High Octane by Lisa Renée Jones Page B

close.
    â€œThank you,” she said, and wrapped her arms around his neck.
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œFor having no political agenda,” she said. “When this Calista thing came up I was afraid…” that you were like so many before you, she added silently, but said instead, “…you might have an agenda of your own.” His arm wrapped around her waist, folding her into his body.
    â€œPolitics is the last thing on my mind where you’re concerned.” His lips pressed to the corner of hers in a tease of a kiss before sliding full on, where he lingered. Every nerve in her seemed to splinter and then collide into one center point before shimmering through her body. And, for the first time in a very long time, politics was the last thing on her mind. She might just be developing a love for extreme sports. Or at least the one named Ryan.

9
    â€œT HIS REALLY ISN’T going to work for me,” Ryan said, his tone uncompromising.
    Sabrina blinked at Ryan’s words, taken aback by how fast and certain his decision appeared.
    Leaning against the cherrywood cabinetry of one of five houses the Realtor had shown them over the course of the afternoon, Sabrina watched as Scott Miller, said Realtor in question, tried to hide his impatience. The man might come off as country in his cowboy boots and jeans, as did so many Texans, but Scott was all about business. After five houses, all of which had had charm and appeal, Ryan had quickly dismissed every one as easily as this one. Sabrina was beginning to think she was never going to get Ryan alone to move past their hands-off policy.
    â€œMaybe if you could give me more specifics about what you like or don’t like, I’d be able to narrow the search,” Scott suggested.
    So far Ryan’s comments had included “Not for me,”“Not the one,” “Can’t see me in this one” and now “This really isn’t going to work for me.”
    â€œI like the cabinets,” Sabrina said, running her finger over the gray-and-maroon granite top and trying to give the Realtor something to go on. “Do you like these, Ryan? Or did you prefer the lighter wood in the last house?”
    Ryan shrugged. “They’re nice,” he said, not indicating which of the two kinds of cabinets he preferred.
    Sabrina indicated the floor. “And this is amazing hardwood.” The color was light with darker streaks to match the cabinets. “Really gorgeous.”
    â€œIt’s hickory,” Scott quickly said.
    â€œReally?” Sabrina said. “I’ve not heard of hickory hardwoods. I like this quite a lot.”
    â€œBig backyard,” Ryan said, walking to the sliding glass doors off the casual dining area. “Not sure what I’d do with it. But it’s big.”
    He’d dismissed two prior houses because the yards were too small. Scott’s lips thinned with frustration, and really, Sabrina couldn’t blame him.
    â€œSince the house is vacant,” Sabrina asked, “Can Ryan and I stay and look around? Maybe we can talk through what he likes and doesn’t like and narrow the search.”
    â€œAbsolutely,” Scott agreed quickly, and before Sabrina knew it, she was given instructions for locking up and left alone with Ryan, who still stood at that window, staring into the backyard.
    Sabrina stared at his aloof form and frowned. Therewas always a raw untamed energy to Ryan, but now, it was darker. Almost solemn. Sabrina found herself moving toward him, eager to find out what was going on in his head, in his heart. She felt oddly comfortable with a man she’d just met. A man who somehow felt amazingly familiar. She liked him. Liked him in a way you did an instant friend, with the added perk of intense sexual need. He was a man worth being a little daring for.
    She stopped, sliding her arms around him from be hind, and hugged him, resting her head on his back.