Chapter 2 #2
“My apologies.” Ryker released his hold and raised his hands to his sides. “I just thought you might enjoy a tour.”
“Keep it in your pants, Romeo. Neither one of us is getting naked tonight.” She smiled up at him and moved her hands to his sides and then down. She dropped to a crouch and squeezed her hands down the outer part of his legs.
She slowly slid her hands up the inner seam, pausing to look up at him when she felt the tip of his length.
Her mouth parted, and she swallowed the pooling saliva before quickly rising back to her feet.
Yep, the old wive's tale was true. Shoe size was a pretty accurate comparison, and this guy hung to the right.
“You could have gone higher. I wouldn’t have stopped you.” He chuckled as she moved away and took her seat. Ryker was a bad, bad boy, and damn if she hadn’t been tempted to climb him like a mountain and plant her flag. Cool yourself, you little hussy.
“Coop would kick me out for molesting the customers.”
Ryker’s smile grew. “I doubt that. Are you satisfied I’m not carrying?”
“Sorry. I don’t know you.”
“Sure you do,” he said, retaking his seat. “We’ve been talking for over a year.”
Ryker rested his ankle over one his legs and moved the hem of his jeans out of the way. He pulled a small sheathed blade from his boot and slid it across the table to her. “Never forget to check a man’s boots. Keep it. You can gouge out my eyes if you feel threatened.”
Humor lurked in the depths of his gaze as she took his knife and covered it with her sweaty palms.
“Are you telling me you’re an accountant?”
Ryker chuckled. The sound was a melody to her ears. “No. I’m not an accountant.”
“Yeah, that might be a problem.” She pulled out a slip of paper from her purse, unfolded it, and slid it across the wood. “Seeing how you're dead. The IRS would probably reject your claims. Maybe I should call the police and tell them that you’ve made a miraculous recovery.”
“If you were going to do that, you wouldn’t be here.”
“But I could.”
He gave her a nod of acknowledgment before taking another long pull from his beer.
His face was unreadable. His energy was not.
There was only a slight tension in his energy.
Her beer sat untouched. No way was she getting drunk around this guy if she was keeping her panties and her wits. She could see he’d take both.
Ryker wasn’t like normal men with a wandering gaze. He gave her the entire force of his attention, like a missile seeking its target. If she was smart, she’d walk away and ignore his calls, yet something kept her pinned to the chair.
“I suppose you could. You and I are alike in a lot of ways.”
Hardly. Harper wasn’t some badass, no matter how many cop shows she’d watched. The only self-defense she knew was thanks to the free class that Coop had given, and even then, she’d been guilt tripped into going.
“How do you figure? I’m a medium with special gifts, and you’re…what is it that you do exactly? Oh, wait, let me guess. You dance in a hot male revue? It would explain why you’re always calling me about travel.”
His smile was flirtatious, hinting at secrets he hadn’t yet shared. “Is this a game of twenty questions? I’m willing to play if you are.”
“Sure. I’ll play. What’s your profession?” Please don’t say mob boss. Please don’t say mob boss.
“I don’t have a title, but if I had to pick one that was close, I’d say… treasure hunter.”
Huh. She hadn’t been expecting that. Treasure hunter, a buff Indiana Jones. Yeah, she could see that.
“My turn. When was the last time you had a proper kiss?”
“On my twenty-first birthday. Johnny Parker.” She answered a bit too fast. “Do you ever find treasures?”
“All the time.”
“Why me?”
He tsked. “You skipped my turn.”
She conceded and raised her brow. She had skipped his turn, and he hadn’t been drunk enough to notice. Points for him.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
“That’s not a question. That’s a statement.”
“Why did you come to the bar?”
“Curiosity. Stupidity.” She shrugged. The thought of finally having a face to put with the voice. Although she wouldn’t admit it. “Why do you call me?”
“You’re my good luck charm.”
“I doubt that.” Harper finally took a sip of her beer. The cool liquid slid down her throat. She was in a safe place. Her brother-in-law was behind the bar and had promised to keep an eye on her.
Harper set the beer down and studied his beautiful blue eyes. “Why did you fake your death?”
“Why does anyone?”
Her brows dipped as she laced her fingers. “You can’t answer my question with a question. That’s not the way the game is played. You’re running from something. Hiding?” she asked with an unsure shake of her head.
“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you the truth.” He took a long pull from his beer.
“Try me.” Did she really want to know? Her momma might be mad that she’d walked into being an accomplice.
“I died so you could live.” His words rang true, free of deception. There was no tension surrounding him.
“I’m pretty sure I’d remember being in need of a life-saving transplant.”
His lips twisted at the corners, sending the butterflies in her belly into a tailspin. “Let’s hope you never do.”
“What does that even mean?”
“You skipped my turn,” he said, rising from his seat.
She saluted her beer in acknowledgment.
“Your sisters and you are special.”
“Is that a question? We can’t help that we ride the short bus. It’s my mother’s fault, or maybe it was the gardener’s. I heard he preferred a well-manicured bush.” Harper wiggled her brows.
“Your father’s in oil and part business owner. Your aunt and brother-in-law are retired FBI.”
“You’re forgetting the kilt-wearing Highlander. We’re all crazy,” she said, wiggling her fingers to scare him; instead, she looked like a cheerleader using jazz hands. “How do you know so much about me?”
“It’s my job.” He rounded the table, crowding her personal space. Her fingers tightened around the knife, and her breath quickened as she fought the urge to pull him closer.
“What’s your job?”
“You.”
“You’re not like a hitman, sent to bump me off? Because I have to tell you I’m a black belt, and my hands are registered as lethal.”
He chuckled. “No, you’re not.”
“Maybe not. But I’ve got the lungs of a newborn baby. Care to test my theory?”
“I believe you. Have dinner with me tomorrow.”
She tsked. “No can do, stranger. I’ve got plans.” And she did. If she didn’t show up to her parents’ annual Christmas party, her homicide would be the next one the police would be trying to solve.
He cupped her cheek, and she leaned into the warmth of his palm. Her traitorous eyes automatically closed. His words were hot against her ear. “Maybe another time. Sleep well, Harper.”
Harper opened in time to watch him leave via the stairs to the beach. “Sleep well?” she grumbled under her breath. “Not even a kiss?”
It was probably for the best. God forbid he kissed as hot as he looked. She’d never get a restful night’s sleep again.
She rolled her eyes and picked up her drink. When she slept, the least he could do was star in her dreams, every bulging muscle and sensuous whisper.