Playing Dirty

Twelve

Hurt.

Just then, the elevator gave a jolt, the failsafe override having kicked in, and the car continued its descent as though nothing had happened in the last sixty seconds.

Sam broke eye contact, turning away from him to look at the mirrored wall and busied herself smoothing her hair and clothes. The action seemed almost normal, but Ryan could see the tense set of her shoulders, and the slight tremble of her fingers as they ran over her dress.

Guilt slammed into him. "Sam -"

"Don't." She didn't turn to look at him, simply dropped her arms to rest stiffly by her sides, her gaze fixed on the glowing panel. The doors slid open to the fortunately deserted parking floor, and she stepped aside, silently requesting him to leave.

But Ryan couldn't bring himself to move. He felt like the worst sort of heel, and all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and apologize until she forgave him.

He tried again. "I'm -"

She turned to look at him then, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Go to your meeting," her tone was cutting. "You've made your point, loud and clear. Go."

Knowing there was nothing he could say, for now at least until she'd cooled down a little, he sighed, straightened his tie and jacket and came to stand beside her. He let his shoulder brush against hers, the gesture conveying the words she forbade him utter and made his way to his car.

****

He barely managed to get through the meeting, his concentration shot to hell, his brain alternating between a graphic replay of the kiss, to beating himself up for forgetting his damn principles, to a burning need to talk to Sam.

But hot damn, the woman knew how to kiss! For those glorious seconds, Sam had more than matched him stroke for stroke. It had been like a duel, a hot, glorious battle to give and take as much pleasure as they could.

"Something funny, Silverton?" Mr. Greer, his client raised an unamused eyebrow at Ryan.

"Huh?" Ryan shot the silver haired man a puzzled look, then cursed under his breath when he realized he'd probably had a stupid grin on his face while thinking of the kiss that should never had happened.

"I'm sorry about that." He forced his mind clean of his lascivious thoughts and focused on the blueprints spread out on a work desk.

The sounds of heavy machinery filtered through the open windows of the makeshift office, punctuated by shouts from Ryan's crew and the smell of paint and fresh sawn wood.

Greer grunted at the apology and laid a meaty finger on the plans. "Here's where I want to change. I think the upper floor should be wider..."

Ryan listened intently, adding his input when necessary. A tour to survey the progress on the chain of ongoing department store builds in several parts of the city took the better part of the day, and by late afternoon, he was more than happy to toss safety goggles, hard hat and protective vest and call it a day. His jacket and tie had been discarded ages ago, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to elbows.

He glanced at his watch and grimaced. Already going on six p.m. Sam would probably be out of the office by now, so there was little use heading back there.

He briefly toyed with the idea of calling, or sending her a text, maybe ask to meet over the weekend so they could talk, but discarded the idea. Besides, he had a hunch she would turn him down anyway.

As he slid behind the wheel of his car, he wondered what she was doing right this minute. Probably with her fiance, and sparing no thought to the jerk who'd stolen a kiss from an engaged woman.