"Good luck keeping your tiger in check for the rest of the evening," Mark said with obvious amusement. "Call me later and let me know how it goes."
The line went dead, leaving Adrian alone with his thoughts and the growing realization that taking things slow might be the most difficult challenge he'd ever faced. Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to march back into that gym, sweep Riley into his arms, and claim her as his mate before another minute passed.
Instead, he made himself walk toward the coffee shop on the corner, where he could spend the next hour trying to figure out how to have a rational business conversation with the woman who'd just turned his world completely upside down.
FIVE
RILEY
The Philadelphia sky blazed with the amber and rose hues of sunset as Riley walked the three blocks to Zephora, each step a small rebellion against the voice in her head screaming that this was a terrible idea. The warm evening air carried the familiar sounds of the city—distant traffic, conversations drifting from sidewalk cafes, and the rhythmic clatter of heels against concrete—but none of it could quiet the restless energy thrumming beneath her skin.
Adrian had been right about needing a quieter environment for their discussion. Her cramped office, surrounded by everything she'd built and everything that was slowly crumbling, wasn't exactly conducive to rational conversation. The logic was sound and professional.
So why had she spent thirty minutes standing in front of her closet like a teenager preparing for prom?
Riley glanced down at the blue sundress she'd finally selected, the soft fabric swaying against her thighs with each step. The dress wasn't particularly revealing—modest neckline, knee-length hem—but it hugged her curves in ways that made her acutely aware of her own body. She couldn't remember thelast time she'd worn a dress voluntarily, let alone to what was supposed to be a business meeting.
This isn't a date,she reminded herself for the hundredth time.It's still a financial consultation.
But if that were true, why had she spent another ten minutes debating what shoes to wear? Why had she applied mascara and lip gloss with the kind of care she usually reserved for professional photo shoots?
She never did this for anyone before. Not even Trent. The realization sat heavy in her chest as she approached the restaurant's warm glow spilling onto the sidewalk.
Get a grip, Riley. He's here to discuss numbers and profit margins, not to sweep you off your feet.
But even as she tried to convince herself, Riley couldn't shake the memory of how Adrian had looked at her in the gym—like she was something precious and dangerous all at once. The way his blue eyes had tracked her movements during class. And that handshake.
Her palm still tingled with the memory of his skin against hers, and the jolt of electricity that had raced up her arm and settled somewhere deep in her chest. She'd never experienced anything like that before, and the rational part of her mind insisted it had been nothing more than static electricity or an overactive imagination.
However, the rest of her wasn't buying it.
Riley pushed through Zephora's glass doors and immediately spotted Adrian at a corner table, partially hidden by the restaurant's warm lighting. He'd arrived early—of course he had—and something about his posture suggested he'd been waiting with barely contained energy.
He looked up the moment she entered, and his entire body went still in that predatory way she'd noticed at the gym.
Like a man who couldn't wait to see you again.
The thought hit her with such startling clarity that she nearly stumbled. This wasn't just professional courtesy or punctuality. Adrian Kael had been eager for this dinner, and the realization sent heat spiraling through her body.
He rose from his chair as she approached, moving with that same controlled grace she'd observed earlier. Every gesture was economical, purposeful, but there was something in his expression that suggested he was holding himself back from something much more primal.
"Hello again, Riley."
Her name rolled off his tongue like a caress, and she had to suppress a shiver as his intoxicating scent enveloped her again—that woodsy and masculine mixture that made Riley want to step closer instead of maintaining professional distance.
Before she could respond, his hand was at the small of her back, guiding her toward the chair he'd already pulled out. The gesture was so smoothly executed, so naturally protective, that she found herself settling into the seat before her brain could protest the old-fashioned courtesy.
Definitely alpha male territory,she thought, trying to ignore how good his hand had felt against her back.
As Adrian returned to his own chair, she caught him glancing at the modest V-neck of her sundress—just a quick flicker of his gaze, but enough to make her acutely aware of the small amount of cleavage the neckline revealed. Heat bloomed in her cheeks, and for once in her life, Riley felt genuinely sexy in her own skin.
This is so not a business meeting.
"I have a confession," she said, latching onto the first topic that might restore some semblance of professional boundaries. "I think my mother may have orchestrated this dinner suggestion."
Adrian's expression shifted, a slight flush creeping up his neck that made him look younger and infinitely more approachable.
"Your mother has excellent instincts," he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of embarrassment that was oddly endearing. "I couldn't help but take her advice. I wanted this to be a relaxed conversation—somewhere you wouldn't feel cornered or pressured into accepting whatever recommendations I might have."