at all,” she denied.
“You don’t feel any residual attraction when we’re together?”
“Hardly.”
His gaze narrowed at the dismissive tone, but he noticed that she didn’t look at him as she spoke. Her gaze had dropped to his shoulders, skimmed down his torso. Even in the dim light, he could tell that she was checking him out—and appreciating what she saw. “You’re a smart woman, Harper.”
She dragged her eyes from his bare chest to meet his again. “Thank you,” she said, just a little warily.
“So you must realize that a lot of guys would take that statement as a challenge.”
“It was merely a statement of fact.”
He told her what he thought of that in a single-word reply.
She rose from the chair with the sleeping baby. “I’m putting Oliver in his bed and going back to my own.”
He couldn’t resist baiting her, just a little. “Is that an invitation?”
“Has hell frozen over?”
She responded without missing a beat, and he found himself smiling as he watched her gently lay Oliver down on his mattress. What was it about this woman that, even while she infuriated him, he couldn’t help but admire her quick mind and spunky attitude?
He walked beside her to the door. “You still want me.”
“You really need to do something about that ego before—”
He touched a finger to her lips, silencing her words.
“You still want me,” he said again. “As much as I still want you.”
As he spoke, his fingertip traced the outline of her lips. Even after four years, he remembered the softness of her mouth, the sweetness of her kiss. He remembered the passion of her response to his touch and the feel of her hands moving over his body.
Her eyes darkened and the rapid flutter of the pulse point below her ear made him think that she was remembering those same things.
Then she blinked and took a deliberate step back. “Are you really hitting on me less than three weeks after we buried our best friends?”
“I was merely stating a fact,” he said.
“Your slanted interpretation of a fact,” she countered.
He slung an arm across the doorway, halting her retreat. “I hardly think you’re in any position to be talking to me about slanted interpretations when you’re deep in denial about your own feelings.”
She rolled her eyes. “Because I must be in denial if I’m not dragging you across the hall to my bed, right?”
“You wouldn’t have to drag me—I’d probably cooperate if you asked nicely.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“...available dates for next month.”
The words nudged at Harper’s mind as if from a distance.
She recognized her assistant’s voice, but she wasn’t sure Diya was talking to her and she couldn’t summon the energy to respond.
“Did you hear me?”
The voice was closer now, sharper.
“Harper?”
She lifted her head, blinked her gritty eyes. “Yes, of course.”
Diya’s expression was concerned. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She reached for the mug of coffee at her elbow and swallowed a mouthful, trying not to wince as the cold liquid slid down her throat. Obviously she’d zoned out for more than a couple of minutes if the coffee she thought she’d just poured was already cold.
She blamed Ryan for her lack of sleep the night before. After she’d put Oliver down in his bed and gone back to her own, she’d lain awake for a long time thinking about what he’d said—and silently damning him for being right.
Because she did still want him. Just being near the man made her blood heat and her heart pound. And there had been a brief moment in the doorway of Oliver’s bedroom, as Ryan had slowly and gently traced the outline of her mouth with the tip of his finger, when she’d wished he would stop teasing her and start kissing her. She’d wanted to lift her hands to touch him, sliding her palms over the rippling muscles of his belly, the hard planes of his chest. And yes, dammit, she had wanted to drag him across the hall and have her way with him.
Of course, he probably had the same effect on most females. Because how could any woman resist the intense focus of those green-and-gold eyes that made her feel as if he saw nothing but her? How could she deny the allure of that sexy half smile that promised all kinds of sensual pleasure? Harper didn’t think it was possible.
She knew that guys like that, who had women falling at their feet, were often selfish lovers—concerned only with their own satisfaction. She also knew that Ryan Garrett was not one of those guys.
However, one spectacular lovemaking experience more than four years earlier couldn’t change the fundamental fact that they were completely and totally wrong for one another. Like her favorite Godiva salted-caramel chocolate bars—he might be tempting and delicious, but she knew she would inevitably regret the indulgence. It was that knowledge that had finally given her the strength to move away from him.
Unfortunately, the memories of that long-ago experience churned up by his casual touch had kept her awake into the early hours of morning. And wasn’t it a sad reflection on her love life that, four years later, she could still recall every detail of that night?
She shook her head, as if to banish the unwelcome memories, and realized that while she’d been gathering her scattered thoughts, her assistant had taken her cold coffee cup away and returned now with a fresh, steaming cup.
“Thanks,” Harper said gratefully.
“You have—” Diya gestured to her own cheek “—paper creases on your face.”
So much for maintaining the illusion that she had been hard at work rather than sleeping at her desk. “I guess I dozed off for a minute,” she acknowledged.
“Why don’t you go home and get some proper sleep?” her assistant suggested gently.
“Because when I get home, I’m on baby duty,” she admitted.
“Babies nap—you have to learn to sleep when they do.”
It was the same advice she’d read in countless books, but it seemed to Harper that whenever Oliver was napping, there were a million other things to do before she could even consider sleep.
“That
