“Maybe,” she said, her voice low now, the pink in her cheeks deepening.
Over the next hour, he learned that she hated broccoli, loved pizza and beer, and had taken ballet and piano lessons as a child.Her laugh came easily, her voice soft but steady, and every time she leaned forward, his gaze swept over her without apology.She was curvy in a way that made him think of slow hands and fewer clothes.
When her phone buzzed, her eyes widened as she caught sight of the time.“Good grief!”she breathed, more to herself than to him, before shoving the phone into her bag.
“What’s wrong?”His tone sharpened, the edge of command slipping in without his permission.
“I have to go!”she said, though the words didn’t quite match the hesitation in her movements.She began packing in a flurry, but when she looked up to slide the tote over her shoulder, her gaze lingered on him.Just a heartbeat too long.
It wasn’t the quick glance of politeness.It was softer, almost reluctant—like she was memorizing him, holding the image for later.The faintest curve touched her lips, not quite a smile, not quite goodbye, before she turned away.“Thank you for a wonderful cup of coffee, Rylan,” she said, her tone almost a whisper.
He rose as she did, his height casting a long shadow across the table, unused to women leaving him mid-conversation.She turned toward the door, pausing for a fraction of a second, as if she might turn back.But instead she gave him a small wave over her shoulder, the movement tinged with something that felt like an unspoken promise, before stepping into the sunlight and disappearing from view.
A rare sense of regret tightened in his chest as he watched her SUV pull out of the lot.
From across the café, his bodyguards exchanged smirks—just enough to let him know they’d noticed.He gave a slow shake of his head, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a faint, knowing curve.Their quiet chuckles followed him as he strode past, neither side pretending they hadn’t read the moment the same way.
Sliding into the SUV, he turned to his Tom.“What do you know about her?”
The man relayed what little they’d found so far.Rylan wasn’t verifying—he was gathering.Because she was already in his head, and he wasn’t in the habit of leaving questions unanswered.
As the SUV merged into traffic, he leaned back, letting the corner of his mouth tilt in a faint smile.This was far from over.
Next time, she wouldn’t get away so easily.
Chapter 6
Natalie sighed as she lowered her tote bag to the floor of her home and leaned back against the door, closing her eyes for just a moment.The lock clicked into place beneath her hand, but the familiar sound didn’t settle her the way it usually did.
Fourteen hours on her feet—five client meetings, an endless cascade of emails, supplier calls—and one unexpected coffee with a man who’d been far too easy to think about on the drive home.Rylan’s smile still lingered in her mind, softening the edges of her exhaustion.
Kicking off her heels, she padded barefoot toward the kitchen, the cool floorboards soothing against her sore feet.All she wanted was a glass of wine to toast her survival of the day.
She opened the refrigerator, then froze, staring into the brightly lit interior.
The bottle she’d opened yesterday—half-full—was gone.
Her brow furrowed.She distinctly remembered sliding it aside that morning to grab a yogurt.
“What in the world?”she murmured, scanning the shelves again, as if the bottle might magically appear.
She shut the door and looked around.The dish towel that always hung neatly over the oven handle was missing.She frowned, turning toward the living room—then froze.
The lampshade on the side table was tilted, just slightly.The throw pillows on the sofa were in the wrong order—plaid in front of floral instead of the other way around.
And then her gaze caught on the coffee table.
A vase of fresh flowers sat in the center.
Her stomach turned to ice.She hadn’t bought flowers.She hadn’t put them there.
The air felt heavier now, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.Someone had been inside her home.Her sanctuary.Touched her things.Left something behind—like a message she couldn’t yet read.
Her fingers tightened around her phone as she grabbed her bag and stepped quickly to the front yard, the sudden vastness of the night pressing in on her.The shadows seemed deeper than usual.Every rustle of leaves became footsteps.Every flicker at the corner of her vision felt like eyes tracking her.
She dialed 911.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”The dispatcher’s voice was bored, almost annoyed.
