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“I’ll tell ya what. If you agree to forget about my prissy moment there, I’ll make it up to you later?”
Uh-oh.
Steven Moore was putting on the moves, and they weren’t good. He’d unsubtly moved closer to her in the cab, and his hand was on the back of her neck in what could have been a seductive massage if his hands weren’t freezing and his grip wasn’t pinching.
Riley wanted nothing more than to suggest that this nice but thoroughly not-for-her man might prefer to spend the rest of the evening at home saying a eulogy for his shoes.
Alone.
But then she remembered the ramifications of that particular suggestion.
It would also mean Riley would be home alone. Again.
“You know that this is every man’s fantasy?” he said, his tongue finding her ear.
She closed her eyes and ordered herself to not pull away. It’s supposed to feel good, Riley.
Her heart was starting to pound. And not in the impending-sexy-times kind of way.
Riley’s hand found his knee and squeezed. Hard. “Steven, it’s my turn to be prissy. Do you mind if we get back to my place, before … um … I just feel kind of gross from the rain, you know?”
He pulled back. “You don’t look gross. But sure, no problem. I know that mood’s important.” Steven gave her an understanding look and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Riley gave him a smile—the first genuine one of the night. Well, whaddya know. Her mother and friends had been right. Maybe she was too quick to write men off. Maybe they just needed a little gentle nudging to keep them from being complete tools.
She took a deep breath and tried to think sexy thoughts. She’d written an article about this just a few months ago: “Sixteen Sexy Mental Tricks to Rev Your Lady Libido.”
Now, if she could only remember them.
Just one of them …
Come on, now, any one would do …
“My friends are all taking bets on this, you know.”
“Hmm?” Riley asked, still trying to summon Lady Libido.
“They didn’t believe me when I told them that Riley McKenna had agreed to go out with me, but here we are on date number five.”
“Uh-huh.” Honestly, how was she supposed to get to her sexy place when the man wouldn’t shut up?
“Are you looking for research material for your next article? If you are, is there anything special you want from me? I mean, I know you’re the expert, but I’ve never gotten any complaints …”
Stop. Talking. “I never mix business and pleasure,” she said, giving him her old standby line to go with her standby wink.
“Of course,” he said. “But I wouldn’t mind, if, you know …”
“No, I actually don’t know,” she said, saying a mental goodbye to Lady Libido. Not that she’d been likely to show up. She never had before.
“I read last month’s article,” Steven whispered, with a quick glance at the driver.
Please. Like a cabdriver gave a crap whether his passenger had snuck a peek at a women’s magazine.
“Last month’s article … the BDSM one?”
She wrote a BDSM article about once a year, which was about how often it came up as “the next naughty thing everyone but you is trying.”
It wasn’t that she wasn’t intrigued, it was just that when you spent most of your time trying to figure out whether the correct spelling was blindfold or blind-fold, it sort of took some of the titillation out of the whole concept.
