Annabelle hit the end button, then stared down at the phone for several long moments. Anger clawed up her spine, settling in the back of her throat in a thick, bitter lump. He’d already started seeing other people? What the hell? They were engaged to be married! Sure, he hadn’t bought her the ring yet, but he’d proposed, and their respective parents were already planning the damn wedding. How could Bryce do this?
Gulping down the fury coating her throat, Annabelle drew in a deep calming breath, willing her muscles to relax. She couldn’t believe it. Obviously he’d been dead serious when he said he wanted to see other people. He was already gallivanting all over San Francisco, getting close to some woman at a nightclub event her company had planned. What. An. Asshole.
And here she was, fighting off the advances of a ridiculously cute and appealing guy, out of respect for Bryce.
Well, screw him. He didn’t deserve her respect.
If anything, he deserved a healthy dose of payback.
Dropping the cell phone back on the counter, Annabelle straightened her shoulders and headed back to the front door. She didn’t bother getting her towel. Instead, she walked out the door wearing her teeny-weeny bikini, her bare feet slapping against the tiled floor out in the hall. She hurried down the stairs and when she reached the second floor, she glanced up and down the hall until she saw it. 2B. She made a beeline for the apartment, then stood in front of the door for a second, steadying her breathing and collecting some courage.
She could totally do this. In fact, she wanted to do it. She wanted it very, very badly.
Lifting her hand in determination, she knocked on the door.
Chapter Three
Ryan was not at all surprised to find Annabelle standing on his doorstep. If anything, he was wondering what took her so long. He had enough experience with women to know when someone was into him, and no matter how many times Annabelle tried to brush him off, he had no doubt that she wanted to jump his bones. Still, he wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily.
“Finished playing hard to get?” he asked pleasantly.
Annabelle’s mouth tightened. “You’re going to make this hard for me, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
He opened the door wider and gestured for her to come in. She did, but looked very reluctant doing so. Wary, she glanced around the apartment, taking in the leather couch, the state-of-the-art entertainment system and the two beer bottles on the glass coffee table. Above the couch was an Angelina Jolie calendar, flipped open to the October snapshot showing Angie stretched across a recliner. It was the typical bachelor pad, but Ryan didn’t care. He was, after all, a bachelor.
“Do you have a stripper pole in the bedroom?” Annabelle asked dryly.
“If I did, would you do a sexy dance for me?”
“Nope.”
“Figured I’d ask.”
Looking awkward, she leaned against the arm of the sofa, her abundant curves practically pouring out of her indecent yellow bikini. She looked good enough to eat, but Ryan kept his distance. Women always needed to set some ground rules, and this particular woman probably had a whole slew of them. He already knew she liked to make lists.
“Three weeks,” she began. “I’m here for three weeks, so that’s all you’re going to get from me.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “You make it sound like you’re doing me a favor. I think it’s the other way around, Annie.”
She bristled. “Don’t call me Annie.”
“Whatever you want, babe.”
“Don’t call me babe either.” She rested her hand on the couch and tapped her fingers nervously. “So, um, about the list…”
He patiently waited for her to continue.
“It wasn’t serious or anything.” Her brown eyes avoided his. “I was just joking around.”
“Liar. You’re dying to do each and every thing on that list,” Ryan said, laughing again.
He could see her biting the inside of her cheek. “Maybe some things.”
Ryan took a step closer, noticing that her breath hitched as he did so. He could see her pulse throbbing in her throat, and a faint flush had spread just above her breasts. Oh yeah. She was totally turned on. Good. “How about we start with good old number one then?”
He stopped when they were only inches away. Her breasts were practically touching his T-shirt, and he couldn’t wait to feel her nipples poking against his bare chest. “What’s number one again?” she asked, sounding breathless.
“Sex somewhere other than a bed,” he recited.
She sighed. “Jeez, you really did memorize it.”
“Couldn’t help it. I have a photographic memory.”
“Or you’re just a pervert.”
“That too.” He flashed her a grin. “You like me, though.”
“Maybe.”
He eliminated the last inch between them, pressing his body against hers. A shaky breath flew out of her mouth. “Maybe?” he teased.
“Fine, I like you,” she blurted out. She paused for a second, then tilted her head to meet his eyes. “So, um, how do we do this?”
He froze. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”
“I’m not a virgin,” she huffed. “I just haven’t had sex with many strangers, okay?” She hesitated again. “Do you want me to take my bikini off?”