To her, she appeared sexy yet modest. Casual, yet dressy. The question was, what would Jason think when he saw her?
This isn’t a date, remember? Not. A. Date.
Her brain knew and even understood that fact, but the butterflies twirling around in her stomach had yet to receive the message.
At eight-twenty-eight, the doorbell rang. Her stomach tensed.
He’s here.
Forcing a casual expression, Sophie flipped off her bedroom light and went downstairs. Grabbing her clutch purse and pashmina, both matching her shoes, she went to her door and reached for the knob.
Drawing in a deep, calming breath, she released it slowly before opening the door with a smile.
“Right on time. Impressive.”
“Wow.” Jason blinked, his eyes travelling the length of her body and up again. “You clean up nicely, Doc.”
“Thanks. I’d say the same for you, but you’re always cleaned up when I see you.”
Except for Africa. When he’d come for her that day, he’d looked like an alpha badass in his black combat gear.
Her insides clenched at the memory.
It was probably inappropriate for her to be turned on by memories of him minutes after he’d taken another man’s life. But she couldn’t seem to help it.
Should probably put that on my list of things to discuss with Dr. Heller.
But what would she tell the therapist?
Should she explain that, dressed in his everyday suit and tie, Jason Ryker was the epitome of the sexiest suit porn in existence? Or that seeing him in action with Jake and the others had sparked even more fantasies about the closed-off agent than the ones she’d already created?
Fantasies that kept her up at night, even when the monsters didn’t.
Clearing his throat. “Shall we?” He motioned toward his car, which was parked behind hers in her driveway.
Afraid to speak just then, Sophie turned and locked the door before walking beside Jason as they made their way to his car.
In her mind, she imagined him placing his hand on her lower back as they moved. She could almost feel the heat from his palm searing into her skin there.
But he didn’t touch her at all because, as she had to keep reminding herself, this wasn’t a freaking date.
Even so, he opened the car door for her like a gentleman before rounding the car and sliding behind the wheel. His car smelled of leather and spice. The leather from the expensive upholstery, and the familiar spice from the man sitting beside her.
The drive was filled with small talk about the damp spring weather and how her day at the hospital had gone.
It was clear he wasn’t going to get into the meat of why he’d wanted them to meet up until after they got to wherever they were going. So she didn’t bother to ask.
The way she saw it, if they didn’t start that conversation until dinner, the evening might last a little longer than if they delved into it all now.
Wow. Pathetic, much?
It wasn’t like Sophie never dated. She’d even dated the same guy more than once a few times.
She was just very particular about who she agreed to go out with, and even more picky about who she went to bed with.
The fact was, she refused to settle for anything less than what she wanted. What she knew she deserved.
Growing up, she’d witnessed what a loveless marriage looked like. The yelling. The deafening silence.