Playing Dirty

Nine

Sam finally gave up the futile effort to concentrate on employee files, and admitted to being a nervous wreck at the prospect of spending time alone with Ryan.

For the umpteemth time since this morning, she replayed the encounter in her mind. He had looked so sinfully sexy, leaning oh so casually against the giant front desk, half turned away from the front door, dressed in a deep blue suit sans tie, hands thrust into the pockets of his pants, wicked smile lighting up a face that should be made illegal for health reasons.

Sam had never given much credence to the phrase 'my ovaries exploded', but at that moment, those three words had never held as much truth as they did. Her stomach felt like a small bomb had gone off, releasing a hoard of butterflies and sweet, delicious thrills that raced down her spine to pool in liquid heat at her core.

The sound of female giggles and effectively doused her back to reality.

One glance at the two pretty receptionists who were leaning over the desk with unmistakable identical expressions of adoration, clearly hanging onto Ryan's every word had stilled the silliness that was Sam's reaction and reminded her of the pep talk she'd given her reflection just this morning.

Focus on what you came to do, Sameera. Do not let a pair of light grey eyes make you forget how hard you had to work to make it this far.

Repeating those words in her head had helped to quell lustful thoughts...and much as she hated to admit, jealousy.

It helped to keep her grounded when he'd looked her way and aimed that devastating smile in her direction. Had helped to keep her traitorous hands from touching him when they'd been together in the elevator, and for one millisecond Ryan had looked at her with what she thought was a desire to kiss her senseless.

Obviously, she'd been mistaken, for the next minute he'd acted like he couldn't wait to get away from her.

Thank heavens she hadn't done something foolish, like throw herself at him.

She sighed and dragged her mind to the present, pushing aside her laptop and propped her elbows on the desk to massage her temples, where the mild headache that had plagued her since waking up after a restless night now bloomed to a category three on the pain scale, category one being a full blown, unable to tolerate sound or light migraine that rendered her useless for it's duration.

This whole situation was proving bad for her health. Maybe it was time to take Dee up on her offer to hook her up with one of her male friends? Or - heaven forbid - take a second look at the list currently burning a hole in her inbox.

Maybe if she started casually dating again after so long being on her own, her pointless infatuation with a man who was unsuitable in every way would cool off.

She grimaced at the thought of plunging into the whirlpool that was dating. That aspect of social life had never really appealed to Sam and she had always counted herself lucky that her relationship with Zahir had been borne of friendship.

Zahir was the boy next door, and her friend. Her parents were good friends with his, and from friendship, love had grown. He'd declared his feelings for her when she'd turned sixteen - he'd been nineteen and just about to leave for university.

He had been her first date, her first everything and after his death, there had been no one else.

Her planner gave a little beep, a five minute reminder of her meeting with Ryan. Ignoring the flutter in her chest, she rose, smoothing a hand down the front of her shirt. Eyeing the suit jacket that hung beside her chair, she decided to forgo putting it on in favor of looking a little less severe.