by Tiffany Snow
“You have to hold on like this,” Ryker explained, turning his head to talk to me. He let go of my leg to reach up, moving my hands from his shoulders to circle his chest beneath his arms. “And hold on tight.”
I was shaking now, fear—and, yes, a tinge of excitement—making adrenaline rush fast through my veins.
“Scared?” Ryker asked.
“Do I have reason to be?” I asked rather than admit to my fear.
I could feel him laugh, though I couldn’t hear it over the noise.
“Trust me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” The motor revved and I tightened my grip around him.
Glancing at the sidewalk and people passing by, I suddenly saw Parker standing just outside the building entrance. He had an unreadable expression on his face, which wasn’t unusual, but he was staring right at Ryker and me. There was something about the set of his jaw and tension in his body that made me uneasy.
Then the bike was moving and I lost sight of Parker as we shot down the street.
Chapter Two
Riding on the back of a motorcycle was more exhilarating than I could have imagined. I tucked my head against Ryker’s back to shield myself from the wind. The smell of his leather jacket hit me and I took a deep whiff. My arms were locked tight around his chest, which gave me the added bonus of a hands-on (ha-ha) assessment of just how muscled he was. And boy, was he ever.
Eventually the motorcycle slowed, the engine rumbled, and I felt Ryker’s legs go down to steady the bike as we stopped and he turned off the engine. My body still seemed to be vibrating from the ride and I couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off my face.
Turning over his shoulder to look at me, he said, “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”
The last thing Ryker needed was his ego fed, so I raised an eyebrow. “It could’ve been worse.”
He laughed lightly, then held my arm to steady me as I climbed off the back of the bike with as much grace as possible. Way too much thigh, and probably more that I didn’t want to think about, showed before I yanked down my skirt. I unfastened the helmet and handed it back to him.
My hair hadn’t fared so well scrunched inside the helmet, and I could feel that the braid and bun I’d fashioned this morning was now lopsided and falling out. Not really the look I was going for.
While Ryker took off his helmet and situated the bike, I hurriedly unpinned my hair and ran my fingers through it. The braid had given my usually straight hair a bit of a wave, which was nice. By the time Ryker turned around, I was standing there, hands clasped in front of me, waiting.
He stopped. Reaching up, he slowly slid his sunglasses down. Then he just stared at me, a slight look of surprise on his face.
After a moment, I grew very uncomfortable. Was there something on my face? Had another button on my blouse come undone and now I was dancing on the line between sexy and slutty? I patted my skirt as I shifted nervously underneath his scrutiny.
“What?” I finally asked.
Ryker shook his head, hooking his sunglasses on his shirt. “How the hell Parker got a bombshell like you to work for him, I’ll never know.”
I was torn on how to react to that. On one hand, I’d never been called a “bombshell” before and I inwardly preened at the compliment. On the other hand, it still seemed he was insulting Parker, which was not okay with me.
“Listen,” I said, “I get that you and Parker don’t like each other or something, but he’s my boss and, well, you know, if you can’t say something nice…” I let it go at that.
Ryker’s lips twisted. “You’re loyal to him,” he said.
I shrugged. “He’s my boss.” In my opinion, I didn’t need to elaborate. That pretty much said it all.
Ryker studied me a moment longer, then changed the subject. “Let’s eat.”
He took my elbow and steered me toward the door to the place I hadn’t really noticed until now.
It looked like a dive, a bar I’d quickly pass by and make sure not to stare at for too long lest someone I’d rather not tangle with looked back at me. The sign above the door read BLUE STREAK.
“Is this really a place you want to bring a date?” I blurted, glancing up at him.
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked with a frown as he propelled me inside.
My face grew warm and I realized I may have just made a huge faux pas. He was a cop. I knew they didn’t make a lot of money. Maybe this was the kind of place he could afford and I was being all hoity-toity snotty about it.
“N-nothing,” I stammered, quickly trying to backtrack. “It’s fine.” I gave him a weak smile.
The place wasn’t as bad on the inside as the outside looked like it’d be. The tables were heavy, distressed wood and there wasn’t a plastic chair in sight. There were lots of people here, with a higher ratio of men to women. Some were sitting at the bar drinking and watching the Cubs lose on television, while others shot pool at one of the two tables on the other side of the room.
“Hey, Ryker! How’s it going?” A woman approached, smiling and holding two menus.
“Doing good, Rachel,” Ryker said, his face creasing into a warm smile. “You?”
“Can’t complain. Just you two tonight?”
At Ryker’s affirmative, we followed her to a booth by the windows. I slid in and he took the seat opposite me. Rachel handed us the menus.
“Christy will be right over to take your order,” she said.
“You come here a lot?” I asked once Rachel had left.
He shrugged. “Often enough.”
I frowned, a suspicion forming in my head. “Is this a cop bar?”
Ryker grinned. “Gorgeous and smart. That doesn’t happen very often.”
I shot him a look, but I was faking. I decided I could get used to his compliments. But that explained why he’d brought me here—it was obviously a place he felt at home—which made me feel kinda bad about prejudging it.
Christy came by to ask what we wanted to drink. I ordered a glass of white wine, then saw Ryker’s lips twitch again.
“What?” I asked. He didn’t answer, ordering a beer instead, and when Christy walked away, I asked again. “What’s so funny?” I had the sinking sensation that I’d been right after all. Ryker’s asking me out was one big joke to him for reasons I couldn’t fathom.
“You know what? I should just go,” I said, grabbing my purse. I began to slide out of the booth, anxious to get away.
“Don’t leave,” Ryker said, snagging my arm in a tight grip. “It’s nothing, really. You’re just…classier than I’m used to.” He smiled a slow sexy grin that turned my bones to the consistency of warm butter. “I like it.”
I cleared my throat, looking away from the intense blue of his eyes, and set my purse back down. “Well, okay then.” Classier than he was used to. Hmm. I wondered how many women he’d dated to be able to use that phrase.
My attention was immediately diverted when Ryker shrugged out of his leather jacket. The T-shirt he wore fit him like a second skin, stretching tight across his chest and shoulders and leaving nothing to the imagination. His biceps and forearms were traced with veins from working out, leading to strong hands that were work-roughened, his fingers thick and long enough to make me imagine all sorts of inappropriate things. I said a silent prayer of thanks that a twist of fate in my otherwise dull life had afforded me this particular view tonight.
“So how long have you been a secretary, Sage?” he asked.
“Executive administrative assistant,” I mumbled, correcting him automatically. I gave a little sigh and reluctantly lifted my gaze from below his neck. Our eyes met and his lips curved, as if he’d known exactly what I’d been thinking. Heck, he probably had been. No doubt he had women drooling over him constantly.
And he can add me to his list, I thought.
“My mistake. How long have you been an executive administrative assistant?”
“A little over a year,” I replied. “Since I graduated college.”
Ryk
er frowned. “Wait a minute. You have a degree and you’re just—” He caught himself and stopped.
“I’m just a secretary, right?” I finished for him. I shrugged. “I had a hard time finding a job when I got out of school and didn’t want to leave the area. There was a job opening, I needed to pay the bills, so I took it. Turns out I like doing what I do, so I stayed.”
“What’s your degree in?”
“Art History.”
Ryker snorted a laugh just as Christy dropped off our drinks.
“What are you having tonight?” she asked, taking a pad and pen from the apron tied around her waist.
I glanced down at my menu again. “Um, I’ll have the house salad with chicken and the low-fat Italian dressing on the side, please,” I said. Christy wrote that down and turned expectantly to Ryker. “Wait,” I said, and she turned back to me. “Are your tomatoes room temperature or refrigerated?”
She blinked once. “Um, I don’t know. Room temperature, I guess?”
“Oh. Well, that’s all right then. If it comes with croutons, could you leave those off, please? And no onions.” Definitely didn’t want garlic and onion breath tonight.
Christy wrote that down, too, repeating to herself, “No onions…”
I handed her my menu and glanced at Ryker, who was silently observing me again.
“What?” I asked, but he just shook his head.
“You want your usual, Ryker?” Christy asked.
“Yeah, thanks.” He handed her his menu and she left.
“So what does an Art History major do, exactly?” he asked. “I can’t imagine you got that degree just for kicks.”
“No, I didn’t. Ideally, I’d love to work in an art museum, which is why I like Chicago.” And because it was near home. “But it’s really hard to get a job like that. Openings don’t come up very often.”
Ryker considered this. “So a wannabe museum curator, but instead you’re the executive administrative assistant to the great and powerful Parker Anderson.”
“It’s a living,” I said, taking a tentative sip of my wine. It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t great either, but it wasn’t bad. “What about you? Why were you at the office today? Did something happen?” I’d been worrying in the back of my mind all day and knew I’d rest a lot easier if I had some idea of what Ryker and Parker had talked about.
“Just a case I’m working on,” Ryker said. “I thought maybe Parker might be able to…shed some light on it.”
I noticed his entire demeanor changed when he spoke of Parker. His body grew tense and his jaw tightened, the lines of humor around his mouth and eyes fading.
“So you two know each other,” I prompted when he didn’t say anything more.
Ryker’s smile was tight and didn’t touch his eyes. “You could say that.”
I was going to ask more questions, but he spoke again. “Since you’re here with me, I’m assuming you’re not seeing anyone.”
Okay, I confess, my heart sped up a little at that. I felt like I was in high school again. Was the hot, popular guy in the cool crowd interested in me? I fought to keep my voice nonchalant when I replied. “No. Not at the moment. You?”
Ryker leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. “I wasn’t, but I think I am now.”
His eyes were fringed in dark lashes, the blue more intense with him this close, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. Then I processed his words.
Had he just said what I thought he said? My eyes widened as a grin spread slowly on Ryker’s face. My inner cynic was scoffing at how well he’d delivered that line, but my inner princess was preening at the compliment.
“Here you go,” Christy said, setting two plates on the table and interrupting the moment.
I sucked in a breath, my lungs reminding me that air is generally required. I barely noticed my food as I automatically picked up my fork and took a bite of salad.
It turned out Ryker’s “usual” was a double bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries. It smelled divine and I eyed the fries while I chewed a slice of cold cucumber.
“So tell me where you’re from, Sage,” Ryker said. “The life story. The works.”
I liked hearing him say my name. “My life story won’t get us to dessert,” I replied dryly. Ryker laughed, which made me smile, too. “It sounds like your life would be way more interesting,” I said. “How long have you been a cop?”
“Going on nine years now,” he said, taking a swig of his beer.
“Your parents must be proud.”
“I wouldn’t know about my dad, but yeah, I guess my mom is.”
I sensed more to the story there with his parents, but it also seemed like he didn’t want to talk about it. “It must be exciting,” I said instead.
He shrugged. “It can be. What about you? Parents still around?”
I nodded. “Yes. Mom and Dad don’t live far, so I get to visit often.” I didn’t mention the town and hoped Ryker wouldn’t ask.
“Where?” he asked, dashing my hopes.
“Um, Lake Forest.” I took another big bite of salad.
Ryker’s eyebrows went up, as I’d known they would. Everyone knew “rich people” lived in Lake Forest, which was why I hated telling people I was from there. It made them assume things about me, some of which were true and some of which weren’t.
“Your dad retired, too?” Ryker asked.
“Um, kinda,” I said, keeping my gaze fixed on my lettuce. “He owns some delivery companies for products in Chicago.”
“So you’re a poor little rich girl?” Ryker teased.
My gaze shot up to his. “I never said I was a poor little anything,” I replied stiffly. “And I’m not wealthy; my parents are. I work to pay my bills like everyone else.”
“Take it easy, sweetheart,” Ryker said, the corner of his mouth tipping upward. “I didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.” He paused before adding in a slightly roughened tone, “Though that sounds like a good plan for later.” His gaze slid down to where I’d undone the buttons on my shirt and my skin burned as though he’d touched me.
Had he just implied we’d be having sex tonight? Was ruffling feathers a euphemism I’d just not heard before? I nearly choked on the cherry tomato I’d popped in my mouth.
Just then, my cell rang. Without even looking, I knew who it was going to be, and it didn’t occur to me not to answer. I gulped down the pulpy tomato that was so not room temperature.
“Excuse me,” I muttered, digging in my purse and finding my phone. “Hello?”
“Sage,” Parker said, “the files for the Lawson account have arrived. They need to be stamped and logged.”
“I know,” I said. “I signed the boxes in earlier today.” All six of them. “I was planning on doing them tomorrow.”
“It can’t wait,” he said. “Tomorrow I’m meeting all day with GoTech and I’ll need you in there with me. This has to be done tonight.”
Shit. I glanced at my watch. It was after seven. Those boxes would take me at least an hour each, if not more.
“Um, okay. I’ll be in as soon as I can.”
“Good.” He hung up.
I sighed as I slipped my phone back into my purse. So much for my date…or any other activity Ryker might’ve planned for later this evening. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I didn’t usually sleep around, but then again, I’d never before been propositioned by a man like Ryker. Speaking of which, when I looked up, he was watching me closely.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, “but I have to go back in to work.” I slipped my purse strap over my shoulder and took another hit of wine.
“Why?”
“There’s some stuff that needs to get done and I won’t have time to do it tomorrow,” I explained, not bothering to go into detail. “But thanks so much for dinner.” Half my mind was already on its way back to the office, where Parker would be waiting.
I was up and out of the booth when Ryker seemed to realize I was actually leaving, and he jumped
up. Grabbing my arm to stop me, he said, “Wait, you’re leaving? Just like that?”
“I’m really sorry,” I said again.
“He really has you on some kind of leash,” Ryker said.
My mouth dropped open in shock. “Excuse me?” I couldn’t believe he’d just insulted me like that. “Did you just imply I was a dog?”
“No, I’m implying Parker’s a fucking slave driver,” he retorted. “Stay just a little longer.”
“I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. I started tugging my arm, trying to free myself from his grip. Parker was waiting and so were those boxes.
“At least give me your number,” Ryker said.
I rolled my eyes. I was done with this game. “Listen,” I said, “despite what you might think, I’m not looking for a hit-it-and-quit-it kind of man. Dinner was nice. The ride on your bike was fun. And I’m sure you…ruffling my feathers…would be amazing.” No doubt an understatement, that last part, but no need to dwell. “But I think we’re done here. Nice meeting you, Ryker.”
Finally freeing myself from his hold, I hurried away. The last glimpse of his face before I headed out the door showed surprise giving way to a blank, harder expression that reminded me a little of Parker, and not even the hint of a grin remained.
* * *
As I’d predicted, Parker was back in his office when I arrived. I guessed he must have stepped out earlier for dinner or something before returning. It didn’t surprise me. He seemed to work twenty-four-seven.
The cab back from the bar hadn’t been nearly as fun as the motorcycle ride there, and I hoped the smell of stale cigar didn’t cling to me the way it had clung to the inside of the car. But by the time the ride was over, I’d rebraided my hair and tucked it up into a bun.
“Sorry to interrupt your evening,” Parker said once I’d dropped off my purse at my desk and entered his office.
I was busy studying the boxes stacked in the corner, but his apology took me aback and my gaze swiveled to meet his.