Chapter Thirteen

It didn’t matter where they were going tonight or what they were doing.

She was wearing a dress. She was not toying with him today because she wanted what he wanted.

Access.

She adjusted the slim orange shoulder straps as they curved into a tight white bodice that was practically fused to her breasts. Just enough cleavage ensured his eyes would pop out of his head, and then the skirt itself would pretty much blast all his brain cells away. Full and gathered, the white skirt with oranges printed on it swished as she walked. The waist cinched with a slim belt, and she wore matching orange pumps with a strap over her instep. The cotton sateen fabric of the dress wasn’t see-through, so she could wear the pink panties he’d sent, no problem.

As if she’d wear anything else right now.

This was a sex date, wasn’t it? Sophie’s lips twitched up as she answered the question herself. It was. Oh yes, it was, and she wanted it, needed it, and was damn eager to have it.

Ryan was an enticing mix of enigmatic and open, of caveman and gentleman. The combinations she saw inside him intrigued her, body and heart. His quickness with words and the ease of his flirty banter ignited her mind. There was something else in him, too, that simply gripped her—the man had a magnetic intensity. It drew her to him, lured her under his spell.

That was where she wanted to be tonight.

She grabbed a small white handbag, swapped her wallet, lipstick, and phone into it, then realized she didn’t have a condom. She laughed when she couldn’t even remember how long it had been—not only since she’d needed one, but also since she’d bought one.

It would be up to Ryan, and he sure seemed like the kind of man who came prepared.

One more check of her reflection told her everything was neatly in place, including the soft curls she’d styled into her hair after she showered. She ran a shimmery red lip gloss wand over her lips, then tucked that into her purse, too.

She tapped her chin, cycling through her mental to-do list. She’d been to the office, she’d seen Clyde, she’d visited Elle, she’d confirmed some items for the concert, and then made a number of phone calls for other fundraisers she was working on. There was so much in motion, but right now her plate was clear. Her list was emptied. Time to have fun.

She left her room, swinging her purse in her hand as she headed for the kitchen to grab a glass of water and go. Ten minutes until he’d be downstairs waiting for her. As she drank the cool liquid, she dialed the valet service in her building and asked them to bring her car around.

The sound of a lock in the door caught her attention. John walked in with the weariest look on his face, but the second he spotted Sophie in the kitchen, his tired eyes lit up. “Hey Soph,” he said.

“Hey you. Long day?”

He nodded, dropped his keys on the table by the door, and headed to the kitchen. “Too long a day. Got the run-around from everyone.”

“The life of a detective,” she said, then held up a finger in the air. “But I have just the cure for a long day.”

He arched an eyebrow, as she walked over to a black marble table at the edge of her kitchen and held up a sturdy glass bottle. She removed the stopper and poured some amber liquid. She grabbed an ice cube from the freezer, dropped it in, and handed him the glass. “There’s never been a long day in the history of the whole world that Macallan can’t make better.”

John raised the glass and knocked half of it back. “Ah,” he said with a satisfied sigh as he set the drink on the counter. “That does make my day suddenly shorter.”

She laughed. “See? I told you. Are you still working on that case?”

He nodded. “That one and a few others. Today was like a goddamn puzzle. You know the math problems you can’t solve? If a train is going at the speed of—” Then he stopped and shook his head, bemused. “Look who I’m talking to. You never had problems solving math puzzles.”

She laughed. “True. So if you ever run into any math or code-breaking with your cases, just let me know.”

He took another drink. “And this was over addresses. Fucking addresses from years ago.”

“Sounds more like cartography than math,” Sophie said.

“Well, both are vexing my partner and me,” he said, then furrowed his brow as he glanced at her outfit. “What’s with the dress? Wait. You’re probably just going grocery shopping like that. Am I right?”

She made a funny face. “Ha ha. And yes, I would wear this grocery shopping. But if you must know, I have a hot date.”

He covered his ears. “La la la. I don’t want to hear it.” He took his hands off his ears.

“Why’d you ask then?”

“Like I said, long day. It fries my brain. Who’s the date with?”

“As a matter of fact, it’s someone I met—”

But her words were cut off when his phone bleated loudly from his back pocket. “Manny,” he said. Manny was his partner. “Got to take it.”

She waggled her fingers. “Toodle-loo. Don’t wait up for little old me.”

He rolled his eyes then pressed the phone to his ear. “What’s the latest?”

Sophie left for the elevators, headed to the lobby, and walked out the front door into the hot July evening that had coasted into Vegas.

Her breath fled her chest when she saw Ryan leaning against one of the stone columns in the portico, his sunglasses on, a tailored shirt tucked into crisp pants, and a suit jacket tossed over his shoulder. The second he saw her, he strode over and surveyed her from head to toe.

She waited for him to speak first.

“You,” he began, and his voice sounded dry. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you wearing them?”

She leaned closer, her lips mere millimeters from his as she grasped his hand and pressed her keys into his palm. “Take me somewhere and find out.”