The tap, tap of her heels on the marble floor distracted Jen from some less-than-friendly thoughts as she made her way from John’s office to the bank of elevators. Three steps behind her—just enough for a view of her ass—a swaggering Hawaiian shirted, long-haired jerk followed.

Her shoulders straightened more than usual, and a deliberate guise of nonchalance rounded out the image she sought to project. No way did she want anyone to know that Ryan Lloyd rattled her cage.

As they entered the reception area, Jen sidestepped up to the desk and smiled at Samantha. John’s last words before she left his office were about the pretty receptionist stopping by to check out his plant situation. His nervousness was kind of endearing and told her that she was picking up the correct signals from her boss. His interest in Samantha Matthews was real, and she intended to ride shotgun for the man as he took tentative steps into a possible relationship.

Ryan continued to the elevators and shuffled about, shaking hands and greeting several Lloyd employees as he waited for her.

Gesturing over her shoulder with a jerk of her thumb, Jen halfway rolled her eyes when she met Samantha’s gaze. “Got the short straw. Lunch chaperone.”

The good-natured woman snickered. “Don’t you hate when that happens?”

Jen turned and leaned back against the reception desk as they both studied John Lloyd’s sibling opposite.

Where John was tall and somewhat lanky, his brother’s matching height was accentuated by rugged brawn. She figured their contrasting lifestyles accounted for the difference. John was in excellent physical shape, but jockeying a desk in a climate-controlled tower didn’t present much of a challenge.

Ryan, on the other hand, was a product of his unique lifestyle. He was one of those guys who did it all. Hiking, swimming, mountain climbing, spelunking—you name it and he’s done it. Including bungee jumping off a bridge above a mountain gorge that scared Jen shitless when she saw the pictures.

He also gave off absolutely no corporate airs whatsoever. In all the time she’d known him, Jen only saw him don a suit once a year for his mother’s annual Lloyd Global get-together. The rest of the time, he dressed like a vagabond—a wealthy vagabond—with a mane of longish dirty blond hair and the type of wardrobe one expected of a celebrity cover model with a trendy stylist.

The thing was, he didn’t have a stylist or a publicist. What you saw with Ryan Lloyd was exactly what you got. A weirdly boho enigma who was part environmentalist and part spoiled rich guy. The garish shirts, rugged jewelry, tattoos, and jeans were just who the guy was.

Samantha had a little giggle as a crowd of employee-fans circled around Ryan when he pulled out his phone and held it up. “Show and tell?”

Jen chortled. “His adventure in the Denali backcountry. Wait till you see the photos for the magazine. If I didn’t love living in a paved over paradise, I’d be jealous.”

Dismissing the outdoorsman, she pursed her lips and turned away. There was work to do.

“John’s looking forward to your help, Samantha. I think he feels like a failure due to his lack of a green thumb.”

“Well, it’s not as if he’s responsible for the landscaping.”

Hmm. Interesting response. So Samantha wasn’t entirely unaware how odd John’s request really was. This was good! It might not be time just yet for a cupid’s arrow, but at least, she knew both parties were awake to the possibilities.

She threw the woman a bone by giving her an insider’s view. “Did you know his father grew roses and exotic flowers? It’s even mentioned in the family bio on the website. Plants were Gregory Lloyd’s Zen. He took a botany class in college and developed a life-long fascination.”

Samantha immediately realized what Jen was sharing, and her face saddened. Quietly, she murmured, “Oh my. Thank you for telling me. It’s hard to lose a parent so young. Affects the rest of your life.”

Jen reached for Samantha’s hand and gave a little squeeze. “And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? How’s Chelsea doing? Did she like those riding lessons you won in the charity auction?”

The woman’s face lit up at the mention of her adorable seven-year-old daughter. After losing her daughter’s father while still pregnant, Samantha somehow managed to soldier on after her fiancé was killed in the war. She was raising their daughter all by herself, and from what Jen had seen firsthand, she was doing an admirable job.

“Oh, Jen! She loved going to the equestrian center, and our riding instructor was great. You know, I’m still a farm girl at heart. Growing up, we rode horses and tractors. Never imagined I’d be raising a child in the middle of a busy city, so any chance to expose her to a different life is a good thing. Will help round out Chelsea’s world view.”

The happiness flooding her voice warmed Jen’s heart. Here was someone who wasn’t about a fancy life or lots of stuff, and that was exactly what John needed. A grown-up who knew how to access joy—even in the midst of unimaginable sadness.

Samantha tilted her head in Ryan’s direction. “He offered to arrange a behind-the-scenes docent tour for us at the museum. The natural sciences director is a friend of his.”

“Really?” Jen’s face registered her surprise. Ryan knew Samantha had a daughter? Color her shocked.

Tapping on the desk, she gave a mirthless laugh. “And on that note, tick-tock. Feeding time at the zoo.”

Samantha chuckled as Jen turned to leave. “Don’t worry about the boss and his plants. I’ve got this.”

She beamed at her comment and said a silent prayer. John Lloyd and Samantha Matthews were a matchmaker’s dream couple.

“Later,” she chortled before heading into Ryan’s gaggle of fans. It was damn hard not to roll her eyes at how fervently the assembled throng hung on every word from his mouth.

Marching past him, she punched the down button on the elevator and took a stab at ignoring the Ryan Lloyd sideshow. He had enough admirers as it was. No need to be sucked into his nonsense.

An annoying cackle of laughter shot from the crowd. She side-eyed those present and ascertained who was responsible.

Monica Corbet.

Her mind cataloged several notes about the ambitious marketing executive. Jen knew what a female on the prowl looked and sounded like, and Monica would require watching. Ryan was an easy prey for a professional man-eater like Monica.

The elevator doors opened, and she stepped in, determined to ignore her lunch partner. If he missed the elevator, oh friggin’ well. She’d eat without him.

About to congratulate herself on being so clever, Jen got grumpy when Ryan zoomed into the small cube at the last possible second. His mad dash to enter before the doors slid shut sent him barreling into her. After a quick jostle, she heard his husky chuckle as she shoved him away.

“Get off me, you idiot.” She snarled.

“Relax, Ms. Carlton. I prefer my women soft and squishy. Your angles and sharp edges are hardly alluring.”

“Eat shit.” She said it with a smile and followed up with the hint of a sneer. “You flatter yourself for imagining even for one second that this scruffy vagrant thing you’ve got going on is appealing.”

He pushed some of his long hair behind and ear and gave her a once-over. “Better than having a stick up my ass.”

She gasped at his impertinence and thought to quickly defend herself. “That stick is to beat off jerk faces like you.”

He cracked up laughing, which shut her right the hell up with confusion.

“Did you just use the terms jerk and beat off in the same sentence?”

“What are you talking about?” she answered dismissively. A smarter way of handling him probably existed, but his scent invaded her senses, momentarily catching her off guard. Had he always smelled so damn yummy and she just hadn’t noticed until now?

The elevator doors opened on the ground floor, and as she stepped into the lobby, he took her arm, quickly drawing her to his side. She initially tried to shake him off until her brusque movement caught the attention of several nearby people.

Since the last thing she needed was a tweeted cell pic of her brawling with a member of the Lloyd family, Jen reluctantly threw in the towel and let him march her across the lobby to the front doors. It didn’t help her frame of mind that so many eyes witnessed his pitiful attempt to power play her into acquiescence.

Oooh, he was so going to pay for this little maneuver.

Outside on the sidewalk, she shook him off and stepped back. Slapping her hands on her hips, she gave him the 411 with a less-than-friendly tone.

“If you ever do that again, I will put you on the floor.”

He smirked. She didn’t.

Jen wasn’t fooling around. “Try again at your own risk, Mr. Lloyd.”

They squared off—right there. He searched her face, and she made sure to give it to him with her eyes ablaze with meaning.

“Not so sure, are you?” she taunted when he wisely backed down.

Man, sometimes she wanted to break out of the mold and show people who she really was, but the desire was short-lived. It was hard enough getting ahead in the business world without complicating things by putting too much of her personal life into public view. She wasn’t about sharing every meal on Instagram or typing out vague Facebook posts for attention. What she did when she was off the clock was nobody’s goddamn business.

Ryan’s pause gave her the chance to step in and control the situation. Checking her watch even though she knew the move made her look bitchy, Jen pushed aside the thought and delivered a pithy declaration of fact.

“A business lunch gets forty-five minutes. You have two choices. Don Juan’s Tacos or the Spaghetteria.” She’d pointed in different directions when listing the choices and waited for his decision.

“Get real,” he replied with a chuckle. Pointing across the street, he started off toward the crosswalk on the corner.

Huffing and puffing her annoyance, she glared at him when she caught up.

He was grinning like the idiot she knew him to be. “Best part of coming to the city is eating at The Thunderbird. Have you had their mozzarella sticks? Homemade!”

She was about to throw down a mozzarella stick food challenge but zipped her lips in time. The Thunderbird did an okay job, but when it came to the real deal, nobody did mozzarella appetizers better than the pasta house a few blocks from her apartment. But he didn’t need to know that.

Ryan practically dragged her across the busy intersection when it was time to walk, and she reluctantly loosened up because his boyish enthusiasm was kind of cute.

Holding open the door to the eatery, he ushered her inside where a tsunami of sensory input slammed into her. The aroma of roast beef hung in the air along with the heavy tantalizing ambiance of an Italian sauce.

The noisy lunch crowd and bustling wait staff suggested business for The Thunderbird was going great.

Ryan smiled, signed two autographs, and shook enough hands to earn them a corner table tucked behind a rack hung with bags of snack chips. The display made a buffer between them and the other customers and afforded a measure of privacy.

He started to slide onto the bench seat next to her, but she gave him a hearty shove and barked, “Cut me a break.”

When he sat opposite her and she got a closer look at his smirk, she realized for the first time that Ryan Lloyd was deliberately screwing with her. And she was falling for it!

Wanting to wipe that macho grin clear off his stupid face, she almost gave him an earful until the futility of going to his level stopped her.

Forty-five goddamn minutes. That was what he got. Forty-five.

An overly enthusiastic waitress who introduced herself as Tina descended on them, and without stopping for air, she proceeded to recite the daily specials. As she went through her spiel in a rat-a-tat-tat way while drawing attention to her boobs by keeping her pen in the cleavage, Jen studied Ryan, who was studying the tattooed server.

Her eyes narrowed, and she just barely strangled the hiss trying to leave her mouth. Why did every female with a pulse want to rub up against him, and why the goddamn hell did he always look so pleased about it?

She snatched a menu propped against the wall behind the condiments and slammed it on the wobbly table. Theatrically flipping the laminated folder open, she shot her companion a dirty look before switching to an ignore posture.

Screw him.

Jen squirmed on the bench when a wanton and totally unexpected vision of Ryan’s big, rugged hands covering her naked breasts invaded her thoughts. Embarrassed heat shot into her neck and spread to her face.

Refusing to be drawn into the nauseating flirtation happening right in front of her, she scanned the lunch menu and made a dozen hasty bad food choices.

“I’ll have the loaded fries. Extra crispy and extra cheese. No onions. And a chocolate milkshake.”

Tina and Ryan turned and looked at her strangely. Jen squirmed again. Had she yelled her order like a crazy person?

Tina plucked the pen from her cleavage and muttered, “Well, okay then.” She scribbled on her order pad and nodded. “Extra cheese, no onions. Heat level on the chili? On a scale of one to five.”

“Oh, god,” Jen snorted. “One. But bring a hot sauce.”

Ryan nodded his approval. “I’ll have what she’s having but add a sloppy joe on the side and make the shake into an iced tea. Extra lemon.”

Tina scribbled and smiled at Ryan before darting away.

A dozen snarky things sat easily on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t fall into the trap. Instead, she pointedly checked her watch as a reminder and gave her lunchtime antagonist a bored scowl.

“Forty minutes.”

Ryan’s brown eyes sparkled with her reminder. He surveyed her face, making her feel nervous and awkward.

“Are you always this pleasant, or is it just me?”

She didn’t catch her wince before it went public and mentally kicked herself for it.

“I’m a busy person, Ryan.” Realizing her explanation was glaringly lame, she added, “It’s not you. I really do need to be back on time.”

He tilted his head. “Understood. If that’s the way you want to do this, I’m fine getting straight to it. Care to explain Quinn Montgomery and your part in trying to punch my bachelor card?”

She swallowed and reflexively crossed her legs. Jen felt her cheeks flush but met his gaze head-on.

“Regardless of what you assume, I was opposed to Mrs. Brewster’s suggestion about Quinn. Your mother did not express the same reluctance. From my standpoint, your bachelor membership card is safe, but you’re on your own with your mom and aunt.”

Ryan’s brows went up. “Opposed? Why?”

Shit. She didn’t want to discuss this at all, but it wasn’t like she had a choice. The situation Connie Lloyd and Grace Brewster were hatching in their meddling minds was one of those shitshow scenarios that demanded her special touch so it didn’t blow back on John.

“Well, if you must know, I’m opposed to marriage as a business maneuver. Even if the business is about acquiring grandkids. Your mother and aunt are out of line, and I said so to John. Unfortunately, it turns out that Quinn planted the seed, and your mom fell for it. Ryan, she’s actively lobbying for a wedding ring.”