Ryder sighed. “Who are you speaking to, Christian? Of course I did.”
“On the first night. Every time. You never miss a beat, bro. I want to be you when I grow up.”
“Funny. Now my sex life is off the table until we seal this deal. I want thirty-three percent market share from Holcomb, and you’re taking the lead to get it for me.” He checked his watch. “We have two hours before they get here. Impress me.”
“Piece of cake.”
Ryder spent the rest of the day focused one hundred percent on business. He coached Christian, four years younger than his age of thirty-five but with great potential. Ryder had every intention of molding his cousin in his own image and enjoyed every minute of guiding him. The problem he ran into when the sun disappeared below the horizon and he sat alone in his office was the return of Melanie to his thoughts. Last night had been—different. He had spoken the truth when he told her he’d never been with a black woman, but he expected to enjoy himself and did. Yet, her soft eyes and soft lips, kissing her, hell, talking to her was… He could only describe it as out of the ordinary. Not her, per se, but his reaction to her. He liked to think he had a sixth sense about the women he took to bed. He knew what would please them, and in that respect, Melanie’s pleasure came easily. However, his desire had ignited to proportions that felt out of control. He’d taken her so many times last night, and even when he’d left her sleeping to go home, he had wanted to stay. Not like him at all.
Despite the oddness of his reaction, he had enough fortitude to ignore her for the required length of time. Then he would throw her a bone. She too would remember last night and want a repeat, but her focus might at first be on the date and talking. The sex would be secondary. As he pictured her face, the slanted chocolate eyes, the full lips, he considered where he might take her to dinner, a more upscale establishment than the one last night.
His office door opened, and Jodie stuck her head in. “Are you going to get me that paperwork soon? Holcomb is asking about the CDA’s.”
Ryder rubbed his eyes. He’d been thinking too much about Melanie. That ended now. “The CDA’s are standard. Why would he question them?”
She shrugged.
“Fine. Give me twenty minutes. I’ll get you the paperwork, and tell him I’ll return his call in ten.”
Jodie closed the door, and Ryder got back to work. No more Melanie. He never let a woman interfere with work. In fact, since she’d had too much effect on him, he pushed his usual three-day callback to seven and dismissed her from his thoughts. Let that be the end of it.
A week had passed since Ryder had had sex with Melanie, and not one of those damn days had he succeeded in pushing the woman out of his head. Even if he managed to forget her during the day, there were the nights of hard-ons. Erections he could deal with. He just beat his dick in the shower or in bed and fell asleep. The issue was her smile and her voice, the way her face lit up when she spoke, very expressive and more open than he bet she knew.
He had come to the conclusion that the sex must have been so exceptional he’d attached more to it than it needed. The solution as he saw it lay in taking her to dinner again and having a repeat of their night in bed. That way, he could get her out of his system and realize it wasn’t Melanie herself that did this to him. Good sex could be obtained anywhere, and no woman was better for him than another. If she could satisfy his physical needs, he reasoned that would be enough.
Zipping through traffic down I-77, he tapped the button on his headset. “Dial Melanie.”
The line rang a couple of times, and then she came on. He ignored the odd sensation at hearing her voice. As he recalled, it was deeper than her picture gave the impression it would be but no less feminine.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Melanie. It’s—”
“Oh, Ryder, how’s it going?”
He grinned, hearing the excitement in her voice, and she’d either saved his number in speed dial or recognized his voice. “I’m good. Thanks. Listen, I’ve shifted my schedule around, and I’m open tonight. I was thinking I could take you to dinner. Somewhere better than that last restaurant.”
“You’re open?” she repeated, and he thought he heard a little something in her tone. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I have plans.”
He frowned and cut off the guy in the minivan. “You have plans? What kind of plans?”
She chuckled. “A date, if you must know. I’d love to do it some other night though. How about Thursday? Friday would be better. I might even be able to get out of the office an hour or so early so I can get cleaned up first.”