the door handle. “Thanks for seeing me home.”
He swiveled back to her. She thought he’d leave her alone on a city street? Not likely. Besides, it was time he put his proposition on the table. They’d made a connection—now he had to hope it was enough to back up the logic of his offer.
Ryder thrust some Australian notes at the driver. “I’m seeing you to your door.”
Her lush lips compressed into a flat line. “There’s no need. Really.”
He took his change and thanked the driver. “Yes, there is.”
She inclined her head, accepting graciously, if a little reluctantly.
Feeling upbeat, he stepped out onto the road and circled around to meet Macy on the pavement. It was a good sign she didn’t have roots here. She wouldn’t have trouble moving back to the States with him.
He laid a hand on the small of her back as they walked into the foyer of her building. Besides the doorman who stood discreetly at the entrance, they were alone, and the sounds of their shoes on the marble floors echoed through the softly lit interior.
Their first date had gone well, all things considered. Now he just needed to garner an invitation to her apartment and outline his offer and its merits.
Three steps into the silent foyer, Macy turned on the marble floor and faced him. “I only have to go up that elevator. You’ve seen me home.” She moistened her lips and he couldn’t have dragged his gaze away with a gun to his head. Her scent, something exotic, surrounded him.
She was so damn beautiful he had to replay her words in his head to get her meaning. Was it a good thing or bad that the woman he wanted to marry made his body overheat and frazzled his brain?
“Invite me up,” he said.
She shivered almost imperceptibly, but then arched one eyebrow, as if in control. “Why would I do that?”
A slow smile spread across his face. Her veneer of control called to him, compelled him to move closer. He could see her writhing in his bed, in his arms, under him, all thoughts of control long gone.
His voice, when he found it, was rough. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Macy glanced at his mouth then met his eyes. “I don’t think talking’s what you have in mind.”
He reached and found her fingers with his, holding them at his side in the lightest of clasps. “Sure, just because I want to talk doesn’t mean I’m not aching to touch you.” To kiss you. To taste you.
Her pupils dilated to almost cover her hazel irises but she didn’t move.
He leaned over and brushed his lips lightly across hers, meaning it to be no more than a peck, a brief demonstration of his words. He began to pull away but he couldn’t help gently touching her mouth again. Those lips had been on his mind for twelve hours straight. Just one more touch …
Her mouth yielded, opened to him, and he needed no second invitation for something he’d been wanting to do since she’d arrived at the bar. As he deepened the kiss, he moved forward, closing the distance but not pressing against her—not yet—the bulk of his coat ensuring a respectable distance. Her tongue lightly touched his, a caress sweeter than he’d even imagined.
Drunk on her exotic scent, he lifted his hands to cup her face, finding her cheeks were like silk under his palms. He felt her hands on his shoulders, lightly, then more assured as they traveled an exquisite path to his neck before her fingers tangled in his hair. He was lost. He moved—
A flash went off, lighting up the room, and Ryder pulled back, blinking, scanning the area. Through the front glass wall, a lone photographer stood with a long lens zoom, still clicking and flashing rapidly. The doorman was already in action, racing to the photographer, and Ryder shoved Macy into an alcove where she’d be more protected, then stormed to the door. By the time he reached the spot, the photographer was running down the street.
The paparazzi had found him.
Breathing choppy, he narrowed his eyes and watched the coward flee. He’d managed to avoid them since landing in Australia. They targeted him every so often, but they’d stepped up their assault since his father’s death—on him, and his half brothers Seth and Jesse. Most of the time he ignored them and didn’t let the media affect his life, but they’d just interrupted a very private moment. One he was enjoying immensely. He kicked at the concrete path, accepted the apologies of the doorman, then strode back inside to find Macy.
She stood in the alcove, her arms hugging her waist, her face a shade paler than before. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her, attempting to take away the aftertaste of the shock. She must be more used to being photographed than him, but since he hadn’t seen recent photos of her in the papers, it’d probably been a while for her. And they’d both been so carried away by that kiss, she was probably still reeling from its abrupt ending.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair.
She stood motionless in his embrace, arms still around her own waist, a world away from him. “I think it was good timing,” she said unsteadily.
“What do you mean?” He held her a little tighter, suspecting where she was going.
Disengaging herself from his arms, she stepped back. Her shoulders were square, ready to face whatever came, but her eyes were haunted. Ryder clenched his fists to stop from reaching for her again.
She took a deep breath and let it out in measured evenness. “I won’t have an affair with my boss. I’ve spent too much time building my professional reputation to see it destroyed over a fling.”
“What makes you think I’m only interested in a fling?”
Her eyes held a world of pain and cynicism. “Experience.”
She’d been hurt. Thinking of her being hurt, betrayed, made him want to reach for her all the more, to offer words of comfort, but he knew she wouldn’t want sympathy so he bit them back and waited.
She glanced at the spot where the intruder had been, then back to him. “I’m sorry, I never should have agreed to this date.” She pulled herself up to her full height, spine stiff. “Thank you for the drink, but you have to realize we can’t repeat it.”
He frowned. This was clearly going to be a problem he’d need to overcome before he could convince her to marry him. Or, more pressingly, to kiss him again.
He needed to tread gently. Lifting her chin with a knuckle, he said, “Macy, don’t let a parasite of a photographer ruin our night. We were enjoying ourselves until that flash went off.”
Her eyes softened for a moment and he thought she was with him, but then her shutters came down.
“I—I have to go.” She whirled and walked a little too fast toward the elevator. Jaw clenched, he watched her leave, telling himself not to follow, not to come on too strong and ruin this. No matter how much he wanted to go after her, comfort her, his whole future depended on not scaring her away.
When the elevator pinged and she disappeared behind mirrored doors, he was left alone. The empty feeling that over took him was strangely hard to swallow for
