maybe I’m a lot more like my mom than I knew.”
Riley’s heart twisted at the cold indifference in his voice. No you’re not.
But Sam was right about one thing—this was hardly first-date talk. The last thing
she wanted to be thinking about right now was how she’d cried herself to sleep
the night she learned he was married.
“So if I were someone else …,” she prompted.
“Believe me, right about now I’m wishing you would be.”
“Hey!” she said, stung.
Sam pulled his earlobe. “That came out wrong. I just meant that I wish it wasn’t
my best friend’s baby sister whose lingerie I can’t stop thinking about.”
“Huh,” she said, not bothering to hide her smile. “So guys really are suckers for
black lace.”
He gave her a curious look. “Don’t you know?”
Riley’s smile slipped. Right. A sex goddess would know that.
Backpedal, backpedal …
“Don’t try to change the subject,” she said. “If I were someone else … if you
weren’t already one hundred percent confident that I was going to put out at the
end of this, what would you be doing now?”
She tried to keep her tone light and conversational, but Sam Compton had known
her far too long and gave her a knowing look.
“Riley McKenna, are you asking me to put my moves on you?”
She pretended to consider this. “Your moves … I’m pretty sure I’ve seen all of
those when you’ve been with Liam. That’s like where guys stare at boobs and
grunt, right?”
Instead of getting defensive, Sam merely grinned. “Honey, you’ve never seen me
in action.”
And why not? she wanted to ask. I’ve been right here the whole time.
“So show me what Sam Compton looks like in courtship,” she said boldly.
He shook his head. “Too late for that. Your whole let’s-have-sex-so-I-can-write-
about-it proposal threw off my timetable.”
“What, is your whole routine scripted or something? Did you miss the crucial
cues?”
“The only cues I missed from you were the boring ones. I caught on to the ones
that mattered. Like the flaunting of a guy who was all wrong for you in my face
like a red flag in front of a bull.”
Oh, well done, you. It only took you ten years.
“So what’s next?” she asked, letting the tip of her boot “accidentally” brush against
his calf as she inched closer. “Let’s pretend we did this the slow, boring way, and
have jumped through all the dull courtship hoops. What now?”
Sam tossed back the rest of his drink. “I thought you’d never ask.”
His lips took hers.
The kiss was more restrained than the first one, given that they were in a public
place, but it was no less potent. He kept his hands to himself, keeping her close
with the sheer skill of his mouth against hers.
It wasn’t the kiss of a man exploring a new woman.
It was the kiss of a man who knew his woman—knew what she liked.
And Riley liked it all. She liked the way he tasted like whisky and mint, liked the
way his kiss was slow and unhurried.
But mostly she liked that it was Sam on the other end of this perfect kiss. It was
a moment she’d dreamed about since she was seventeen.
It blew her fantasies out of the water, and he hadn’t even gotten his hands on her
yet.
This was the moment she’d waited for for so long. That moment when a kiss
wasn’t enough. That moment when she wanted more, and wanted it now.
Sam pulled back long before she was done with the kiss, and it took her a full
thirty seconds to reorient herself.
“So?” he asked. “How were my moves?”
She lifted her cocktail glass to her lips, careful not to look his way. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?” he growled.
“It was good, really. But is that all you’ve got?” Riley licked a drop of whisky out
of the corner of her mouth.
“Hell no, it’s—Jesus. We’re not going to get through dinner if you keep doing that
thing with your tongue.”
“So let’s skip it.”
“Skip what?”
“Dinner.”
Sam stared at her, and she stared right back. “Somehow I didn’t think the day
would ever come when I heard those words come out of Riley McKenna’s mouth.
You love food.”
Riley’s hand found his leg. Scratched slightly against his jeans. “Maybe tonight I
want to love something else.”
He closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. Then he shifted, pulling out his
wallet. “We’re going to regret this.”
“Maybe.”