Читать книгу: «Virgin Seductress»
Virgin Seductress
J.M. Jeffries
Jackie: For my father, Earl Alexander Hamilton, you
taught me the magic of dreams and the power of
wishes. I have loved you since my first breath and I will
miss you until my last. For Miriam, this would never
have been possible if you didn’t believe in me. You are
the ultimate fairy godmother.
Miriam: To my husband, Parker, thank you for your
love, your loyalty and your perpetual faith in me.
When I was writing stories and hiding them, you
taught me to believe in myself. I would not be at this
point in my life and my career without your incredible
belief that I would succeed. To Jackie: You have
brought so much energy to my life, I can never thank
you enough. This book is your gift.
Contents
Acknowledgment
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Acknowledgment
For Sherrie, you put up with us and in our book that earns you the Nobel Peace Prize.
“Never thought you’d get one of those, huh?”
Prologue
Wayloo, Mississippi
Nell Evans gripped the armrest of the navy leather chair in her grandmother’s lawyer’s office. “How much money did she leave me?” She doubted it was too much. She and her grandmother had lived simple lives.
Billy Ray Cross swiped the snow-white handkerchief across his balding forehead. “Including stocks, bank accounts, a few outstanding loans and property after estate taxes, Miss Sarah left you about eighteen-point-five.”
Numb, she gazed out of the office window and studied the statue of Robert E. Lee on a rearing horse in the town square. Nell flexed her fingers hoping to get some feeling back. Eighteen point five what? Thousand? Hundred thousand? Her mind refused to go beyond that. There was no way her grandmother could have had anything more than that. Was there?
“Nell, honey?”
“Hundred?” Not possible, she thought even as the word left her mouth. Grandmother had complained over every little expenditure and when gas prices had passed the two-dollar mark, she’d parked the old big-as-a-boat Buick away in the garage and insisted Nell walk everywhere.
“Million.” Billy Ray grinned over the tops of his steepled fingers. “Give or take.”
The least he could do was look as shocked as she felt. “Oh, my,” she croaked. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Her face got hot. Her heart raced as if it would burst out of her chest. She was too young to have a heart attack, but her chest was tightening. Panic and disbelief set in. Inhaling deeply, she tried to get some air into her lungs before she fainted.
Billy Ray leaned forward and grabbed a glass pitcher of water off his desktop. He turned over a glass and started pouring some water into it. “Nell, honey, are you okay?” He stopped pouring and held out the glass to her. “You want some water?”
Her hand was shaking so badly, she refused, afraid she’d drop the glass. Instead, she licked dry lips and fanned her hot face. Eighteen-point-five million! She almost pinched herself. Not possible. This just wasn’t possible. Where had all that money come from? “Are you sure? There has to be some kind of mistake.”
“No mistake.”
Feeling a bit calmer, Nell tried to think how this could have happened. The diner her grandmother had owned and where Nell worked didn’t generate the kind of money that would produce eighteen million dollars. This had to be a mistake. Only a few days before she’d died, her grandmother had scolded Nell for leaving the light on in the bathroom. Money doesn’t grow on trees. She had taught Nell how to stretch a dollar, but eighteen-point-five million dollars was almost ridiculous. “But my grandmother was such a…a tightwad. She couldn’t—”
“Honey,” Billy Ray said as he put the glass on the table then pushed it toward her, “you done hit the mother lode. Be happy.”
Well, no kidding. Her grandmother clipped coupons. Used soap until it was a sliver. Wrapped presents in the Sunday comics. The room spun for a second, but Nell took a deep breath and steadied herself. She picked up the glass and gulped the water down. “I don’t understand. Where did all this money come from?” Grandmother, she silently chided the dead woman, you kept secrets from me.
“Miss Sarah was a right smart woman who saved and invested wisely. She just lived like she didn’t have a dime.” He loosened his tacky hula-girl tie. “Matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t still have her first dime.”
Nell opened her mouth to speak. But nothing came out. Her mind couldn’t quite grasp the fact that she was an heiress. An heiress! Just like Paris Hilton. She blew out a long breath and forced her hands to stop shaking. Her life had just taken a strange turn for the better.
Eighteen-point-five million dollars! That would buy a lot of dreams. Dreams she’d kept tight inside her for so many years, afraid even to write them down in her journal. With that kind of money she could do anything she wanted, including her most cherished dream of quitting the diner, moving to New York and creating a new life for herself. She could go to college. She could buy a swank New York apartment. She could go to the theater, to galleries, to museums. Walk through Macy’s or Sak’s Fifth Avenue and buy anything she wanted. Finally she could see Times Square and take a carriage ride through Central Park!
Outside, a little boy on a brand-new bike pedaled down the street, passing Doolittle’s Five and Dime. Not that anything was only five or ten cents anymore, but the name had never changed despite the advancement of inflation. Nell thought of all the times she’d shopped the clearance racks at the back of the store, paying as little as she could for the cheapest anything. She could finally purchase air-conditioning. She could…she could…she didn’t know what, her mind was frozen. “My grandmother wasn’t crazy, was she? I mean, I would have known if she’d lost her mind? Right?”
“Rest easy. Miss Sarah wasn’t crazy. She just grew up in the Depression, Nell.” Billy Ray shrugged as though he could make her understand a vital element of her grandmother’s personality. “It’s not uncommon for people from that time to hoard everything they could. At least she didn’t stuff the money in her mattress. She put every penny she could into CDs, money markets and stock. Miss Sarah had a pretty shrewd grasp of the stock market and wasn’t afraid to take a few risks.”
Billy Ray opened a manila folder on top of his desk and picked up a pink envelope. “I think this might help you. She made me promise I’d give it to you after I told you about the money.” He held it out to her. “She had me write it out for you. She had the shakes so bad toward the end all she could do was sign.”
Nell’s hand shook as she took the envelope. Her first instinct was to refuse the letter. Part of her didn’t want to know. She could smell a hint of lavender on the heavy paper. Her grandmother had always smelled of lavender. “Should I read it now?”
He nodded. “I know what’s in the letter.”
He actually blushed. Was the letter embarrassing? What other secrets could her grandmother have? Carefully she slid her finger under the sealed flap. That way she could use it again, just like her grandmother used to do. The pages crinkled in her cold fingers as she unfolded the letter.
My Dearest Nell,
For so long I’ve kept you tied to me. I didn’t start out that way, but as I grew older, I was afraid of being alone again. I lost my husband. I lost my daughter when she ran off, and I survived both of those hardships. When your mama dropped you off as a baby, you were my second chance to get things right. I held you so tight I didn’t let you take a breath without me next to you. I don’t think I could have lost you and lived another minute. Please forgive me for manipulating you into keeping an old woman company. You are young and full of dreams, ones I tried to keep you from fulfilling. Forgive me. Know this, I love you with all my heart. I hope this helps you find your place in the world. Go to New York. Go to college. Be the woman you are meant to be.
Grandmother.
Nell’s bottom lip began to tremble. Her throat went dry. Her grandmother did love her, but she’d deceived her. How could Nell make up for all this wasted time? She’d put her dreams aside to take care of her grandmother, to keep her company, to be a good girl. A hot tear slipped down her cheek. Who was she supposed to be now?
Nell Evans: Heiress. That didn’t fit right. And she wasn’t sure it ever would.
Chapter 1
Nine Days Later
Riley Martin heard his black Labrador, Chester, bark. Tucked beneath the undercarriage of his truck, oil dripping down his neck, he turned his head, straining to see what, or who, Chester was barking at.
From between the passenger-side wheels of his truck, he watched a pair of sensible white shoes beneath shapely legs and calves the color of warm clover honey making their way up his driveway. His heart raced.
The only woman in Wayloo who had sexy calves and sensible shoes was Nell Evans. Sweet untouchable Nell. He felt a stirring in his groin and almost groaned. When had he sunk so low that waitress shoes could give him a woodie? Damn, how embarrassing. He had no control over this. “Down, boy,” he murmured. He wasn’t some thirteen-year-old boy in the throes of hormonal rampages anymore. He was twenty-five years old, almost twenty-six, and old enough to know better. But then this was Nell, the source of any number of wet dreams over the years and awkward silences when he was with her. Nell did that to him. Unless he was ordering dinner from her at the diner, or chitchatting about the weather, he was never quite sure what to say to her when he really wanted to ask her to go out with him.
Chester’s black-furred legs joined Nell’s on the strip of smooth pavement. “Hi, Nell,” Riley called.
After a few seconds of silence, she bent down and peered beneath the truck. Tendrils of curly blueblack hair fell forward across her pretty cheeks. “Hi, Riley.”
He smiled. “What can I help you with?” Thoughts of what he wanted to help her do ran through his head at lightning speed. Massage oil came to mind. His palms started to sweat, so he put his wrench down before he dropped it on his head.
Nell pushed a stray tendril behind her ear. “Do you have a minute?”
She wanted a minute with him. Only a minute! To do her properly he’d need five days and fifty cans of whipped cream. Like that would ever happen. But he could dream. “Yeah, give me a second and I’ll be right with you.”
He worked his way out from beneath his truck and stood. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out an old rag and cleaned off his hands.
Nell had an attractive flush to her light brown cheeks. She chewed her bottom lip. Her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her bubblegum-pink waitress uniform, but he could see her fingers flex inside them. Wisps of curly black hair had worked their way loose from the tight bun at the nape of her neck. Despite the heat, the front of her uniform was buttoned up tight to her throat.
Just once before he died, he wished she’d flash him some of that spectacular cleavage she always kept hidden. Scanning her ripe curves, he had to stop his tongue from falling out of his mouth. She had one hell of a body. All curvy and round and womanly, it was a body crafted for a good time. She was the eighth deadly sin wrapped in pink polyester. And he so wanted to sin.
Hell, he’d dreamed about her luscious body for twelve of his last twenty-five years. And twenty-five years from now, he’d still be dreaming about that body. What he would do for a glimpse. Of course, Nell would have something to say about that.
What was he thinking? Her answer would be a polite but firm no. That was Nell in a nutshell. Buttoned up and hemmed-in didn’t come any better than Nell.
He stuffed greasy hands into the pockets of his coveralls and rolled back on his heels. “What can I do for you, Nell?” Kiss you? Bed you? Lick you all over? Be your sex slave? I’m open for suggestions.
“Can we go into the house?”
Nell alone with me in the house? This was a straight-up dream come true. Sweet. “Sure.”
“Thank you.”
She walked ahead of him, which gave him a prime opportunity to watch the seductive sway of her heart-shaped butt. Beyoncé, eat your heart out.
“Riley?”
He jerked to a stop and realized they were on the veranda and she seemed to be waiting. “Yeah?”
“The door?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.
Riley tried to bring himself out of his Nell-induced daze. “What?”
Nell faced him, an odd expression on her face. “Are you…are you going to open the door for me?” She raised her eyebrows and clutched her Texas-sized brown vinyl purse to her chest.
Riley wondered how long he’d been so deeply mired into Nell fantasy nine hundred and forty-seven that he’d forgotten where he was. Holding up his dirty hands, he said, “Could you get the door handle? Dirty hands.” He didn’t want to touch his brand-spanking-new antique brass handle with greasy hands. Of course, not opening a door for a lady would have sent his dead great-grandmother running for her leather strap so she could pop him on the butt for bad manners.
Nell tilted her gaze away, her cheeks going a darker red. “Of course.”
He loved making her blush. Somehow she seemed more alive. More touchable. And how he wanted to touch. “I have some sweet tea in the fridge. Would you like a glass?” he asked as they entered the cool interior of the house.
“That would be nice. Thank you.” She gave him a shy smile. “Would you like some, too?”
“That would be great.” Always so polite and ladylike, she never ceased to amaze him. “Go sit in the kitchen, while I wash up.”
“Just take your time. I’m in no hurry.” She headed toward the kitchen, her rubber-soled shoes a whisper on the polished wood floor.
The husky lilt of her sultry voice wrapped around him like silk. There wasn’t much about her that didn’t ring his bells. Riley watched her sway down the long hallway to the kitchen.
When she disappeared into the kitchen, he raced up the stairs two at a time. He ran to the end of the hall and into his bedroom, peeling off his sweaty coveralls and thinking if he was stealthy enough he could con her into an impromptu let-me-jump-your-bones dinner.
He took the fastest shower that he ever had. All the while his mind was racing, wondering if he had enough food in the refrigerator in case he could coax her into staying for said sexy dinner. Visualizing the contents of his refrigerator, he frowned. He had four to-go boxes from the diner, since he ate there almost every night. Not a lot to choose from. Nothing he could throw together and impress her with. He hoped green stuff hadn’t grown on them.
Then he remembered he had steaks. New York cuts. Chloe had gone shopping yesterday and brought over a pity basket for him. And they were thawed out. Thank God he was still friends with his ex-wife. He could fire up the grill and he’d be the dinner hero. He could make corn. He always had canned corn because he loved it.
Calm yourself down, boy. You’ll be done before you even started proper.
Checking his face in the mirror, he realized he had a bit of stubble on his chin, but decided just to leave it. Shaving would take too much time. Besides a girl he’d dated a few months back had told him it made him look sexy and wild. Sexy and wild was a good thing. Right? God, what was up with him? He was acting like a lovesick puppy dog.
When he was certain he smelled decent and his hair had been tamed, he went to the closet and yanked a black denim shirt off a hanger. He found his last pair of clean jeans slung over his leather reading chair. He had to make some quality time for laundry, especially since his housekeeper Mrs. Clark wouldn’t be home from visiting her pregnant daughter for another two weeks.
He ran down the stairs barefooted. About halfway down he stopped. Where the hell were his socks and shoes?
“Riley? Where are you?” Nell’s sweet sensual voice saved him from sinking further into thoughts of a past he could never repair.
“Right here.” He entered the bright kitchen.
She leaned against the center island’s butcher block he’d built, beneath the wrought-iron pot holder with the copper pots and pans he’d never learned how to use since he didn’t know to cook. He just liked the way the shiny pots reflected the sun in the morning. “Didn’t mean to take so long.”
She bent slightly and patted Chester on the head. “That’s all right.”
For the first time since she’d walked up his driveway, he wondered why she was here. Probably about the trellis on her house damaged by last week’s freak storm. He’d promised to get to that soon. “Is it the trellis in the backyard?”
Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“The trellis. You remember. Last week. Storm. Trellis.” With his hand, he mimicked the trellis falling down in the wind. “I know I promised to fix it, but things have been…” His voice trailed away.
She smiled sweetly. “No, no. I mean, yes it still needs repair, and I know you’ll get that done, but I didn’t come to discuss the trellis.”
He opened the refrigerator and grabbed the glass pitcher full of sweet tea, the only thing besides scrambled eggs he really could make with any degree of confidence.
He used to be much better at seduction.
He smiled at Nell, who looked away, the color on her cheeks deepening. Don’t rush her. Let her think it was all her idea. “So why are you here?”
Nell tugged at the tight white collar of her pink uniform. “Did you like being an architect?” she asked instead of answering his question. He could see she was nervous and his curiosity grew stronger. What was on her mind?
Riley prided himself on his ability to put women at ease. He set the pitcher on the tiled counter and took two glasses out of the cabinet. He poured iced tea into each glass. “Yes and no. I liked the creativity, but not all the detail work. I like restoring old homes better.” He handed her the glass of tea.
She took a sip. “Did you like living in Chicago?”
He wondered what she was getting at. He watched, fascinated, as her little pink tongue moved slowly over her bottom lip. He caught his breath and gripped the back of the countertop. Have mercy!
“Are you okay?” Nell asked, looking concerned.
Another illicit fantasy flitted through his mind. “Fine. What did you say?”
She sipped her tea and took a moment to set the glass down before looking up at him again. “Did you like living in Chicago?”
He’d hated Chicago and once Chloe had wanted to be close to her aging parents he’d been happy to leave. “Not really. I’m a small-town boy at heart.” Forcing himself to let her take the lead was killing him. Let’s just jump on the dining room table and get to the fun stuff. Though he knew that would never happen no matter how he prayed for it. Nell Evans wasn’t the type of girl to jump into any man’s bed.
She took a deep breath, showing off her voluptuous breasts at their very best. “I want to ask you if you would do something for me.”
Riley raised an eyebrow. Here it comes. He looked deep into the chocolate-brown eyes that had haunted his innermost fantasies for most of his life. He could deny her nothing. “Anything.”
“Would you teach me about sex?”
Chapter 2
Okay, Nell thought, at the look of shock on Riley’s face. Maybe the direct approach wasn’t the wisest choice of action. As Riley continued to remain silent, his hand wrapped around the empty glass, astonishment showed on his face and in his deep brown eyes.
Her confidence began to deteriorate. Somehow, in the cold light of day, the idea she’d had in the deep of the night didn’t seem logical anymore. She’d been dreaming about the future and realized she had her future in the palm of her hand. She could finally, after so many years, make her dream a reality. She could finally go to New York, go back to school to become something other than poor, old, boring inexperienced Nell. But how was she going to fulfill her aspirations of being the quintessential New York City sophisticate if she was still a virgin?
Riley blinked at her a couple of times, then shook his head and screwed his finger in his ear. “Would you say that one more time for me?”
Wiping damp palms on her uniform, she swallowed the lemon-sized lump in her throat. She knew Riley wasn’t attracted to her. He liked pretty women. Thin women. Women who had perfected the art of conversation.
“I was wondering if…” she said in a timid tone. “Well, if you could…teach me how…” She stared at her shoes, noticing she had a spot of country gravy on the left tip and a smear of what looked like peanut butter on the right one. “About sex?”
He just stood there with his mouth open, staring at her as though he couldn’t believe her. She didn’t blame him. He had some of the most beautiful women in three states lining up to seduce him. Why would he even entertain the notion of making love to her?
He leaned against the counter, seeming to ponder her words.
Nell had to admit she just liked looking at him. He was tall and well-built, with the grace of a dancer and the movements of a panther. Wide shoulders tapered down to a trim waist and strong muscular thighs. His skin was a lovely shade of light cinnamon and his hair was cut close to his scalp. Little droplets of water still sparkled on the surface of his black hair.
Once upon a time, she’d dreamed about marrying and starting a family with someone like him. But those young-girl dreams had been abandoned as the years crept by and very few men had showed any romantic interest in her. But the times had changed. Now a horde of single men—and a few not-so-single men—were attempting to insert themselves into her life since word had spread about her inheritance. Greed was a huge incentive for any man to ask out a prissy, plain Jane like herself. “Riley, did you hear what I said?”
He slipped a finger under her chin and forced her head up to meet his gaze. “Why?”
The tip of his finger was warm on her skin. She tried to move away, but her feet refused to move. She even attempted to look away, but his eyes held hers. The intensity of his gaze burned her to the spot. “I have several reasons.”
“Name one.”
“Well—” She shouldn’t have come. Instinct told her to back herself away and hope he forgot she’d ever made this silly suggestion.
She took a deep breath. In for a penny, in for a pound, her grandmother had always said. “Because I’m going to move to New York City.” Boy, did that sound dumb, but she simply didn’t know what else to say.
He blinked again, and opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Oh, boy, she needed to say something else—something that made sense. “And because you’re the only single man in this town who hasn’t been calling me up on the phone, sending me flowers, sending me candy or telling me I’m the most beautiful thing that ever graced the planet now that I’m an heiress and have enough money to keep a good man in comfort. Frankly, that makes me think you like me just because I’m me. And that’s why you would be perfect.” Okay, she’d said it all, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a torrent.
Riley nodded, but didn’t say anything for a few seconds as if he needed to give her words time to sink in and make sense. He took his finger from under her chin. “I do like you for you, but what does moving to New York have to do with you needing to learn about sex?”
How did she explain her big dream without sounding dumb? It all made sense in her head. In New York, she didn’t have to be boring old Nell Evans, diner waitress and granddaughter of the stingiest woman in Mississippi. Nor did she have to be the daughter of the easiest woman in Mississippi—a woman who didn’t even know who of all the men she’d slept with, had been Nell’s father. In New York, Nell could be the woman she wanted to be. The one she knew in her heart she was destined to be. She just didn’t want to go there with her backwoods country ways showing like a ripped hem on her skirt. “I can’t be there and be a virgin.”
His dark eyes widened. “You’re still a virgin?” His voice held an almost reverent tone.
She could feel a tingly heat infuse her cheeks. “Yes.”
“How did that happen?” He ran both his hands over his dark hair. “Or how didn’t it happen?”
Sex hadn’t happened because Nell wasn’t exactly the prettiest or most flirtatious girl in town. Nor was she exactly thin. And it didn’t help that her grandmother knew everyone in town and had had the ability to intimidate a marble statue into staying away from Nell. “Well, no one really ever asked me out, that is until I inherited millions of dollars.”
“You sound a little bitter.”
Yes, she was bitter. She’d spent her whole life in Wayloo and not one man had ever been interested until she became the town’s version of a cash cow. Who wouldn’t be bitter?
Since gossip about the will had spread, she’d been getting phone calls and had been sent flowers from every man in town who had aspirations toward wealth. Including the men who’d laughed at her in high school.
“You’re twenty-five years old, Nell,” he continued. “A fully-grown woman.”
She rolled her eyes. He hadn’t been forced to live in the maximum-security prison her grandmother had called a house, where her every move was accounted for. She had stayed with her grandmother out of guilt and some twisted attempt to win the old woman’s love.
Being a good girl had always earned her the only praise her grandmother had thought to issue. “I know how old I am. And trust me, I know about my lack of a social life.” She had to get out of his house and find herself a large rock to hide under and hope he’d never ever mention her being here. Or what she’d asked of him. Suddenly, the embarrassment was too much for her.
He crossed his arms over his powerful chest and rocked back on his heels. “I did.”
“You did what?”
“Ask you out.” He held up three long fingers. “Three times.”
How could he have been serious? No one paid her any mind. All the boys in the area had only wanted to date the pretty girls and she’d never measured up. Too shy and self-conscious, she’d always felt everyone was laughing at her behind her back. “You weren’t serious.”
She saw no deception in the depths of his velvet-brown eyes, but couldn’t believe for a second he thought she was worthy of a date, much less three of them. “We were ten years old.” She held out her arms. “You couldn’t have been serious.” Nell rubbed her forehead. “Were you?”
“Yes, I was.” He flashed her a wicked grin, showing his perfect white teeth. “When I was ten, I was a serious kinda guy.”
This conversation had taken a turn toward the ridiculous. He had to be pulling her leg. “Riley, that doesn’t count.”
His grin widened. “I asked you to the Sadie Hawkins dance when you were in eleventh grade.”
“You were playing a joke on me.” The year before, Avery Prescott, the mayor’s son, had asked her to the Winter Cotillion. She’d been excited that a boy her grandmother deemed good enough had actually sought her out and asked her to the formal dance. She’d been given permission to accept, but when the night finally arrived she’d been left standing in her baby-pink formal gown on the porch waiting for a date who had never intended to show up.
He shook his head. “I was serious as a heart attack.”
“I guess I was kind of gun-shy. I didn’t believe you.” She still remembered being devastated, and at school the next Monday, she’d discovered herself the victim of a cruel joke that had left all of her classmates laughing at her. From that time on, she’d hidden herself in her books, worked at the diner and taken care of her grandmother, who grew more delicate every year as her heart grew weaker. She decided she simply wasn’t the type of girl men wanted to make time for or go to bed with.
“I also asked you out for dinner about seven months after Chloe and I got divorced and again you turned me down.”
“You have dinner at the diner every night.” Of course she was always working in a restaurant full of other people waiting for their food and didn’t have the kind of time she’d like to spend talking to him. “Why didn’t I have a clue?” she asked that question more for herself than him.
“I’m guessing I wasn’t clear enough.” He leaned against the kitchen counter. “Why are you asking me to teach you about sex?”
She felt the blush start beneath the collar of her uniform and spread upward again. “All the single women in town you’ve been running around with say you’re the best at…you know…doing it.” Not that they’d actually said so directly to her. She’d learned a long time ago that most of the women in Wayloo thought she was invisible and talked freely in front of her when they came to the diner for lunch. But she wisely kept that information to herself. She tended to live vicariously through gossip.
His eyebrows shot up. “They do?”
She nodded, moving closer to him. “I figured you know the tricks. After all, you lived in Chicago for five years. Plus, I don’t have to worry about any of the mushy love junk.”
“Mushy love junk?”
Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have said it exactly that way. It did sound a bit rude and unfeeling. Riley wasn’t acting the way she’d envisioned in her mind. She’d thought he’d be…well…more flattered. “I know you’re not going to fall in love with me and I’m pretty sure I’m not going to fall in love with you.” Almost sure. Deep inside, she’d always had some odd feeling for Riley, but had never really taken it out and examined it. He was just another guy her grandmother had disapproved of, so why waste time on thinking about what-ifs.
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