Not the right time to think about this.
Which was another reason the temptation of Z wasn’t a good thing right now. As it was, Ryan was thinking of nothing else. He was pretty sure he’d never wanted to blow off work and enjoy some down time until now, until Z.
Ryan’s cell phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket. Hitting the button to turn on the screen, he nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw the text message he’d received.
Did you like the view?
Aw, hell.
Z was known for his mischief. People loved him because…well, because he was so loveable. And fun. And now it seemed he’d turned his wicked charm on Ryan.
Knowing there was no way to defuse Z, Ryan purposely pretended to misunderstand, texting back with: The sunrise was nice, yeah.
Within two seconds, another text came in.
Sure was. But I think you liked the moon better.
Ryan couldn’t help but laugh. What was he going to do? There was no way he could resist Z if he turned that charm on him for long. Hell, as it was, he was hard-pressed to maintain a professional relationship with the guy.
Not wanting to fan the flames any more, Ryan sent another text, telling Z he’d be waiting out front on his bike, before pocketing his phone and heading through the house.
Another text came right on the heels of his, which had him fishing his phone out once again.
Did that say bike or bed? I think I got chlorine in my eyes.
Ryan grunted a laugh then locked up the back door and headed out front. He opened the garage door and got situated on his bike, waiting for Z, his thoughts wandering in directions he knew they shouldn’t. He could still see Z’s naked body, all rock-hard muscle and sinew, his perfect ass, his thick cock...
Fucking hell. This was not going to be easy.
As it was, he’d spent most of the night contemplating the notion of pretending to be Z’s boyfriend for the foreseeable future. He still wasn’t completely on board with the idea, but for the first time in a long fucking time, Ryan hadn’t been able to come up with a better plan. His father had set these dominoes in motion, and now Ryan had no way of stopping them.
It made sense.
Unfortunately.
In most situations, pretending to this degree wasn’t necessary, but in this case, they needed to befriend Jericho Ardent in order to deceive him, despite the fact that he was technically the client. Getting close to him was prudent if they intended to steal the painting. As it was, Ryan had no idea what Jericho wanted from them.
“Ready?”
Ryan’s head snapped around, his gaze coming to rest on Z, fully clothed this time. His faded Levi’s hugged his muscular thighs, and the white polo made his bronze skin glow.
“Let’s go,” Ryan grumbled. He was losing his fucking mind, and they’d be better off getting down to business before he did something stupid, like strip Z naked again and cover him with his body.
“I hope like hell you’re plannin’ to feed me first,” Z said, his tone light, his eyes dancing with mischief.
“Sure.” Ryan didn’t see the harm in that.
“Where’re we goin’?” Z inquired as he mounted his bike, his long legs straddling the magnificent machine, the muscles in his arms flexing as he pulled his helmet down over his head.
Ryan took a deep breath, but he didn’t answer Z’s question. He couldn’t find his fucking voice, so he opted just to ride. He’d figure it out when they found a place.
*
Half an hour later, the hostess at Cracker Barrel was seating them. Truth was, Ryan wasn’t all that fond of down-home country breakfasts, but it was on the way, and he happened to know that Z liked the place.
Not that Z’s preference had factored into Ryan’s decision at all.
At least he pretended it hadn’t, anyway.
“What can I get you boys to drink?” the older woman with the puffy white hair, dark glittering eyes, and a quick smile asked.
“Coffee and water,” Ryan and Z said at the same time.
“Comin’ right up.”
Once again Ryan found himself sitting across the table from Z, preparing to have a meal together. Alone.
“So I was thinkin’,” Z began, his eyes perusing the menu in front of him. “This notion of pretending we’re a couple…” Z’s eyes lifted briefly. “It could work.”
“I know,” Ryan admitted. When Z’s gaze met Ryan’s, he found himself trapped in Z’s intense stare, and he couldn’t seem to look away.
“Do you now?” Z asked, sitting up straight and watching Ryan curiously.
“Yeah,” he said, sighing. “The whole point is to get close to this guy, make him trust us. From what Bryce told me, he’s guarded. He keeps his friends close, trusts very few people, so we need to make nice.”
“You’re serious?” Z asked, obviously perplexed by Ryan’s reluctant agreement.
“Yeah. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I can’t come up with another plan. It’s not a simple situation. If we were merely guarding the painting, that’d be one thing. We’re expected to...” Ryan hated what they were expected to do.
“Steal it,” Z finished for him. “Not exactly the most ethical thing we’ve ever done, but not the worst, either.”
No, it wasn’t. And based on the information he’d read, it was an issue of national security, something Sniper 1 Security took very seriously.
“How’d Bryce find out about the painting, anyway?” Z regarded him inquisitively. “If Jericho called to hire us, how does it come up that we’ve got a bigger issue?”
“My father’s paranoid,” Ryan admitted. “When he found out about the painting, he had Dominic dig into it, told him to find out the real value.”
“That makes sense.”
It was one of the reasons people regarded Sniper 1 Security with such high esteem. Ryan’s family wasn’t interested in taking jobs for the sake of taking the job. They had more than they could handle as it was, so they prioritized. Anything to do with a child, they took regardless. Missing persons, high on the list. Everything else, they assessed to determine the probability of success.
“So there’s a database, or what?” Z questioned, his dark eyes glinting with humor.
“Somethin’ like that,” Ryan told him, leaning back when the waitress returned with two small white steaming mugs and two glasses of water.
“Have y’all decided?” she asked, nodding toward the menu.
Z met Ryan’s eyes and Ryan nodded. Z proceeded to rattle off his order: eggs, bacon, pancakes, sausage, ham, hash browns, biscuits and gravy. The guy’s stomach must’ve been lined with steel.
“And you, hon?” she asked, glancing over at Ryan.
“Oatmeal,” he told her simply.
That earned a beaming smile from the waitress. “Sure thing.”
When she left the two of them alone, Ryan looked at Z, finding him staring back at him with a stunning grin.
“What?”
“Nothin’,” Z said simply.
“Not buyin’ it,” Ryan countered. “Why’re you smilin’?” Ryan held his breath as Z leaned closer.
“I’m not sharin’ my food with you.”
Ryan smirked. He hadn’t known what he’d expected Z to say, but that wasn’t it. Yet it settled the churning in his gut.
Although he could pretend all day that this was merely a job, Ryan knew deep down that there was something else going on here. Something that wasn’t simple or easy.
Or pretend.
TWELVE
Z WASN’T SURE WHAT HAD caused RT to agree to the plan, but he had no intentions of jinxing it. If the guy was on board, Z was content with that.
Granted, neither of them knew how this would play out, but until they met Jericho Ardent face-to-face, they wouldn’t, either. As much as Z wanted to take RT back to the house, strip him slowly, and show him that this wasn’t pretend, that wasn’t an option.
An intriguing idea but not an option.
“Do we know anything else about Jericho?” Z asked, hoping to ease some of the uncomfortable tension that had joined them at the table.
“Single, never been married, no kids, rich as fuck… What else is there?”