Ricochet (Renegades #3)(7)
Author: Skye Jordan

“Vacation?” she asked.

“Not exactly.”

She sipped from the glass without taking her eyes off his. She wanted to dig into his vague answers, and she had a spark of intelligence in her gaze, making him realize he might not be able to pull off this Nathan ruse.

She set her drink down and licked her lips. The sweep of her pink tongue flooded his mind with so many delicious, erotic thoughts, he almost missed her next question. “Can I see your tattoo?”

Her gaze darted to his arm again, and he grinned. “I love a woman who asks for what she wants.” He reached over and pulled his sleeve up where the waving flag wrapped the curve of his shoulder and biceps, extending almost to his elbow.

“Wow,” she murmured, her eyes inspecting the design with intense interest. “That’s amazing. What a talented artist. Where did you get it done?”

“New York.”

“Beautiful.” She took another sip of her drink and returned her gaze to his face. “What were you doing there?”

“Visiting a friend.”

“And what brings you here?”

“Favor for a friend.”

“The same one who abandoned you?”

“As a matter of fact…”

Her lips pursed again, and Ryker took far too much interest in the sight. She sipped. “Sounds like you have a lot of friends.”

“I hear you can never have enough.”

“Depends on the friends,” she said. “And you don’t sound exactly thrilled about this favor.”

“It’s been one hell of a long day.” He lifted a shoulder and grinned. “But meeting you has given the trip a whole new positive spin.”

She picked up her drink and turned toward him. The direct movement made him fear he’d said something wrong, that she was going to grab her things and walk away. Or that she recognized him in some way, and was going to confront him on his identity. But she hooked one arm over the back of her stool and looked him directly in the eye. Then she smiled, showing those pretty teeth and that adorable dimple, both a sugary contrast to the sultry look in her eyes.

And, God, she was pretty. Who knew a little pair of glasses could hide so much? With his gaze drawn to the dark frames, he’d missed everything beneath—the steep angle of her cheekbones, her big, gorgeous, warm brown eyes, the dash of freckles down her nose, the way it all fit together so prettily, so perfectly.

Christ. She was so not his type.

“Then I say we celebrate the end of a very long week.” She lifted her drink toward him. “And start fresh.”

Ryker was having an even harder time separating desire from duty now. But one thing he knew for sure— turning Rachel away to discuss explosives was damn well not in his best interest. Not for a job he didn’t want. In a place he didn’t want to be. Ryker’s best interest at the moment sat right in front of him.

“To the end of a very long week.” He lifted his glass and touched hers. “And new friends.”

3

Friends? No. Rachel had plenty of sexy male friends in her life. What she needed was a hookup guy. One unrelated to everything else—no work connections, no family connections, no friend connections. Someone who didn’t want more than Rachel was interested in giving—one night.

Maybe Nathan had missed her innuendo—probably the most direct come-on she’d ever used, although admittedly weak. She wasn’t exactly a practiced seductress, and this attempt was putting her in the strangest mental-physical lock.

While her body and her logic were on the same page—hot sex, no attachments—her psyche had been balking ever since she’d made the decision to change her perspective on relationships and men months before.

But she was sticking with the new plan—a new plan for a new woman.

She might not be up on all the recent sex trends, but she was pretty sure this situation screamed hookup. She just hadn’t expected to find a scorching-hot guy to enact that plan with at LAX, for God’s sake.

His thickly lashed eyes focused intently on her instead of darting around as if she couldn’t hold his attention the way other men’s did. His lips were outlined in the dark stubble of a day’s beard and full enough to get Rachel thinking about the naughty things she hoped he did well. And the scars…the scars absolutely intrigued her. One on the side of his chin, one above his lip, one on his temple, another at his hairline.

The logistics of getting him from a bar in the airport to a hotel room nearby wasn’t anything she’d anticipated. She’d always envisioned something simpler, like sweeping out of a club and falling into bed at the guy’s place so she could leave when it suited her.

“What do you do, Rachel?”

Nathan’s question drew her from the tangle of doubt and made her smile. She was getting way ahead of herself. He was a stranger, and they were simply talking. She’d been hanging around a bunch of sexual skydivers too long.

She slowed her intake of alcohol so her brain would actually function. A decent conversation with the guy would be a good start, even though all she wanted was to lose herself in a man who could quell all the frustration buzzing through her after that drive and her mother’s earlier call.

“I don’t have an official title, really,” she said, taking a small sip of the yummy drink her friend Rubi had introduced her to a month ago. “I work for a stunt company. You know, secretary, bookkeeper, glorified gofer. You?”

He hesitated, and the look in his eyes warned Rachel a lie was coming. Something about the subtle momentary glaze that came over his intense, smoky-green irises, his mind going distant for a split second before answering. It was the same look every Renegade gave her just before they tried to fib their way out of trouble.

“A little of everything,” he said. “Do you like your job?”

Definitely lying. Typical guy.

But really, did she give a damn?

She let her gaze take him in once more—the faded cornflower-blue T-shirt with a surfing logo, molding to strong shoulders, a wide chest, and built biceps, then going loose around a tight abdomen and dropping to the waistband of deep brown cargo pants.

Nope. She didn’t give a damn.

At least not here and not now. And here and now was all that mattered.

“Most of the time,” she answered. “The guys, you know, they’re guys. But they are a hell of a lot of fun, and always challenging.”

His grin widened.

“What?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I like your take on working with men. We’re very different, especially in a pack. Something most women never get. And rarely like.”