She tried not to think too hard about that while there was a naked man named Ryan with the body of a Greek god stretched out beside her. “Anyway, Ryan, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t typically do this sort of thing.”
“Yes, I know. You mentioned that last night. A couple of times, actually.” He rested a warm hand on her upper thigh and gave her a smile that seemed a bit sad around the edges. Bittersweet.
She felt oddly transparent, as if the man in her bed knew more about her than was possible after only a handful of hours together. Her thigh was suddenly awash in goose bumps.
“Good. So long as we’re clear—this was a one-night affair. A mistake, probably. I don’t expect you to ask for my number or anything.” She slid her leg out of reach, tucking it beneath the covers.
His smile faded. The dimples which had been barely visible beneath the layer of scruff on his chiseled jaw disappeared entirely. “A mistake?”
She nodded, because of course it had been a mistake.
A man was the very last thing she needed, even for one night. Particularly this man, whose hands she couldn’t look at without imagining them on her skin. And whose mouth made her want to linger in bed and revisit the most wicked portions of the previous evening. “Good grief, how much wine did I have last night?”
She clamped her mouth closed. God, had she actually asked that question out loud?
“Quite a bit.” Ryan’s frown deepened. She couldn’t stop saying his name in her head. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. “Although you didn’t seem drunk. Not even tipsy. Should I be apologizing right now? Something tells me I should.”
Another perk of having a vineyard in your childhood backyard—an incredibly high tolerance. For wine, at least. Even on the rare occasion when she drank enough to feel like she’d overindulged, it never showed.
“You have nothing to apologize for. Truly.” Memories flitted through her consciousness. The taste of him. The feel of him. The weight of him on top of her as he’d pushed himself inside.
It had been exactly what she’d wanted.
Exquisite.
A shiver coursed through her, and she leaped out of the bed to prevent herself from reaching for him again.
Ryan’s gaze settled on her, and she felt it as keenly as if it were a caress. Her thoughts screamed. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. She’d cried out his name last night, hadn’t she?
Oh God.
She crossed her arms, and his gaze drifted lower, lingering on her bare breasts. She was every bit as naked as he was, which made perfect sense, given the situation. She’d just been so preoccupied with his nakedness that she hadn’t noticed her own.
“What if I wanted to ask for your number?” he said, making no move whatsoever to evacuate her bed.
How long was he planning on staying? Did Ryan not realize how one-night stands worked?
Ryan. Ryan. Ryan.
Evangeline had repeated the name to herself so many times now that it no longer made sense. She wondered what the W on the cuff links stood for, but she didn’t dare ask. If she knew his full name, she might be tempted to look him up later in another moment of weakness.
Not happening.
She grabbed the quilt off the end of the bed, wrapped it around herself and shook her head. “You don’t want my number.”
A muscle flicked in his jaw. “I’m certain I do.”
“No.” She shook her head even harder. “You don’t.”
If he knew the first thing about her situation, he’d run for the hills. She wouldn’t blame him in the slightest.
“Then I must be an idiot,” he said.
Did he have to be so charming? He probably couldn’t help it. It was probably part of his genetic makeup, like the abs. And the voice. And the fathomless blue of his eyes.
Evangeline had never seen eyes quite so blue.
She averted her gaze from them.
“Honestly, you don’t need to do this. Everything’s fine. I’m fine. This was—” Just what I needed. She swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat, seemingly out of nowhere “—fun.”
“Fun,” he echoed.
The word sounded oddly hollow, and Evangeline instantly wanted to take it back. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from telling him the whole truth—that she was lost; she’d been lost for a very long time and that the real reason she never did this sort of thing was because it scared the life out of her.
Intimacy, in all its forms, involved a level of vulnerability that she couldn’t quite handle. She thought Jeremy had understood that about her. Wrong again.
“Here you go, then.” She bent to retrieve his abandoned shirt and trousers and handed them to him. When his fingertips brushed against hers, the lump in her throat doubled in size.
Leave. Please, leave.
He climbed out of the bed and started to get dressed. Thank goodness.
She glanced at the floor, where Olive and Bee were still sound asleep on top of Ryan’s suit jacket. Olive’s paws twitched. She was chasing rabbits in her sleep again.
Evangeline tugged gently on the wool Armani, trying her hardest to slip it out from beneath the sleeping dogs unnoticed. Like the old magician’s tablecloth trick.
No such luck. Bee was completely deaf, therefore extremely sensitive to movement. She woke with a start, pawing at Evangeline’s shins. Olive let out a squeaky dog yawn and hopped onto the bed, where she stood and stared at Ryan while he zipped up his pants.
He glanced up, spotted Olive watching him and then reached to scratch behind her ears.
“Pet her from the left side. She can’t see out of her right eye, so you might startle her,” Evangeline said.
He followed her advice. The little Cavalier’s tail wagged furiously. Bee scrambled up onto the bed to join in the fun.
“Sweet dogs,” Ryan said, and Evangeline’s heart gave a little tug.
He somehow managed to look even more attractive, surrounded by adorable dogs. Because of course.
“Thank you. They technically belong to my grandfather, but he recently moved into an extended care facility, so they live here now.” Why was she telling him this?
“I’m sorry to hear that.” His voice went as soft as velvet, like he really meant it.
If he didn’t leave soon, she’d probably offer to cook him breakfast.
“Here.” She shoved his suit jacket at him. Every inch of it was covered in dog
