Then I spotted the first line of the text.
Oh.
Oh my.
As I opened it, my belly flipped, my body lighting up simply from the intoxicating memory of his backstage skills.
Ryan: This is Ryan. Question. Are you afraid of heights?
A grin spread quickly across my face. I hadn’t expected to hear from him until I saw him this evening. And he hadn’t asked for my number either. He must have put those security skills to work to find it. I liked that he’d been hunting for me. I liked it a lot.
Sophie: What a lovely surprise to hear from you.
Ryan: I had your number thanks to the woman who tried to corral you at the event to talk about decorating. At one point you told her to call you, and she rattled off your number. I was impressed she remembered any number.
Sophie: I’m impressed you remembered it.
Ryan: It’s only the number I wanted most in the world.
Sophie: And now I have yours too, so . . . lucky me. And no, I’m not afraid of heights. Should I be? Are you, say, taking me to the moon?
Ryan: Among other things, I will indeed be taking you on that kind of trip.
Sophie: Interesting. But how can you be so confident about this trip around the moon?
Ryan: Because I’ve already taken you there. And I’m glad you’re not afraid of heights since that helps with what I have planned for tonight.
Sophie: Ah, we’re going on a hot-air balloon ride over the Strip, right?
Ryan: Nice guess. Or maybe I plan to take you on the roller-coaster at New York-New York.
Sophie: Then why are we meeting at Caesars?
Ryan: To throw you off the scent of my plan, which is perfect, by the way. And because I suspect you like surprises. And roller-coasters too.
Sophie: Incidentally, I’m quite loud on roller-coasters.
Ryan: I have not yet had the pleasure of hearing the highs you can hit vocally. You came quietly the other night.
Sophie: And is that something you wish to know? My vocal range? Rather than my silent cries of pleasure?
Ryan: It’s not just something I wish to know. It’s something I intend to discover tonight.
Sophie: I suppose it is in your hands, then, to find out how high I can go.
Ryan: Hands maybe. Or could be other parts of my anatomy. Perhaps I should amend my plans for tonight and take you on that roller-coaster ride after all. On second thought, I’m just going to keep the plans to myself and surprise you. But wear a skirt tonight.
My pulse sped up at the command in his last text. I was about to reply with something saucy when his final text appeared.
Ryan: On a more serious note, it’s not right for me to know your name and occupation and for you not to know the same. Not in this day and age. So, here’s me. And I will see you in five hours, twenty-three minutes.
I hovered my index finger over the link at the end of the text.
The game had been fun, almost like a masquerade ball. Now he had changed the game and removed his mask. Asking me if I wanted to look.
How could I not?
I was a cat in front of an open box, and the cat had no choice but to slink inside and explore its contents. That man had sparked my mind and ignited my body, and hell, it was natural to want to know more about him. So, from the cozy cocoon of gold and cranberry-red pillows on my bed, I clicked on the link to his company website.
Sloan Protection Resources.
The site had a rugged, sturdy, and masculine look with black-and-gray colors and imposing fonts. Completely fitting with what the company was selling—armed private security, event security, bodyguards, guard dogs, and more. The mission statement on the home page read: “We provide secure solutions to a wide range of individuals, corporations, nonprofit organizations, and government customers. We are committed to helping businesses and individuals operate in a safe and secure environment that will enable them to prosper.”
Interesting.
I vaguely wondered if any of my event organizers had relied on Sloan Protection Resources. Or if some of my wealthiest benefactors did. I suspected the answer was yes, and that Ryan Sloan and I trafficked in the same circles even though we hadn’t met until the other day.
I clicked on the “About Us” page, and was greeted by a photo that made my heart stutter and other parts heat up.
The picture was of two strong, tall men—clearly related—in suits, with arms crossed and serious looks on their faces. My eyes were drawn to Ryan, with his slightly wavy light-brown hair, midnight-blue eyes, and firm, strong, toned body the suit didn’t even try to hide. He was tailor-made for the part of strong, sexy businessman.
A murmur fell from my lips as I brushed my fingertip across his image. Then, clicking on his name, I jumped farther down the page and found his bio.
Ryan Sloan is one of the founders of Sloan Protection Resources. A native of Las Vegas, Ryan attended the University of Michigan, where he played on the hockey team. After graduating with a bachelor’s degree in history, he spent five years in the United States Army, completing his service as a captain, like his brother Michael. The two of them founded Sloan Protection Resources six years ago. Together they are committed to ensuring the highest level of safety for their clients, and rely on trained teams of former law enforcement, military, and security professionals who are state certified and skilled in the latest tools and tactics.
My grin spread along with a burst of warmth through my chest. That was just . . . sexy.
And hot.
And so very dominant.
10
Sophie
I was early for once.
Only because I told myself over and over that our date started an hour sooner. I’d even set the alarm on my phone to leave my building at five thirty, which had given me the necessary thirty minutes to walk to Caesars and make it to the Fizz Bar
I didn’t want to be late for my date, so I’d tricked my own overactive mind.
Now that I was here, I kept myself entertained outside the bar, playing the slots, settling in at the Wizard of Oz machine for several rounds.
The little hand on the clock landed on seven. On the dot.
“I see you didn’t heed my instructions.”
My lips quirked up in a wicked grin as the deep, sexy voice of my date reached my ears. I turned around and drank in the sight of Ryan Sloan, who looked just as lickable minus the tie and tailored suit I’d seen him in for our first encounter. Tonight he wore crisp charcoal pants that showed off a fantastic ass, the kind you could bounce a quarter off of, and a white button-down that demanded to be unbuttoned. Such a simple look, but a sexy one. Casual, but classy.
“Perhaps I was feeling a little defiant,” I said playfully, taking the time to cross my legs and show off the skinny jeans I wore, in direct disobedience of his skirt request.