Claimed by Love (Love in Bloom: The Ryders, Book 2): Duke Ryder

by Melissa Foster

  Too badly.

  I seriously need to dive into a tequila bottle. Or leave. Since driving home after drinking a bottle of tequila posed issues, she decided leaving was a better option.

  She had the perfect excuse to cut out a little early, too. She was hosting a car wash tomorrow to raise funds for WAC, Women Against Cheaters, an online support group she’d started for women who had been cheated on.

  By guys like Sam.

  Sam glanced up and—Oh God, shoot me now—caught her staring. Again. She turned away, hoping he hadn’t really noticed, even though his eyes were like laser beams burning a hole in her back. Of course he saw her. How could he not? She was practically drooling over him. She didn’t want to have this stupid crush on the man who, if she believed the rumors, had slept with most of the women in Peaceful Harbor. If she took away his devastatingly good looks, he was the exact opposite of the type of man she wanted or needed.

  Unable to resist, she stole another glance, and like every other set of female eyes in the place that weren’t related to him, she was drawn in like a fly to butter. He was gorgeous. Manly. Rugged. And that smile. Lordy, Lordy. She fanned her face. His smile alone caused her toes to curl. All the Bradens were good-looking, but there was something edgy and enigmatic about Sam. Dangerous.

  Too dangerous for her, which was okay, because she didn’t really want him. Not in the try to keep him sense. A man like Sam couldn’t be kept, and she wasn’t about to be the idiot who tried. She’d be happy with leering and lusting, and pretending she wasn’t.

  Except, oh shit, he was coming over. He moved across the dance floor like he owned the place, confident, determined, focused, leaving the blonde, and a dozen other women, staring after him. If looks had powers beyond the ability to weaken Faith’s knees, Sam would have eaten her up before he even reached her. His dark eyes were narrow, seductive, and shimmering with wickedness. His broad shoulders looked even wider, more powerful, beneath his expensive tuxedo. The top buttons of his shirt were open, giving her a glimpse of his tanned skin and a dusting of chest hair. He looked like he should be lounging on a couch with women fawning over him. Godlike.

  Godlike? I am pathetic.

  Faith was not a meek woman without a man in her life. She was single by choice, thank you very much. She stunk at choosing men, and besides that...men sucked. They cheated, they lied, and eventually they all tried to put the blame back on her. Ever since JJ, her last boyfriend, made good on the unspoken All Men Must Cheat promise their gender seemed to live by, she’d confined her dating pool to include only boring, slightly nerdy men.

  “Faith.”

  Sam’s deep voice washed over her skin and nestled into her memory banks for later when she was alone in her bed, thinking about him. She hated that, too. Why, oh, why, did he have to be a player? Couldn’t he be like his brothers Cole and Nate? Loyal to the end of time?

  He touched her arm, burning her skin.

  “Oh. Hi, Sam.” That sounded casual, right? He was so big, standing this close, and he smelled like man and sunshine and heat all wrapped up in one big delicious package.

  Great. Now I’m thinking of your package.

  “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

  Yes. No! Stick to your boring-man rule, Faith.

  Sam was anything but boring, taking every outdoor risk known to man and out carousing every night of the week. Nope, she wanted no part of that.

  “No, thanks.” She sipped her drink, wishing it were tequila instead of Jack and Coke. Wishing she were home instead of standing beside the human heat wave.

  His brows knitted. “You sure? I haven’t seen you on the dance floor all night.”

  “Have you run out of girls already?” Holy Jesus, did I say that out loud?

  An easy smile spread across his face, like he wasn’t offended, but…amused? He looked around the room and said, “No, actually. There are a few I haven’t danced with.” Those chocolate eyes focused on her again. “But I want to dance with you.”

  She downed her drink to keep the word Okay from slipping out and set the empty glass on the bar. “Thanks, but I’m actually getting ready to leave.”

  “Now, that would be a shame.” His eyes dragged slowly down her body, making her feel vulnerable and naked.

  Naked with Sam Braden. Her entire body flamed, and he must have noticed, because his eyes turned midnight black.

  “You look incredibly beautiful tonight, and it’s Cole and Leesa’s big day. You should stick around.” He leaned in a little closer. “And dance with me.”

  It wasn’t like her jelly legs could carry her out of there anyway. Incredibly beautiful? Faith had been told she was pretty often enough to believe it, but incredibly beautiful? That was pushing it. That was smooth-talking Sam, the limit pusher.

  She had to admit, he had this pickup thing down pat. His eyes were solely focused on her, while she felt the gazes of nearly every single woman in the place looking at her like they wondered what she had that they didn’t—or maybe like they wanted to kill her. Yup. That was probably more accurate.

  “The wedding was lovely,” she managed. “I’m happy for Cole and Leesa, but I’m hosting a car wash at Harbor Park tomorrow afternoon. I should really get going so I have time to prepare.”

  Sam stepped closer. His fingers caressed the back of her arm, sending shivers of heat straight to her brain—and short-circuiting it.

  “Harbor Park?” The right side of his tempting mouth lifted in a teasing smile. “Surely you won’t turn into a pumpkin this early. You can’t leave without giving me one dance. Come on. Think of how happy it’ll make Cole to see you enjoying yourself.”

  He was obviously not going to give up. Maybe she should just give in and dance with him. She had no desire to be another in the long line of Sam’s conquests, but it was just one dance, and then she could leave, and he’d go back to any of the other women there. That idea sank like a rock in her stomach.

  Her stupid hormones swam to the surface again. You did ask nicely. Maybe she was reading too much into this dance. It was just a dance, not a date.

  But his eyes were boring into her in that I want to get into your panties way he had. She’d seen him give that look to several other women tonight.

  Several. Other. Women.

  Ugh! Why was she even considering this?

  It was his hand, moving up and down her arm, making her shivery and hot at once. And those eyes, drawing her in, making her feel important. She wasn’t important to Sam. She knew that in her smart physician assistant brain, but her ovaries had some sort of hold on that part of her brain, crushing her smart cells.

  Faith glanced at the dance floor and caught sight of Cole whispering something in Leesa’s ear. They were such a handsome couple, and Cole was such a kind boss. Maybe she should stay a little longer. She didn’t have to dance with Sam. She could just talk with him until he got bored and moved on.

  Cole’s eyes turned serious, and Leesa looked over, too. He said something to her and headed in their direction with a scowl on his face and an angry bead aimed at Sam. Shit. This was not good. He was her boss.

  Oh my God. What was she thinking? She shouldn’t dance with her boss’s brother!

  “Actually…” Panic bloomed inside her chest as Cole neared. Cole respected her, but she knew he’d noticed the way she got flustered around Sam. He’d seen her turn beet-red with Sam’s compliments when Sam visited him at the office. She didn’t need him seeing her all swoony-eyed over him now.

  “I really have to go, but thanks for asking, Sam.” She spun on her heel and hurried away before she could lose her nerve.

  —End of Sneak Peek—

  To continue reading, buy RIVER OF LOVE

  —

  Please enjoy this sneak peek of

  Touched by Love (The Remingtons)

  Chapter One - Touched by Love

  Blaine’s mouth blazed a path up her inner thigh. His hot breath teased over her wet flesh. Kenya fisted her hands in the she
ets, dug her heels into the mattress, and rocked her hips, aching for his talented tongue in the place she needed him most. Blaine lifted smoldering dark eyes, a hint of wickedness shining through, as his tongue slicked over his lips. He was a master at seduction, but Kenya didn’t give a shit about seduction. She wanted to be fucked hard. Now. She needed his—

  A large hand landed on Janie Jansen’s desk beside her braille device. She nearly jumped out of her skin and nervously yanked out her earbuds. Holy shit. She was supposed to be finishing a technical editing assignment, not listening to the latest hot romance audiobook.

  “Nice article in the newsletter this week, Jansen. The Oxford Comma Revolution. Catchy.” Her boss, Clay Bishop, was slightly less arid than a desert, but Janie didn’t mind. He’d hired her to work at Tech Ed Co, or TEC, on a trial basis, and four years later, her respect for him had only grown. He was a fair and equitable boss, and was currently considering her for a promotion.

  It was difficult to spice up a weekly column geared toward grammar and editing, but Janie tried. It was just one more step toward the promotion of technical writer she’d been vying for, a nice step up from editor.

  “You’re here late. Trouble with the ARKENS handbook?”

  “I’m just catching up on a few things. The handbook is almost done.” Well, technically not almost done, but she’d meet the deadline. She had yet to miss one. She loved editing, but she hadn’t set out to be an editor after college. She’d wanted to be a journalist, but that door had closed and she’d tabled her dream and settled for editing. Usually the intensity of her job didn’t get to her, but after weeks of grueling revisions on this particular medical equipment handbook, she’d needed a short mental break. But Clay would never think to take a break. He was all business all the time, even hours after their workday officially ended.

  “Perfect. Don’t forget, Monday afternoon we have the peer review of your writing sample. If that goes well, your promotion will be in the hands of the management team. I’m not worried—you’re always on top of your game.”

  “Yeah, she is.” Boyd Hudson’s amused voice brought a smile to Janie’s lips.

  Boyd consulted at TEC only a few days a month, and though Janie didn’t know him well, he was quippy and flirtatious, bringing a spark of amusement into her otherwise quiet days.

  “Hudson,” Clay said dryly. “Okay, well, it’s late, so…”

  “See you Monday, Clay.” Janie listened to his retreating footsteps and let out a relieved sigh.

  “He almost caught you again, didn’t he?”

  She heard the smirk in Boyd’s voice. “He didn’t catch me last time. I was on my lunch break last week. And besides, I was just studying the nuances of the romance genre.”

  “If by study you mean getting swept away in the sexy fantasy life of some fictional, ridiculously unattainable hero, then yeah, I’d buy that.”

  “Why do you trash the genre when you know it’s my favorite escape?” She began gathering her things to leave for the day.

  “Because it’s fun. You’re too smart to be a cliché, Janie. You know that, right? Girl who’s blind whiles away hours of her youth reading romances because her parents are too controlling. Grows up wanting a fictional life that can never exist. Break free from it.” His voice rose with excitement. “Let it go. Romance isn’t real. It’s crap writing about fake people.”

  She never should have revealed that tidbit about her parents in the break room last month. They’d been talking about their childhoods, and while others had fun stories of hanging out at the mall, or going on spur-of-the-moment outings with groups of friends, Janie had very few spur-of-the-moment anything to share. Her parents worried about every step she made, questioning her safety and whether this or that location would be difficult for her to navigate without them to hold her hand. They’d been a noose around her neck, and it had often been easier to escape into fictional worlds than to battle for the chance to go out.

  “And your sci-fi adventures are more real than romance? Ha!” She hefted her bag over her shoulder. “I bet you’ve never even read a romance.”

  “Don’t need to. It’s crap.”

  “It’s not crap. I bet I could write a romance that you’d not only read, but love.” Janie turned off her computer and braille device.

  “Not unless it’s got a heroine who likes sci-fi, is smarter than me, and is into kinky sex.”

  “God, you’re a pig. Fine, sci-fi and kinky sex. It shouldn’t be hard to make her smarter than you.” She lifted her brows with the tease. “But if I write it, you not only have to read every single page of it, but you also have to go to the Romance Writer’s Festival with me in October and stay all day. Plus,” she added, getting excited about the bet, “you have to buy me every romance book I want for a month.”

  He placed Janie’s cane in her hand. “A little greedy, aren’t you?”

  “Hey, if I’m writing a whole novel, it’s got to be worth it.”

  “Fine, but I’m not buying you romance books for a month.”

  “Whatever. Torturing you with the festival for an entire day will be worth it. It’s Friday night. What are you doing here so late?” It was after nine o’clock, and a group of people from work had gone down to NightCaps, a local bar where they often hung out.

  “Had a busy day before coming here,” Boyd answered.

  “Are you going to NightCaps, or are you going to while away the hours with your nose in outer space?” Janie loved the constant vibration of laughter, hushed whispers, and the hum of sexual tension at NightCaps, but her best friend, Kiki Vernon, was out of town, and she didn’t like to go to bars without her. She’d planned on spending a quiet weekend at home, but she assumed Boyd would want to go.

  “I’ve got a date, so I’m pretty sure my nose won’t be anywhere near space, but I’ll walk with you. I’m headed that way anyway. But first, shake on our bet.”

  “Game on, dude,” she said as she shook his hand. “And you’re so gonna owe me, but I’m not going to NightCaps. I was going to read, but now I think I’ll start plotting my romance. Hm. What should I call it? Sci-fi Sexiness?” She couldn’t wait to tell Kiki about the bet. She loved the genre as much as Janie did, and she’d get a kick out of Janie actually trying to write a sexy story.

  “That doesn’t even sound romantic,” Boyd said. “I’m going to win the bet, and when I do, you have to attend Comic Con with me. You’ll make a hot Catwoman.”

  Janie laughed. “Yeah, that’s so not going to happen. I’m writing this book and you’re going to spend an entire day meeting romance authors and male cover models.”

  Boyd hooked his arm in hers as she touched the tip of her cane to the ground.

  “You know what that cane does to me,” he said in a seductively low voice.

  “I know what it’s going to do to you if you don’t stop teasing me.”

  As they left the office, the crisp night air rolled over Janie’s skin. The sounds of people walking by, cars moving along the road, and horns honking were familiar and comforting. The smell of exhaust tangled with what Janie had come to know as the dark scents of the city. Tension was thicker at night in New York City, as if everyone was shrouded with awareness. Janie felt that awareness prickling her skin.

  “Want me to flag down a cab?” Boyd asked.

  “No thanks. I hate riding in cabs here. The drivers petrify me. I like the subway better.” She’d ridden in cabs with Kiki when they’d first moved to the city after college, and the constant stopping and starting and traveling alone when someone else was in complete control of her end destination made her feel unsafe. Navigating the city alone presented enough of a challenge. She didn’t need to end up in some back alley with a cab-driving killer.

  “The subway? To each their own, I guess.”

  Janie’s phone rang as they made their way down the sidewalk.

  She stopped to dig it out of her bag. “Sorry. We can keep walking as long as you can guide me. It’s a little distracting t
o use my cane and talk on the phone.”

  Boyd placed a hand on her arm. “Sneaky way to get me to touch you.”

  Janie shook her head and answered the phone, immediately greeted by Kiki’s excited voice.

  “Hey, just wanted you to know that since you blew off coming home with me this weekend, I’m not going to tell you about the date I had last night.” Kiki had been her best friend since the third grade, when Kiki had put a boy in his place for teasing Janie about using a specially lighted magnifying device to read large-print books. Not that Janie needed protecting. Even back then she’d known some people were just too self-centered to care about other people’s lives. Not Kiki, though. As soon as she’d finished with the bully, she’d wanted to know everything about Janie’s eye condition: Cone-Rod Dystrophy, a degenerative eye disease. The disease had varying degrees of severity, from mild to complete loss of vision. So far Janie was lucky. She still had some light perception. If there were very bright lights, large planes of bright colors, or if the contrast was just right, and she looked out of her peripheral vision and got up super close, she could still sometimes make out shapes.

  “Was it your headboard I heard banging the wall at three in the morning?” She loved teasing Kiki about her sexual proclivities.