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The edge of her lips tugged upward, like those five words were all she needed.
“You’ve been working hard, I hear,” she said.
“So have you.”
She nodded and looked over his face in a way no other woman ever had. Like she was studying him. Maybe even doing some of that learning she’d mentioned a time or two. Whatever it was, he felt seen. Like she could grasp the real him.
“See, I finally got a night off and came to call on this sexy, bright woman, and you know what she did?” he asked, leaning in a little so his face was in line with hers.
She swayed in between his straightened arms, but he wasn’t letting go of that table. She gave an innocent look, but Ryder knew she was playing with him. So he moved a bit closer, until his chin was a millimeter from hers.
“What did she do?” she whispered.
“She ran off on me.”
“The nerve,” she chastised, in her mocking way. The same tone that kicked his pulse into high gear. But he kept it simmering and went on with this little conversation.
“That’s what I thought,” he agreed. “Which made me think of how I’d retaliate against her when I finally caught her. You see, this woman likes being chased.”
“You sure?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I even happen to know that every now and again, she likes being caught.”
“Interesting,” Whitney said, playing along.
“Unless she really was running away because she can’t stand the sight of me,” he amended.
She laughed like he’d just told her the world was flat. “The sight of you is not the problem, big guy. My guess is she thoroughly enjoys the sight of you.” She glanced down, something she rarely did, but he was picking up on the notion that she had more to say. So he waited a moment and hoped she’d give voice to whatever silent thoughts she had.
Finally, his patience paid off.
“Maybe this woman also knows that you’re different in public than you are in private.”
That swatted his ribs like a rolled up newspaper. Of course he was different with Whitney in private than public. It had been a basis of their whole frustrating relationship. The truth was, though, he felt more himself—safer—alone with her than anywhere else.
“Do you think the woman in question likes me in private or public?”
Whitney looked at him. “She likes you in private, just wishes she knew the public side of you better.”
She reached up and ran a finger along the edge of his Stetson.
“I’m learning she has a thing for cowboys, too,” he whispered, his mouth hovering just over hers.
“But you’re not a cowboy,” she countered.
“No, ma’am, I’m not.”
She searched his face, those fingers dropping from his hat to his cheek, then down to his neck. “So maybe she just has a thing for you.”
“If that’s so, why would she run?”
She lifted a shoulder. “She’s bound to leave eventually.”
That made something twist in his stomach, but he did his best to ignore and move past it. “Maybe so. But she’s not leaving tonight.”
He leaned down and snagged the smallest sample of those full lips, tasting the sweetest drug he’d ever had. And damn he’d missed it. Not having a hit of her for a week had strung him out in a way that hurt. It left him jonesing for more, needing that fire to feel alive. With one taste, he turned on like a broken engine revved to life.
“Whoa,” she breathed against his mouth. “It’s not very fair that you can rock a girl’s world with one kiss.”
