, eggs and salmon as his nerve endings sizzled.  He had never known such a delicate touch, or scent or taste and all three at once overwhelmed him, skipping his heart like fingers fumbling over piano keys. Leigh hadn’t had the chance to eat all morning but he she tasted exactly like honey and butter and syrup and icing sugar and he groaned into her mouth, instantly ravenous.

‘Oh…’ The gentle pressure from Leigh’s pout eased momentarily, and her breathy whisper took its place. ‘Ry…’ hands squeezed his shoulders and then lifted to cup his jaw. ‘Now I want to ask Santa for all sorts of things…’ she giggled and brushed her mouth against his again. ‘You’d look fabulous wearing only a bow…’

Leigh’s words delighted and incinerated him and he slipped the hand from her jaw to the back of her neck, pulling her in for another kiss, unable to bear the absence of her lips and her saucy little remarks at the same time. She sighed and leaned into him, flicking her tongue tauntingly against the pitch in his upper lip and the testosterone within Ryan surged to the surface of every cell, demanding that he respond to her feminine softness by crushing her, but he dug the fingertips of his free hand into the counter top and hung on for dear life, afraid that any sudden movement would lead to him tearing her dress from her body. When her lips parted his, making the kiss juicier, wetter, sweeter and a lot more insistent, a brontide sound began to rumble through his chest and he was fairly sure that the bench was about to crack between his fingers- just as his jeans were about to be challenged by his stiffening erection.

Break it off! Now! If she feels what she’s done to you against that untouched body, then she’s probably going to scream and run!

Ryan knew that his sub-conscious was right, but he moved his lips against hers a little more forcibly anyway, needed to let some of the tension out somewhere and for a moment, the mental image of naked grandmas and burned eggs kept his physical reflexes in check. But when Leigh responded with a wanton sigh and a flick of her tongue against his, the world titled crazily, sending the blood rushing from his head and to his cock. He slanted his mouth against hers once more, like a man trying to inhale as much water as possible before a marathon, and when she gasped and moved to throw her arms around him, he caught her wrists and stepped back, holding her firmly in place.

‘Stop!’ he wheezed out the command, and Leigh’s eyes flew open just before her expression fell.

‘You didn’t…?’

He glared at her. ‘Oh, I did. But if we don’t stop now, I’m going to end up pouring maple syrup over you before feasting… capisce?’

Leigh blinked at him and then smiled shyly, leaning against the toaster only to flinch when it popped. ‘Really?’

‘Best Christmas present ever,’ he said, smiling a smile that was far too elated to be controlled. ‘And I can’t wait to return the favour later when I have some wits about me.’

Leigh rolled her eyes and pulled the toast out of the toaster. ‘You don’t even remember getting any others…’

Ryan stepped behind her and planted a soft kiss on the back of her neck. ‘And I don’t need to- you should feel my heart. I need to be performing now- vibrato like this can’t be learned!’

Leigh giggled. ‘Oh… you…’

‘No.’ Ryan moved her hair over her shoulder and kissed her there as well. ‘You.’

Leigh sighed, and though Ryan was dying to know what that sigh was about, Leigh leaned over and twisted the dial on the radio and ‘Under The Boardwalk’ flooded the house, drowning out all conversation, but not muting the voices inside his head as they cautioned him to walk away before he lost the ability to.

Eighteen

L
eigh had never kissed someone like that before, and the aftershocks ripped through her right through the morning. Oh, she’d been excited for kisses in the past and had even had a few decent ones, but it had been different with Ryan- gentle, deep and fleeting, but more moving than any earthquake could be. Her entire body had reacted to him, clenching tightly, but not tightly enough. She’d needed his hands to sink into her and squeeze, to massage away the nonsensical and possibly imagined aches. She’d needed his fingers rifling through her hair and distracting her from her tingling scalp, and she’d needed his words- his moans and his sighs a maelstrom inside her chest.

But he’d cut it off so quickly, and though she was relieved that he’d proven to be a man of honour, her body felt swollen and stressed and awkward and frustrated after. She tried to lie on his couch and read just to be close to him while he vacuumed the lounge, kitchen and formal dining- in case he got his wits back and decided to grace her lips with his own once more- but then he’d excused himself to go upstairs and clean, and she’d been left alone and twice as frustrated.

If he liked kissing me that much, why hasn’t he done it again? He’s had an hour! Surely the vacuuming is boring enough to warrant a brief respite, yeah?

It was Thursday and apparently, Thursday was $10 all you could eat ribs day at the café that Ryan promoted, and it was always too busy for them to need him drumming up extra business. He’d asked her if she wanted to go see Kathryn Praser, but when he’d called the café for directions, he’d learned that it was closed to the public that morning for a private high-tea, and wouldn’t be open again until the following morning.

Ryan had to work the next morning, and had a gig lined up for the following evening, so they’d decided on going just before lunch and driving back just before sunset. That would give them a window of five hours to drive the forty-five minutes to Toronto and back, leaving them with just three hours to linger in the cafe and hope that the author happened by. It seemed to be a lot of time to wait, but too little for serendipity to be able to synchronise itself with, so Leigh kept positive thoughts close to the forefront of her mind as she updated her blog with a very vague entry about the night she’d had out in Niagara, talking up a lot of parts and leaving out many. As she wrote, Leigh knew that she was ripping her devoted followers off by not disclosing what had happened to her and what she hoped to happen with Kathryn Praser, but strangely, the temptation to spill all was far less intense than she had expected it to be.

Because it’s not Kathryn Praser I’m excited to spend time with, but Ryan! And not because he’s like Ryan, but because I like the Ryan that he is! Oh god… this is a crush now, officially OFFICIALLY! Why did the kiss have to be so good?

But still, though Leigh’s muted enthusiasm over meeting Kathryn Praser was out of character for her and cause for duress- it was Ryan’s nonchalance concerning the whole situation that had her on the back foot. She wanted to know if he was scared or excited, but she didn’t know how to go about asking, and since Ryan had first mentioned wanting to kiss her, Leigh had ceased wanting to discover parallel’s between the Ryan Weaver in her presence, and the Ryan Weaver that she loved so dearly between the pages of her favourite book.

Maybe this Ryan Weaver really had gone over the falls for the love of another woman, but neither of them knew for sure, and Leigh wanted to keep it that way because that way, she’d be able to keep her crush on life support. But if they met Kathryn and discovered that he was the inspiration behind the character, or that the writer was his ex or THE Kylie or knew where to find someone dear to him, then Leigh knew that the sharp blade of reality would sever the connection between them, and she wasn’t ready for that.

And the thing that kept hope flickering like a tiny flame within her heart was that maybe, he was delaying because he wanted to hang onto this reality- to this world that consisted only of them, the stately home and a bushel of squirrels to chase.

Leigh wanted to believe that that was the case, but she knew that she had to prepare herself for the worst. Ryan couldn’t continue on as a passenger in his own life just because she was a fan girl with a skewed sense of reality. Maybe he was the kind of guy who could steal her heart- a diamond in the rough- one in a million- but Leigh was not that one in a million match for him, just a fan who happened to be at the right place at the right time. There were at least 30,000 readers of The Hardest Fall out there who were almost as besotted with him as she was, and thousands of them were probably prettier and more eligible than her too. Ryan could have just as easily latched onto one of them, but he’d ended up with her at his side because Leigh had one thing going for her that heaps of them didn’t- a passport.

I’m here because I’m just fucking crazy enough to chase a fictional character across the world! And clumsy enough to drop an iPad because a guy too hot for me smiled at me, and reckless enough to go back to a strange foreigner’s house! That’s not fate; that’s the bio that my future psychiatrist is going to publish about me! That, or a possible prequel to Misery...

Sick of obsessing, and sick of herself in general, Leigh put down her iPad and set upon exploring the house. She started with the library, assembling a small collection of novels that she hoped to read before she left, then turning to the older books and reading the edition numbers printed inside the covers and whistling, impressed and wanting to shake Imogen’s hand. It was a dream collection, and Leigh had been moved to tears several times for want of it. She’d snapped several photos on her iPad and had uploaded them to her blog, and when people had started liking and commenting, Leigh’s soul had sung.  She’d never been the kind of person who other people ‘got’ but her blog was the one place where she could be herself and be commended for it. She’d sat down then and there and updated her blog with a fresh, almost-honest entry, repeating the story that she’d shared with her mother about the bed and breakfast that she had scored a room at, and promising to share as many pictures as she could, once she had the ‘Innkeeper’s’ permission.

As soon as she’d done that, Leigh had taken the books she’d chosen down the hall to her room and then had arranged them on her bedside table by preference, leaving Lauren Kate’s latest on the top of the pile. Then, she’d unpacked a few essentials, trying to make herself feel at home even though the knowledge that the previous owner of the home had slept in that bed before her made her feel like an intruder. What would Imogen think of Leigh’s presence in her room? In her house? Of Leigh fondling her books, and revealing the story behind Ryan’s name and Imogen’s secret, to him? Of drooling all over the man Imogen had obviously loved, very deeply?

Oh well, we either would have been the best of friends or arch rivals, but she’s gone and we’ll never know, so why should I worry about her feelings on top of everything else?

After Leigh had her room the way she liked it, she had made her way up the stairs and through the rooms up there, humming along to the oldies that were filtering through the house via the kitchen radio. There wasn’t much to see as far as possessions went, because most of the rooms were completely bare, and she gave Ryan’s a wide berth as well. But she loved examining the details that she’d always read about but had never before seen; like shutters, mantels, bay windows with built in seats and especially, the attic with its pull-down ladder and sloped ceilings.

The attic was her favourite room after Ryan’s, and she’d spent an hour in there, poking through boxes of antique toys, old LP’s, Encyclopaedia sets from the turn of the previous century and a big trunk full of moth-chewed clothes that she imagined had been someone’s wedding dowry once for everything within was cream lace- including a veil and a pair of booties. Leigh would have been able to spend days up there but by three o’clock, the glow from the windows had begun to fade to gloom and it had grown too chilly to tolerate without a sweater, so she’d reluctantly left and gone into the tower instead, chewing her lip and wondering if Ryan was trying to torture her on purpose. He’d taken a break from cleaning while she’d been in the attic- she knew that because she’d heard his guitar combined with his velveteen vocals floating up through the attic floor for hours, but he hadn’t come up to hang out with her. And when she’d come downstairs again, determined to corner him in the music room, she’d found it empty. A beat later, the vacuum cleaner started up again, causing her to shoot dirty looks toward his wing. Was he ignoring her on purpose? The thought filled her with hurt and confusion.

If he hated kissing me so much, he could have said so! There are no romantic pretences here! I don’t need to be humoured! Did he just make up that crap about me turning him on too much to scare me off kissing him again? What a jerk!

But then Leigh had entered the tower, and had had to clap her hands over her mouth to hold in the squeal when she was greeted with the beautiful view of suburban Niagara in the grip of fall and under the promise of winter below her. The strip of suburban paradise was framed by the river and the falls not far beyond- where she could see around the oak tree anyway- and was so idyllic that she sniffled wistfully and turned away from it, her heart breaking under the pressure of joy and loss for something she’d never had.

I need to stop taking this man’s existence so personally! Okay so this is his house, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t one day own one just like it! And okay, he’s gorgeous, but if there’s one man that looks like that, there have to be thousands right? There has to be someone for me!

Leigh decided to ask Ryan about the hot tub after that and get back to the shallow, relaxing part of her vacation, but when she neared Ryan’s door, was surprised to see that he was leaning against one of the bed posts with the vacuum cleaner still running at his feet- a vacuum cleaner that he was not using, because he had The Hardest Fall open in his hands and was reading furtively.

Leigh bit her lip, desperate to know what part he was reading to have him frowning so, but the moment felt too private and so, she slipped past silently, sighing for how sexy he looked, all serious and book-wormish like that.

Domestic enough to vacuum… taken in by books enough to stop vacuuming and read instead… dear God, you got the list I wrote for Santa!

The afternoon dragged by, not because Leigh wasn’t enjoying herself, but because she felt like she’d put everything inside her; every thought, every feeling, every damn travel plan and blog post- on hold in anticipation of the kiss that didn’t happen. Ryan finished cleaning, spent another hour in his bedroom reading- with the door closed which made her wonder what he was reading and how he was taking it, and then went outside and started cleaning out the trunk of his car. He brought in his amp, two guitar cases and a few other bits and pieces while she sat on the couch with a Botany book, trying to learn the names of the local fauna, and watched him over the top of it, hoping he wasn’t noticing the way her eyes followed him. When she realised that she could not stop staring and hoping, she groaned and rested the book on her face, wondering if she should just go out for a walk or something.

‘Are you good to go?’ Ryan suddenly asked, lifting the book from her face and peering at her beneath it.

Leigh’s heart immediately began to canter. ‘Go?’ She asked, swallowing and sitting up much too quickly. ‘What do you mean?’

Kiss me, kiss me KISS ME!

‘I’m taking the hint,’ Ryan removed the book, took her hands and pulled her off the couch. ‘And I agree- I’ve already waited too long. I need to start living, right?’

‘What?’ Leigh’s legs were tangling beneath her.

Ryan pointed across the room. ‘The Christmas tree ought to go there. It’ll be December in a few days and since you’re from Australia, getting a real tree could be a fun holiday thing to do, so why not grab one while you’re here?’ He tugged her to her feet and grinned. ‘The lot isn’t far away- we can be back within the hour and maybe grab some dinner on the way…?’

Leigh almost collapsed to the ground and wept when she understood that he wanted to take her shopping- not to his room. But then his invitation took shape and form, and a tingle of excitement ran up her spine. Go shopping for a non-acrylic Christmas tree? That was a very cool, very American thing to do.

‘I love the idea,’ she said honestly, allowing him to pull her toward the front door. ‘Was that why you were cleaning out the trunk of your car?’

‘Yeah, there wouldn’t have been room otherwise. Why…?’ Ryan winked back at her as he handed her her cardigan from the foyer closet. ‘Did you think I was just keeping myself occupied to torture you?’

Leigh scowled at him again. ‘Oh you know what? You are-’ but Ryan swooped into her, silencing her by staring down at her with one incredibly blue-hot gaze.

‘Hanging on by a fucking thread…’ he whispered, touching her lips with his finger and making her shudder with need. His eyes were bright enough to blind her, and the heat emanating off his form told her that this wasn’t a line- he was literally as sweaty and impatient as she was.

‘Then don’t,’ she whispered, lifting her face to his. ‘Why delay what you…?’

Ryan smiled, and Leigh forgot how to talk. ‘I just did four days worth of chores and reading and practice so that I’d have four days to focus on you.’ He wriggled his eyebrows. ‘And focus I shall, by the fire, in a few hours…’ he ran his finger over her chin, down her neck and then rested it against her collarbone. ‘And I think I’m going to start here…’ He lifted his eyes back to hers. ‘Has anyone ever told you that your pulse visibly throbs here when you’re excited?’