Page 17 of Play Book

“Have a good night,” I call out, closing and locking it behind us.

“Night, Saylor!” Joel’s voice fades behind the door.

“He can be chatty,” I whisper to Canyon.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” He looks around. “This is big and really beautiful.”

“Thanks. I totally renovated it when I bought it, and I love coming home at night. It’s mine, you know? Not just because I own it, but because I made it exactly what I wanted.”

“That’s the plan if I ever knuckle down and buy a place.”

“You want a tour?”

Why am I offering a guy I was going to have a one-night stand with a tour?

Am I a dumbass or what?

“Sure,” he says, surprising me.

“Oh, um, okay.” I motion to the living room. “This is the main room. The fireplace is gas, and the flooring is luxury vinyl plank, which is both water- and scratch-resistant.”

“I love the built-ins,” he says. “And that painting above the fireplace… it doesn’t look like yours.”

“It’s not.” I smile. “It’s a Tim Cantor.”

“Never heard of him, but it’s nice.”

“I love his work.” I lead him toward the dining room. “This is the formal dining room, which I usually only use around the holidays.” We continue into the kitchen. “The kitchen is a little smaller than I’d like but I don’t have time to cook much, so it wound up working out okay. There was linoleum from the seventies in here when I bought it, and now it’s all stainless steel and granite, which I like much better.”

Why am I babbling about the house?

He probably doesn’t care.

“I love this.” He runs a hand over my black countertops. The granite I’d chosen was shot through with flecks of turquoise and gold. It had been ridiculously expensive, but I’d known I wanted it the moment I saw it.

“Not too busy?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.

“For whom?” he asks curiously, turning to me. “Your house, your taste, your money. Who cares if it’s busy? I think it’s stunning and exotic. Much like you.”

Every time he says something like that, my heart skips a beat.

Men told me I was beautiful every day when I’d been modeling full time, but it sounds different coming from Canyon.

“Thank you.” My voice is a little scratchy, and I’m not sure why.

“You nervous, babe?” he asks softly, pulling me against him, though his touch is light. “We don’t have to do this. I’m okay going home.”

I shake my head. “I’m not nervous, it’s just…well, normally you don’t plan a one-night stand. The ones I’ve had were always spontaneous. This feels different. Like we’re friends. Out on a date.”

“We are out on a date.” His gorgeous blue eyes turn cerulean. “And it doesn’t have to specifically be a one-night stand. It can be friends with benefits. A hookup. Hell, it doesn’t have to have a name. It’s just us here. We can do—or not do—anything we want. No pressure.”

Every word that comes out of his mouth makes me like him more.

Sleeping with someone as enigmatic as Canyon is probably a mistake, but there’s no way I’ll back out now. I’m desperate for him to touch me again, kiss me, and eventually take me to bed.

“Would you kiss me again?” is all I could think to say, since anything else might include me begging him to fuck me. Or something equally ridiculous.

“Been hoping you’d say something like that.” He doesn’t give me a chance to second-guess myself because this time his kisses are deliciously passionate, his tongue sliding against mine with purpose. He digs his fingers into the hair at the back of my neck, keeping me a most willing captive.

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