Page 19 of When I Had You

I burst out laughing. Dropping my head back to the seat rest, I cover her hand with mine and tilt to face her. “That’s good. Progress, right? That leaves the door open for the—”

“Not a chance.” She laughs as she rests back as well, leaving her hand planted right under mine like we do this all the time. Rolling her neck, she looks at me, the laughter fading. “I’m sorry, Cash.”

I exhale, releasing what tomorrow brings and focusing on the present with her. “It’s okay. I can handle whatever comes my way. I’m not called the comeback kid for nothing.”

“I thought you were the bad boy of racing?”

“It depends who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” Her gaze stays locked on mine as if she’s genuinely interested.

I wasn’t expecting it. “I prefer to be judged by who I am today rather than my past.”

The car pulls to the front of the hotel without a photographer in sight. It’s one of the reasons I like to stay here when I’m in Miami. They protect their guests’ privacy.

Marina doesn’t leave like we’re strangers when we get out of the car this time. She comes around and waits for me to get out of the vehicle, and we walk into the lobby together. Although it’s a one-time thing and there may not be respect, there’s trust between us. So there’s no need to fill the air with empty niceties.

We stare ahead instead of at each other until we step into the elevator. “So . . .” She rocks back on her heels. “Where ya going, Ryan?”

I grin, shaking my head. I think I’m more upset that I’m getting accustomed to hearing that name than her calling me that in jest. I don’t mind, though. It feels too good with her to fuck it up with some snippy comment.

Not wanting to ruin this moment, I let the name go because it doesn’t matter. Nothing does but the here and now. “Anywhere you are.”

6

Marina

I underestimated the power of Cash Ryatt’s charisma.

Now I understand why so many women crush on this man. At least he tells me they do. I’m taking him at his word until I have time to do my own investigative research when I return to Canada for filming.

What I do know is that it’s easy to get lost in his green eyes, especially when they’re locked on you like prey. I can’t tell if he wants to eat me in the most delicious way or kill me, for real. I’m okay hanging around him a bit longer to find out because he’s stupidly handsome.

A cross between a surfer with his sun-lightened brown hair, a GQ model, and well, a race car driver, he breaks the mold regarding expectations—physically and in personality.

That I find him so appealing is frustrating.

I shouldn’t want a man like him—someone who can’t resist challenging me at every corner, has no qualms about calling me out, and tips into banter that leans more toward finding me intolerable than desirable.

Does he find me desirable? Is that the problem he has with me, or is he just as unsure about me as I am about him?

Narrowing my eyes, I watch him standing at the sliding glass door, laser focused out the window. Tall, hair perfectly sexy in its mussy state, broad-shouldered, cut jaw, and a late-night shadowing of scruff that has me rubbing my legs together like a cricket while wondering how it would feel against my inner thighs. It’s been too long since I’ve been with someone.

Someone who made me a priority.

Someone who treated me like I was the world to them.

Someone who touched me in ways that would make me blush again.

Cash keeps causing me to blush, but that’s from anger, not from the heat of our proximity or because he’s looking at me like I’m the only woman in a crowded room. No, it’s not from this ludicrous attraction I have to that man. At least, I don’t think it is . . .

He makes me feel out of control, but thoughts of seduction are the last thing I should be thinking about when it comes to him. Yet here I am. Thinking about him in ways I shouldn’t be.

Biting my lip, I turn away to collect myself. I’ve had a lot to drink tonight and not enough to eat. That’s all. But then my gaze finds him again, savoring every muscle that white shirt clings to, studying that incredible ass as if he’s a reference for a marble statue. It’s been a really long time since I’ve felt anything for someone.

I slip into a chair because this is a doozy of a dose of reality. When was the last time? When was the last time I even made myself come since Corbin wasn’t doing the job?

More importantly, am I only eyeing up Cash like he’s a late-night snack because he was kind to me?

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