Carson kept her eyes on the TV while Ryan’s fingers drew little circles on her knee. The gentle touch bordered on ticklish, not that he meant to do that. Or that’s what she told herself.

When they’d first settled in to watch the comedy she hadn’t known what to do about this constant contact. If she shifted away from him, he shifted closer. If she put her knees out of his reach, he’d drape his arm across the back of the sofa and twirl her hair. What was he getting at? Was it a hint? Was he trying to put the moves on her?

Now, after two movies, she was certain that these little gestures were completely mindless. He had no idea he was doing it. He wasn’t trying to slide his hand in her pants, up her shirt or grope her. He liked the closeness. Sort of like Mom’s old cat who used to insist on laying pressed up against someone even when it was sweltering. Both Ryan and the cat enjoyed contact. But unlike the cat, Ryan believed whatever they were doing meant something. Because he thought they’d shared something.

She blew out a breath and shoved those thoughts aside.

He had one thing right; they couldn’t do anything about their situation, perceived or real, until Monday at the earliest. She was dedicating herself to that belief for now and putting off the buffet of guilt she’d load up on later. Right now she wanted a few moments to lean on him. To feel the support she didn’t deserve.

The credits to their second movie of the day began to roll. He leaned forward and killed the TV.

“Did you like that one better?” He stretched his arms up over his head. His T-shirt molded to his body, showing off his well-honed muscles.

“They were both funny.” It had taken her a whole movie to relax.

“Yeah, but you laughed more at the second one.” He flopped back and once more placed his hand on her knee. The weight of it made her stomach tighten and her insides teeter tottered between wanting to run away or play the cat and get closer.

Normally she would shy away from casual contact like this. She wasn’t equipped to deal with men of Ryan’s caliber. She didn’t know what to do or how to act, but being around Ryan was easy. She steeled her nerve and covered his hand with hers. His smile grew a tiny bit wider and damn if she didn’t like this. Right about now she’d love to have someone, a partner, bearing this burden with her. It was a nice fantasy to believe she could have someone there who could be strong when she stumbled.

“I guess I’m still wound pretty tight,” she said.

“Anything I can do to change that?” He turned his hand over and threaded their fingers together. His brown eyes were warm. Inviting.

“You’re doing it.” She fought the silly swarm of butterflies to get those three words out of her mouth. She had no business getting involved with him on any level, even in her imagination. Still, he was perhaps the kind of guy she needed to find. Someone who could be gentle and patient with her.

“Glad to know I’m good for something.” He lifted her hand, and she stopped breathing.

Carson swallowed, watching the way his lips puckered versus the soft sensation of the kiss. It was brief, maybe a moment, and yet it seemed as though more time had passed.

Besides flirting in the bar it was the most action she’d had in a while.

He believed they’d done a whole lot more. What was the harm in a little affection?

Ryan tugged on her hand and leaned toward her.

Oh shit.

She could see it coming, and yet her feet wouldn’t move. Her limbs were frozen in place. Her mind said to flee while the rest of her wanted to stay right where it was.

Ryan slid his fingers through her hair until he cupped the back of her head. There was nothing uncertain in the way he looked at her. He was a man who knew his desires and talents. She was no match for him.

He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. She sucked in a breath, her head buzzing. His mouth sealed over hers in a true kiss. Lust curled up through her in answer to him. She’d been so focused on work and now her sister that everything else had fallen to the wayside. She almost forgot what it felt like to be kissed. Held. That it could feel good.

Ryan leaned back just enough to break the kiss. His thumb stroked her neck, and she felt his breath on her neck, all while her head reeled.

“I wish I remembered doing more of that,” he said.

She wished she’d told her friend to fuck off, that she’d kept Ryan to herself. Then this might not be their first kiss.

“I—I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” She hated saying that, but if she didn’t put a stop to this kind of thing she might end up really pregnant. After all, how did she tell him condoms were necessary when the damage was supposedly already done?

“It isn’t?” He leaned back a tiny bit. His face creased, and she felt a pang of guilt.

“I just—I don’t know.” She wrapped both of her hands around his and steeled herself for the half truths she had to weave. “I like you. I want to keep liking you, but...I don’t know if that means we should just be friends...or what.”

“What if the or what part worked out? What if this is all...good?”

Carson shrugged. Her insides knotted up. She didn’t have an answer for that. Her motivations for being here weren’t pure. And yet, she wished that or what part had a fighting chance. Maybe knowing they were doomed had her feelings rebelling against what she knew.

“Look, growing up the way I did with my fucked up parents, it made me want better for any kid of mine.”

“Me, too,” she said. The words were honest. She’d never want to put a kid through what she’d been through. Even though it felt like that chapter of her life happened to a different person, deep down she knew it was her. That it had changed her ability to interact with people and feel valued.

“Then, why don’t we agree to not...hedge ourselves in? Don’t make any decisions right now?”

“That sounds good,” she said slowly. And yet she was fairly certain what that translated to her wasn’t the same thing to Ryan.

“Cool.” He smiled and her insides went mushy. “Hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“I think all we have are sandwich things.” His face scrunched up.

“That’s fine.”

“I ate cold cuts all week, every day. I’d like something else. Do you like barbeque?”

“Sure.”

“How about I run down the street and get us something from the smoke shack place around the corner?”

“I can buy us lunch. You got breakfast. And cleaned up from dinner.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed the knuckles of each before letting her go.

She sat there on the sofa, watching him collect his phone and keys. He paused in the door leading to the front room to give her a little wave and a smile. Even at the bar when he’d flirted he hadn’t smiled like this. When the truth came out, she would destroy this spark of his.

BEN WAS FUCKED.

He’d gotten a block away from his condo before he’d seen the unmarked FBI vehicle watching his place.

His office was ransacked.

None of his regular contacts or resources were available to him. He had to think outside the box. And yet, there was only one way to access his accounts with any hope that he could salvage what he had going for him in a way that would allow for him to escape without putting his life at risk.

When he’d been younger, working for a bank was simply an option. A choice that allowed him to have an apartment, food and a little fun. His preferred recreational activities led him to meeting people. People who could benefit from having a middle man at the bank.

Those contacts had led to other contacts, referrals and then his very own business.

He’d never expected to go from being a kid who barely managed to graduate high school to a high rolling broker with friends around the world. Friends who would quickly become his enemies if he didn’t get circumvent the freeze put on his accounts by the FBI.

Before he could figure out what to do about the FBI, he needed to know how and why they’d been alerted to his business.

Ben made his bread and butter brokering deals for countries with heavy US sanctions preventing them from doing business in this part of the world. Some of them Ben wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. He wasn’t going near terrorists. That was a messy, complicated business with too many feelings involved. Business was business, plain and simple.

His primary customers were countries whom the United States wanted to bleed dry, so they’d come crawling for help, willing to accept any deal offered to them. It was a power play that benefitted people like Ben who were willing to act as the middle man.

He steered the little borrowed car onto a narrow side street. At this late afternoon hour there were plenty of people and traffic around the apartment building. The better for him to fade into the backdrop.

The one and only hope left to him was that the FBI hadn’t gotten to his accountant.

Carson Adair was a thorough woman who didn’t ask too many questions. She crunched the numbers and did the menial work that wasn’t worth his time. He’d found her through an accounting firm that offered a variety of services for smaller companies or individuals who didn’t want or couldn’t afford to keep a bookkeeper on staff. In Ben’s case he liked to cycle through people on a regular basis so no one knew too much. His contract for Carson’s services was up in six weeks and he would not be renewing.

He’d never visited Carson at home. She probably thought he didn’t know where she lived, but he always did his homework.

Carson Adair. Twenty-six. Single. Mostly a homebody. Nothing interesting about her at all.

Ben parked the car in a tiny spot barely big enough for the compact vehicle. Chances were he’d have to abandon it here and find alternative transportation. With any luck he’d be able to use Carson’s access to his accounts and activate his backdoor.

Before he’d left the bank and struck out on his own, he’d employed a young man to create a bit of code for him. The work Ben did was risky. He’d always known this day was coming, which was why he had the failsafe in place. He just hoped Carson wasn’t home and that the FBI hadn’t followed up with her yet.

He got out of the car and strolled into the parking garage attached to the apartment complex. It was a nicer building as far as apartments went. A tenant leaving the first floor didn’t even glance at Ben when he slipped inside.

All the security in the world couldn’t cure stupidity.

He took the elevator up to the third floor.

Carson’s apartment was halfway down the hall on the left. He glanced over his shoulder and drew the lock picks out of his pocket. Over the course of time he’d picked up an assortment of skills. Brokering was simply one facet of his job.

He slid the pins into the lock and fumbled around for a moment before getting his bearings. Just because he knew how didn’t make him adept at this. In less than a minute the tumblers clicked into place and the lock gave way. He opened the door and listened.

Silence.

The elevator dinged down the hall.

He stepped into the darkened apartment and listened to a woman carrying on a one sided conversation about shoes.

Not the FBI. Yet.

He closed and locked the door behind him. Soon enough the FBI would get Carson’s information from the accounting firm and come here. He could expect no help from her except what he could steal from her.

Ben surveyed the apartment. White. Beige. Pink hues. Flowers. Boring.

The kitchen to his left was neat, the counters wiped down. There was no clutter on the bar from discarded mail. No purse or items that indicated she was sleeping in late. A tiny two person dining table was covered in neatly folded laundry.

Where the hell was her laptop?

She had to have one somewhere.

He peered into the bedroom, bathroom and closet before returning to the living room.

Everything had a place.

Where would her laptop belong? Was it even here? Had she gone somewhere with it?

There was no desk, no work area in the apartment. The dining table was used to hold laundry rather than meals or work.

He turned toward the sofa.

That was where he’d set up shop.

Ben crossed to the sofa and sat down in the middle of it.

“If I were a laptop where would I be?” he said out loud.

The coffee table was a big, wooden affair complete with drawers. He bent and opened one drawer. Bins of pens, pencils and assorted office supplies were arranged neatly inside. He tried the other drawer and found notebooks. Pads of paper.

No laptop.

Fuck. He couldn’t search the whole place. There wasn’t time for that.

Be braced his hand on the coffee table and the top thunked down against the legs.

What the...?

Ben grasped the edge and lifted.

The whole top of the table rose up to table height, exposing a hidden cubby hole underneath.

A silver laptop, cord and mouse sat in the compartment.

He grabbed all three items. While he’d prefer to grab and go, he could not allow for Carson to cut off his access by reporting her personal equipment stolen. She’d made a few office visits and commented about how she was using her own laptop because her firm wouldn’t upgrade the one she’d been issued.

Ben plugged a USB drive into the laptop and opened it. Breaking her password would take time, but it couldn’t be helped. Soon enough, if everything went smoothly he’d be able to drain the accounts and flee the country before the FBI got close.

RYAN CHECKED HIS TEXTS and did a mental fist pump.

Both Alec and Vito wouldn’t be home for a while. Granted, it was Saturday night, and they all tended to want to get out and do something on the weekend.

Ryan and Carson had the house to themselves.

Alec was probably out joyriding his new motorcycle.

Vito... Ryan had no idea where that bastard was. He just hoped Vito wasn’t at Ian’s pretending he wasn’t in love with Taylor. She was never going to leave Ian. They had that kind of forever and ever vibe to them that no man could break, plus the bond of a new baby.

Carson emerged from the hallway. She’d put her hair up in a kind of messy bun thing. He wanted to cut the elastic immediately. Her hair was soft, stroke able, begging for his fingers to tangle in the long stands.

The corners of her mouth curled upward into a smile. A real one that punched him right in the gut.

“What is this?” She held up a green highlighter.

“That looks like a lime green highlighter.” He squinted at it a bit.

“What’s this?” She turned the pen so the bit of paper he’d taped to the tube showed. He couldn’t see it from across the room but he knew what it said.

“Oh.” He grinned. “I found that for your planner so you could pencil me in.”

“Rocking Ryan time? You’re not funny.” She shook her hair and wagged the highlighter at him.

“Then why are you smiling?”

Carson rolled her eyes and shook her head. She didn’t even try to hide her laugh.

Ryan was enjoying their time together more than he’d expected. She wasn’t needy yet she didn’t try to handle everything herself. She’d come here looking for help and he got the feeling that if he’d said no she’d have managed just fine on her own. She was the kind of capable person he wanted to help.

What would it be like to come home after a long gig out of the country to someone like her? That prospect sounded pretty damn nice.

“I’m going to get a drink. Do you want anything?” Carson strolled into the kitchen.

He turned, admiring the way her T-shirt fell just short of covering her ass. She’d changed jeans for leggings when they settled in to watch movies and he was grateful for it. The view was quite nice.

“Sure,” he said.

“Beer?” She pulled the fridge open.

Ryan swallowed.

A beer would be nice. Despite how comfortable the day was between them, there was a whole future to sort out and if he thought about it for too long, it put him on edge.

No, beer was not an option. Alcohol was how he’d gotten into this mess. From here on out he was going to be different.

“Water’s fine,” he said.

She came back with two bottles and settled on the sofa next to him. The highlighter she placed on the other side of the coffee table, safely away from the edge.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Not even a little.” She chuckled.

He might have gone overboard with lunch. The barbeque specials were a steal and enough food for two meals.

Ryan reached over and pulled her closer until he had her nicely tucked against his side. She glanced up at him, amusement twinkling in the depths of her blue-green eyes.

She was warming up to him.

That was good.

He wanted her to see this as the same opportunity he did. Sure, they hadn’t exactly chosen this path, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be a positive for both of them. Maybe this really was fate or kismet or some other cosmic force bringing them together. He didn’t know, and he wasn’t going to fight it.

“What?” Carson asked.

Ryan must have stared a bit too long.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Carson sputtered and lifted a hand to her messy hair. He could hear every rebuke without her saying a word.

No I’m not.

My hair is dirty.

I’m a mess.

I’m not wearing any make-up.

The list went on.

Sure, at the bar he’d been physically attracted to her. His basis for approaching a woman was rather obvious and shallow, but the beauty he saw in her was something else. Something deeper that made him feel like she might be the only person on the planet who ever really got him. And that was what made him want more from her. This. Them.

Ryan leaned forward and kissed her still smiling lips. Her body jolted a little at the first contact. Her surprise tasted sweet as he licked the seam of her lips. He’d kept things light all afternoon since their kiss this morning, allowing her to grow more comfortable with him. He slid his hand around to the back of her neck, holding her there while he suckled her lower lip. Her breathing hitched and her nails scraped his skin as she brought her hands up.

There was a slight taste of cherries on her skin. Did she taste like that everywhere?

He pinched her lip between his teeth, not quite biting, but just enough that she did that gasping thing all over again. She reached up and gripped his shoulder, her hand tightening into a fist, gripping his T-shirt.

That was what he wanted. Her wanting him back.

Ryan leaned toward Carson. Her tongue slid across his lip. He shuddered and tightened his hold on her. Her other hand curled around his waist, her fingers pressing into his skin just enough. He pressed closer and her grip tightened.

He placed his free hand on the back of the sofa and turned fully toward her.

Carson pushed back, keeping him at arm’s length and breaking the kiss.

They sat there staring at each other, the sound of their breathing the only thing registering to him.

She glanced toward the archway.

“What’s wrong?” He massaged her neck, and she eased up on the distance between them.

“Your roommates...”

“They’re not going to be home any time soon.”

“How do you know that?”

“I asked.”

Carson continued to stare at him. He couldn’t discern what her wide eyes and parted lips meant.

Was she really worried about Vito or Alec walking in on them? Or was this something else?

Maybe he was jumping into the fantasy of everything working out and starting a new life, but it was a damn good one. If he had a breath of a chance at something like that, he was going to take it.