Ryan took an enormous mouthful of the sloppy joe Tina dropped on the table and chewed. He wasn’t surprised to learn that Quinn was on a crusade. She’d been trying to jump on his dick since their college days, and she had never made any secret of the fact that if he wasn’t available, John was option number two.

Jesus.

And he wasn’t thrilled with his mom or Aunt Grace. How could they fall for Quinn’s bullshit? Were grandchildren that big of a deal? Fuck! If a gaggle of rug rats was what his mom wanted, he could adopt half a dozen orphans from any of the third world areas where he exercised his humanitarian obligations. No need to tie him or John to a frigid succubus with an accountant always at the ready.

Grabbing a wad of gooey, cheese dripping chili fries, he dunked them in a mound of mayonnaise and crammed the slapdash mess into his mouth.

“That is disgusting,” Jen growled. “Mayo? Really?”

He grinned and swiped a napkin across the bottom third of his face. Eating was a full-body experience at times. If he could, he’d roll around in a vat of the cheesy chili—he liked it that much.

“Darlin’, a shelf stable packet of mayo is practically a gourmet treat when you’re wilderness camping hundreds of miles from a store. Don’t discount it until you’ve tried it. Go ahead.” He chortled, gesturing to her mound of fries. “Give it a try and tell me that’s not a winning combination.”

He saw her try to hide the hint of a smile playing around her lush, full lips. Jen Carlton had a mouth that he admittedly fantasized about. It was a guy thing—to visualize the things he hoped her sexy mouth was capable of.

She scooped up some fries and eyed the mayonnaise pile. “Is that real mayo? Tell me now if it’s Miracle Whip.”

He fought back a smirk. “Sacrilege!” he barked. “Is a Coke interchangeable with root beer? No. Just because they’re both sodas does not make them equal. It’s mayo. Cheap mayo, but still.”

Encouraging the whimsical taste test, he hovered as she dipped and took a tentative nibble. When the nibble led to a hearty mayo dunk, he ignored the double-dipping faux pas and laughed while she inhaled the new and improved order of crispy fries.

“What’d I tell you?” he crowed. “Stick with me, kid, and I’ll tickle your taste buds.”

She gasped and then choked on the food at his comment. He pondered what caused the response and decided Jen Carlton had a dirty mind. Suddenly, those fantasies about her luscious lips and tickling her taste buds with his dick took center stage. From out of nowhere, a high-definition snippet showing him rattling what he assumed was Miss Uptight’s well-ordered sex life sprang to life. She’d probably have a fucking heart attack if she knew what he was thinking.

The sudden and insistent hard-on invading his jeans caused him to shift rather uncomfortably.

He let the noise from the other diners distract from the onslaught of filthy selfies parading through his mind. She unnerved him.

“I’m doing what I can,” Jen mumbled through a mouthful of food.

Oh, right. They were talking about his mother auctioning him or John off to a well-vetted bride. He processed her words and searched for a meaning. Before he could ask what she meant, Ryan sat back and gaped in wonder when she picked up the chocolate milkshake, swirled the straw a few times, wrapped her lips in slow motion around it, and sucked.

Seriously? Was his brain in perpetual dog mode? Fuck! He had to stop thinking about her lips.

He wasn’t finished with this subject—not by a long shot—but she distracted him with her eager sucking. Before he knew it, half the shake was gone, and she was murmuring soft mmm’s and ahh’s.

Shaking off the swelling ache happening in his pants, he was gathering his thoughts when she put the glass down and startled him with a comment he wasn’t expecting.

“What you’re doing for Samantha’s daughter is really nice. She’s a good kid.”

Shrugging off his involvement in a rare opportunity for a behind-the-scenes visit to the museum where his pal Ken Lyons worked, he made to dismiss the matter.

“No big deal. She mentioned her kid was into science and history. I just thought an up-close view of how a major museum operated might be fun.”

He shrugged again.

Jen actually smiled, and it was a very pleasant smile. He liked the way his heart felt when she looked at him with approval.

“It’s a very big deal, Ryan. Chelsea is a smart little girl. Samantha does her best, and anything the rest of us can do to help them is important. Thank you.”

By habit, his brow furrowed as he thought about what she said. “You like Samantha.” He said it as a fact, not a question.

“Oh, very much. She’s the real deal, know what I mean?”

The conversation was just getting interesting when she checked her watch. With a quick napkin swipe, she sighed and looked him in the eye while he took a mouthful of the sloppy sandwich.

“Time’s up. Gotta go.”

She scooted her butt on the bench and shimmied to the edge. Hurriedly trying to empty his mouth, Ryan chewed and gulped. He slugged down a third of the iced tea to wash his throat open. Rushing to stop her departure, he blurted out an example of manly stupidity that made him inwardly groan.

“Why the rush? Got a hot date?”

The expression on her face from his hastily voiced dumbassery burned into his mind. She went from being not quite as tight-assed and slightly loosened up back to absolute butt-clenching rigidity in a nanosecond.

The icicles hanging from her response should have clued him in, but his common sense was currently on a break.

“Did you say something?”

He heard the warning in her voice but stupidly walked straight into the trap she gave him an opportunity to avoid.

“I said what’s the damn hurry. As in, who’s the lucky guy?”

His balls shriveled and the hard-on disappeared when she leaned down, put her hands on the table, and spoke to him at eyeball level.

“Remember that expense account I just charged this lunch to? Well, that charge means this is a business lunch and I’m on the clock. I duly informed you of my time allowance and clearly indicated I needed to be back in forty-five minutes. Almost sixty have gone by. I am leaving, Mr. Lloyd, because your time is up. The ignorant, misogynistic question you asked, at a business lunch,” she pointedly sneered, “just earned you a visit to HR.”

Ryan shook his head. “What?” he barked. “Are you fucking serious?”

She straightened, yanked on the bottom of her suit jacket, and glowered. He felt like a misbehaving kid in third grade getting a scowl from the teacher.

“This, Mr. Lloyd,” she snippily announced, “is what the ass stick is for. To remind dipshidiots like you that not every female is here for your amusement. You picked the wrong woman to disrespect.”

She whirled around and headed for the door, leaving him speechless.

“What the fuck just happened?” he murmured aloud.

Reaching for his wallet, he left Tina a ridiculous tip before scurrying after the newly crowned ice queen of Lloyd Global.

* * *

Jen exhausted her library storehouse of snarky pejoratives by the time she furiously yanked on one of the enormous glass doors of the Lloyd building.

Ryan Lloyd was an idiot.

Pursing her lips, she put her head down and stomped toward the bank of elevators. The lobby was teeming with people she refused to see. Her fury over his breach of protocol soured her mood.

When her elevator arrived, she stepped in and caught a brief glimpse of a worried looking Ryan Lloyd bursting through the lobby doors.

Asshole. Served him right for treating her like one of his obnoxious groupies.

She punched the express button and arrived at the floor for the executive suites within seconds. She rarely employed the bypass option because she wasn’t a dick. Tying up an elevator for her exclusive use was a shitty thing to do, but she was late and had no time to spare.

Whizzing past the reception desk where one of the company’s interns nervously manned the important activity hub, Jen picked up speed. Hopefully, Samantha was in John’s office, and she wouldn’t be too late.

One of the department heads leaned out of his doorway with a curious, searching gaze when the rapid cadence of her heels all but sprinting down the marble hallway echoed off the walls.

Ignoring his interest, she ate up the distance in no time and rapped on John’s door. After a series of deep breaths, she pushed open the door and stepped into an empty office. Her eyes immediately swung to the French doors that opened to a private terrace. A slight motion in a nearby window clued her in that John and Samantha were together on the terrace.

She made some tiny, excited claps and hopped up and down. Crossing her fingers, she muttered, “Please don’t let him fuck this up.”

* * *

Okay. You’re doing good so far. Like Jen says, just keep it simple.

John took a deep breath as he followed Samantha around the office terrace. With the efficiency of a ladies’ garden club leader, she inspected every plant while keeping a running commentary.

Wait. That wasn’t right. Jen would remind him it was sexist to use that word because not just ladies garden. Considering that his father was an enthusiastic amateur botanist and ardent environmentalist, you’d think he’d know better.

It was exhausting to navigate all these social etiquette issues and conversational norms.

She stooped to smell some bright pink blooms and looked up at him with a happy smile.

“I love these. They’re Sarah Bernhardt peonies. Your landscapers have done a marvelous job of supporting the heavy blooms. See?”

She pulled some of the foliage aside to reveal an ingenious system of stakes and chicken wire that made up the impressive display in the wide planters. The flowers were gorgeous and the aroma quite pleasing.

“You could keep one in a shallow bowl. For your desk,” she explained. “I try to keep flowers on my kitchen island. Makes the whole apartment come alive.”

His chest tightened, and for a second, he panicked. Was he having heart palpitations? Then she stood, and her perfume slammed into his senses. The tightening turned to a flutter. In his groin.

“I’d have a big round planter placed next to the French doors.” She pointed and smiled at him before placing her hand on his arm and turning him toward the spot she indicated. “Fill it with lavender. Not only will it smell wonderful, but the plant’s symbolism is also said to inspire luck.”

He’d have a damn lavender forest planted if it meant some of that luck would help him navigate what he was feeling. When she touched him, his knees almost gave out. The softness when she pressed her fingers on his body made his internal gyroscope go haywire.

“How’s it going, you two?” Jen called out as she came out on the terrace. He’d never been so happy to see anyone in his entire life.

“Lavender by the door, I think,” Samantha replied. Her laughing manner and easy smile earned him a wink and a thumbs-up from his assistant.

“Do you think we should move the chairs over here?” Jen asked. She spread her arms wide to indicate a diagonal area next to the water feature he hadn’t realized was out here until today.

He wasn’t dismissed so much as his presence was unnecessary as the two women planned his terrace. It was amusing to watch, so he leaned against a wall and took mental notes of their exchange.

“Two comfy wicker chairs, right here,” Samantha said with a swirl of her hands. “With a table between. Maybe ottomans.”

“Very nice,” Jen agreed.

“I’d have tea out here every day.” Samantha’s eyes met his, and she blushed.

Tea? Did people have tea? He remembered a phase his mom and Aunt Grace went through when they stopped at three every afternoon for tea and cookies.

He could do tea. He liked tea. Maybe not all the time but he’d have no problem whatsoever adding afternoon tea to his daily schedule if Samantha would sit in the chair next to his and serve.

Yeah, he thought. Tea. Without thinking, he turned to Jen and issued orders.

“Get me a bunch of chairs and whatever else you think is good. And then get one of those teacarts. Ask my mother if you get stuck.”

Jen’s jaw dropped.

He swiveled to Samantha and forced a rusty smile on his face. “Is that okay?”

The blush on her cheeks turned scarlet, and he was thinking about jumping off the roof in mortification because she was obviously not interested when her husky laugh wrapped around his heart.

“Okay, Mr. Lloyd. Help me out here. Are you asking me to design your outdoor space or have tea with you? There’s a rather large difference, and I don’t want to presume …”

“Tea,” he barked like a drunken seal. “Can we do tea at three?”

Well aware that he croaked like a voice-changing teenager, John clung to the last shreds of his dignity for less than three seconds before smacking a lopsided grin on his face and saying, “If you’re available, that is. I hear your boss is a real dick.”

Jen groaned and covered her eyes for a second.

Exasperated because he thought maybe things were going half okay, he turned to her and ground out, “What? No good?”

“John! You can’t say dick to an employee. Remember?” She flailed her arms for a minute and grumbled, “Did both of Constance Lloyd’s sons wake up on the wrong side of HR today?”

Samantha giggled and looked away to study the clouds. Because the universe liked screwing with him, Ryan appeared on the terrace, and Jen stiffened. They eyeballed each other in a way that made John a little nervous.

Oh, god. Now what?

Ryan finally looked at him, and while wearing an innocent expression, he announced he was reporting Jen to HR for making him uncomfortable at lunch. The harsh gasp his assistant made sounded like the starting bell at a prizefight.

“What is wrong with you?” Jen screeched in Ryan’s smirking face. “You know I woulda let it drop but no. You’ve got to make a joke about something serious. Bad move.”

“You and your stick made me uncomfortable, so when you pick it apart, you started it,” Ryan snidely interjected. His shrug said what he thought of Jen’s threat.

What stick was his brother referring to, and what exactly did Jen start?

Surprising the snot right out of his head, Samantha put her hand on his arm again and drew his attention from the Ryan and Jen spectacle.

“Why don’t we let these two spar in private?”

He never got a chance to answer because she deftly guided him away from the terrace scene. For whatever reason, he followed her lead like a puppy eager to please.

When they were back in his office, she quietly pulled the French doors shut and then turned to him with a laugh.

“I think your brother has the hots for Jen.”

* * *

“What the hell was that all about?” Ryan asked when Samantha took John inside.

Jen wasn’t ready to make nice, so she crossed her arms and glowered at the scruffy jerk face determined to annoy the piss out of her.

“Oh, climb down off your high horse, lady. This is how we do. I say patronizing things, and you spit fire and brimstone. Why the sudden outrage?”

She sputtered and shifted awkwardly back and forth. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You. Me,” he said with a wave of his hand in the space between them. “We snipe at each other. Or am I imagining that?”

“I wouldn’t call it sniping,” she haughtily replied. The indignant sniff made her look like a twit. “And you were rude.”

“Why? Because I asked if you were seeing someone?”

She narrowed her eyes and stared at him so hard she was afraid of triggering an aneurysm. Was he insane or just baiting her? Did he imagine for even a second that some offhand remark about a hot date was an acceptable query on her relationship status?

She flung her hands in the air. “I can’t with you. No, seriously,” she quickly assured him when he scoffed. “I don’t even like you and …”

He grabbed her so fast she was helpless when his chest slammed against hers, and he claimed her lips in a demanding kiss.

The shock lasted a few heartbeats, and then she started to struggle. His answer was to deepen the kiss. When his tongue swirled around hers, Jen feared her knees would buckle.

He tasted so good, and man oh man, did he know how to kiss!

Before they ended up in an embarrassing and impossible to explain make-out session, she pushed on his chest to separate them.

An inch apart, they stared at each other, and neither of them was breathing easily. She was close to diving back on his lips, but then sense returned.

If he’d just left it at that, maybe there was a chance they’d both walk away unscathed, but dammit if he didn’t make it worse by opening his damn mouth.

“Wanna try again with how you don’t like me?”

Son of a bitch. No way was she letting him throw this on her. Not after she felt the unmistakable evidence of an erection pressing into her belly.

“Is that a flashlight in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Any satisfaction she hoped for from her bitchy taunt evaporated when the shithead grinned and puffed his chest out with satisfaction.

“Flashlight, you say? Fuck, yeah! Better than a pencil, don’t you think?”

Jen’s mouth audibly snapped shut. He smirked and waggled his brows.

“What is wrong with you?” she demanded.

He gave her a slow-moving up and down full body scan and an unfortunately sexy smile. “I think you very well may be exactly what’s wrong with me. Now stop trying to impress me with your bitchiness and explain what just happened. Did my brother suddenly develop social skills?”

No way was she prepared to acknowledge his provocative statement, so she took the low road and focused on the couple who’d just left them alone.

Suddenly worried that Ryan’s impetuous behavior would fuck up John’s chances with Samantha, she asked him to behave. “Please don’t mess this up.”

“What do you mean by this? Is something going on?”

She chewed on her lip and fretted. “He likes her, and that’s all I’m saying.”

“Wow.”

“I know, right?”

Ryan looked at the closed doors. “How far along is it?”

She sighed and made a weary face. “This was their first date.”

“This was a date? Talking on the terrace?”

She rolled her eyes and huffed out a deep breath. “Where John is concerned, yes. He’s trying with baby steps, but oh my god, does he need a lot of help.”

“And Samantha? She likes him too?”

Ah, she thought. The million-dollar question.

“I hope so,” she answered.

He nodded. “I’m impressed. My brother has the social graces of a two-year-old. Thank you. For real,” he added when she smirked. “Does my mother know about this?”

“Absolutely not. He’d fold under the pressure. He has a hard time feeling comfortable in a one-on-one conversation. Connie would start planning the wedding before John figured out how not to put a foot in his mouth.”

His rueful smile followed her comment. “When he was at college, he told a professor that it wasn’t his fault he was smarter than the faculty. My parents shit cash trying to make it better.” He sniggered. “I believe a wing of the university library is named after my dad.”

She couldn’t suppress her grin but coughed over her laugh. No use in fueling more familiarity with the wanderlust outdoorsman. He’d be gone the minute some new adventure came his way.

“Hey, I have an idea,” Ryan exclaimed. “Since he needs a coach, why don’t you and he come along for the museum tour? We’ll make a party of it. I’ll keep the kid mesmerized, and you can stay on top of the dating game.”

It did not help one little bit that he knew how to turn a clever phrase. She was a sucker for a well-spoken man. Words were on her foreplay list.

“When is this field trip?” she asked.

“Friday. No school. Teacher in-service. Perfect opportunity.”

She released a sigh of relief. Whew! Good. She had vacation time coming up, and unless a global crisis or a medical emergency was involved, she had a hard and fast rule about business interfering with her personal time.

Jen glanced at the closed doors and came to a quick decision. “Deal. Only you don’t tell him he’s going until that morning, okay? He’ll get an ulcer if he has too much time to fret.”

Ryan chuckled. “I’m not telling him. He’s your problem, cupid. I’ll take care of Samantha and Chelsea. You figure out how to pry him from this unbearable tower and get him over to the museum. We’ll see what happens after that.”

She agreed and was working out some minor logistics when it occurred to her that he really was doing his brother—and her—a huge favor by getting involved. It was only fair that she return the gesture.

“And don’t worry about Quinn. I’ll squelch Connie and Grace. It’s the least I can do for your help with John.”

He fixed her with a meaningful look. “I love my brother, Jen. He’s the best man I’ve ever known next to our father. I want him to be happy.”

She almost reached out and touched him. Almost.

“Come on,” she said with a jerk of her head as she turned toward the building. “Let’s see what’s behind door number one.”

Ryan gave a bellowing chuckle and wrapped her arm through his. She could have pulled away, but she didn’t.

“Spoken like a true spokesmodel.”

The retort on the tip of her tongue faded to silence as he led them inside. Despite the tacky Hawaiian shirt and casual appearance, Ryan Lloyd had a touch of gallant gentleman going on that Jen found hard to resist.