Ryder's Wife Page 11

  Tilly hid her reaction, but she was secretly pleased. It was comforting to see someone else willing to champion her girl, especially a man who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind.

  Ryder turned, anger still evident in his voice. “Did Casey grow up in the same house with Miles and Erica?”

  Tilly nodded.

  “Then tell me something—how in blazes did she turn out so right and them so wrong? That pair must have been raised on ice water, not milk.”

  “They had each other,” Tilly said. “After Casey’s parents died, she didn’t have much of anyone to baby her. Delaney loved her, but his intentions were focused on giving her the skills to run his empire, and truth be told, Mrs. Deathridge played favorites with the twins.”

  “Casey had you,” Ryder said.

  Tilly nodded. “Yes, that she did.” She handed him a pot filled with the soup she’d just made. “It’s vegetable beef, her favorite.”

  Ryder accepted the offering. “Thanks. Considering the blow Casey took to her mouth, that’s about all she’s going to feel like eating.”

  Tilly let him out the door, then watched as he crossed the courtyard, went up the stairs and into the garage apartment, carrying the hot pot of soup as if it were the crown jewels. When he was safely inside, she stepped back and closed the door. For the first time in weeks, she felt confident that things in this household were about to change for the better.

  Not only did Ryder seem to respect Casey, but it looked as if he were willing to become her protector. However, just to be on the safe side, she might concoct a little potion. It wouldn’t amount to much. Just a few herbs for good luck that she could sprinkle on their doorstep. Not a real spell.

  * * *

  Reclining in a nest of pillows, Casey winced as she reached for the phone, then had to shift the stack of papers in her lap to allow room for the smaller pillows beneath each of her elbows. Even though the accident had caused her to miss a stockholder’s luncheon, it hadn’t taken her long to regroup and bring the business to her.

  At her request, her secretary had sent files on the most pressing issues and left the others that were pending back at the office. With a bowl of Tilly’s soup for sustenance and the knowledge that Ryder was no farther away than the sound of her voice, she set up office in the middle of her bed and began going over the reports in question.

  She read until the pain between her eyebrows grew too sharp to ignore and changed her tactics to returning the phone calls that had come to her office during her absence. It wasn’t any easier. By late afternoon, it felt as if her lip was swollen to twice its normal size and the left side of her jaw was becoming increasingly sore. The last time she’d gotten up to go to the bathroom, she’d groaned at the sight of her face. The abrasion on her cheek was starting to scab, and by tomorrow, she was going to have one heck of a black eye.

  Twice during this time, Ryder had appeared in the doorway. Once he’d frowned at the stack of work in her lap before disappearing without comment. The second time he’d come, the glare on his face was impossible to ignore, yet he’d still maintained a stoic silence about her behavior.

  But the shock of the wreck was beginning to take its toll. Casey was near tears and wishing she could sweep everything off her bed, curl up in a ball beneath the covers and maybe cry herself to sleep. She heard footsteps coming up the outside stairs, then again inside the apartment. It was Ryder. She recognized the rhythm with which he walked.

  He entered her bedroom without knocking just as the phone rang near her elbow. Before she could answer, he had it in his hands.

  “Ruban Enterprises. No, I’m sorry, she is out for the rest of the day. Call 555-4000 and make an appointment with her secretary.”

  He tossed the portable phone completely out of her reach.

  Casey frowned. “Hey! I wasn’t through….”

  “Yes, you are. Besides, I brought you a surprise.”

  Casey sputtered in useless dismay as Ryder swept aside the files on which she’d been working. When he held out his hand, she sighed and took what he offered, using his strength to lever herself to an upright position on the side of the bed, then groaned when her muscles protested.

  “Oh! I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

  “That’s not funny,” Ryder said, and scooped her into his arms before she had time to argue. “Besides, if you think you hurt now, just wait until tomorrow.”

  If it hadn’t been so painful, she might have smiled. “Thank you for such inspiring words of wisdom,” she said, and slid her arm around his neck for balance as he carried her into the living room.

  When he settled her down on the couch, she put her feet up on the footstool and eased herself into a comfortable position.

  “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about,” he said. “By morning, every muscle you have is going to protest. At any rate, you should have been in bed hours ago.”

  “I was in bed,” Casey argued.

  “I meant, alone. Not with a half-ton of papers and that damned phone. If you’d wanted company, you should have let me know. I would have been glad to oblige.”

  When she blushed, Ryder knew he’d gotten his point across.

  Refusing to give him the benefit of seeing how much his words had bothered her, she folded her hands in her lap and looked around the room.

  “So, where’s my surprise?”

  He went to the kitchen, returning moments later with a handful of paper towels and a box he’d taken out of the freezer.

  “What’s this?” Casey asked, as he plopped it in her lap.

  “Popsicles. Assorted flavors. Pick which one you want and I’ll put the others back for later.”

  Her delight was only slightly more than her surprise. “Popsicles? You brought me Popsicles?”

  “They won’t hurt your mouth, I swear. In fact, it’s going to feel pretty darn good on that swollen lip.” He took the box out of her lap and tore open the top like an impatient child who couldn’t wait for permission. “Which one do you want first? The red ones are cherry. The green ones are lime. The orange ones speak for themselves.”

  “I like grape. Are there any grape ones?”

  “Grape it is,” Ryder said, as he peeled the paper from a length of frozen purple ice.

  Casey wrapped a paper towel around the wooden stick and took a lick, then another, then carefully eased her mouth around the end of the Popsicle and sucked gently. Cold, grape-flavored juice ran over her lips, into her mouth and onto her tongue. She closed her eyes, savoring the uniqueness of a childhood treat she hadn’t had in years.

  “Ummm, you were right. It tastes wonderful and doesn’t hurt a bit.”

  Ryder caught himself holding his breath and squeezing the box of Popsicles until one broke inside the box under pressure. If someone had ever tried to tell him that women with black eyes and fat lips were sexy, he would have laughed in their face.

  Unaware of the war waging inside her husband’s conscience, Casey looked up. “Aren’t you having any?”

  Ryder shuddered then blinked. “I’ve had more than enough already,” he muttered, and when someone knocked on the door, was saved from having to explain. “I’ll get it Sit still and eat your Popsicle before it melts.”

  Surprised by the unexpectedness of company, whoever it might be, Casey lifted a hand to her face. “I look so terrible.”

  Ryder’s expression went flat. “I think your priorities got a little confused. Be glad you’re alive to tell the tale.”

  The chill in his voice was only less intimidating than the look he was wearing. At that moment, Casey realized how little she really knew about the man who’d given her his name.

  The knock sounded again and Ryder turned with the Popsicles still in hand and strode to the door, yanking it open with an abrupt, angry motion.

  Outside heat swept inside, causing moisture to condense on the outside of the Popsicle box. Ryder was speechless. It was Eudora and she was clutching at the tail of her skirt with one hand and ho
lding down her freshly done hair with the other as a hot, hasty wind blasted against the wall of the building.

  “Are you going to ask me in, or am I to blow away?” Eudora asked.

  He quickly regained his manners and stepped aside. “Sorry.”

  Eudora stepped over the threshold and into the apartment as if it were an everyday occurrence for her to be visiting the servants’ quarters, when in actuality, she was quite curious as to the accommodations in which Casey had chosen to live.

  The furnishings inside the garage apartment were simple compared to the elegance of the mansion, but to her surprise, the small rooms seemed comfortable…even homey. In fact it reminded her a bit of the first place she and Henry had shared.

  Casey waved from where she was sitting. “Gran! Come in! I’m so glad you…”

  Eudora gasped and clutched a hand to her throat as she walked toward Casey in disbelief.

  “Oh my! Erica said you’d had an accident, but she led me to believe it wasn’t…”

  Eudora stopped talking, aware that whatever else she said was going to make Erica out to be thoughtless and uncaring. And while she silently acknowledged that fact from time to time, she wasn’t willing to admit it aloud. Tears welled as she reached out to touch the side of Casey’s cheek.

  “Sweetheart, your face. Your poor little face. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  Casey shook her head and then winced at the motion. “I’m fine, Gran. Actually, I look worse than I feel.”

  “I doubt that,” Ryder said, and then extended the box toward Eudora. “What’s your pleasure? We have orange, cherry or lime. We’re saving the grape ones for Casey. They’re her favorite.”

  Casey tried not to grin, but the shock on her grandmother’s face was impossible to miss.

  “Excuse me?” Eudora asked, eyeing the box Ryder had thrust beneath her nose.

  “Popsicles. Want one?”

  Casey held hers up to demonstrate, then realized it was melting and stuck it back in her mouth and sucked, rescuing the juice that would have dripped into the paper around the stick.

  “Well, I don’t think…”

  Ryder dangled it under her nose. “Oh, come on, Dora. Have one.”

  When she almost grinned, Ryder knew she was hooked. “You’re real fond of cherry limeade, so I’ll bet you’d like a cherry one, wouldn’t you?”

  Without waiting for her to answer, he took one out of the box, unwrapped it as he’d done for Casey, and handed it to her with a paper towel around the stick to catch the drips.

  “If anyone wants seconds, they’ll be in the freezer.”

  Eudora stared at the icy treat he’d thrust in her hands and then straightened her shoulders, as if bracing herself for the worst. But when she lifted it to her mouth, the taste brought back sweet memories that made her heart ache. By the time she’d regained her sense of self, Ryder had made himself scarce..

  “Well, now,” Eudora said, and leaned back against the sofa cushions. “He’s something, isn’t he?”

  There wasn’t much she could add to what Gran had already said. “Yes, I suppose that he is.”

  “The question then remains, what are you going to do with him for the next twelve months? Somehow, I can’t see him playing chauffeur forever.”

  Eudora ran the Popsicle in her mouth like a straw and sucked up what was melting with a delicate slurp while Casey thought about what Gran had said. What was Ryder going to do for the next twelve months? Even more important, what did she want him to do?

  * * *

  The clock on the bedside table stared back at Casey with an unblinking response. No matter how many times she looked, it seemed that time was standing still. It was midnight, and she’d been in bed for over two hours and had yet to relax enough to sleep. But it wasn’t because she wasn’t tired. She was. In fact, so tired that her bones ached.

  She couldn’t rest because every time she closed her eyes she kept seeing that truck coming out of nowhere—feeling the jarring impact of metal against metal—hearing her own scream cut off by the air bag that inflated in her face.

  She rolled over on her side, then out of frustration, kept scooting until she was out of bed. If she could just get her mind into another channel, maybe she would be able to relax.

  The bedroom door was slightly ajar, and she eased into the narrow opening like a shadow moving through space. Her body felt like one giant bruise, and every step she took was a lesson in endurance. As she started toward the kitchen, the room was suddenly bathed in light. She stifled a sigh. I should have known, she thought.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She turned and then stammered on the apology she’d been about to make. Legs. He had the longest, strongest looking legs she’d ever seen on a man, and they were moving toward her. Casey made herself focus on his face.

  “Uh…I couldn’t sleep.”

  His touch was gentle on her forehead as he felt for a rising temperature.

  “You don’t have a fever,” he said, and cupped her face, peering intently into her eyes and checking for dilated pupils or anything else that would alert him to complications from her head injury.

  But that could change at any minute, Casey told herself, and took a step back.

  “I thought I’d get a drink of water,” she said.

  “I’ll get it for you.” He moved past her and into the small kitchen, sucking up the space and what was left of Casey’s breath.

  Moments later, he thrust a glass into her hands. Ice clinked against the sides as she lifted it to her lips and drank.

  “Better?” he asked, as she handed it back.

  She nodded and turned away. Ryder set the glass down and followed her awkward movements through the room with a thoughtful gaze. This was about more than a restless night. The tension in her posture and on her face was impossible to miss.

  “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

  Startled by his perception, Casey turned and then couldn’t hold the intensity of his gaze.

  “It’s okay,” Ryder said. “Anyone would feel the same.”

  “How do you know so much about what I feel?” she asked.

  “Let’s just say. I’ve been there.”

  “You mean you’ve been in a—”

  He interrupted, and Casey got the impression that it was because he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Want me to sit with you for a while?” When she hesitated, he felt obligated to add, “No strings attached. Just one friend to another, okay?”

  Her legs ached, her head was throbbing, and her eyelids were burning from lack of sleep. Maybe some company would help her to relax.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asked.

  His eyes darkened and his mouth quirked, just enough to make her wonder what he was really thinking.

  “No, ma’am, I don’t mind a bit.”

  “Then, yes, I would like some company. But just for a while, okay?”

  He nodded. “Okay.” He followed her into the bedroom, leaving the door wide open between the two rooms.

  A muscle pulled at the side of her neck and she winced as she started to crawl into bed.

  “Easy,” he said, as he helped her slide into a more comfortable position. “Want me to rub something on those stiff muscles? It might help you relax.”

  “Yes, please,” Casey answered.

  He disappeared into the bathroom and came out moments later with a tube of ointment. Casey’s eyes widened as the bed gave beneath his weight and she rolled over on her side, her heart racing as she bared her shoulder at his request.

  She was stiff and nervous and he felt her resistance to his touch as if he’d invaded her space.

  “Easy…just take it easy,” he coaxed, and laid his palm on the curve of her arm.

  Casey flinched, and then when he began to move, she closed her eyes and let herself go. Gentle. His touch was so gentle. The ointment was a lubricant between his skin and hers, smoothing the way for the pressure of his finger
s as he began to knead at the offending muscle.

  “Oooh, that feels good,” she said with a sigh, settling into the rhythm of his touch.

  Ryder clinched his jaw and tried not to think of what else could be good between them.

  The room became quiet and there was nothing to hear but the slide of skin against skin and the uneven breathing of strangers who just happened to be husband and wife. Several minutes passed and Casey had been lulled into letting down her guard when Ryder spoke.

  “Casey.”

  Her pulse jerked, a little startled by the sound of his voice.

  “What?”

  His fingers curled around her shoulder, his thumb resting at the base of her neck beneath her hair.

  “I’m very glad you’re okay.”

  Breath caught at the back of her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut as tears suddenly seeped out from beneath her lashes.

  “Thank you, Ryder. So am I.”

  “Does your shoulder feel better?”

  Her voice was just above a whisper. “Yes.”

  She heard him putting the lid back on the tube of ointment and felt the bed giving beneath the movement of his body. And then she thought of the loneliness of the night and the fear that kept coming when she closed her eyes, and asked the unforgivable.

  “Ryder?”

  Half on and half off of the bed, he paused. “What?”

  “Would you mind—” She never finished the question.

  “Would I mind what?” he finally asked.

  “Would you mind staying with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

  She couldn’t see it, but a small smile tilted the corner of his mouth as he turned to her in the dark.

  “No. honey, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

  Casey held her breath as the mattress yielded to the greater pressure of his body.

  “Easy does it,” he whispered, and lightly rubbed her arm to let her know that he was there.

  She closed her eyes and so did he, but not for the same reason. Ryder didn’t want to think about the slender indentation of her waist so near his hand, or the gentle flare of hip just below it. He didn’t want to remember the silky feel of her skin beneath his touch, or the way she sounded when she sighed. She had suffered much this day, and didn’t deserve what he was thinking. But as time wore on, he couldn’t get past wishing they were lying in bed for something other than rest.