Chased by Love (Love in Bloom: The Ryders): Trish Ryder by Melissa Foster Page A

women he didn’t give a shit about.
    “You cooked.”
    His heart did a weird thumping dance at the sound of Trish’s voice. He turned as she padded across the kitchen floor wearing a T-shirt that barely covered her ass. Every ounce of his body came to life. She leaned over the table eyeing the feast he’d prepared, and the hem of her shirt lifted, exposing the curve of her ass and the creamy expanse of her upper thighs. Even with his cock’s full salute, his heart was what had Boone’s mind spinning unfamiliar webs.
    He cleared his throat and tried to pull himself together. “I made you an egg-white omelet. No fat. Help yourself to the fruit.”
    “You thought about me?” She tucked her right foot behind the left, her knee slightly bent, and trapped her lower lip between her teeth, looking impossibly sexy and sweet.
     “All night long,” he mumbled, and handed her a plate from the cabinet. “So, we’re going to actually try to act today instead of just reading lines?” That was dangerous territory for him, almost as dangerous as standing beside her wondering if she was wearing a thong or going commando under her shirt.
    “If you think you can handle it,” she said with a seductive shake of her shoulders and a sinful smile.
    “There’s not much I can’t handle.”
    “Hm?” She arched a brow and closed her eyes as she bit into a strawberry. “Mm. This is so delicious.”
    Chalk him up to being a caveman, because as she licked her fingers his mind saw them wrapped around his cock while she licked him like a lollipop.
    He headed back upstairs to take a cold shower. A very cold shower.
    Or two.

Chapter Nine
    TRISH AND BOONE had been rehearsing for hours. Boone had been running hot from the moment they’d begun practicing, and he’d only gotten hotter since. Every time they were near, he got this look in his eyes like he was fighting his desire to kiss her, and she was no better. Her stomach fluttered and her nipples pebbled with every brush of his skin. Because of that, and the fact that Boone seemed to detach from his character during intimate scenes, she’d been careful to choose scenes that didn’t require close proximity. If she were being honest with herself, she’d admit the real reason she’d chosen those safer, distant scenes was that this primal dance they were executing was too exciting to chance ruining it.
    Since they weren’t rehearsing scenes that caused Boone to detach from his character, she had the added bonus of watching him come into his own in the role of Rick Champion. He was not only taking the rehearsal seriously, but he’d also asked for advice on several key lines, and he’d practiced them over and over until he’d gotten them right. He was owning the role instead of just acting it out.
    Trish held her breath as he wrapped a scene where his character was getting ready to play his first big gig after arriving in Hollywood. His emotions were spot-on, fear and excitement as real and palpable as the damp prestorm summer air whipping around them.
    “Let’s show this town who’s boss.” Boone pretended to high-five a band member and strutted off the porch.
    “That was amazing!” Trish followed him down the steps and into the grass.
    “I wouldn’t go that far.”
    He turned and their arms brushed. It was simple skin-to-skin contact, but her entire body tingled with awareness. Sweet heavens. If this slow burn ignites, we’ll set the fields ablaze .
    She was about ready to pounce, but she forced herself to focus.
    As the afternoon turned to early evening, fast-moving clouds rolled in, and the wind picked up.
    Boone looked up at the ominous gray sky. “Do you want me to grab you a sweatshirt?”
    He’d been overly attentive all day, asking if she wanted a drink, practically demanding she eat something because existing on fumes isn’t healthy , and when she’d gotten a call from Fiona and screamed with delight at the news of Jake’s new movie, he was quick to land by her