Roughing It with Ryan. Jill Shalvis

      Right. Climb through the opening and onto the ladder. “Got it.”

      The next flash of lightning, immediately followed by a bone-rattling boom of thunder came so suddenly after the stillness, they both jerked.

      “Oh, God,” she whispered a little tearfully, her heart in her throat. “I really could use that ice cream.”

      “I wish I had some.” The thunder continued to echo around them. “But as far as distraction goes,” he murmured. “I do have this.” Lifting her against him, he surrounded her with his heat, his strength, before closing his mouth over hers.

      Her hands fisted in his hair, looking for balance in a world where there was suddenly none to be had. His kiss was glorious, made more so by the dark of the night, by the wet of the storm, by the lingering fear and adrenaline.

      But then he slowly pulled back. Suzanne just barely managed not to cry out her protest. Through the darkness she could hear his ragged breathing—a ragged breathing that matched her own—as he stared at her and it was all she could do not to yank him back to her. Just as that thought formed in her mind, he lowered his head again, brushing his mouth over hers, almost in a question. She answered by slanting her mouth to better fit his, and then with a grateful, mutual groan, they sank into another wet, hot, long kiss.

      With all that had happened to her already that night, a mere kiss shouldn’t have been able to send more sensation rocketing through her, but that’s exactly what it did. And then he was looking down at her, his breath coming hard and fast, a sort of stunned wonder on his face that she knew matched her own.

      While she stood there, dizzy and weak-kneed and hot-blooded all at the same time, he ran a finger over her jaw, then turned back to the chore of getting them out.

      SUZANNE FIGURED going down the ladder in Ryan’s flapping shirt and little else, being greeted by his crew, a freaked out Taylor and the fire truck that had come to help, would headline her nightmares for some time to come.

      But when it was over, less than an hour had passed since she’d been awakened by the tree hitting her bedroom.

      A horrified Taylor insisted Suzanne share her own second story apartment, which had not been touched by the storm. There was no electricity, but with the flashlight Ryan had given her, she had no trouble seeing Taylor’s bedroom, and the finery in it. The bed was a four poster king that even she, in all her antique ignorance, knew had to be worth a hefty fortune.

      “I know,” Taylor said, her voice husky with exhaustion. “I’m cash poor and asset rich. Stupid, huh? I could sell this stuff and get rid of the nation’s debt.” She looked around, a sadness in her eyes that said there was far more to her story than she’d let on. “After spending so much time searching and buying it all…I just can’t. I love the pieces too much.” She shrugged off the melancholy and shoved what looked like very expensive, very silk pajamas into Suzanne’s hands. “Here, take these things and help yourself to a hot shower. Or I could draw you a bubble bath, if you’d rather.”

      “Oh, no, I—”

      “And while you’re soaking, I’ll fix you a snack—”

      “Taylor—”

      “Do you like cheese and crackers? I have some wine—”

      “Taylor.” She smiled into Taylor’s pensive features. “I’m okay. Really. I’m not going to sue you or anything.”

      Surprising her, Taylor suddenly sagged a little, then grabbed Suzanne close in a fierce bear hug that sucked the oxygen right out of her. “Do you think I care about money?” she asked in a horrified whisper. “My God, you’re my friend and my attempts at cost-cutting nearly got you killed tonight.”

      A little flustered, Suzanne pulled back. “Friend?”

      “We bonded over our singlehood together, didn’t we? Do you think I do that with just anyone?” Abruptly, Taylor turned away. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stared out into the dark, stormy night. “I’m so sorry, Suzanne. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened tonight, for what could have happened.”

      “But I’m okay. Taylor, look at me.” Suzanne held out her arms, still wearing Ryan’s shirt. It smelled like him, and for a moment she remembered exactly what it had felt like to be held by the man who owned that delicious one-hundred-percent male scent. “Not a scratch on me.”

      “Are you going to leave?”

      “Well…it might be hard to live in a loft without a roof.”

      “You can take the apartment next to mine.”

      “That’s very sweet, but these units are twice as big.

      I’m sure I can’t afford it.”

      “You can, because I’m going to give it to you for the same price as the loft. This month free of course, as reimbursement for what happened tonight. Please Suzanne, please stay.”

      The thought of finding another place exhausted her, but she felt as if she was taking advantage of the situation. “Taylor—”

      “It’s important to me. Already you’re important to me.”

      It had been a very long time since someone had wanted her around, really wanted her around. Oh, her family loved her, she was certain. But they didn’t show love easily, if at all. And lately, true to Carter form, she’d followed suit, drifting from one relationship to another, making sure to ruin the men emotionally before she got too attached.

      This strange bond with Taylor threw her because of its immediate depth, and yet it made her feel good at the same time. “Thank you,” she said simply.

      “Is that a yes?”

      “It’s a thank God, yes, I want to stay.” Suzanne let out a sheepish smile. “I don’t really care to see how warm I can get my car right now.”

      Taylor let out a grateful smile, then bustled Suzanne into the shower.

      BY THE TIME Suzanne stepped out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, there was hot cocoa waiting.

      “Don’t get used to this,” Taylor warned. “I’m far more used to being served than being the server.” She slipped into one side of the bed, leaving Suzanne with enough room on her side for a small army.

      Climbing into bed required the last of her depleted energy. She pulled up the silky sheets and weighty blanket, grateful for the warmth. “It would be a shame to sell this bed. It’s so luxurious.”

      “I know, but with it, and all the other antiques I have in storage, I could start the renovations.”

      “Wow, that’s terrific.” Suzanne felt awed by the collector’s spirit, something she’d never personally experienced. Somehow her lifestyle to date made it easier to travel light.

      “It’s been a terribly expensive hobby,” Taylor admitted, fluffing her pillows. “And one I can no longer afford, obviously. But no worries. First thing tomorrow we’ll get you down from the loft and into the apartment next door. Then after Ryan is done with the tree extraction, I’ll start on everything else. I’ll need an architect, a contractor—”

      “Ryan.” Just the sound of his name had Suzanne wide awake again. She’d never again think of him as just the Gorgeous Crazy Tree Guy. He’d become her hero. And as such, a man to avoid at all costs. He was tempting enough to make her forget her vow to remain single and she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she destroyed her hero like she’d destroyed her ex-fiancés. “He’s going to be around then?”

      “All week, I imagine, getting that tree out and the others down.”

      All week. Would he talk to her in that voice of his, the one that said she was the only woman he saw? Would he touch her with those warm, sure hands? Or better yet, would he lean in and put that incredible mouth back on hers…?

      Oh,