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“You’ve always had a talent for matchmaking. I remember you once created a list of girls that Zane liked and ranked them in order of suitability,” he says, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
“I was very scientific,” I say, remembering the lists of girls I thought were hot and ones that were sweet. I even made a chart with their attributes.
Ryland throws his head back and laughs harder than I’ve ever seen him laugh. How did I never notice that his dark hair is just long enough to curl around his ears?
“That’s one way of putting it,” he says when he catches his breath.
“Your date with Margo is next week, so I’ll need to interview you about your dating history and such.” I’ve never heard my brother mention a girlfriend or anything.
Poking a finger inside his shirt collar to loosen it, he clears his throat.
“I’m an open book, Sabine. You can ask me anything, but I’ll tell you now, there are no skeletons in the closet.”
“Sure, but if I ask questions about your personal life, will that feel weird because we’re friends?” I grab my drink. My mouth is so dry.
“I have no time for dating, but I fit your ideal client profile, which makes me a suitable candidate.” Ryland avoids giving me a direct answer. I see why he’s an excellent attorney.
I don’t have the heart to do a deep dive into his dating profile. It hurts too much, and I sense it’s making him uncomfortable.
“Okay, sure. I’ll email you a comprehensive list of questions, and you can take your time answering. Is that okay?”
“Sounds good.” He seems relieved to drop the subject.
I relax a little, thinking we’ve navigated our way out of the woods, but Ryland rakes his gaze over me with a look of appreciation that heats me up and makes my nipples tighten.
It might be the wine we’re drinking or perhaps the compliments he’s paying me, but I loosen up and enjoy the way he’s looking at me. I’m starting to sense a deeper connection between us.
Is it possible he might see me as something more than Zane’s sister one day? There’s no harm in daydreaming. I’m not hurting anyone if I imagine what it would feel like to have his lips on my skin.
Ryland cocks an eyebrow and gives me a roguish grin. “And you? What do you want in a lover?”
My heart stops for a moment. Ryland’s doing that thing again where he’s staring at me like he knows what I’m thinking. Instead of freaking me out, he makes me want to open up and tell him more.
“I want to look into a man’s eyes and feel like he truly sees me.” I blurt it out a little too quickly but can’t stop myself. “I want a man who understands me. I want him to accept me as I am, quirks and all, without any expectations or pressure to change.”
“That’s idealistic, but yeah, you should definitely hold out until the right man comes along, one who can give you what you need.”
I nod enthusiastically, grateful that he gets what I’m talking about. “That’s the kind of connection I’m holding out for. It’s what I want to experience.”
Suddenly, I realize where I am, who I’m with, and I remember what the purpose of this dinner was. It isn’t a date.
Ryland is putting himself out to help me, and it would serve us both if I could keep that in mind. I swing straight back into work mode.
“That’s enough about me. We’re here to talk about how to serve your needs, and I want to assure you that I’ll do my best to give you top quality service.”
“I don’t doubt it, but having said that, don’t assume that because we’re friends, you can take the arrangement lightly,” he says, his blue eyes intensely focused on me.
His arms are crossed, and his voice holds a hint of challenge.
“I would never.”There’s too much at stake, both personally and professionally, but there’s something unreadable in his expression, and it needs clarification.
I hold his gaze for a moment, my breathing slightly faster than normal, before asking, “What do you mean exactly?”
Ryland’s gaze narrows even further as he regards me carefully. It feels as if he’s looking into my soul. Despite suspecting that this is all a game to him, I can’t help but feel a bit of hope.
“I’ll give you a chance, but if you fail, you owe me,” he says. He uncrosses his arms and leans forward, steepling his fingers under his chin.
I hesitate for a moment before responding. “Owe you what?”
