It Started with a Crush.... Melissa McCloneЧитать онлайн книгу.
bell once more before calling it quits.
She pressed the doorbell. A symphony of chimes erupted into a Mozart tune. At least the song sounded like Mozart the third time hearing it.
The door opened slightly. A little gray dog darted out and sniffed her shoes. The pup placed its stubby front paws against her jean-covered calves.
“Off, Cupcake.” The dog ran to the grass in the front yard. A man in navy athletic shorts with a black walking-cast on his right leg stood in the doorway. “She’s harmless.”
The dog might be, but not him.
Ryland James.
Hot. Sexy. Oh, my.
He looked like a total bad boy with his short, brown hair damp and mussed, as if he hadn’t taken time to comb it after he crawled out of bed. Shaving didn’t seem to be part of his morning routine, either. He used to be so clean-cut and all-American, but the dark stubble covering his chin and cheeks gave him an edge. His bare muscular chest glistened as if he’d just finished a workout. He had a tattoo on his right biceps and another on the backside of his left wrist. His tight, underwear model–worthy abs drew her gaze lower. Her mouth went dry.
Lucy forced her gaze up and stared into the hazel eyes that had once fueled her teenage daydreams. His dark lashes seemed even thicker. How was that possible?
The years had been good, very good to him. The guy was more gorgeous than ever with his classically handsome features, ones that had become more defined, almost refined, with age. His nose, however, looked as if it had been broken at least once. Rather than detract from his looks, his nose gave him character, made him appear more … rugged. Manly. Dangerous.
Lucy’s heart thudded against her ribs. “It’s you.”
“I’m me.” His lips curved into a charming smile, sending her already-racing pulse into a mad sprint. “You’re not what I expected to find on my doorstep, but my day’s looking a whole lot better now.”
Her turn. But Lucy found herself tongue-tied. The same way she’d been whenever he was over at her house years ago. Her gaze strayed once again to his amazing abs. Wowza.
“You okay?” he asked.
Remember Connor. She raised her chin. “I was expecting—”
“One of my parents.”
She nodded.
“I was hoping you were here to see me,” he said.
“I am.” The words rushed from her lips like water from Connor’s Super Soaker gun. She couldn’t let nerves get the best of her now that she’d accomplished the first part of her mission and was standing face-to-face with Ryland. “But I thought one of them would answer the door since you’re injured.”
“They would have if they’d been home.” His rich, deep voice, as smooth and warm as a mug of hot cocoa, flowed over her. “I’m Ryland James.”
“I know.”
“That puts me at a disadvantage because I don’t know who you are.”
“I meant, I know you. But it was a long time ago,” she clarified.
His gaze raked over her. “I would remember meeting you.”
Lucy was used to guys hitting on her. She hadn’t expected that from Ryland, but she liked it. Other men’s attention annoyed her. His flirting made her feel attractive and desired.
“Let me take a closer look to see if I can jog my memory,” he said.
The approval in his eyes gave her goose bumps. The good kind, ones she hadn’t felt in a while. She hadn’t wanted to jump back into the dating scene after her divorce two years ago.
“I have seen that pretty smile of yours before,” he continued. “Those sparkling blue eyes, too.”
Oh, boy. Her knees felt wobbly. Tingles filled her stomach.
Stop. She wasn’t back in middle school.
Lucy straightened. The guy hadn’t a clue who she was. Ryland James was a professional athlete. Knowing what to say to women was probably part of their training camp.
“I’m Lucy.” For some odd reason, she sounded husky. She cleared her throat. “Lucy Martin.”
“Lucy.” Lines creased Ryland’s forehead. “Aaron Martin’s little sister?”
She nodded.
“Same smile and blue eyes, but everything else has changed.” Ryland’s gaze ran the length of her again. “Just look at you now.”
She braced herself, waiting to hear how sick she’d been and how ugly she’d looked before her liver transplant.
He grinned. “Little Lucy is all grown up now.”
Little Lucy? She stiffened. His words confused her. She hadn’t been little. Okay, maybe when they first met back in elementary school. But she’d been huge, a bloated whale, and yellow due to jaundice the last time he’d seen her. “It’s been what? Thirteen years since we last saw each other.”
“Thirteen years too long,” he said.
What was going on? Old crushes were supposed to get fat and lose their hair, not get even hotter and appear interested in you. He sounded interested. Unless her imagination was getting the best of her.
No, she knew better when it came to men. “It looks as if life is treating you well. Except for your leg—”
“Foot. Nothing serious.”
“You had surgery.”
“A minor inconvenience, that’s all. Nothing like what you suffered through,” he said. “The liver transplant seems to have done what Aaron hoped it would do. All he ever wanted was for you to be healthy.”
“I am.” She wondered why Aaron would have talked about her illness to Ryland. All they’d cared about were soccer and girls. Well, every other girl in Wicksburg except her. “I take medicine each day and have a monthly blood test, but otherwise I’m the same as everybody else.”
“No, you’re not.” Ryland’s gaze softened. “There’s nothing ordinary about you. Never has been. It sucked that you were sick, but you were always so brave.”
Heat stole up her neck toward her cheeks. Butterflies flapped in her tummy. Her heart …
Whoa-whoa-whoa. Don’t get carried away by a few nice words from a good-looking guy, even if that guy happened to be the former man of her dreams. She’d been a naive kid back then. She’d learned the hard way that people said things they didn’t mean. They lied, even after saying how much they loved you. Lucy squared her shoulders.
Time to get this over with. She handed Ryland the cookies. “These are for you.”
He removed the container’s lid. His brows furrowed. “Cookies?”
Ryland sounded surprised. She bit the inside of her mouth, hoping he liked them. “Chocolate chip.”
“My favorite. Thanks.”
He seemed pleased. Good. “Aaron’s son, Connor, helped me make them. He’s nine and loves soccer. That’s why I’m here. To ask a favor.”
Ryland looked at the cookies, then at her. “I appreciate your honesty. Not many people are so up-front when they want something. Let’s talk inside.”
She hesitated, unsure of the wisdom of going into the house. Once upon a time she’d believed in happily ever after and one true love. But life had taught her those things belonged only in fairy tales. Love and romance were overrated. But Ryland was making her feel things she tried hard not to think about too much—attraction, desire, hope.
But the other part of her, the part that tended to be impulsive and