Roughing It With Ryan

big rig from the yard there.

As he switched trucks, rain slashed through his clothes, aided by a vicious wind that wouldn’t help him tonight.

She’s okay, Taylor had said, but the devastating possibilities made him go as fast as he dared. South Village was deserted, unusual for the trendy streets, even at this hour. The storm had sent everyone scampering home.

When he finally pulled up in front of the building, his stomach tightened. The huge old oak had indeed hit the roof. And as Taylor had said, just the far east corner, which was both good and bad. Good, because the main structure and all three floors were intact. Bad, because the crash impacted the loft apartment, specifically the bedroom, where according to Taylor, Suzanne was at this very moment. The window was gone, blown out, as well as the entire left half of the front wall, where the tree protruded obscenely.

Ryan squinted past the downpour and squeezed the arm of a worried Taylor, who stood on the porch in a silk lounging robe, looking as absolutely glamorous at one in the morning as she had twelve hours earlier.

“Her bedroom door is blocked,” she said, gripping the edges of her robe tight against the wind, staring through the stormy night to the destroyed window three stories above them. “The way the tree fell, she can’t get out.”

“We’ll get her.”

“Hurry. And Ryan,” she added when he turned away to get to work. “I’m sorry. So sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

“It’ll be okay,” he said. And hoped he could make it so.

His crew went to work, and when the rig ladder had been set parallel to the fallen tree, Ryan started climbing. Rain and wind whipped his face and body, but if he felt unnerved, he could only imagine what poor Suzanne was feeling, and he climbed faster. From below, Rafe directed a spotlight, highlighting Ryan’s way.

When he got to the top, he could understand why Suzanne hadn’t been able to get out. The tree had fallen diagonally across her bedroom, trapping her in the far corner of the room, away from both the blown-out window and the door.

He was at the hole now, but the massive trunk and branches blocked his view. Craning his neck, he tried to see past the dark and the driving rain and all the drenched greenery. He moved from the ladder to the ledge, wedging his body in with the tree.

Still couldn’t see a damn thing. “Suzanne?”

“H-here!”

Hunkering down, he was able to crawl on his belly beneath the trunk, ignoring the sharp branches scratching his arms and back. He slicked the rain from his face, and still couldn’t see her. Where was she?

A sudden female sneeze gave him his answer, and he moved forward until he saw ten toes. Pulling himself up, Ryan squeezed into the cramped little space with her, letting out a pent-up breath because she was here. Alive.

She’d indeed found the one small safe haven available to her, and as he pulled the flashlight from his belt and turned it on, his heart clenched. She was huddled, back to the wall, knees to her chest, her arms wrapped tight around her legs.

Careful of the broken glass, he shifted up to his knees. “Suzanne? You okay?”

Her long hair, wet from the blowing rain, clung to her head and shoulders as she gave him a jerky nod paired with a shudder. She relaxed her position slightly, not huddling quite so tightly.

Her arms and legs gleamed in the glow of the flashlight, bare and also wet. No longer dressed in her long, flowing sundress and crystals, she wore only a tank top and a pair of panties, and even as he looked her over for injuries, trying not to linger on the way the material clung to her breasts or the way her nipples were so clearly defined, she continued to shake. The hem of the tank top didn’t meet her panties, showing him the smooth skin of her belly. It quivered with her every shallow breath, whether from fear or cold, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

Reacting only to the fact she was shaking so violently-probably in shock, damn it-he simply put down the light and pulled her close.

3

SUZANNE DOVE INTO Ryan’s long, strong arms, nearly whimpering in gratitude. Despite the fact he was as wet as she, warmth radiated off his body. She felt like a heat-seeking missile, burrowing close, then closer still, not caring at the moment that she didn’t know him from Adam.

Later she’d worry what he’d thought of her when she crawled up his big, hard body and pressed her face to his throat. Later she’d worry about her less than half-dressed state, or that she’d arched her body to a perfect stranger’s in mindless terror. Later.

But for right now, never more thankful to see another living soul, she just closed her eyes against the storm blasting through the broken window, wrapped her arms around him tight as she could, and held on through the wild tremors that shook her body in uncontrollable waves.

He made a rough sound of wordless comfort and pressed her closer. In spite of the urgency of the situation, she became startlingly aware of him and how he felt plastered to her. And how he felt was…incredible.

The wind continued to blow, bringing in more cold rain and the tinkling sound of glass scattering over the floor. “The glass from the window,” he murmured in her ear, and slipping an arm beneath her, he lifted and turned her so that she lay in his lap, his body hunched over hers, protecting her from the elements the best he could. As a gesture, it was the sweetest one that anyone had ever made for her. But the sweetness contrasted sharply with the decidedly not sweet feelings making themselves known within her.

“Are you cut?” His voice was hoarse with worry, probably because she was staring at him like an idiot-as she sat there realizing her best intentions to stay away from men for their own good were about to fail.

“Suzanne?”

Still shaking-though now she wasn’t sure it was all from the cold-she shook her head.

He cuddled her closer, one hand on her still quivering belly, his face only an inch away. His gaze burned into hers, dark and intense. “Are you sure?”

The shivers had really taken over her body now, so she nodded. Weak with relief and fear, it was about all she could do.

Clearly not willing to take any chances in the dark, he reached for the flashlight on the floor at his hip and ran it over her, looking for himself.

She glanced down and saw what he saw… Her wet, clinging, now thoroughly see-through tank and panties, both of which had risen to levels they shouldn’t have, both of which revealed her in all her unwieldy glory, and she slammed her eyes shut.

“It’s okay,” he whispered roughly, clearly mistaking her movement for fear. Holding her close, he cupped her head in his big hand. “You’re okay. Let’s get you out of here, how does that sound?”

“I-I’ll be f-f-fine.”

“Oh yeah, you will.” Still holding her, he used his free hand to lift a radio to his mouth.

Because her ears seemed to be ringing, she didn’t quite catch the conversation. Exhausted, she set her head on his chest, which allowed her to feel the vibration of his deep voice, and for some reason, it was horribly seductive. He smelled good, her sexy hero. And Lord, he felt good, too.

How had this happened? One moment she’d been in a deep slumber, dead to the world. The next she’d been startled right out of that sleep by the loudest crack of thunder she’d ever heard, followed immediately by another crack, not from Mother Nature this time, but from the tree.

She’d leapt off the mat Taylor had let her borrow, just as the tree crashed through the ceiling and window.

Overwhelmed by the near-miss, a little stunned that she was alive, she’d sat there until she’d heard Taylor’s frantic voice calling for her.

Now she’d been rescued by the man who’d so mesmerized her earlier, the most amazing, strong, sexy man she’d ever laid eyes on.