Page 13 of A Lot Like Love
“So what are you doing coming inside with me then?” he asked, turning and pushing open the door.
Chloe followed him as he flicked on the lights. She took a look around, bent to study a couple of photographs near the front door. Aside from the frames, the hallway was emotionless and masculine. A big rug was at the end of the hall, which lead to what she guessed was the living room from what she could see.
“Once you’ve sobered up a bit I’m heading back to my place,” she said, still walking behind him until he disappeared through an open door into what was obviously a bedroom. She sure as hell wasn’t going to follow him in there, not when it would be so easy to give in to how attracted she was to him.
And when she glanced in, she saw exactly what she hadn’t wanted to see. Ryder was unbuttoning his shirt, his fingers on the last few buttons, and when he looked up she knew he was doing it for her benefit. He let the shirt fall apart then slipped his arms out, throwing it across the room. She swallowed as she stared, eyes locked on his abs, his golden brown skin with not a trace of fat, just pure muscle. His arms were the same, so strong; her fingers itched to trace across every inch of him.
“You were saying?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he stretched and crossed the room, returning with a T-shirt and pulling it on.
Chloe looked away. So he had a great body. So what? She needed to stay in control, and more important stay focused on why she was here. This was a business arrangement, nothing more, nothing less.
“You seem pretty calm for a guy who’s just lost everything,” she said, checking out the living room and listening to Ryder’s boots echoing on the wooden floor behind her.
“Not calm, just in denial,” he said, coming up way too close behind her, his mouth next to her ear as he spoke before moving past. “Besides, I have you to distract me.”
She looked at the worn sofas, a coffee table piled high with men’s magazines and empty bottles strewn about. It was definitely a bachelor pad, albeit an expensive one, right down to the oversize fridge that she was certain would be filled with beer staring at her from the kitchen.
“You don’t haveme, you have my help.”
“Same difference,” he said, moving past and opening the fridge. Out came a beer. “And it’s kind of exciting being blackmailed by a woman. Want one?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m going home. You can drink yourself stupid, but tomorrow you’re sober. No more drinking and no more gambling, for you anyway.” She glanced sideways at him. “And I’m not blackmailing you, silly. We’ve come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”
He laughed, a deep chuckle that commanded attention. Ryder was a man used to being in control, and everything about him, every movement and every word, made that clear. Only she’d glimpsed the man beneath the bravado earlier, seen his pain at what he’d done, and no amount of cockiness now was going to make her forget that. He was hurting, but now that he wasn’t drunk as a skunk he was doing a damn good job of disguising it.
“You sure know how to boss a guy around,” he said, resting his elbows on the kitchen counter as he leaned forward.
She matched his gaze, heart beating fast enough for her to notice it. Just because she was trying to be the boss didn’t mean it came naturally to her, not with a man like Ryder staring at her. She was like the mouse to his cat, somehow having the upper hand until he figured out how to snatch that power back and catch her at the same time. Only he wasn’t having her. There was no way in hell she was mixing pleasure with business, not with Ryder King.
“Right now, you need me,” she said, running her hand along the back of the sofa as she walked, needing to do something other than stand and have to stare back at him. “And I need you,” she admitted.
“Law school is pretty important to you, huh?”
She stopped moving, lifted her chin, and leveled her gaze on him once again.
“We don’t all have trust funds to draw on. Some of us have to work for a living.”
The smile disappeared from his face as he pushed his beer bottle away. “You must think I’m an idiot for doing what I did tonight.”
There went that fragile part of him, like a hairline fracture through the strongest of bones, just a glimpse that showed her he gave a damn. Which scared her, because it only made her like him all the more.
“Yeah, I do,” she told him, walking to the counter and standing opposite him. “But we all make mistakes, and we all deserve a second chance.”
He slumped forward. “I screwed up, Chloe. I really screwed up tonight.”
She stared at his back as he turned, his hands rising to his head, palms pressed into his face.
“Dammit!” Ryder swore.
Chloe wanted to go to him, to comfort him, because she knew how much he must be hurting, but she didn’t. Because what he needed was to feel every bit of that pain if her plan was ever going to work.
“I’m going to take your car,” she said softly. “I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”
His big shoulders heaved, his hands still covering his face even though he was facing away from her. She knew he’d heard her, so she turned to go, walking slowly down the hall and shutting the door behind her. The reality of what he’d done, what he’d lost, had just hit him like a ton of bricks, which meant it was time for her to go.
* * *
Ryder opened his eyes just enough to see how painful it was going to be. They were only slits but the light was enough to burn his pupils and make his head start to pound, the alcohol from the night before like poison in his system. He shut them again and reached for the Tylenol on the bedside table, fumbling around for the container. He slipped two into his mouth, forcing his eyes back open to look for something to drink.
