Hot Finish (Fast Track #3)(10)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Ryder was so used to thinking of her with his name, sometimes he forgot what her maiden name had been. He laughed. “When you put it like that . . . I guess I never thought about the fact that it’s not that enviable of a name.”

Suzanne slapped her glass back down on the bar, causing it to splash, and gave him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me? You teased me about it mercilessly the very first night we met! You’re lucky I thought you were hot or I would have clocked you.”

“You thought I was hot?” he asked, liking the sound of that.

She rolled her eyes. “Duh. You knew that.”

“All I remember knowing is that you were the prettiest woman at that wedding and I would have used any stupid line or excuse to talk to you. I guess I wasn’t very smooth if I made fun of your name.” He honestly didn’t remember a damn word he’d said to her. What he remembered was turning around at his cousin Brian’s wedding and seeing Suzanne talking to the bride at the back of the church.

She had been wearing a soft floral dress, her hair loosely pulled up, a smile on her beautiful face, her tan legs a million miles long. Ryder hadn’t realized she’d been the wedding planner; he had thought she was a friend or a relative of the bride. She could have been the queen of England, for all he cared, his only thoughts were how to find out if she was married and if not, finding an opportunity to talk to her.

“Yeah, I thought you were hot,” she said softly, staring down into her martini glass.

“I thought you were beautiful. I still do.” Knowing she would probably protest if he delved too deeply into the present, he kept talking. “I must have asked about ten people who you were and if you were married. I think they were starting to whisper I was some kind of stalker.”

“I’m glad you did,” she said simply, glancing over at him, her brown eyes wide and open, her expression tender instead of sarcastic or closed.

Ryder felt emotion revving in him like his car engine pre-race. He was pushing his luck, he knew it. One more second and she would probably turn on him, but he couldn’t stop himself. “So you don’t regret meeting me?”

“Of course not, you idiot.”

Ryder grinned as she made a face and turned to the bartender. “This is a little sweet, can I have another splash of vodka, please?”

“I don’t regret it, either,” Ryder told her. “Not one minute of it.”

Okay, maybe he could do without some of their knockdown, drag-out fights, but hell, he had been happy married to her. “What did you do with your wedding ring?” he asked, taking a sip of his whiskey. “I kept mine, you know. I couldn’t part with it.”

“You’re really asking for it tonight, aren’t you?” she asked, moving restlessly on her stool. “This is what I get for being nice and picking your ass up?”

“You get what—compliments? That’s not such a bad deal, is it?” Ryder moved closer to her, letting his leg rest against hers, his arms leaning on the bar in front of her, so that he was only a few inches from her face. “You really are an amazing woman.”

“How long have you been drinking today?” she asked, wetting her lips nervously.

“I’m sober.” He was. That subzero wind had iced any beer buzz in his veins he had been feeling and he’d only had about three small sips of his whiskey. “I guess that letter from the lawyer has me thinking, that’s all.”

“The past is the past.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at her, thinking that he would give just about anything to feel his lips on hers, to taste her sweet, moist tongue, and wrap her in his arms again.

Her breath had quickened, like she realized the direction his thoughts were taking. “I kept it, too,” she blurted. “My ring. It’s in my jewelry box, which is stupid, given what it’s worth. I should have it in a safe-deposit box or sell it, but I . . . can’t.”

That’s all he needed to hear. Ryder closed the distance between them and covered her mouth with his.

The very first touch had his body jolting and his soul sighing.

He was the stupidest man alive for ever letting this woman go.

So he deepened that kiss and waited for the slap.

But instead, Suzanne just opened her lips and slipped her tongue into his mouth.

No victory had ever been sweeter.

CHAPTER FOUR

RYDER had lost his ever-lovin’ mind.

Actually, she had lost her ever-lovin’ mind because while he had kissed her first, she was kissing right back.

She hadn’t meant to. She had thought to herself, when she’d recognized that look in his eye, that she should put her hand out, stop him, before he even got close enough to kiss her. But not only hadn’t she stopped him, the press of his lips on hers had felt so good she had opened her own mouth and was giving him back as good as she got.

Granted, it had been a long, less than stellar day, but that didn’t explain doing a tongue tango with her ex.

Or why it felt so damn good.

Suzanne felt her eyes drifting closed, her body shifting into his, her desire stirring to life from the center out. She’d been lying about him leaving her unsatisfied. In bed, he had always satisfied her. If he had satisfied her any more, he’d have likely killed her, and her girl bits clearly remembered him, because she was suddenly and achingly wet.

Her fingers had mysteriously worked their way into the back of his short hair, and she kept thinking that this was a bad idea, but kept doing the opposite of stopping.

It had been a long, long time since they had kissed, and it was amazing to feel that not a millimeter of their spark had disappeared. That same intense, hot, consuming passion still burned between them.

When Suzanne found herself reaching down between his legs to stroke his erection beneath his jeans, she suddenly remembered where exactly they were, and that she no longer had any right to touch wherever and whenever she wanted.

Jerking back, she stared at Ryder, who looked as stunned as she felt. He was breathing audibly, and he was gripping the edge of the bar like he’d float away without it anchoring him.

“Will you go home with me?” he asked without preamble. “I want you really bad, Suz.”

Not trusting her voice not to squeak, Suzanne just nodded. Her whole body felt like it had been dipped in melted wax, tight and hot and startled, and she was aware of every single nerve ending from scalp to toenail.

She’d barely finished her up and down nonverbal confirmation when he barked to the bartender, “Close our tab, please.”