1 – Discovery
Heather could hear the clinking of the glasses in the kitchen. Ryan was getting drinks. The evening was young, lovemaking still warming her. After arriving at Ryan’s beautiful Beverly Hills home , things had moved pretty fast. She smiled to think that she’d met Ryan only a couple of days ago.
Well, the word “ met ” doesn’t really describe it. She’d never seen him except on the big screen before the masquerade party, which proved much more exciting than she’d anticipated. An unexpected sexual interlude in the library turned out to be only a warm-up for the hour they’d just spent together in Ryan’s downstairs bedroom. Hot is the only way to describe it. Heather’s cheeks flushed.
Thumbing through Ryan’s upstairs closet she grabbed a denim shirt. Yes, that would do. She could wear it for the moment over her bra and panties. Putting her suit back on would ruin the mood. She giggled to think how professionally she’d dressed to come to Ryan’s home and discuss the painting he’d commissioned. Hanging on the wall between the glass and wood wine cabinets, it would be the centerpiece of his wine cellar.
Turning to check out her looks in the floor mirror across the room, an open desk drawer caught her eye. Glossy photos were stuffed haphazardly with corners sticking out. Interest drew her to the photos. Ryan was a top male star right now. This should be interesting.
A news article was clipped to one of the color photos. The woman with Ryan in the photo was utterly gorgeous. Spain or Latin America came to mind. She had long dark hair, deep brown eyes with long sexy lashes. Immediately, Heather recognized the famous female movie star. The photo may have been at the Academy Awards from the look of the dress. “Christina Levain - Wears Oscar de la Renta On The Red Carpet,” the caption read. It was a floor length satin, flesh-colored strapless gown with huge ruffles at the bottom. It clung suggestively to Christina Levain’s flawless curves.
The words in the article penetrated Heather’s conscious mind, making her feel suddenly dizzy. “Ryan Spencer Blake To Wed Christina Levain ,” the idea ripped her heart out with such sudden, devastating emotion. In less than a second, the thought that it couldn’t be true was eclipsed by the fact that it was in the newspaper, so had to be true.
The photo with the article slipped from her hand. She stared at it, crushed with the realization that Ryan belonged to another woman. Tears streamed down her checks, her hands trying to brush them away. Desperately, she sought escape.
Ryan had put on some music. He’d soon start to wonder where she was. Panic gripped her. She couldn’t face him, unable to describe her emotions. Angry and heartbroken, she couldn’t think right now. Grabbing her clothes, she awkwardly slipped her feet into her pumps and raced to the hall and out the front door without looking back.
Luckily, her driver was still waiting. She didn’t bother to explain her attire, just opened the door and fell into the back seat, sobbing. “Take me home, right now please,” she choked out between sobs. She experienced momentary relief as soon as the Mercedes began to roll away, down the long driveway .
Stupid didn’t begin to describe how she felt. Ryan Spencer Blake was a famous, desirable bachelor. Of course, he would marry Christina Levain . She marveled at how she missed that across all the tabloids. Painting had absorbed her in recent months. It’s a wonder she knew anything going on in the world.
All she could do was cry. There’s no way she could compete with a beauty like Christina, someone who would fit in with Ryan’s life. The hurt was magnified because he’d seduced her, knowing he was already engaged. It was so unfeeling, uncaring.
The passion they’d shared together was the knife that drove the heartache deep within her. It seemed so good, so right. But it was a lie.
2 – Frustration
Ryan wondered what
Heather could hear the clinking of the glasses in the kitchen. Ryan was getting drinks. The evening was young, lovemaking still warming her. After arriving at Ryan’s beautiful Beverly Hills home , things had moved pretty fast. She smiled to think that she’d met Ryan only a couple of days ago.
Well, the word “ met ” doesn’t really describe it. She’d never seen him except on the big screen before the masquerade party, which proved much more exciting than she’d anticipated. An unexpected sexual interlude in the library turned out to be only a warm-up for the hour they’d just spent together in Ryan’s downstairs bedroom. Hot is the only way to describe it. Heather’s cheeks flushed.
Thumbing through Ryan’s upstairs closet she grabbed a denim shirt. Yes, that would do. She could wear it for the moment over her bra and panties. Putting her suit back on would ruin the mood. She giggled to think how professionally she’d dressed to come to Ryan’s home and discuss the painting he’d commissioned. Hanging on the wall between the glass and wood wine cabinets, it would be the centerpiece of his wine cellar.
Turning to check out her looks in the floor mirror across the room, an open desk drawer caught her eye. Glossy photos were stuffed haphazardly with corners sticking out. Interest drew her to the photos. Ryan was a top male star right now. This should be interesting.
A news article was clipped to one of the color photos. The woman with Ryan in the photo was utterly gorgeous. Spain or Latin America came to mind. She had long dark hair, deep brown eyes with long sexy lashes. Immediately, Heather recognized the famous female movie star. The photo may have been at the Academy Awards from the look of the dress. “Christina Levain - Wears Oscar de la Renta On The Red Carpet,” the caption read. It was a floor length satin, flesh-colored strapless gown with huge ruffles at the bottom. It clung suggestively to Christina Levain’s flawless curves.
The words in the article penetrated Heather’s conscious mind, making her feel suddenly dizzy. “Ryan Spencer Blake To Wed Christina Levain ,” the idea ripped her heart out with such sudden, devastating emotion. In less than a second, the thought that it couldn’t be true was eclipsed by the fact that it was in the newspaper, so had to be true.
The photo with the article slipped from her hand. She stared at it, crushed with the realization that Ryan belonged to another woman. Tears streamed down her checks, her hands trying to brush them away. Desperately, she sought escape.
Ryan had put on some music. He’d soon start to wonder where she was. Panic gripped her. She couldn’t face him, unable to describe her emotions. Angry and heartbroken, she couldn’t think right now. Grabbing her clothes, she awkwardly slipped her feet into her pumps and raced to the hall and out the front door without looking back.
Luckily, her driver was still waiting. She didn’t bother to explain her attire, just opened the door and fell into the back seat, sobbing. “Take me home, right now please,” she choked out between sobs. She experienced momentary relief as soon as the Mercedes began to roll away, down the long driveway .
Stupid didn’t begin to describe how she felt. Ryan Spencer Blake was a famous, desirable bachelor. Of course, he would marry Christina Levain . She marveled at how she missed that across all the tabloids. Painting had absorbed her in recent months. It’s a wonder she knew anything going on in the world.
All she could do was cry. There’s no way she could compete with a beauty like Christina, someone who would fit in with Ryan’s life. The hurt was magnified because he’d seduced her, knowing he was already engaged. It was so unfeeling, uncaring.
The passion they’d shared together was the knife that drove the heartache deep within her. It seemed so good, so right. But it was a lie.
2 – Frustration
Ryan wondered what
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