“What if I want to return?”

Her heart did a little giddy-up. If only he returned for the right reasons. Putting her hand on her hip, she called him out. “The only reason you want to return is for sex.” And really, what was wrong with that? Considering she wanted the same thing. She was hooked on the Special that was Flynn Ryker.

He moved into her space, his body heat reaching out to her, enticing her to let down her walls. “What’s wrong with that?”

Sliding his arm around her waist, he pulled her against his chest. Her breasts smashed into the hard wall of muscle, her nipples instantly saying “good morning.” Her knees shook a little, but she stood her ground. “Nothing, except you might not want any more when I still do.”

“Hmmm, you have a valid point.” He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, “Though it could go the other way too.” Sucking her earlobe into his mouth, he flicked it with his tongue and slowly released it. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“I’m not.”

“Sure you are. Let’s discuss this dilemma over breakfast.”

She really, really, really wanted to. But—she held her ground. “You stole my SIM card. So on principle, I can’t have breakfast with you.”

“You tried to slip me a Mickey and set me up for blackmail. I’d say that gives me the right to take it.” He picked her up and set her on the edge of the counter, pushed her knees apart and moved in between her legs. Cocking a dark brow, he asked her, “Is there anything you want to say to me?”

“You mean like, I’m sorry for trying to drug you and make a sex tape?”

“Yes.”

She shrugged and looked past his shoulder and said, “I’m sorry for trying to drug you and make a sex tape.”

“I accept your apology. Now tell me what’s bothering you, aside from your wanting to have your way with me.”

Izzy laughed again. He made her happy, and that made her feel guilty when her sister was missing.  Maybe even dead. The smile died on her lips.

“I’ll help you find your sister, Pink, if you’ll let me.”

Emotion clogged her throat; all she could do at that moment was nod.

“Glad we agree on something, now have breakfast with me.”

He was persistent. “You still have my SIM card.”

“I promise to give it back, later, if you’ll have breakfast with me.”

Exhaling loudly, she shook her head. He was too much too fast; she needed time and some space to sort her thoughts and figure out some things. “I have a job in the city I need to get to.” It was a lie, but he didn’t know that.

His eyes darkened to stormy. “What kind of job?”

She pushed him off and slid to the floor. “None of your beeswax.” With that she strode to the kitchen door and opened it. “This time, please, really go.”

He stalked past her, grabbed his to-go cup, filled it, then stalked from her house. As she was about to close the door behind him, Izzy made a decision based purely on self-preservation: She needed to not see him again. Ever. He would upset her life plan and as much as she wanted him, she wasn’t going to become her mother and live her life pining for a man who had used her up and discarded her like the morning paper. That meant finding someone else to help her with her sister dilemma. So be it.

“Flynn?” she called. He turned and she saw the hope in his eyes. “I’m a stripper who breaks the law; you’re a fed who doesn’t. It won’t work, not even for a little bit. Please don’t come back here, okay?”

She watched his blue eyes cloud with disappointment, but just as quickly they shuttered his feelings. “I’ve never been the kind of guy to push himself on a woman.” He raised his cup. “Thanks for the coffee.” He turned and strode down the steps, then down the driveway.

“And don’t forget the awesome sex!” she called.

He raised the cup over his head as if applauding her statement.

“And for the cherry on top!”

He turned and grinned, and along with the raised cup, he fist-pumped with his other hand, then turned and kept walking.

“And—” she said softly, for her ears only, “for lighting up my life.”

When he turned at the end of the short driveway and continued down the street without looking back, then walked out of sight, the ponderous feeling of a boulder settling in her gut made her feel like she had to vomit. Closing the door, she ran to the bathroom and hurled what little there was in her stomach.

Chapter Nine

An hour later, Izzy sat cross-legged at the kitchen table with her laptop open and stared at her Google search of Special Agent Flynn “A for Atticus” Ryker. There were pages of references, even a Wiki page. Not because he was a fed, but because he was a Ryker, as in one of the multimillionaire Rykers of the Maryland Rykers. Oil, finance, and biotech companies were just the tip of the empire iceberg. Damn, they owned three Kentucky Derby winners! Plus a huge thoroughbred farm in Baltimore County. That was some serious money.

Though it wasn’t all sunshine and unicorns for Flynn.

She frowned. His mother, Diana Margaret Marie Forsythe, of the Boston Forsythes, was dead. Fifteen years ago. Heart attack. Sadness filled Izzy’s heart. If Flynn loved his mother half as much as Izzy loved her mother, she knew it wasn’t something he was over.

According to the many articles that popped up in her search, Malcolm Stanley Jerome Ryker III, the Ryker patriarch, was a player. Figured. Rich, affluent men thought they were entitled to stick their dicks wherever the hell they wanted. Shades of her own sperm donor. Men like Mr. Ryker and the senator wielded their power with no regard for those they hurt. Looked like Flynn’s brother Malcolm IV was cut from the same cloth as the old man. Flynn had a sister, too.  Genevieve. She’d married into another prominent Maryland family. What the hell was Flynn doing working for the government when he could be a captain of industry?

As she contemplated that, there was a knock on her back door. Before she could get up to answer it, it opened and Flynn strode in with two bulging grocery bags in his arms and two hanging off his forearms. “You should never leave your door unlocked, Pink. You expose yourself to unsavory types.”

Openmouthed, she watched him kick the door closed with his heel and proceed to set the bags down on her kitchen counter. He turned and cocked that brow at her.

“I thought you had somewhere to be an hour ago?”

“I—um, it canceled.” Setting her hands on her hips, she cocked a brow back at him. “I thought you said you didn’t push a woman, Flynn?”

“I don’t. But since you’re in denial it doesn’t count. I’m thinking it’s because you’re in need of sustenance.” He turned to unload the grocery bags. As he did, he asked, “So did you dig up all the dirt on me and my family?”

Guilty heat flared in her cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

He suppressed a smile, but pointed to the open laptop. “If I check your search history, I won’t find my name anywhere on it?”

“No¸” she said slamming the laptop closed. “Don’t flatter yourself. You became history the minute you walked out that door. I don’t know why you’re back here except to harass me.”

“I have no compassion in my heart for your request to disengage, Pink. Besides, I really didn’t want to eat alone, so I brought Denny’s to you.”

Her stomach growled and her mood softened. The last and only person to make sure she ate a good meal was her mother. “I don’t cook.”

He turned and flashed a blinding smile. “I do.”

“I ate.”

“What, air and water?”

“I had coffee. I’m not a breakfast eater.”

“Consider this brunch. Now tell me what you dug up on me.”

“Nothing.”

“C’mon Pink,” he cajoled as he opened the cupboard to the left of her sink and found the only mixing bowl she possessed.  Then he opened a drawer and took out several utensils. Easily he continued to work his way around her kitchen. “We both know you’ve been pouty since I left.”