Extra sweetener,she typed.
Rylan:See you in ten minutes.
Make it thirty,she replied.I need to shower and change.
Fifteen minutes later, she tugged a red cardigan over a sleeveless white tee, the fabric still warm from the dryer, and slipped her feet into her favorite red flats.
As she smoothed the cardigan down, she caught herself smiling.She’d been spending more time with Rylan than she’d intended—more than she’dplanned.Normally, she built rapport with clients as a matter of professional skill; her work depended on reading personalities and understanding tastes.But with Rylan, it felt… different.Personal.
Her other projects were nearly wrapped, leaving her schedule open until Monday, when four new clients would need her full attention.But today?Today belonged to Rylan.
They were heading out to tour furniture warehouses in search of a new sofa.
Despite the undeniable beauty and high-end craftsmanship of his current suede one, he hated it—and she could see why.The texture was stiff, the seating awkward; he’d complained more than once that it felt like “sitting on a stubborn boulder.”Over the past week, she’d sent him photo after photo of alternatives, each met with the same polite dismissal.Not quite right.
So today, they would findthesofa.Or, knowing Rylan, they’d at least try until the search met his exacting standard.
Normally, Natalie dreaded bringing clients to warehouses.The process was exhausting—clients sat on every available sofa, pawed every fabric swatch, and inevitably got sidetracked by furniture far beyond their budget or wildly outside their style.But with Rylan?It didn’t feel like work.Time with him had become something she looked forward to, even if it meant hours of trekking through cavernous showrooms under harsh fluorescent lights.
Still, as she checked her reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t pretend her anticipation was purely professional.She’d chosen black leggings with her red sweater—a practical choice for a long day on her feet—but she’d also picked this outfit because it made her feel flirty, confident, and just a little dangerous.She wasn’t only eager to help Rylan find the perfect sofa.
Her heart gave a traitorous flutter as she picked up her bag and paused at the door, fingers tightening on the strap.“Just a client,” she whispered, as if saying it aloud could tame the rush of excitement coursing through her.
Big mistake.
The moment her eyes slipped shut, he appeared in her mind—Rylan, naked, strong, moving toward her with that slow, deliberate stride and a look in his eyes that promised nothing but sin.Heat shot through her chest and pooled low in her belly.She drew in a sharp breath, her knees suddenly weak under the vividness of it.
Her cheeks burned as she forced her eyes open.If she gave him the slightest hint—one lingering glance, one slip of her guard—Rylan would respond.Without hesitation.And while she knew the connection between them would be combustible, she also knew exactly how it would end.
Not with love.Not with permanence.For him, it might be a passing indulgence.For her?It would leave splinters she’d never quite pull free.She wouldn’t trade the fragile, growing friendship they had for a night of reckless heat, no matter how tempting the thought.
Her phone buzzed, snapping the thread of her thoughts.
Rylan:I’m waiting.
She gave a short, self-mocking laugh.“Get a grip,” she muttered, shaking her head as if she could scatter the images lingering there.
Keys in hand, she stepped outside and locked the door behind her.The morning air was crisp, sunlight slanting across her quiet street, and she felt her anticipation bubble again as she approached her car.
“Natalie!”
The male voice cut across the stillness of the morning, sharp and insistent.Recognition of who owned that voice landed instantly, unwelcome and heavy.She kept walking, pretending she hadn’t heard, unwilling to let her ex-fiancé’s voice claw into the excitement she felt about seeing Rylan.
“Nat!”Louder this time—closer.
Her fingers were already curling around the SUV’s door handle when she glanced up and saw him—Mark—striding across her lawn with the entitled ease of someone who still believed he belonged there.
“Mark,” she muttered, the single word steeped in irritation.
At least his car was on the street this time.She wouldn’t have put it past him to block her in just to force a conversation.She yanked the driver’s door open, determined to ignore him and drive away, but he closed the distance fast.
“Natalie, why are you ignoring me?”
Before she could answer, his hand came down on the door with a thud, slamming it shut.The jolt shot through her, her spine stiffening as she whipped around to face him, anger igniting hot and fast.
“I’m not ignoring you,” she said, her voice cool but edged with venom and her chin lifting in defiance.
“Then why won’t you answer my calls?”His brows drew together, voice sharpening with accusation.“I’ve called you, Nat.I’ve texted you.Why haven’t you replied?”
