Ryan's Rules. Alison Kelly

must have dozed off because the next thing he knew with any real certainty was that K.C. had fallen asleep and the hesitant light of dawn coloured the room. Stiff from having one leg braced against the wall for balance, he shifted slightly, trying not to disturb K.C., whose head rested against his chest.

      The serenity she reflected in sleep was so at odds with the energy she emitted when awake that Ryan was helpless to stop himself from tracing the arch of her right eyebrow. While K.C.’s features were too elfin to be called classically beautiful, what otherwise might have been called prettiness was enhanced by her gypsy-like colouring, which hinted at mystery and passion. Ryan watched as his palm moved to caress her amber-tinted cheeks; they were softer than anything he’d ever felt.

      When she innocently turned her face deeper into his touch, he cursed both his quickening pulse and his morals, wondering how feelings of pure tenderness could so quickly transform themselves into lust. Had he possessed these feelings with any other woman, nothing would have stopped him from swinging her into his arms, carrying her upstairs and tossing her into his bed. But this was K.C., so once again he mustered a nobility and resolve that must surely have qualified him for sainthood and lifted her gently into his arms.

      Holding his breath as she snuggled closer, he carried her towards her own room, steadfastly determined to ignore the heat coursing through his body and the images burning in his mind.

      * * *

      Kirrily threw back the covers and glared at the digital clock which, despite what the mid-morning sunlight flooding her bedroom was telling her, was showing the time as 6:07 a.m.; her wrist-watch, however, confirmed her worse fears—it was nearly eleven!

      Ryan wasn’t just going to kill her, he was going to submit her to the slowest torture imaginable!

      Shedding herself of the clothes she’d worn out the night before, she tried to recall exactly what she’d done after collapsing like a hysterical idiot all over Ryan. She couldn’t remember unplugging the radio alarm, but obviously she had.

      ‘Great!’ she muttered, shoving her arms into her robe and pulling the waist cord tight enough to rupture several internal organs. ‘As if he isn’t going to be ticked off enough because the invoicing isn’t up to date!’

      For a split second she debated which she needed first—a shower or a cup of coffee. She hurried to the kitchen; showering while the coffee perked would save time.

      ‘God, how could I have been so stupid?’ she roared.

      ‘I’m beginning to think it’s some sort of genetic thing…’

       Ryan!

      She stopped dead as her feet hit the cold slate of the kitchen floor. ‘Wh…what are you doing here?’

      He wiggled the mug he held. ‘Drinking coffee. You want one?’

      She wasn’t sure if her initial reaction to seeing him sitting at the table was shock or horror, but in the face of his calmness confusion was paramount. It was Friday, wasn’t it? Surely she hadn’t slept for over twenty-four hours? No, of course she hadn’t! So why wasn’t he at the office? Forget that! Why wasn’t he asking why she wasn’t at the office, demanding an explanation for her tardiness? Heck, maybe it was Saturday!

      Ryan watched the parade of emotions across K.C.’s face, wondering how she could manage to look both childishly bemused and sexy at the same time. Then he decided that the plunging neckline of her robe and the way it parted as she moved hesitantly towards him was a contributing factor to the sexy part. As was her sleeptousled hair and the way she gnawed at her bottom lip.

      ‘Is today Friday?’ she asked.

      ‘Yep. All day.’ Grinning at her confused expression, he held his coffee-mug towards her. ‘Since you’re up, you want to pour me another?’

       ‘What?’

      ‘Sorry. Could I get you to pour me another cup of coffee, please K.C.?’ She blinked then shook her head as if to clear it. ‘On second thoughts,’ Ryan said, getting to his feet, ‘it’ll be quicker if I get the coffee.’

      ‘OK, Ryan, you win,’ she said.

      He turned back to see her propped against the refrigerator, her arms folded. ‘Win what?’

      ‘If this isn’t The Twilight Zone, how come you’re asking for coffee and not explanations as to why I’m not at work?’

      ‘Because I know why you’re not at work. Want me to pour you one?’

      ‘I want you to explain why you aren’t frothing at the mouth and telling me how irresponsible I am.’

      ‘For what?’

      ‘For sleeping in!’

      ‘You only slept in because I turned off your alarm. It’s hardly your fault’

      She crossed the room in a flash and, heedless of the mug he held, grabbed his shoulder. ‘You unplugged my clock?’

      ‘Hey, watch the coff—’

      ‘Forget the coffee and look at me!’

      He obliged. It was no hardship looking into her wide, dark-lashed green eyes first thing in the morning, even when they were flashing fury and bore evidence of slightly smudged mascara. All in all the effect was disturbingly sexy.

      ‘Why, for God’s sake?’

      ‘Because you were exhausted and needed the sleep.’

      ‘Damn you, Ryan! I’m not a child. I can decide for myself if I need sleep or not; I don’t need your help! I’ve survived on less than three hours’ sleep before and not collapsed from physical exhaustion!’

      Her face was flushed with anger and frustration, but he’d anticipated no less a reaction from her. Kirrily prided herself on being self-reliant and resented unsolicited help from anyone. She resented his help so completely that she never bothered to solicit it; others did so from time to time on her behalf, but since Ryan never revealed as much it was he whom she perceived to be interfering. So be it, he thought; this time her behaviour demanded his intervention whether she liked it or not!

      ‘It wasn’t your physical exhaustion which concerned me, K.C.,’ he said, matching her glare with one of his own. ‘You were an emotional mess