Pink Satin

Chapter Two

“Do you have any wine?” Ryan inquired.

“Wine,” Greer echoed. She stared at him blankly until the word finally registered in her fogged brain, and then wandered toward the kitchen and crouched down by the cupboard near the stove. One Christmas, someone had given her a lovely wine rack; the lone bottle resting on its inexpensive side was dusty.

She wiped it clean, searched for a corkscrew, opened the bottle and groped for a wineglass. Her movements were mechanical, her mind functioning at half power. Fear was an intangible thing. It hit in waves, like the ebb and flow of a tide, engulfing her one minute, releasing her the next.

If only she could put a face to The Breather or understand what she could possibly have done to make anyone so obsessively harass her…but she could find nothing, no clue to help her answer that why. She was well liked, successful in her work, had family and friends who loved her. After her divorce, she’d had a rough time, but her world was secure now. Secure, stable, normal-all were qualities she valued. And every single time the phone rang, she felt as if she’d been cut loose from her moorings, as if she were floundering with nothing to hold on to. It had to stop.

Turning, she held a glass of wine out to Ryan, but found he couldn’t very well take it. Both his hands were busy filling a pan with water. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Cooking noodles for tuna casserole. You don’t mind if I putter around a little in your kitchen, do you? Since you’ve already had your dinner?”

“I…no.” Since he had half the ingredients already laid out on her counter, there seemed little else she could say. Her new neighbor had a slight tendency to mow down people in his way. Within seconds, she found herself sitting at the kitchen table with the wineglass in her hand. Rather bewildered, she sipped from it.

Ryan grinned. By the time she took another sip of wine, her hands had stopped trembling. Satisfied, he turned back to the stove. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, but he wasn’t absolutely sure whether he was hungrier for dinner or for the lady in the white cotton robe.

On sight he’d liked her bubbling warmth, her easy humor, the natural confidence that was part of her. That appeal had been strengthened when she’d unconsciously run full tilt into his protective instincts. His new neighbor clearly didn’t approach life via logical, rational thought patterns. If she did, she’d never have let a stranger into her kitchen. And she certainly wouldn’t still be sitting in front of him in that robe.

Ryan was beginning to be very fond of that robe.

The lapels opened just slightly when she moved, revealing a shadow of satin-soft breasts and the promise of more. And earlier, when she walked in, the fabric had parted to reveal slim, long legs to midthigh, give or take the interim covering of a slip. Satin didn’t hide much anyway, and the absolutely hideous color of her slip fascinated him.

Within seconds of meeting her, he’d figured out she was sensitive about that outstanding figure of hers, and she hadn’t wasted any time letting him know she was the girl-next-door kind of neighbor, not fair game.

Fine. Both men and women transmitted sexual available-or-not signals on first meeting. Greer’s choice of signals intrigued him. The neon-colored slip, the motherly neighbor routine, her matter-of-fact mention of Jockey shorts: The message was a blunt Don’t waste your time; this lady’s only interest in bed is sleeping.

The message was interesting.

Particularly since she was the sexiest lady he’d come across in a long time.

Her figure stirred definite temptations, but not exclusively. At thirty-four, Ryan was too old to believe that the allure of a potential lover lay solely in her curves and dimensions. Sleeping partners came in all shapes. The best of lovers brought much more to bed than flesh and bones. And it was Greer’s face that radiated all the promise in the word lover.

Her voice came from deep in her throat, as lazy and sensual as black silk. Her dark, soft eyes and other features were not quite beautiful, yet they were mobile, expressive, feminine. Her hair was brown with sun streaks, the style short and casual, wind-tossed and touchable. That was it, exactly. All of her looked infinitely touchable. She radiated vibrancy, a graceful energy, a woman’s special joy in life.

He couldn’t shake the desire to see her naked, to touch and taste, to see if she was as special as his instincts told him she was.

He glanced fleetingly around the kitchen. Hanging plants were clustered in front of the windows; embroidered pictures hung everywhere. The chair seats were needlepoint, and recipes had been jammed into thick cookbooks on the counter. The walls had been painted a warm, feminine coral, and an overstuffed purse perched on a chair near the door. It was a baking-bread kind of kitchen, as no doubt the lady meant it to be. More unambiguous messages that the lady was a homebody rather than a lustful lover.

Perhaps.

Ryan stirred his concoction on the stove. “Almost ready for another glass of wine?”

“Pardon?” It was certainly past time to stop mulling over her mysterious caller. Greer glanced ruefully down at her empty wineglass. “I believe this was intended for you.”

“Maybe later.” He’d itched to hold her when she’d been so upset, but she’d hardly known him an hour. The wine, at least, had calmed her down, and there was color in her face again. Sinking into the chair across from her, Ryan reached for his plate and the wine bottle. “I seem to have made enough food for two, and I’ll refill your glass…”

“No, thanks. Really.” She’d regained her emotional equilibrium, watching him cook. Actually, what she’d really regained was her sense of humor. He was certainly aggressive about finding the pans, but his knowledge of what to do with them afterward was not so extensive. With her chin perched on her palm, Greer peered at his culinary effort, a sassy grin on her mouth. “Are you absolutely positive that’s edible?”

“I’ll have you know I survived through college on tuna-noodle casserole.”

“‘Surviving’ looks like the applicable word,” Greer teased.

“Now, don’t judge until you’ve tasted.” He speared a small amount on a fork and aimed it at her mouth.

Their eyes met for a fraction of an instant before her lips enclosed the morsel. His were very blue, very warm, and oddly intimate. No man had looked at Greer like that in a very long time.

She swallowed hurriedly, having to remember to taste the bite on the way down. “Have you considered buying a basic cookbook?” she asked sympathetically. “There are some good ones that even beginners can cope with.”

Ryan sighed. “There’s nothing more annoying than a chauvinistic woman,” he mentioned to the ceiling.

“Hey. That wasn’t a sexist comment.” Greer paused. “Although if you had lived in caveman times, I think you’d have done better waving your club around and looking cool while you invented the wheel than fussing around the old cooking fire. I don’t want to imply that mankind would have totally died out from this recipe, but…”

“I’ve tickled my sisters half to death for far less offensive insults than that,” Ryan informed her.

Greer chuckled even as she felt a slight wariness at the reference to tickling. “Luckily, I’ve never had that particular sensitivity,” she said smoothly. “Even my little toes aren’t ticklish-and heaven knows, my older sister used to try.”

Ryan received and acknowledged the tiny warn-off signal. He couldn’t help it if he still wanted her alone for an hour on a king-sized mattress in order to check out her ticklishness personally.

“Are you going to tell me about your crank calls?” he asked abruptly.

“Sure. If you want to hear.”

“I want to hear.” He didn’t want to upset her again by making her talk about it, but she had no choice. Whether or not she appreciated the interference, he wasn’t about to go across the hall and unpack without first getting answers to a few questions. “Exactly how long have you been getting the calls? When did they start? Have you called the police? The phone company?”

Greer smiled and reached over to pat his arm reassuringly. “Why am I getting the impression you think I haven’t handled the problem?” she asked wryly. “Now, I know I made a bad first impression, but I’m twenty-seven years old and have been managing my own life for some time now. Of course I’ve called the police and phone company.”

“And?”

“And nothing. The police were nice, but they take action only if the caller’s potentially dangerous. Mine’s a mere breather. They tactfully referred me to the phone company, which puts breathers in the nuisance category. Nuisance calls just aren’t worth the same attention as abusive or obscene calls.”

“So they haven’t done anything.” Ryan’s eyes darkened.

“They’ve done lots. They changed my number and gave me piles of forms to fill out. For a couple of weeks they even put a tracer on my phone; and they’re extremely sympathetic. But it is silly to get upset, you know. Crank callers, I gather, are like flashers. They get a perverse thrill out of upsetting women, but no one’s getting physically threatened or hurt.”

“Honey…” Ryan started irritably. She’d done her share; he heard that. He’d never had anyone hand him a problem that didn’t have a solution. Mountains were probably put there to climb. And where he grew up, a man didn’t abandon a woman who was seriously afraid and simply hand her some forms.

In the living room, the telephone barely trilled before Ryan leaped out of his chair and lurched for it. Before Greer had the chance to get nervous, he was barking her name from the other room.

“Someone named Daniel,” he growled as he handed her the receiver.

“Dan?” she said. “No, that was my new neighbor.” With the receiver cupped to her ear, Greer smiled into Ryan’s blue eyes, a little startled to see that the dance in them had been replaced by little chips of ice. “Sure, Friday night will be fine…” No problem, she mouthed to Ryan, the caller was a friend.

He stuffed his hands loosely into his jeans pockets, but hovered until she hung up the telephone. After that, he took on the dishes while she made coffee.

An hour later, she was curled in the old wicker rocker, and Ryan, was stretched out on the couch. Tuesday evenings were usually a boring midpoint in the week, but not this one. Greer couldn’t remember feeling as at ease and content in anyone’s company on first meeting.

He was from Maine, he told her, a simple old-fashioned backwoods town not far from the Atlantic coast. He clearly loved the place. Unfortunately, the town offered limited opportunities for a mechanical engineer; he’d worked for six years for one company, but there’d been no hope of further advancement. He was interested in starting his own firm eventually, but he didn’t have the varied experience he needed to do that just yet-and Laughlin had snapped him up after seeing his qualifications, grateful that he was willing to move to North Carolina.

Of the women in his life he said nothing, Greer noted, but the longer she listened to him, the more she was conscious that first impressions were deceiving. His looks weren’t ordinary at all. His eyes often sparkled with fine dry humor; he had an endearing crooked grin; and his body…there was something about that body that reminded her of lumberjacks or shipbuilders. Energy, vitality, the lithe way he moved…he was so clearly a physical man.

For an instant, she could picture him being very physical. A slim, svelte blonde popped into Greer’s imagination. A very sexy lady. A totally naked lady. She suited him very well, Greer mused. In a lover, he would clearly want a physically expressive woman, an uninhibited mate, a boldly sexual match for his own-

Abruptly, she swallowed, feeling a faint heat climb up her cheeks. Behave yourself, Greer. She always analyzed people on first meeting, but she rarely fantasized about their sex lives.

“…enemies?”

Greer blinked awake and rapidly reached for the half-full coffee cup on the table next to her. “Pardon?”

“Have you thought about who might be making those calls to you? What about this Daniel, for instance?”

She had no interest in returning to the upsetting topic of The Breather, but Ryan’s question made her smile. “Daniel wouldn’t swat a mosquito on his brave days. I’ve known him for several months; he’s a very brilliant accountant, but he’s unbelievably shy.”

Ryan gave a private snort. Shy was the easiest game in town to pull off for a man on the make; it immediately aroused a woman’s protective urges.

And a woman’s special vulnerabilities immediately aroused a man’s protective urges. He was having a bad case of that problem, looking at her. Greer was curled up in the chair like a kitten. Barefoot, her hair softly ruffled, her skin clear and smooth and without makeup, a sleepy, vulnerable look in her eyes…she would look very much like that after she’d just made love. His libido stirred restlessly. Moments before, he’d been certain she’d been thinking of a man, and he’d felt a sharp, unexpected surge of jealousy.

“If you’re sure it isn’t Daniel…there must be other men?” he questioned casually.

“Enemies? I have tons of enemies,” Greer said wryly. “I’ve thought about Steve McManus for one-he’s the guy I stole the cat from.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He lived two buildings down the street, left the cat alone for weeks at a time. He knows I took Truce because I left him a note.”

Ryan cleared his throat. “Perhaps you could come up with a more dangerous enemy than that.”

“Now, just because you don’t like cats-”

“It did occur to me that McManus might have been grateful.” Ryan raised his hands defensively at Greer’s look of mock outrage. “Sorry. Of course you’re right. He must hate you for life for stealing his cat, but in the meantime…”

Greer paused thoughtfully. “Well. There’s John. My ex-husband,” she explained. “I couldn’t really call him an enemy, but he wasn’t very happy over the divorce.”

“John,” Ryan echoed irritably. There had to be a reason why he’d never liked that name. “How long have you been divorced?”

“Four years. I still see him on occasion, though.”

“You were married for a long time?”

His questions would have struck her as prying if he weren’t so obviously investigating her crank calls. For months, Greer had worried in private as to who her caller might be. She’d never discussed the problem with her family because she hadn’t wanted to worry them. Ryan was a stranger, but he was also clearly a rational, objective man. And as long as he was willing to listen…

“John and I were married for two years,” Greer admitted hesitantly, and then started talking in a rush, anxious to hear Ryan’s opinion when he understood the relationship. “The thing was, like most psychology majors fresh out of college, I was very good at taking on the misunderstood, the unwanted, the lost souls. John was one of those. Rotten childhood, parents who didn’t care…” Greer bit her lip absently and gave Ryan a small smile. “I was very sure that an understanding woman was all he needed to turn his life around. Only two years later, I wasn’t quite so fresh out of college. Perhaps he was a lost soul, but he was also incurably lazy. And very happy to be taken care of full-time in high style.” She added wearily, “I was still paying off his debts two years after the divorce. It wasn’t the best of times.”

“You think he would call you now-just to harass you?”

“No. But you asked about enemies. I’m trying to give you my best list,” Greer said wryly, then snapped her fingers. “I forgot about Andrew.”

“Who the he-on earth is Andrew?”

Greer’s eyebrows shot up in amusement at the way Ryan’s fingers were suddenly drumming a tattoo on the couch. “My brother-in-law,” she answered mildly. “My sister died six years ago in a traffic accident. Their daughter, Robin, is ten now and a confirmed runaway. Andrew isn’t a bad father, but he’s busy, and Robin’s a little witch at finding clever ways to get his attention. Her favorite trick is to pack a suitcase and cart it across town to me.”

“To you,” Ryan echoed.

Greer nodded. “Andrew always knows where she is, but he does get upset, and we’ve had a few words now and then. I probably do cater to Robin too much, but if he’d give her more of his time…she needs his attention.” Greer’s eyes took on a fierce, protective light, then faded. “Anyway, he’s not too fond of me, but still. In terms of the identity of my breather, I really don’t think…”

Neither did Ryan. Strays cats, stray men, stray children, he thought dismally. Quite a hit list. He glanced down to where the cat had leaped on his stomach and was kneading his shirt, staring up at him with limpid eyes. “You work more with men or women?” he questioned abruptly.

“More with men, I suppose. That must sound strange in the lingerie industry, but it isn’t, really. It’s a business like any other business. Anyway, I’ve worked with everyone there for years.”

Ryan fell silent, pensively stroking the cat until the feline raised his chin with a rumbling purr and Ryan realized what he was doing. His hand dropped abruptly, and he shot Greer a deadpan stare. “You’ve got one hell of a list of enemies, Greer. Sounds to me like you need a permanent bodyguard.”

Greer chuckled, feeling immediate and inexplicable relief. She’d never wanted to believe that either Andrew or John was her caller, but they were the closest she had to suspicious characters in her life. “There’s also the man I beat in a chess tournament in college-”

“God. The hate list is still going on?”

“And I bumped a guy’s fender when I was sixteen.”

“Finally, someone with cause,” Ryan said dryly, and Greer chuckled again. “How about the other men in your life besides this Daniel?” he asked matter-of-factly.

Greer stretched, weary from sitting still for so long. “I go out with a few others, but no one who would do anything like that.”

Ryan made a small sound.

“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately.

“Nothing. I was just thinking…”

“What?” Greer leaned forward intently.

“I don’t want to offend you by being too personal…”

“You won’t,” she assured him.

“Well. Daniel and your other men friends are probably very nice. I’m sure they are, so don’t misunderstand. But if you don’t know them extremely well…” He let his voice trail off. Greer said nothing. Ryan cleared his throat. “You’re sure you know them extremely well?” he asked gravely.

“Well. Hardly their deepest secrets, if that’s what you mean,” Greer answered thoughtfully. “Even so, I’m a long way from a naive high school girl as far as judging character goes. Really, I can’t picture any of them making those calls.”

Fine. He still didn’t know whether she was sleeping with anyone on a regular basis, but Ryan had no right to pursue that subject.

They talked a little longer before he restlessly stood up, apologizing for taking up so much of her evening.

Greer just shook her head, trailing him to the door. “You were awfully kind, listening to me for an entire evening. As a little kid, I wasn’t afraid of the goblins in the night, but I have to admit that lately I’ve been nervous staying alone.”

The thought grew as they reached the door. It was because Ryan had been there that she hadn’t felt nervous. He was a very comforting, understanding, strong kind of man to have as a neighbor. He’d made her feel safer than she’d felt in months. Impulsively, she touched his hand as he pulled open the door. He turned, a question in his eyes.

She stood on tiptoe and swung her arms around his neck in a quick hug. Affection came as naturally to her as breathing, and there was no question that Ryan was a huggable man. She clung to the warmth of his body, more grateful than she could tell him for laying her ghosts to rest that evening. “Thank you again,” she said simply. “And I promise I won’t talk your ear off the next time I see you. I’m hardly in the habit of laying problems on a stranger’s doorstep, honest.”

She smiled, expecting to see his own easy smile in return.

He didn’t smile back. She wasn’t exactly sure what happened. One minute she was smiling affectionately up at him and her arms were slipping down from his shoulders. In the next, he’d captured her arms and his smooth, warm mouth descended on hers with a pressure that was starkly, boldly sexual. All heat, all fire, all such a startling surprise of warm-blooded male… She didn’t pull back; she was too shocked.

Not angry, not distressed. Just shocked. In seconds, he’d realize that she wasn’t responding. This was no teenage boy but a man. And Greer was no longer a frightened girl but a woman who never responded until time and gentleness and trust had won her over. Blunt sexuality no longer frightened her; it simply turned her off.

Only this time something strange was happening. Ryan’s tongue was playing on the seam of her lips, forcing them to part. That smooth, warm tongue slipped inside, touching hers. She could feel the strength of his arms holding her, the warmth of him, an alien rush of…foolish sensations. He wasn’t waiting for a response. He was expecting it, demanding it. And that something strange kept happening, because that sensual rush kept coming, and like a candle, she wanted to burn and melt.

Ryan’s lips rose from hers abruptly. Brusquely, with a trace of roughness, he changed from lover to brother. He tugged the lapels of her robe together and ran a quick hand through her hair as if he were suddenly determined to obliterate the sensual toss of her hair. The kiss might never have been, except that the look in his eyes was fierce, bright and stark with wanting. “You do need a bodyguard,” he said gruffly.

“I… Pardon?”

“Lock your door and keep it locked. Now, Greer.”

He was gone.

Greer was left bewildered and mildly irritated. Exactly what had happened? Surely he hadn’t changed from Jekyll to Hyde simply because she’d demonstrated a little basic human affection?

She glanced at the gold-framed mirror in the hall and saw a woman with tousled hair and no makeup, wearing a threadbare robe. Ryan didn’t strike her as a man who would ever be that desperate.

Men just didn’t jump her, not anymore. A long time ago, Greer had had enough of being wanted for her body, and she knew better than to send out any “available” signals until she knew a man well. She knew she hadn’t sent them out to Ryan, not because she didn’t immediately like him, but because she simply didn’t know him well enough.

For whatever reasons that kiss had happened, it left her unsettled the rest of the night.