and ensuring that she’d lost her heart to him again .
But as her clothes piled up on the tumbled marble floor at her feet, she wondered why she hadn’t tried to find Dylan Scott again sooner .
Liar .
Because she had tried. He was simply too good. But she would find a way to breach his walls, break down his all-too secure defenses .
Because it was all about the game .
Because it was only about being in his arms .
Now she forced herself to push out the doors and to the pool, to confront her past and her present. That was the only way to ensure he was not a part of her future.
R iley finally joined him by the pool. Good thing the cabana had all the amenities of a regular bathroom—and extra towels. Around five that morning, Dylan had showered and changed back into his clothes, prepared to … well, wait.
Sometime after seven, his stomach was badly protesting the lack of food and he was cursing himself for attempting to wait out a woman. And then the sliding glass doors finally opened and she stepped out into the sun, her skin darker than honey, wearing a small red bikini that most definitely caught his attention.
Dylan knew she was closer to acquiescing than even she did.
She dove into the water and swam several precision-perfect laps before stopping and pulling herself out of the pool without the benefit of a ladder.
He met her halfway to the bar, handing her an opened water with lime, which she took from him, drinking a long pull. And then she asked, “Don’t you have any friends you can stay with?”
“No.”
“We’re in the land of beach bunny blondes. I’m sure you can find one that suits your needs.”
She was in his arms before she could blink, her damp skin pressing against him. “I’ve never liked blondes.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“I haven’t liked blondes since I met you,” he corrected, his hand sliding over her ass and the teeny tiny bikini bottoms.
“You’re checking me for weapons,” she murmured.
“Always, Riley.”
“I’m clean.”
He snorted and kept her close. “Whatever you’re into …”
“Is none of your concern.”
“Whatever it is was important enough to shoot me over.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I would’ve shot anyone that day, not just you.”
That made Dylan’s stomach clench, even though he didn’t really believe her. She’d never been a good liar when it came to him, although the night of the shooting she’d come really damned close. “You had a file of intel on Gabriel Creighton the day you shot me. Now Creighton’s disappeared. I want to know why.”
Riley’s expression remained unchanged and he had to force himself to remember that he was dealing with a skilled, trained, and deadly operative with no loyalty to him.
He was battling someone like himself. With major personal demons she refused to share.
He’d use those demons, parade them in front of her. Break her down. Make her vulnerable and use that to get the intel he needed. It wasn’t easy to hit Riley where she was weak, but it was necessary to get her to spill what she knew.
“Why would you come to me?” Her voice was soft, forcing him to lean in close, unable to ignore the unrelenting heat that shot through him.
“I’m still trying to figure that one out myself, Riley. Why don’t you tell me?”
T he emails had gotten more detailed, desperate. Skylar’s publicist had been trying to force her client to respond.
Your apartment’s been broken into . I know who you really are was spray-painted on the wall. The police have been notified and they’re investigating. Please get in touch …
The message burned on his brain. This was getting worse by the second. And as much as Cam wanted it to be the work of some crazy fan of Sky’s, his gut told him it wasn’t.
What the hell had he walked into?
The police would be useless in this case if, in fact, Gabriel’s enemies were after Sky. Cam had been dealing with that type for the better part of his adult
But as her clothes piled up on the tumbled marble floor at her feet, she wondered why she hadn’t tried to find Dylan Scott again sooner .
Liar .
Because she had tried. He was simply too good. But she would find a way to breach his walls, break down his all-too secure defenses .
Because it was all about the game .
Because it was only about being in his arms .
Now she forced herself to push out the doors and to the pool, to confront her past and her present. That was the only way to ensure he was not a part of her future.
R iley finally joined him by the pool. Good thing the cabana had all the amenities of a regular bathroom—and extra towels. Around five that morning, Dylan had showered and changed back into his clothes, prepared to … well, wait.
Sometime after seven, his stomach was badly protesting the lack of food and he was cursing himself for attempting to wait out a woman. And then the sliding glass doors finally opened and she stepped out into the sun, her skin darker than honey, wearing a small red bikini that most definitely caught his attention.
Dylan knew she was closer to acquiescing than even she did.
She dove into the water and swam several precision-perfect laps before stopping and pulling herself out of the pool without the benefit of a ladder.
He met her halfway to the bar, handing her an opened water with lime, which she took from him, drinking a long pull. And then she asked, “Don’t you have any friends you can stay with?”
“No.”
“We’re in the land of beach bunny blondes. I’m sure you can find one that suits your needs.”
She was in his arms before she could blink, her damp skin pressing against him. “I’ve never liked blondes.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“I haven’t liked blondes since I met you,” he corrected, his hand sliding over her ass and the teeny tiny bikini bottoms.
“You’re checking me for weapons,” she murmured.
“Always, Riley.”
“I’m clean.”
He snorted and kept her close. “Whatever you’re into …”
“Is none of your concern.”
“Whatever it is was important enough to shoot me over.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I would’ve shot anyone that day, not just you.”
That made Dylan’s stomach clench, even though he didn’t really believe her. She’d never been a good liar when it came to him, although the night of the shooting she’d come really damned close. “You had a file of intel on Gabriel Creighton the day you shot me. Now Creighton’s disappeared. I want to know why.”
Riley’s expression remained unchanged and he had to force himself to remember that he was dealing with a skilled, trained, and deadly operative with no loyalty to him.
He was battling someone like himself. With major personal demons she refused to share.
He’d use those demons, parade them in front of her. Break her down. Make her vulnerable and use that to get the intel he needed. It wasn’t easy to hit Riley where she was weak, but it was necessary to get her to spill what she knew.
“Why would you come to me?” Her voice was soft, forcing him to lean in close, unable to ignore the unrelenting heat that shot through him.
“I’m still trying to figure that one out myself, Riley. Why don’t you tell me?”
T he emails had gotten more detailed, desperate. Skylar’s publicist had been trying to force her client to respond.
Your apartment’s been broken into . I know who you really are was spray-painted on the wall. The police have been notified and they’re investigating. Please get in touch …
The message burned on his brain. This was getting worse by the second. And as much as Cam wanted it to be the work of some crazy fan of Sky’s, his gut told him it wasn’t.
What the hell had he walked into?
The police would be useless in this case if, in fact, Gabriel’s enemies were after Sky. Cam had been dealing with that type for the better part of his adult
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