Deadly Silence (Blood Brothers #1)(16)

She’d just settled into her chair and booted up her computer when a shadow crossed her doorway. She glanced up and her breathing hitched. “Ryker.”

He strode into the room and slid a fragrant pumpkin-spice latte across the desk, planting it right next to a picture of Grams rollerblading the previous spring. “You missed breakfast and lunch, I believe.”

Her mouth watered, and not just from the coffee. Today he wore a deep green T-shirt that only enhanced his wild eyes, faded jeans, and those tough boots. “What are you doing here?” she asked, even though he had said he’d see her later. She’d thought it was just an expression.

He dropped into one of her two pin-striped guest chairs, overwhelming the room with the sense of male. “I figured we should talk.”

“I’m not ready to talk.” Her fingers itched to grab that coffee.

“That’s unfortunate.” He leaned back, his gaze roaming the red shirt. “I’d love to see the everyday bra and panty set.” He grinned. “You know, to compare with my sets.”

She’d forgotten about throwing the sexy underwear at his head last week. The other sets weren’t his. They were hers, darn it. She gave in and reached for the coffee. “You’ve already seen this set.”

His eyes flared. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” She took a deep drink and hummed as the spice exploded across her tongue. “Black satin, red bows, another stupid G-string.”

“That’s one of my favorites.” His voice rumbled dark and low.

That tone. That damn tone had the ability to tighten her entire body with need. Her attempt to mess with his head was definitely backfiring. She tried to focus. “I’ll launder it and send it to you.”

“I’d rather take it off you with my teeth.” His eyes smoldered.

God. How did he do that? Butterflies winged through her abdomen, and her breath quickened. She forced herself to look bored. “I have work to do, so thanks for the coffee, but you need to go.”

“No.” He cocked his head to the side, pinning her in place.

She frowned. “Yes.”

“That’s not how we’re doing this, baby.”

Baby. He called her baby in bed. . . usually when he was telling her what to do in that dark commanding voice. She shivered and discreetly crossed her legs. “I’m pretty sure we’re deciding to take a step back or end things, so there is no ‘this.’”

“Who hit you, Zara?”

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed, panic rippling through her desire. Man, she thought he’d let that whole situation go.

He lifted an eyebrow and casually reached over his shoulder to push the door closed. “Who are you protecting?”

“Myself.” She played with the coffee cup. “I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been, I did something I could get in trouble for, and you need to drop it right now.”

“Trouble?” He leaned forward, his elbows on his worn jeans. “What kind of trouble?”

“The kind that gets me fired.” She sighed. “Trust me that I handled the situation, and please drop it.”

“No.” His voice remained matter-of-fact.

Her mouth dropped open. “Listen, Ryker. I’m giving you an easy out here. Take it,” she snapped.

“I don’t want out.”

Her head jerked. “Casual sex doesn’t work for me any longer.”

“There ain’t nothin’ casual about our sex, and you know it.”

A quick knock sounded on the door. The door opened, and Brock poked his head in. “You busy?”

“Yes,” Ryker answered for her.

She turned to Brock. “What’s up?”

Brock glanced from Ryker back to her, red tingeing his cheeks. “We received discovery on the Pentley case. Want to discuss it over dinner?” Curiosity glimmered in his gaze.

“We just made dinner plans,” Ryker said quietly, his focus remaining on her.

Her temper simmered hotter, but she didn’t want a scene in front of her boss’s son. “Brock, I do have dinner plans, but I’m free this afternoon to go over the documents.”

Brock nodded, studying her. “All right. I have a meeting at two but should be finished within the hour. We’ll meet in the conference room. It’s nice to see you, Ryker.” He shut the door behind himself.

“Knock it off,” she said, crossing her arms, her jaw aching from clenching it so tight.

“He’s interested in you,” Ryker said evenly, his chin lowering.

She rolled her eyes. “If he is, it’s none of your business.”

“Boy, do you have that wrong.” Ryker shook his head. “I can feel that you’re scared, and I can tell that your stress level is at an all-time high. Are you frightened of me?” He rubbed a hand across his sharp jaw. “I mean, after last night? I don’t usually drink like that.” Vulnerability flashed through his eyes to be banished by the steady strength.

She sat back, wanting nothing more than to delve into the vulnerability and then burrow into his strength again. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Good. Are you scared of whoever put that bruise on your pretty face?”

She blinked and tried to give him the truth without revealing the entire situation. “I’m, ah, concerned about the situation, not the idiot who hit me.”