Easy Ride

by Suzanne Ruby

  Whether finding out what was beneath that beautiful surface of hers ended up being good or bad, at least he’d have a better direction because he intended to play his best hand, lay a few more cards on the table and place his bets with this one.

  “I gotta be honest, Ride. There’s something about her I don’t trust,” Fabian said.

  The guy sure knew how to spoil a mood. What he lacked in discretion, he made up for in superb timing.

  “Why?”

  Fabian replaced the weights on the rack and rested his hands on his hips. “I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it. She’s different than the others who come in.”

  “I know. That’s why I like her. And she confided in me about why she booked time. She’s legit. Don’t worry, she’s not the reporter.”

  As he said it, a microsecond of doubt pricked his conscience. He almost wished she hadn’t revealed her dream career to him. Now, it colored his view of everything.

  “Did she now? When did she have time to do all this confiding? Oh, that’s right, you stalked her last night.”

  “I stopped by her loft to check on her.”

  “And she confessed her life story?”

  “No, she confided in me earlier.”

  “Did she pay you? Because Lydia will be pissed if she finds out you’re taking business away from the club.”

  “She won’t be coming back to the club. And she didn’t pay me, Fab. Everything has been reciprocal.”

  Well, almost everything. She practically begged for the dessert he had to offer, and far be it from him to deny her for much longer.

  “What, exactly, does she do for a living?” Fabian asked.

  “Some sort of desk job. But she dreams of something better.”

  “Don’t we all.”

  “Amen,” Adam said.

  “So, where exactly is this desk located? FBI or CIA headquarters, by chance? Or maybe she’s with CNN or the National Enquirer.”

  “You’re being paranoid, Fab.”

  “And you’re being reckless, Ride. Fuck her all you want, but don’t go confiding in her. Not this soon. Not with the possibility of a traitor in our midst. I recommend you find out more about her. A lot more.”

  Discussion over. What went on behind the red door at the club was the least of Adam’s worries. Except, yes, Kirby seemed a little curious. More than a little. He’d chalked it up as interest in him, but maybe he wasn’t taking it seriously enough.

  In any case, she might eventually find out a lot more about him. He hadn’t confided in her about his newest high-ticket problem. Sure, she believed and supported his version regarding the harassment allegations. But if he kept piling on his problems, she’d eventually get worn down from the sheer volume.

  To everyone else, it probably wouldn’t matter that he didn’t steal the saddles. Just like it didn’t matter that he didn’t sexually harass a client. To everyone else, he was guilty.

  Even when he wasn’t.

  12

  “MAKE YOURSELF AT home while I finish getting ready.” Kirby sweetened the request with her knockout smile.

  Adam never did mind waiting for a woman to finish getting dressed. It was the getting undressed part where he seriously lacked patience. Besides, Kirby’s loft already felt like home, especially with the way Baby greeted him at the door.

  He could get used to this. All of it.

  For now, he wanted nothing more than to rip that black minidress completely off her body. Hopefully, the getting-dressed part was complete, even though her outfit appeared mercilessly incomplete.

  Damn, did she have some amazing thighs. Strong, tan and oh, so spreadable. He watched those legs, and the rest of her gorgeous body, disappear into the adjacent room.

  He shed his jacket and laid it across the back of the oversized taupe velvet couch.

  Velvet. Like every last inch of her.

  The thoughts he’d managed to suppress clawed to the forefront of his brain. His cock responded to the image of him removing her clothes and diving into her wet velvet warmth.

  Short of hijacking her bathroom and taking an ice-cold shower, the best way to turn off his hard-on might be to look around while he waited.

  He walked over to a bookcase positioned against the exposed brick wall and studied the titles. True crime books by Ann Rule ruled, with biographies of politicians and rock stars coming in second.

  Occasionally, a framed photo interrupted the rank-and-file flow of the myriad nonfiction hardbacks. The symmetry of the bookcase was either well-planned or brilliantly intuitive. Everything seemed balanced, every space utilized.

  One photo in particular caught his eye. A photo of a young family. The mother and father sat next to each other on a love seat. The man’s face was turned toward the woman, who balanced a little girl on her knee as they both stared directly into the camera. Besides wearing matching pale pink shift dresses, they also wore matching smiles.

  Yep, that had to be Kirby.

  His chest constricted and he could barely breathe. He’d had a similar photo taken with his parents. A moment frozen in time, before time ripped the family apart and took his parents away forever. The remaining photos of his childhood would be of him and his grandfather, Henry, a widower who had to play all the familial roles for the only survivor of that two-car crash.

  “That’s me, my mom and my dad,” she said as she came up behind him.

  “Do they live in Houston?”

  “My father lives in Bay City. My mom passed away the week after that photo was taken. Aneurism.”

  Adam placed the photo back on the shelf and took her in his arms. Considering his own tragic past, he should have known better than to make any assumptions.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He backed it up with a respectable kiss on those glossy pink lips.

  Strawberry.

  Either he was getting a major buzz from the taste of her, or his phone was vibrating in his pocket.

  “Mmm. That’s an interesting response,” she said as she pressed into him.

  “Excuse me for a sec.” He retrieved the phone and glanced at the number. Wild Indigo. Maybe they’d made their choice. Then again, what if they had more questions? What if their decision hinged upon it?

  He couldn’t talk to them now. And certainly not here. Other questions needed to be answered first.

  He slipped the phone back into his pocket and let the message roll to voice mail.

  “Not important?” she asked.

  He ran his hand up and down her back.

  “It’s nothing that can’t wait. Let’s get out of here before I undo all of your hard work to look so stunning,” he said. Not to mention before he got distracted from following the only good advice Fabian had ever offered.

  Find out everything he could about Kirby Montgomery.

  * * *

  KIRBY STARED ACROSS the cozy table for two at the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He looked good in nothing but his bare skin, but he looked even better in a suit jacket.

  Well, maybe not better. Different.

  She’d never really studied his face from this angle—straight on—except during those brief moments that ended in a make-out session, or during the longer moments of lovemaking. In a way, she felt less exposed when naked, with him pressed against her and into her. Under the lights of downtown Houston’s trendiest steak house, there were fewer places to hide.

  Adam seemed completely comfortable, judging by the way he leaned back slightly and looked at her from across the table.

  Neither of them spoke as a waiter uncorked a bottle of Silver Oak cabernet and allowed Adam to approve the wine. After the waiter poured both glasses, he quieted away to another table.

  Adam raised his glass. “To our second official date.”


  She echoed his toast, although it felt as though they’d been dating for weeks. The club, the grocery store, his house. Her loft.

  “The booty call doesn’t count as a date?” she teased.

  “It definitely counts for something.”

  She took a sip of wine, willing the warmth to soothe her nerves. It didn’t help that she’d forgotten to put away her company Christmas party photo, sitting on her bookshelf. She wasn’t quite ready to explain it.

  Fortunately, she hadn’t had to, but it had been a close call.

  “Hey, you. Did I say something wrong?” Adam’s deep voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

  “Not at all. I was just overthinking. I do that quite often.”

  “I noticed. And I’m perfectly fine with it, as long as I get a portion of your thoughts.”

  His eyes seemed to take inventory of her responses. It was something she wasn’t used to. Her ex always took in everything else, and everyone else, when they went out. She could have disappeared for thirty minutes and he wouldn’t have known she was gone. For some reason, she got used to it. Even accepted it.

  But Adam? Adam was attentive. And beautiful.

  “Tell me more about the real Kirby Montgomery. You mentioned a desk job. What industry?” He took a sip of wine.

  The question didn’t seem like an idle one. It wasn’t the worst thing he could have asked, but it came in a close second. He could have asked for the name of her employer.

  “Oil and gas, at the moment.”

  Not the whole truth, but not a complete lie, either. Aside from her attempt at investigative reporting on The Deep, she focused on cultivating other leads, including oil and gas, then distributing them to Seth and the other field reporters.

  Adam seemed content with the answer, but the way he pinched his brows together suggested the interrogation was only beginning.

  “When you say ‘at the moment,’ what do you mean?”

  The warm tingling in her belly from minutes ago now felt blistering under his intense gaze. Maybe that’s why he tends to burn dinner.

  “I see my desk job as a temporary situation. Like I mentioned, my dream is to become a reporter.”

  “Yes, I remember you saying that,” he said.

  “And I remember you weren’t too fond of the idea,” she countered.

  He nodded.

  Thankfully, the waiter placed a basket of fresh bread between them, along with a trio of condiments—butter, olive oil and something she couldn’t identify. The interruption provided a segue to a safer topic. A parachute down from the edge and onto terra firma.

  “May I ask you something?” she said.

  “I suppose it’s your turn to interrogate.” He tore off a piece of bread, dipped it in the olive oil and offered it to her, then peeled off a larger chunk for himself.

  She held the bread in one hand instead of eating it.

  “Why did you choose the name ‘Easy Ride’? You must realize how it sounds.”

  He nearly choked on his bite of bread.

  “‘Cowboy Roy’ was already taken.”

  “Seriously?”

  He shook his head. “‘Easy Ride’ is a reference to horses. The love of my life is a schooling horse named Daisy. I’ve always referred to her as an ‘easy ride’ because she’s so gentle and caring with the students.”

  Adam’s wistful smile wasn’t lost on her. Clearly, this particular creature meant the world to him.

  “So, your moniker was straightforward from the beginning,” she said.

  “Yes, but that doesn’t make me innocent. I fully intended to take advantage of the innuendo and my position at the club. I was fresh out of a bad relationship, and my career was on the rocks.”

  “What stopped you?” she asked.

  “I immediately knew I wasn’t cut out for it. I’d hear these relationship horror stories from the women, and some of them sounded remarkably similar to mine.”

  She tilted her head, swirled the wine in her glass and asked the question she had to ask.

  “But the other guys take advantage all the time, don’t they?”

  He leaned back and seemed to measure her question.

  “I don’t know about that,” he finally said. “I tend to think it’s the clients who take advantage. They come to us. Not the other way around. They get whatever it is they need, and then they’re gone.”

  The implication hit hard and fast. He might as well have stripped her bare and turned up the lights. That had been her intention. To get in and out of the club with the story. To take what she needed, and then leave.

  Except, she was still there. Furthermore, she didn’t want to go anywhere.

  “I’ve taken advantage of you,” she said.

  He cocked his head. “How so?”

  “You paid for my groceries, you cooked the most thoughtful dinner for me at your house, you didn’t take my money at the club, the one and only time I was there.”

  I’ve used you to get information for a story...

  He leaned forward, taking her hand in his.

  “Kirby, I wanted to do all those things for you. And I didn’t take your money that night because I broke my own personal rule.”

  “The one about not making the first move?”

  “No. The other one.”

  “Other?”

  He squeezed her hand and looked at her with the softest baby blues. “The one about not falling for a client.”

  She swallowed hard.

  Falling. That breathless, terrifying, exhilarating feeling of heading uncontrollably to a place unknown. Ready or not.

  She was falling for him, too. She simply hadn’t been brave or truthful, or perhaps impulsive enough to label it.

  The waiter returned and proceeded to tick through a list of specials as if he hadn’t walked into the middle of an intimate moment. Adam softly smiled at her. Was he even listening to the man?

  When the waiter asked if they were ready to order, Adam said, “I think we know what we want.”

  Even though his words could describe many of her feelings at that moment, Kirby was pretty sure she knew what he meant.

  She smiled and nodded.

  “We’ll have the porterhouse steak for two. Medium,” Adam said.

  “Except, burn the edges, please,” she added.

  “Yes, ma’am. Any sides?”

  “Asparagus,” they said in unison.

  As soon as the waiter relieved them of their menus, Adam stood and extended his hand.

  “What?” she asked.

  “We’re going to dance. What else?”

  “There isn’t a dance floor.”

  “Then we’ll make one,” he said.

  Kirby looked around. They would pretty much have to dance in place, next to their table. Not that she would mind being seen dancing with him. But she didn’t want to embarrass him.

  “I don’t dance. At least, not very well. I’m pretty sure you witnessed that.”

  “We have to dance,” he said. “They’re playing our song.”

  “Baby Blue.”

  * * *

  TALK ABOUT EXQUISITE TORTURE. From the slow dance on, Adam battled with his libido to not reveal how turned-on he felt.

  He ravaged the dinner under the excuse of having missed lunch, while she wanted to savor every burned edge and talk about their first date at his house.

  Hell, he hadn’t stopped thinking through those details. But all he could think about over dinner was how much he wanted to unzip her dress. Or, better yet, lift her short hem high enough to sink himself into her warm, velvety depths.

  He didn’t even attempt to disguise his urgency as he hurried her down the long cement hallway to her loft. Their footsteps must hav
e sounded like the Running of the Bulls.

  Now inside, his full hard-on refused to be tamed by logical thoughts.

  Baby put his libido temporarily in check as soon as the little mop-headed puppy tried to jump into his arms.

  “Not to brag, but Baby seems to prefer me,” he said.

  “I don’t hold that against her. But I’m the alpha in this house. She can have what’s left of you after I’m finished.”

  Kirby shut the door behind them, sidestepped her four-legged competition and swiftly claimed victory by fully embracing him.

  She initiated the kiss this time, devouring his lower lip first before dipping her tongue slowly into his mouth.

  He reciprocated, and their tongues did the slow, lazy, perfect dance that came so naturally. Maybe Kirby wasn’t much on the dance floor, but her exquisite mouth and intuitive tongue more than made up for it.

  She pulled away, took his hand and led him to the next room. Her bedroom.

  He hadn’t seen this space last time. They hadn’t made it any farther than the taupe velvet sofa. This room was dark, except for a high horizontal window that allowed some moonlight in from outside. Not nearly enough for his taste, however. The light from the main room helped illuminate half the bed, which he mentally assigned to her.

  “Stay,” she commanded. She sat at the end of the bed while he remained standing.

  “Come,” she said as she reached for his belt loops and tugged him into position between her legs.

  He obeyed.

  “Good boy,” she said with a sexy, bad-girl grin.

  Alpha suited her nicely, he decided.

  She unbuckled his belt, slipped it out of the loops and dropped it to the floor.

  He attempted to unzip his pants because she was taking way too long, but she pushed aside his hands.

  She looked up from her task. “No.”

  “I’m the guest. It should be my choice,” he said, suspecting where this seduction was leading.

  She unhooked, unzipped and peeled down his slacks until they rested around his feet.

  “I’m the hostess. You’ll graciously accept what I have to offer.”