I strolled up the concrete path to the porch. I hadn’t even put on deodorant or brushed my teeth this morning. I dug in my pocket for a mint then rang the doorbell.
I bet I was just a vision.
It took a second press of the doorbell before the door finally opened.
“What?”
Ryder Bailey was a fine-looking man. His dark hair, mussed from sleep and a five o’clock shadow did not take away from the well-defined muscles of his chest and arms. He had hard six-pack abs with a dusting of dark hair that led downward toward lean hips over bulging thigh muscles. His eyes were that peculiar mossy hazel that leaned gold, his dark eyebrows heaviest just to the middle of his eyes. His nose was straight and his hard jaw was balanced by lips that were thicker on the bottom than the top.
So this is what he looked like when he woke up. Rumpled and sexy. His naturally tanned body was marked only by a few freckles, dark hair, and the tattoos. At twenty-eight, he was lean, muscled in a way that spoke of a very active life, or a lot of training, and absolutely gorgeous.
What were his ex-girlfriends thinking, dumping him? If I ever touched him, if he ever even thought of me that way, I wouldn’t let him out of bed for weeks.
I savored the details of him, the sepia tattoo of Leonardo da Vinci’s hand proportion sketch that capped his shoulder with the words NATURENEVERBREAKSHEROWNLAWSscrawling an arc beneath it. The other tattoo: a drawing tool called a compass spread out in a V against his hipbone, one point pinned on a star of a constellation that licked across the lowest cut of muscle of his stomach.
I looked a little lower and got more than I bargained for.
Wow.
“Laney?” he asked in sleep-dogged confusion.
“Hey, Ryder,” I said, dragging my gaze up and trying not to grin. He was rubbing at one eye with the heel of his palm. “You’re buck naked.”
His smile was slow, sleepy, and didn’t quite clear the glassiness out of his slightly unfocused eyes. Still, his gaze lit a fire that started somewhere down at my knees and stroked all the way up to my collarbones.
“And you’re wearing too damn many clothes, Delaney.”
Whoa, what? We were friends. Weren’t we just friends?
“What did you just say to me, Ryder Bailey?”
“That you…” His dog, a mutt named Spud that looked like a cross between a Chow and a Border collie, came barreling through the living room and licked his feet happily.
Ryder’s eyes widened. Maybe in surprise. Maybe in horror.
“I’m not asleep, am I?” Spud nosed up to lick one knee, making Ryder wince before the mutt ran over to lick my bootlaces.
“Nope,” I informed him gravely. “You are all the way awake.”
Nowthatwas definitely surprise in his eyes. Before it could turn into embarrassment, it settled into a grin that was not nearly as abashed as it should be.
“Well,” he said, not bothering to cover himself. “That’s awkward.”
It took everything I had to keep my eyes up on his face, only his face. I bit the inside of my cheek and sang the alphabet song.
I think he noticed my struggle. Fine laugh lines at the corner of his eyes deepened with his smile. “Sorry ’bout all this.”
“It’s all fine,” I assured him, not bothering to elaborate on what I thought was fine.
L-m-n-o-p.
“So.” He bit his bottom lip.
My eyes zeroed in on that motion, liking the look of his moistened lips curled at the edges in a smile.
Q-r-s-t-are you just messing with me-v.
I gave him a bland police chief stare, as if him being naked in front of me was just another boring part of the day job.
