Secret North: Book 4 of The Wishes Series (6 page)

“If you say so,” I muttered.

“You worked for me for a long time, Bente,” he reminded. “I’m a good boss, am I not?”

“Yes.”

It would’ve been a terrible lie to claim otherwise. Ryan was the fairest of employers, and I had no doubt that he’d make up their lost wages. His current employees obviously thought highly of him too. They were inside clearing the abandoned tables as we spoke.

“You’ll make sure they’re compensated?”

“Everyone will be made whole,” he assured. “And once the tables have been cleared, we’ll be free to continue our date. Do you have any other questions, Miss Denison?”

“A few.”

“I’m listening.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

A frown marred his otherwise perfect face. “I kissed you?”

“Twice.”

“You let me kiss you twice?” he asked. “You must be out of your mind.”

“I’m beginning to think so.” I agreed.

He leaned a tiny bit closer and whispered, “I think we should make it three times. I like odd numbers.”

“That may be so but I don’t like odd men,” I teased, pushing him away.

A woman walked out of Nellie’s and headed toward us. She looked nervous, as if she’d pulled the fire alarm herself. Ryan abandoned his shameless flirting and switched to serious restaurateur mode.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said sheepishly. “We’re ready to close up.”

“I’ll take care of it, Michelle,” he replied, nodding. “Thank you.”

As soon as she was gone, he drew me in close again. “We finally have the place to ourselves,” he said in a deliciously low tone. “It took a little longer than the estimated two minutes but I hope you won’t hold that against me.”

Of all the things I was thinking of holding against him, that wasn’t one of them. Thankfully, I thought better of telling him so.

Ryan reached for my hand and led me back inside. It was strangely reminiscent of old times. I’d always loved Nellie’s when it was empty. It was kind of creepy and extraordinarily quiet. Setting tables before dinner service used to be my favourite time of day.

We wove through the tables, straight back to the power box on the back wall.

Despite the fact that it made no sense, I spent a terrible moment thinking he was going to pull the alarm again. But of course he didn’t. He dimmed the lights instead, casting a golden glow over the entire front of house.

“Privacy and ambience,” he proudly announced, throwing his arms wide. “What more do we need?”

“Music,” I replied seriously. “There’s no ambience without music.”

Ryan’s face fell. “Ah, I don’t think we have any music.”

“You have music, Ryan.” I walked over to the small alcove under the stairs that led up to the mezzanine level. “You actually have a pretty decent sound system. It just doesn’t get used because it’s always so loud in here.”

I switched it on and a sultry voice filled the room, asking if we’d still love her tomorrow.

“I never knew that was there.” He sounded surprised.

“There are probably a lot of things you don’t know.”

“What’s next?”

“You have no ideas?”

His eyes never left mine as I ambled toward him.

“Your co-ordination efforts have been first class so far,” he replied. “I’m happy to let you continue.”

“Hmm….” I turned my head, pretending to check out the room while I thought. “How about a dance floor?”

“Stay right there,” he demanded, pointing at me as he backed away.

He’d ordered me to stay put a few times that night, which spoke volumes. Obviously he knew I should’ve been running in the opposite direction too.

Ryan quickly made a few modifications to the décor by pushing tables and chairs to the far side of the room. “Better?” he asked, turning full circle in the space he’d cleared.

The romantic part of me thought it was the grandest, sweetest gesture in the world. The more sensible part of me considered the bigger picture.

“Ryan, this night is going to cost you a fortune,” I said gravely. “All that lost revenue and –”

“And what?”

I took a long look around the room before replying. “You’ve trashed the joint.”

He stalked toward me. “I’m still ahead.”

“So what happens now?”

His whole body pressed up against me, stealing the air in my lungs. “We dance.”

11. TRUST

Ryan

Most girls can’t dance – they just think they can.

Bente Denison was the exception to the rule. It wasn’t the awkward shuffle I was used to. The girl had skill, never missing a step as we danced around the space I’d cleared.

She craned her neck, looking up at me. “Where did you learn to waltz?”

“Private school.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you went to an all-boy school.”

The mere fact that she remembered such a trivial detail made me smile. “I did.” I lifted her hand above her head and slowly twirled her. “Dance classes were quite awkward at times.”

She laughed and I drew her back in close. I freaking loved her laugh. Like her voice, it was rich, velvet and sultry. “What about you? Where did your dancing prowess come from?”

“
Dirty Dancing
,” she replied, still smiling. “The movie, not the act.”

“You learned to dance by watching a movie?”

“No, but that was my inspiration. As soon as I saw it, I made my mom sign me up for dance classes. I think I was about ten.”

I tightened my hold, stepped forward and dipped her backwards. “That must’ve been some movie, Bente.”

The low light caught her face, highlighting her gorgeous features perfectly. “You haven’t seen it?” I shook my head. “Well that is a tragedy, Mr Décarie.” She stretched out the words in a sexy drawl. If journalism didn’t work out for her, she’d make a great phone sex operator. Unlike the Animal slip, I managed to hold off saying this out loud.

“You’ll have to show me
Dirty Dancing
some time.” I righted her and drew her back in. “The act, not the movie.”

Her body melted against mine. Our stance was no longer technically correct for waltzing, but perfect in other ways. Bente moved slowly, running both hands up my upper arms before linking her hands around my neck. “I’m not sure you’d handle it, Ryan.”

“Bente, are you flirting with me?” I asked. “Because if you are, we’re no longer in the realm of casual dating.”

“No, I’m waltzing.”

The girl was not waltzing. She was all hips and hooded eyes.

I broke her hold and positioned her in a way I definitely didn’t want her. “Partners stand six inches apart. Chin up.” I tilted her face. “The connection is through the hands, wrists and fingers, not the hips.” I doubted she was buying this. I liked her hips. There was no denying it. “If all-boy schools taught your version of the waltz, there would be mass confusion among the students.”

Her head fell back as she laughed and I desperately wanted to kiss her neck. I tensed my arms instead, holding her in the formal position.

“How about the rumba?” she asked. “Do you know how to rumba?”

“No,” I murmured. “It’s an unpopular style of dance at an all-boy school.”

“I can see why. The rumba is a dance of passion,” she explained, following my lead as I stepped back and to the side.

We weren’t dancing to music any more. I had no idea what was playing in the background. I was too busy following the way her red lips moved as she spoke.

“It’s a very slow, serious flirtation between partners on a dance floor,” she explained. “Like making love with your clothes on.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” I whispered.

She grinned, and I was gone. The pose I’d been struggling to keep disappeared as my hands slipped behind her and travelled south.

“The rumba step is compact and smooth,” she said, making no attempt to escape my wandering hands. “You need to roll your hips, like this.”

“This isn’t your first rumba, is it?” I sounded remarkably composed considering she was grinding against me with every sway of her hips.

She looked up. “Is it your first?”

“One of many firsts for me tonight.”

She suddenly looked deadly serious, leaving me to wonder what I’d said wrong.

“I wish I could trust you, Ryan,” she whispered. “Things would be so different right now.”

There weren’t enough words to reassure her that I wasn’t following my usual catch and conquer program, so I said nothing.

“You’ve been the perfect gentleman.” She patted my chest as if she was praising an obedient dog. “The bad behaviour has come from me.”

“Are you testing me, Bente? Seeing how far I’ll go before –”

“Not testing you,” she interrupted. “Just getting in first. That way I’ll have no one to blame but myself when I’m creeping out of your apartment at four in the morning.”

I dropped my hold on her and took a step back. I could hear the music in the background perfectly now, and found it irritating. I walked toward the stairs to switch it off, but my mouth got the better of me. I turned back midway. “I know I hurt you. I know it today and I knew it five years ago. But things are different now.”

“How?”

“Because I can admit to it.” The words came in a rush as I pushed for understanding. “I was glad when you left New York when you did – so freaking relieved you wouldn’t believe it.”

Her eyes gleamed in the muted light. She muttered some of the obscenities she’d screamed at the cab driver the day before.

“You’re not hearing me,” I said, throwing my arms wide. “I was glad you were gone because that meant I didn’t have to look you in the eye every single day knowing how badly I screwed up. I had no idea how to deal with you.”

“And what about now, Ryan?” she asked quietly. “Are you ready to deal with me now?”

“It doesn’t scare me any more.”

She looked to the ceiling. “What do you want?” She sounded exasperated. “Where do you see this going?”

I made the brave move of approaching her – slowly, in case she decided to throw a chair. “I have no idea; but I don’t want you to sneak out at four in the morning,” I told her. “I want more than that.”

She looked miserable. “You’re so smooth,” she muttered. “It’s like silk in the beginning. It’s the ending that’s rough.”

We stood inches apart, but I held off reaching for her. “It might never end,” I suggested. “For all we know, it could be smooth sailing forever.”

Finally she smiled – not blindingly – but enough to reassure me that I wasn’t in mortal danger. “I just don’t tru –”

I cut her off by wrapping my arms around her and pulling her in close. “You don’t have to trust me,” I said quietly. “You just have to trust yourself. You know things are different. That’s why you’re here.”

I considered kissing her but Bente beat me to it. She stretched up and kissed me instead, really truly kissed me.

“Number three,” she whispered, finally breaking free.

12. INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM

Bente

I listened to my inner voice and then bravely disobeyed it, prepared to accept whatever heartbreak followed. Ryan Décarie was a guilty pleasure – one that I’d never stopped liking, just stopped indulging in because it wasn’t good for me.

I kissed him a few hundred times before we paused for dinner and then a hundred times more when we got back to his apartment.

Being in Ryan’s apartment felt nothing like it had the day before. I wasn’t interested in checking it out. I was more interested in checking him out.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, wandering around the kitchen like he’d lost something.

I stood in the centre of the living room, clutching my tiny purse with both hands. “No, thank you.”

Ryan stopped the aimless drift and rested both hands on the counter. “I freaking adore that dress,” he declared.

I fanned out the bottom of the skirt. “This old thing?” My flippant comment was a sham. His driver had patiently waited outside Ivy’s house for half an hour while I’d pieced my outfit together.

“Actually, it’s more than the dress,” he amended. “I adore you in my apartment, in that dress.”

I wasn’t sure how I’d ended up here. A casual dinner with our nieces had somehow transitioned to kissing, lewd dancing and the offer of a nightcap at his place. I had to establish a line I wouldn’t cross, and I drew it. “I’m not staying.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I didn’t ask you to.”

I dropped my head, feeling slightly stupid. “No, you didn’t.”

“But if you want to,” he added, ambling toward me, “I have the perfect place to hang that dress.”

His arm slipped around my waist, drawing me close.

“I’m sure you have, but I’m not staying.” Even to my ears, it didn’t sound believable.

His lips brushed mine, spreading unbearable heat through my body. “I’ll call a cab then.”

“Yes, please,” I whispered.