This Year's Black (Killer Style 2)

“You okay?”

She snorted. “Peachy keen.” Then she scurried into the bathroom, shoving the door shut behind her.

They sure were a pair of articulate people.

He fought the urge to smother himself with a thick pillow. What would he say to her, anyway? I know last night only happened because of the spiked wine, but I’d like it to happen again. That didn’t sound desperate or pathetic at all. He groaned.

Time to get his balls out of Ryder’s purse and man up. They’d fucked. It was good. It wouldn’t happen again. So what? It wasn’t as if he cared.

Bravado pumping him back up, he sprang off the bed and pulled on his boxers.

“I’m going to go grab some breakfast. You want me to bring you back anything?” Ryder’s voice had regained is firm footing in badass chick territory, which made sense since she was back in her usual all-black uniform of skinny cigarette pants and a sheer black blouse with a tank underneath. Noticing a woman’s outfit was second nature to him by now—the pro and con of living and breathing women’s fashion for the past decade.

“Breakfast?” His stomach rumbled. “Grab me something with lots of protein. We’ve got to nail down Sarah Molina today at the fashion show. I could use an energy boost.”

Ryder picked at the collar of her blouse, right next to the spot where he’d done his damnedest to mark her last night. Heat rushed up his body at the memory of their battle for dominance. Be it the bedroom or the boardroom, few people ever challenged him. He’d never experienced such a rush of excitement at the prospect of battle as he had last night with Ryder.

“Protein it is.” She gave a curt nod and slipped out the door.

Looked like they were going to ignore the smell of hot sex still hanging in the room. He was good with that. Course he was. He was Devin Harris—jock turned fashion executive; rich kid made good; a man who rarely spent a night alone unless he wanted it that way. His hangover explained the tightness in his throat. No way was it because of her.

He strolled toward the bathroom, stopping when his toes brushed the filmy yellow material puddled on the floor. Without thinking twice, he bent down and grabbed the soft sarong she had worn. Her sensual scent teased his senses, and his body responded with an instant hardening. After breathing in one last, deep lungful, he let the fabric slide out of his grasp.

…

“I swear to God, Sylvie, if you breathe a word of this to Tony, I will never come back and you’ll have to explain to my mother why her baby daughter is living on an island where they probably make lasagna with cottage cheese.” The cramp in Ryder’s stomach had nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with the hot guy she’d left in the suite.

A staticky silence crackled from her cell phone as she paced in front of the ice machine. A crash sounded behind her and she whipped around, half expecting to see Devin and his drool-worthy six-pack leaning against a wall. Instead, the hall remained empty. More banging emanated from the ice machine as it dropped a fresh load of ice into the freezer.

High-strung? Her? Not at all.

“Yeah, yeah, calm down. I promise not to breathe a word of it to your brother, even if he is asleep in the next room and would turn about twenty shades of pissed off if I told him you were sleeping with a client.”

Her brother’s live-in girlfriend and her best friend or not, Ryder was going to kill Sylvie.

“Slept. Past tense. It will not happen again.”

“That sure was convincing, said no one, ever.”

Ryder shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t even like him.” Good thing she

was leaning against the ice machine because her black pants were about to spontaneously combust.

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s just so…”

“Hot? Good in bed? Sex on a stick?”

Yes. Yes. And yes. “You are not helping, Sylvie.”

“Look, I remember what you were like after you two hooked up and you ditched him like Cinderella after the ball. You were a mopey and snarly woman, and if I didn’t love you, I’d have conked you over the head with my favorite Coach bag. Something about this guy just does it for you. Maybe it’s time you started listening to that little voice inside you. Your instincts weren’t totally off with any of your exes—even with Heath. You went with your gut and you found out the truth.”

The idea of doing that scared and thrilled her. Could she trust herself again? Was she on target with Devin?

“Anyway,” Sylvie chuckled. “You’re in a tropical island paradise with him, you might as well go for broke.”

Ryder’s stomach fluttered. “Thanks for the reminder.”