Page 3 of Naughty Bedtime Stories

Stiffening her spine, she marched forward, her heels clicking on the glossy twelve-by-twelve white tiles of the lobby. Both men glanced in her direction, and Ryan leaned an elbow on the desk, watching her approach, deceptively casual, like a tiger lying in wait for his prey. A rush of awareness, spun with a mixture of heat and arousal, pulsed through her limbs at the idea of being that man’s prey. It also ticked her off. Shewould notbe aroused by her competitor.

Upon arriving at the desk, she stopped at a respectable distance from Ryan and, with an intentional snub, settled her attention on Big Mike. “I see you share a love of orange with Mr. White.”

“Seems that way, Ms. Michaels,” he said. She glanced at Ryan, intending to offer a cordial greeting, but noting the sparkle in his sea-blue eyes, she forgot what she’d intended to say. “Funny that,” she said. “Since you went to UCLA.”

“I regret that choice,” he said. “Which is why that was the last time I ever allowed my father to tell me what to do.”

He arched a challenging brow with the silent question—Can you say the same?—that was too damn clear with Mike standing there.

“Can we talk?” she asked tightly. “Inprivate?”

He pushed off the desk. “Sure,” he said, motioning toward the elevator. “Lead the way.”

She countered with a wave in the direction of the exit door. “Let’s step outside.”

His lips twitched and he eyed Mike. Mike grinned. “Told you she’d never let you upstairs.”

Sarah’s gaze flashed approvingly to Mike. “Good work, Mike.”

Instantly, Mike straightened, his shoulders broadened in a prideful gesture. “Never let the offense get to the quarterback, which is you, Ms. Michaels.”

Though his remark was meant to be supportive, Sarah’s stomach fell to her toes, because even Mike, who knew nothing of the inner workings of the company, understood that Ryan was in offensive mode with a touchdown in sight, while she was playing a poor version of defense, with a loss in sight. She couldn’t afford to have anyone believing the doom and gloom of certain failure. Not her staff, not Mike and especially not Ryan.

Resolve stiffened her spine, and this time Sarah pulledhershoulders back. “Give me a few more weeks,” she said, her gaze shifting to Ryan. “Ryan will be the one on the defense, not me. You can take that to Vegas and bet on it.”

Sarah started walking to the exit, her intention to force Ryan to follow. His deep, sexy taunt of laughter followed in her wake.

“I do believe I just got a smack-down, Mike,” Ryan said, his voice steady, unmoving. He wasn’t following.

“Actually, sir,” Mike replied, “that’s what we call an interception.”

“And my chances of getting the ball back?” Ryan asked coolly, amusement lacing his tone.

Too coolly to suit Sarah. She whirled around to face Ryan to find him, once again, leaning on the security desk, even as Mike replied, “About as good as making it through a tornado without a basement.” His eyes widened on Sarah, and he rephrased, “Correction. You’re a broken-down Volkswagen driving straight into that tornado and you’re about to be crushed.”

Ryan laughed and pushed off the counter. “I’ve never been compared to a Volkswagen before, but somehow I bet Ms. Michaels has been called a tornado.” He sauntered toward Sarah, all loose-legged and confident, faded denim hugging powerful thighs.

Sarah wanted to smack him. Or get naked with him. Or both. In that order. Or maybe the order didn’t matter at all. Years of fantasizing about this man were clearly having an inconvenient impact, because now was not the time to be thinking of sex, most certainly not with Ryan. She told herself to play this cool, regardless of how hot he made her feel. She knew how to do that. She’d done so in the courtroom plenty of times, under turbulent, uncomfortable circumstances. And the dull throb of awareness settling in the lower region of her body was most definitely uncomfortable.

Calling on her inner Ice Princess persona, which she’d used for certain “uncomfortable” legal battles, she prepared for confrontation. But when Ryan stopped in front of her, toe to toe, close enough to be considered intimate, close enough to smell the spicy male scent of man, and his undoubtedlyexpensive, delicious cologne, her wall of ice melted under the scorching heat of his presence. Good Lord, she could feel the heat radiating off his big, gorgeous body. She blinked into the predatory gleam alight in his blue eyes that said he wanted to gobble her up. When she might have turned into one big puddle of melting female, she reminded herself, he’d gobble Chocolate Delights up right along with her.

Her chin lifted, her gaze narrowed. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I won’t let you. You can’t have Delights.”

Seconds ticked by at a crawl, his expression unreadable, his body too near. “I didn’t come here today for Delights,” he said, his voice low, sandpaper-rough. “I came for you, Sarah.”

CHAPTER THREE

Ryan watched the flicker of uncertainty touch Sarah’s naturally warm amber gaze, before she quickly masked it behind anger. “I don’t know what game you’re playing.”

“No game,” he said. “Just here to collect that coffee date.”

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I’m not buying you being so calculated for a cup of coffee.”

He laughed, amusement impossible to contain. “Did you really just accuse me of seducing your security guard?”

With a sharp nod, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, glaring up at him without any inkling of intimidation and seemingly oblivious to how, at six foot two, he towered over her a good eight inches.

“If the shoe fits, buddy,” she said. “And I’d say it’s just the right size.”

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