Ryan looked around and concluded Applebee’s might never recover from the sprawling takeover their party of five visited on the dining room. He and John shoved tables around as the girls gave directions and the wait staff chuckled. And that was just the start.

When it was time to order, he and his brother did dueling menus and ended up getting a little of everything. Before long, appetizers, salads, and burgers crowded their table, as well as a family-size platter of nachos that was devoured to the last piece.

Swirling a straw in his glass of iced tea, Ryan thought, This is good. Seeing John loosen up and really enjoy himself gave him a great deal of satisfaction.

His eyes slid to the woman seated between him and John. From all outward appearances, Jen Carlton seemed calm and collected. Not a single strand of hair was out of place, and though the rest of them were lounging around doing the ‘I ate too much’ slouch, she was her usual prim, proper self.

But he’d been watching her all day, and her prissy starchiness didn’t fool him. Not when he knew damn well she was suffering from sore feet and an aching back. While everyone else was dialed high on the enthusiasm meter, she’d remained stoic and steered the conversation while babysitting John’s every burp and smelly wind gust. She had to be fucking exhausted, but you’d never know that from how she behaved.

He started wondering what it’d take to get an uncalculated and random reaction out of her. No way was she like this all the time.

Jen kept an eye on the animated discussion John, Samantha, and Chelsea had while absently pushing around the cherries in her soda with a straw.

Casually leaning his elbows on the table, Ryan held his drink with both hands and turned to her. In a quiet murmur, he chuckled and said, “Oh, lord. Talking about NASA and the International Space Station is John’s siren’s song! Once he starts, there’s no end in sight.”

Jen’s chest appeared to move as if she’d laughed at his comment, but no actual sound came out. He wanted to rattle her control so damn badly.

“Hey, wanna have some fun?”

She smirked and gave him a healthy dose of side-eye. “What are you up to?”

He answered with a look of affronted innocence. “Why so suspicious? What have I ever done to you?”

The fastest blush in history shot onto her cheeks and made him pause. Something that felt a lot like lust fired up inside and made Ryan shift in his seat.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she grated in an annoyed voice.

Ryan shrugged off her terse words and answered a bit more directly than he intended or she imagined—shocking them both.

“I was thinking about kissing you.”

“Excuse me?” she quietly growled.

Yep. Kissing. That was what Jen Carlton and her sexy mouth needed. Lots and lots of kissing.

She was already eyeing him up for the fastest way to rip off his head, so he went for broke.

“How do you like it?” he asked quietly so no one else heard.

“Like what?” she snapped at him, but her telltale blush deepened.

“To be kissed.” He shifted and slightly turned, leaning an elbow on the table and putting his other hand on the back of her chair. He’d effectively caged her in, and he could see her reaction in her rapid breathing.

“Do you like the chaste approach? Just lips. What about tongue? Do you prefer to taste or be tasted?”

There was no denying her expression turned him on as he deliberately taunted her. She gave off an intriguing combination of clueless shock and something else. Something sultry and dangerous.

Ryan drank it all in. Her reaction. His interest. After a subtle shift, a whole host of feelings clashed in his gut. In one second, what began as interest turned to seething possessive desire.

He wanted Jenna Carlton. Wanted to shatter her controlled façade and see if she was capable of being a purring sex kitten. Or a ferocious feline with claws and a spine-tingling yowl.

He read her expression and saw she was deciding which snarky putdown to lob at him, so he moved his hand—the one on the back of her chair—and casually stroked her back between the shoulder blades. It didn’t matter that one of her business suits of armor prudishly covered her. He picked up her physical response to his caress.

This was the wrong place and the wrong time, but sometimes, the impulse was so fierce that reason took a hike.

“Have you ever studied Tantra?” He brushed his fingers along the back neckline of her jacket. “By taking things slow and delaying gratification, a deeper connection is possible.”

A subtle shiver worked its way through her body. She lowered her head, and he heard her hiss a second before she bit her lip.

“Stop,” she demanded. “Just stop.”

Chelsea’s animated laughter and John’s chuckle cut through the haze of sexual desire gripping Ryan. He shook his head and sat back, making no attempt to quiet his annoyed grunt.

“It’s my first time in a limo,” the little girl squealed with childish delight. “Mandy Owen will be so jelly! Her uncle rented an old car for her birthday. This is way cooler.”

Samantha’s amused laugh rang out. “Now, honey. You know we don’t go around trying to make our friends jealous.”

Ryan chuckled when Chelsea pouted. Nothing like a mom reminder to spoil a kid’s fun. Then mom changed tactic and giggled like a kid.

“But it is cool, right? I mean, come on! A limo and a driver?”

Mom and daughter fist bumped, put their heads together, and laughed.

John—a relaxed and happy version of his brother—laughed at their show of silly solidarity. The sleeves of his shirt rolled back, he’d left his usually omnipresent suit coat in the back of the limo.

Ryan enjoyed the camaraderie the three were developing, and it was all great fun until his brother said a stupid and the tone of the conversation changed.

“How would you like to take the limo to school every day? That sounds like fun, right? It could be easily done.”

The whole table went silent. Well, the adults fell silent. Chelsea went ape-shit over the idea.

Jen jumped in headfirst. No surprise there.

“He’s just kidding. Aren’t you, John?” She drily teased, but Ryan detected the tinge of warning meant for his brother.

“Aw, really?” Chelsea whined.

John looked a bit stunned and unsure, so Ryan went into damage control mode too.

“Well, I’m sure your mom wouldn’t mind the limo as something special for your birthday. Right, Mom?”

Poor John, was all he could think as Samantha’s face paled, and a pinched, tightness appeared around her mouth. She was a strong single parent trying to do all the right things, totally alone. Waving a limousine in a seven-year-old’s face had been a dumbass move on John’s part.

“We’ll discuss it,” Samantha agreed with zero enthusiasm.

Jen took control and made everything right again.

“Do you know why John has a limo?”

Chelsea responded with a kid smirk. “I don’t know. Because he’s rich?”

Before Samantha could reprimand her daughter for being honest, Jen talked right over her and gave Chelsea Matthews something to think about that all the parental lectures on the planet couldn’t have done.

“Actually,” Jen said with a smile, “John’s a very busy man. Hundreds and hundreds of people, even some moms and dads, depend on him every day to do his very important job. When someone else drives, he can make phone calls and answer emails. Stuff like that. Important stuff.”

Chelsea listened attentively. So did Ryan.

“School is the important job that you do every day, Chelsea. How do you get there?”

“I ride the bus,” she answered.

“And what do you do on the bus?”

She thought for a moment and said, “That’s when we all talk. My friends. We talk on the bus.”

“And is that important? To talk with your friends?”

“Uh-huh,” Chelsea assured Jen. “We get in trouble for talking in class. Bus talks are fun.”

Ryan sat back with a silent chuckle. Damn! Jen Carlton was good!

“Well, there’d be no bus talks if you rode in a limousine every day. John gets work done during his ride. Your work is riding on the bus and talking with your friends. Understand?”

The kid understood more than anyone expected ’cause she suddenly looked at John and reached out to touch his hand.

“Do you get lonely in your limo?”

His brother looked like he might cry. “No. Not really. At least, not until recently.” John looked directly at Samantha. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

“Mom,” Chelsea exclaimed. “Maybe you can ride with Mr. Lloyd and talk so both of you won’t be lonely anymore.”

Ryan couldn’t believe any of this. Not Jen and her obvious matchmaking or Chelsea with her nail-on-the-head comments. The types only an innocent would think to say.

John froze. He’d totally screwed up the good thing they’d had going on with his dumbass limo offer and only Jen’s quick mediation had saved him from crashing and burning. But Chelsea’s reaction pushed him into a free fall.

She was just being an adorable kid, but her words held more truth than anyone knew.

Was his limo life existence lonely?

Yes. Yes, it was, but until he’d stopped ignoring his growing feelings for Samantha, he hadn’t thought a substantive change in the status quo was possible. Or wise.

Now, without ever having been on a date together, he was sure he found a reason to rejoin the human race. Samantha Matthews with her dangerous curves and pretty smile. Samantha. Beautiful, kindhearted, funny, and sweet Samantha.

And her wonderful daughter.

For them, he was willing to try.

Say something, his inner guide shouted. Don’t just let shit happen. Jen won’t always be there to clean up your messes.

“Um, how do you do it, Samantha?” he asked. “Make it all work,” he explained. “Getting Chelsea on the bus every day and yourself to work.”

It was a real question he wanted an honest answer to.

Samantha’s first response was disheartening. She pursed her lips and said, “We manage.”

To be honest, he wasn’t at all annoyed when Jen spoke.

“John is quite interested in youth after-school programs. Did you know?” she asked of Samantha with a direct gaze. “He sponsors an inner city initiative committed to providing safe, healthy care options for working parents. Child care doesn’t end with preschool.”

“I didn’t know that,” Samantha murmured. She looked at him long and hard. He swallowed with difficulty and felt his heart thump in his chest. Whatever test she was mentally subjecting him to, he sure hoped he passed with flying colors.

Speaking softly, he asked, “Do you have a car?”

Chelsea had the answer. “Cars are unpackable in a city.” She nodded and looked around for everyone’s agreement.

“Impractical,” Samantha interjected. “Cars are impractical.” She looked at Chelsea for a long time too and then explained a little of her personal life. Enough for John to know his emotions were involved in every word she said.

“Chelsea takes the early bus to school. It’s mostly for the childcare and transfer students. Our neighborhood mom squad shares bus stop duty so an adult always monitors them. After school is another issue, though. Her program closes at six on the dot. They charge a late pickup fee for every minute past closing time. That part can be tough—hoping public transportation schedules sync up and all.”

“We ride the subway!” Chelsea volunteered. “It’s just four stops, and then we’re home.”

The impulse to take over and use his prodigious resources to ease Samantha’s burdens nearly drove him to make matters worse. Then he had a light bulb moment.

“Does the program you use have fundraisers? I’m good for a dozen rolls of wrapping paper and as much candy as you have.”

“I know what that is,” Chelsea squawked. “A fundraiser. We’re having an art show. I wove mats from strips of fabric and painted a really cool picture. Mommy’s going to bid on the picture, aren’t you?”

She looked at her only parent, and the love shining in her eyes humbled something inside John.

“Whatever it takes.” Samantha chuckled. “I have a spot all picked out.”

The rhythm of kids meant a conversation happened one minute and turned on a dime when a seven-year-old announces she has to go potty. After Samantha and Chelsea left the table, Jen and Ryan started talking to him at the same time.

“Nice save, John,” Jen praised.

“Dude.” Ryan chuckled. “You’re fucking killing it, man!”

He smiled. “Jesus,” he muttered with a chuckle. “A forty-two-year-old man who needs a damn cheering section. I can’t thank you guys enough. It’s going good, don’t you think? It is, right? Please tell me it is.”

Something weird happened when he asked the question. Ryan laughed and leaned into Jen. He flat out invaded her body space, but she didn’t snap him in two for the breach of etiquette. It got even weirder when Ryan put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

“We make a great cheer team, and yes, John, it seems to be going well.”

Jen said nothing. She offered a weak smile but nothing else. Dammit. He sucked at reading these situations.

Ryan rambled on, but John tuned him out and focused on his assistant. She wasn’t acting strangely. Or was she? Her hands were on her lap, and a bloom of color highlighted her cheeks. Was she blushing?

Wow. Jen Carlton blushed.

“So how do you want to play things, bro? You’re going to take Samantha and Chelsea home, right?”

What? John looked away from Jen and frowned at his brother. “What are you saying? Is that what I should do? Jen?”

“Ryan is right,” she replied. “Letting them walk out of here and get on the subway is unacceptable. You’ll have the driver take them home. Oh, and you’ll get out of the car and walk them to their door, okay?”

“Where are you going to be?” he asked.

“Probably on my sofa. I live in the other direction, John. It’s fine. You can do this.”

Shit, what? Nervously, he glanced at his brother. “Ryan? What about you?”

“I guess Jen and I will share a cab. And she’s right. You’ll be fine. Relax. You’re not negotiating a merger. Today was fun, wasn’t it?”

When John shrugged and nodded, his brother smiled broadly.

“Now, see? Simple. Just have fun. Don’t overthink anything.”

He didn’t know how he would keep it together, but he knew he didn’t have any other choice. He’d be a gentleman and see the ladies safely home. Beneath the table, his fingers crossed, and he said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t screw up the opportunity to continue getting to know Samantha and her little girl.

They waved the limo off, and as it disappeared down a busy city street, Jen exhaled with a sigh. Her shoulders were tight, and a dull headache was gaining a foothold. She rubbed her temples and turned her face away when she found Ryan studying her.

“Are you okay,” he asked gently.

“Yes. Thank you,” she firmly replied.

He ignored her obvious deflection. She winced when the rascal played a heavy, controlling hand and took control. How the hell had she let that happen?

“I ordered a car. Five minutes. Do you want to sit down?”

He motioned to an empty bench along the Applebee’s walkway, but she shook her head and stayed put. It was more than a little disconcerting how easily the scruffy outdoorsman rattled her cage, so she had to avoid getting comfy with him—for any reason.

Her refusal didn’t dampen his concern or lessen the authoritative pulse in his voice. She’d never really thought about Ryan as an alpha dog and was beginning to realize what a mistake that was on her part. His laid-back attitude and appearance disguised a lot.

She did a double take when he snickered and sized her up from head to toe.

“If you go down, I’m not saying I’ll catch you, but I can definitely carry you even if you’re out cold and dead weight.”

“Okay, Mr. Macho. Stand down, okay? I’m not about to go slithering to the pavement. I have a headache. That’s all.”

She glanced at her feet, and an involuntary scowl showed on her face. She wouldn’t have a headache and her back wouldn’t be in agony if she hadn’t walked a 5K in her office heels.

A large sedan pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down, and a guy yelled, “Pickup for Lloyd?”

“That’s us,” Ryan answered and then swiftly got her situated in the back seat. He ran around to the driver’s window, gave some instructions, and then joined her in the back seat. She was relieved when he sat far away and stayed in the corner.

Her relief was short-lived, though, because once they began the drive across town, he shocked the crap out of her by pulling her feet onto his lap and sliding off her heels.

“What the hell are you doing?” she shrieked.

“Massaging your feet. Now shhh.”

Without missing a beat, he started rubbing one of her feet in a way that pulled an involuntarily moan from Jen.

Oh, good heavens, that felt so good. She shuddered head to toe and relaxed in the plush back seat.

He worked on each toe individually and pressed on a spot along the arch of her foot that emptied her brain. How the hell did he do that?

When the car turned onto her street, she sat up and drew her feet off his lap. Embarrassed but grateful, she made a wry face and thanked him.

With a half-smile playing on his handsome face, he shrugged. “Guys roll for comfort. What you women put your feet through is crazy.”

Even though she knew it was a mistake, she laughed in his face and said what she was thinking.

“Are you saying you don’t like my shoes?”

“Well, no.” He chuckled.

“Because I’m not stupid, Ryan. Or blind. And …”

He cut off the rest of her taunt, dammit!

“And what? You caught me checking out your ass?” He scoffed and gave her a cheeky smirk. “Isn’t that the whole point of the shoes in the first place? The way they make your ass swagger wiggle.”

“Swagger wiggle?” She smirked.

“Yep. Swagger wiggle. And you, Ms. Carlton, have a world-class swagger wiggle.”

The car drew up to the curb, and she looked out of the window.

“Home sweet home. Thanks for the ride. May I have my shoes, please?”

Keeping her shoes in his hand, he said, “Hang on,” and then shoved open his car door and came to hers.

Crouching on the sidewalk, he held up a shoe and asked for a foot.

She might have hesitated for a second, but in her mind, it felt like ten minutes. Her brows bumped together, and she stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

Swiveling on the back seat, she turned toward him and extended a foot. Ryan slid the shoe on, and it felt like she was watching Prince Charming at work. She didn’t expect to be so moved by his gentle caress of her ankle or the softness of his touch. Jen swallowed hard when a buzzing sound filled her ears.

Did the dashing prince also stroke his fingers up and down Cinderella’s calf, making her shiver with awareness?

And how come her dashing prince was wearing a shirt with brightly colored parrots and tropical palms? What was it with him and the loud prints? Didn’t he know he stood out without having to use his style choices to draw attention?

The second shoe slid onto her foot, and this time, he didn’t even try to hide that he was copping a feel. She stared, transfixed, and watched his big hands and nimble fingers map her leg from ankle to knee.

She started to breath heavily—a signal that shot a blast of cold air into the middle of her response. Better shut this down now before things got out of hand.

“Why are you playing me like this, Ryan? What’s in it for you?”

He didn’t stop caressing her leg. In fact, he’d moved from one leg to both—running his hands up and down in long, slow strokes. When his hands slid up to her knees, they disappeared under her skirt, and unless she was high, he gently separated her legs in the process.

It was unfortunate her imagination chose that moment to picture his face between her legs licking and teasing as she moaned her pleasure.

Fuck.

“You’re not being played.” His words were precise. Direct. Emphatic.

Oh, right. She’d said something snarky, thinking he’d take offense and back off.

He stood, took her hand, and hauled her from the car. On the sidewalk, they stood chest to chest and stared at each other in silence.

“I’m going to walk you to the building entrance, and you’re going to let me.”

Jen stiffened. “Say again?”

Ryan sniggered when she broke out the imperious tone she saved for especially awkward moments.

“Give it a rest, lady. We both know I’m not stepping over any lines. You want me to push your buttons, and I’m fine with that. For now.”

She had some sort of teenage brain fart and gruffly huffed to emphasize her indignation at his audacity. The only thing was, she was far more turned on than outraged, and her pouty retort proved it.

“You’re taking liberties with me, Mr. Lloyd.”

Oh. My. God! Did she always come off sounding like an uptight virgin? Taking liberties? Jesus. What century was she living in?

Ryan’s amused laughter did strange things to her composure.

“I’m going to do a lot more than take some liberties, Ms. Carlton.”

“Shut up,” she snapped.

“Oh, burn,” he teased. “Come on. Let’s get you to safety before your panties end up in my back pocket, and you’re forced to slap my face.”

She huffed, puffed, and stomped toward the security door to her building. How the hell had she lost control of the Ryan Lloyd situation? Did he have some kind of sexual mojo capable of cruising over, around, under, and past her defenses?

Well, shit. That wasn’t good.

When they reached the front door, Jen was still deciding which snotty brush-off to throw in his face. She turned to say something, and he caught her off guard, pushing her against the door with his body.

His voice held a slight growl, and she felt his breath on her face. “What do you say we save some time and forget about the pretense, hmm?”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Her words might have held more power if she hadn’t bit her lip at the end.

He leaned into her and got so close to her face that she froze.

“When you talk to my mother, tell her the Quinn plan is a day late and a dollar short. I’m engaged elsewhere.”

The lump in her throat was hard to swallow. “Um, you are?”

“Yes,” was all he said.

She thought he might try to kiss her, but to Jen’s dismay, he didn’t. He just covered her with his bigger body and stared into her eyes while their lips almost touched.

When panic made her reach blindly behind her for the door handle, he softly kissed her cheek and murmured, “John isn’t the only one discovering a treasure that was right in front of him the whole time.”

Ba-boom. That was what her heart did.

He stepped back and touched the side of her face. His smile was gentle and held a surprising warmth.

“It’s okay to run, Jen. You probably should. But be aware that I’m the long-distance sort. A fast sprint doesn’t interest me, so the more you run, the closer I’ll follow.”

“But I don’t like you,” she miserably whined.

He chuckled. “You keep telling yourself that, and we’ll see where we end up.”

She felt strangely satisfied about him standing there while she punched in her security code, entered the building, and closed the door between them. She liked that he waited to be sure she was safe. His concern had a very alpha feel to it that didn’t exactly turn her off.