Page 36 of Bad for Business
I can’t help but laugh at his comment. I look away from his gaze and over to the shore. We really aren’t that far out from land, something that gives me a little reprieve from my fear. “I promise you I won’t be jumping.”
He stares at me for a moment, his lids narrowed. “Why? Can’t swim?” He says it as a joke, but the teasing tilt of his lips falls when I don’t answer right away.
He nods in understanding.
My cheeks heat, and this time, it’s with embarrassment. “I never had the desire as a kid. And the older I got, the less I wanted to swim. It scares me, and I have no interest in doing it. Go ahead and get it over with and laugh at me.”
His brown eyes soften. Actually soften. I try not to think too hard about it. The martini has definitely gone to my head, and now I’m looking at Ryker the way I looked at him the first night we met, andnotlooking at him like he’s my pain-in-the-ass, entitled client.
He clears his throat. His hand reaches toward me before it drops to his side. I stare at it for a moment, wondering what he was about to do.
Was he going to touch me? Surely not.
Fuck. What is happening on this boat? I need off it. I don’t know what I’m thinking. Of course Ryker wasn’t about to touch me.
“I’m not going to laugh. If the drink doesn’t work and you get too overwhelmed, let me know.” His gaze stays pinned on mine. I can’t move. Not with the way he’s looking at me right now. His eyes search mine, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s looking for.
All I can do is nod. He watches me closely for a few more seconds before he tucks his hands into his pockets and walks away.
The drink does end up taking the edge off. For the rest of the afternoon, I’m not as scared of being on the water as I was when I first stepped onto the yacht.
A different fear overtakes me. It’s the fear of the way my body heats every time I feel Ryker’s gaze on mine. It’s like I can feel him looking at me before my eyes ever meet his. For the rest of the afternoon, it almost feels like he never looks away from me. Not for long, at least. He carries on conversations, but it’s clear that he’s only half present for them.
The realization should annoy me. I shouldn’t want him to focus on me. I should want him to focus on spending the afternoon with Davenport Media board members and impressing them.
But his cautious gaze on mine doesn’t annoy me at all. It seems thoughtful that he wants to keep checking in on me.
And that realization is terrifying. Because once the wall drops and I’m no longer annoyed by Ryker Davenport, I’m scared that I’ll be right back where I started when it comes to him. I’m terrified I’ll be attracted to him all over again.
And there are plenty of reasons why that can’t happen.
TWENTY-ONE
RYKER
“Oh my God.I’ve never been so happy to be on land,” Camille calls out, her heels clicking against the pavement.
I almost expect her to get on her knees and kiss the ground with how excited she is to be off the yacht.
“Is this a bad time to tell you that Mitchell asked me to go back out with them sometime soon?”
Camille’s steps still, and her eyes go wide as she looks at me.
I can’t help but think how adorable she looks right now. She ended up having two martinis, and it’s obvious she’s a little tipsy. This version of her is one I wasn’t expecting to see today, but I can’t deny that I’m enjoying it. Her tongue isn’t as sharp, and her guard isn’t up. I like seeing this side of her…the side that doesn’t pretend to hate me.
“I’m joking,” I speak up, trying not to smile at how cute she looks. Her plump lips are parted, and her aquamarine eyes are aimed right at me. Her cheeks are pink from the alcohol, and she keeps swaying ever so slightly on her heels.
Her shoulders sag in relief. “I’m not getting on a boat again while we’re here. If there are more yacht outings, count me out.”
I whistle, quickly grabbing onto her elbow when she leans a little too far to the left. “Are you saying you’d allow me to do something on my own?” I ask in shock.
I try to ignore the warmth of her skin underneath mine, but I don’t let go, and she uses the opportunity to pop one heel off, then the other, until her bare feet are on the pavement and her heels are in her hand.
As I wait for her answer, I reach my free hand out, my fingers wiggling as a silent demand.
She looks down at my awaiting hand for a moment, a tiny frown appearing on her lips.
“Let me hold them for you,” I request, pushing my hand a little closer to her.
