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“Six hundred bucks. But it’s not about the money.”
“It sounds like it’s a little about the money,” Nita muttered.
“I don’t know why I even mentioned that. Just forget it. I’ll email you the details, and if you go, great. If you don’t, also great,” Kensley said, sounding nervous. “I’m really sorry, Nita. Let’s meet for coffee after this engagement. I don’t want us to get on the wrong track.”
She loved Kensley, but seeing her former boss, now mentor, maybe even friend, with her happy pregnancy bump and perfect Ellis… that wasn’t how she wanted to spend a Saturday afternoon.
“We’re not on the wrong track,” she promised, but she heard the stiffness in her voice.
“And about this guy—”
“He’s nothing. Just a temporary co-worker I had sex with, end of story,” Nita said. She finally located her Fuck Book in her bag and snatched it up, marching back to the living room.
“Jesus, I’m not saying anything right today. I’ll just say this. I love you, girl. No matter what you do, I’ve got your back,” Kensley said, then said goodbye and ended the call.
Nita dropped the phone beside her and unclipped her pen from the inside of the book. She flipped to a blank page and scrawled Bitch Mitch at the top.
Tapping the pen on the page, she should have thought over him going down on her on the motorcycle. Instead, her mind took her back to their bodies tangled on the bed in the other room. How their movements had flowed like a dance, each knowing where to touch the other to elicit the most pleasure.
She shook her head and channeled her thoughts about him before she knew who he was. The old Nita would have been bragging about having an orgasm and leaving the guy hanging. No need to mention that she’d offered to get him off, and he’d turned her down. Reducing him to an entry in her book would give her the distance she needed to keep him at arm’s length mentally.
She wrote a few sentences and filled out her little grid. As she wrote out the last word, drawing a little devil face after it, the elevator clunked, then hummed as the car descended. It clunked again when it stopped. She pictured the doors opening and Ryder stepping on, making her break out in a sweat.
She looked around, then jammed the pen into the little sleeve and tucked the book between the couch’s cushions. Standing, she turned to face the elevator. Then she shook her head and sat down again. Her emotions swirled, a mix of anticipation, annoyance, and a weird twinge of guilt. Where had that come from?
The door slid open, and she heard his heavy boots stepping slowly, tiredly, across the concrete floor. A tingle ran down her neck, but she fought against turning to look at him.
She looked out the dimmed windows, sensing him standing somewhere behind her. The wind gusted a patter of rain against the glass. His feet shuffled again, and a light clicked on. She saw herself reflected in the window and his hulking form near the fridge. He opened the door and the fridge light illuminated him. Even in the dim reflection, she could see he looked haggard.
“Long morning?” she asked, running a finger along a seam in the cushions.
“Yeah,” he grunted, and pulled out a beer.
He walked past the couch toward the windows, drinking and staring out at the dark. He raised a bent arm, elbow to the sky, and stretched sideways. Then he changed bottle hands and did the same with the other one.
Watching his body move lit up every pore in her body, replacing her nervous sweat with horny sweat. She didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want someone else to have this emotional hold on her. There were a hundred smart ass comments perched on her tongue, the perfect things to lighten the mood, but her mouth was clamped too tight for any of them to get out.
Then her eyes locked with Ryder’s in the window. He’d been watching her, and the knowledge sent another electric wave of awareness over her.
He tucked a hand in a pocket and turned to face her, his face rough with the start of a beard. He tilted the bottle for a long drink, then lowered it and studied her.
“You?” he asked after several long seconds.
“What?”
“Did you have a long morning?”
She breathed out slowly, relieved at the mundane question.
“The longest,” she agreed, and was glad her voice sounded calm and unaffected.
Rain continued to drum against the windows, its rhythm matching the jumpy cadence of her thoughts.
The physical pull of him was relentless, but emotionally, she felt like she was treading on dangerous territory. Every muscle in her body wanted her to stand up and turn to face him, but she fought it.
“Busy couple of days coming up,” he said, walking toward the living room. His boots thudding on the steps before stopping beside the couch.
She pressed back against the cushions, but realizing her movement might be seen as an invitation, jumped to her feet. That was another mistake because she ended up so close to him she could feel his body heat.
