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He wasn’t sitting out here because he cared about her.
Still…
“I won’t be able to sleep if you insist on sitting out here all night like an idiot. You might as well come in. I have a guest room you can use.” She started back to the garage, then whirled to jab a finger in his direction. “For one night.”
Ryder pulled a black garment bag and duffle from the back seat of the Suburban and hit the lock button on his fob. He followed her into the house.
His fingers hovered over the alarm keypad at the top of the stairs. “What’s your code?”
She opened her mouth to tell him, then shut it.
“I’ll set it.” Why hadn’t she realized just how much of her life still contained traces of him?
A hint of impatience showed in his expression. “I’m sending my colleague by tomorrow to go over your home security. He’ll need the code.”
Maybe he wouldn’t catch the association. She slid a hand behind her back and crossed her fingers. “It’s one-one-two-four.”
Surprise flared in Ryder’s eyes and her stomach sank. So much for hoping he wouldn’t understand the significance.
November twenty-fourth. Their first official date. He’d taken her to an American-themed restaurant serving a Thanksgiving menu to make up for the fact she was missing her first Thanksgiving with her parents.
Nathalie wheeled around and headed up the stairs leading to the bedrooms with as much dignity as she could fake. Every nerve ending in her body stayed attuned to the man who followed. She opened the door to the larger of her two guest rooms. “You can stay here. Goodnight.”
Without waiting for a reply, she forced herself to walk, not run, down the hall to the safety of her bedroom.
“Goodnight.” Ryder’s soft reply echoed down the hall, filled with unspoken questions.
Nathalie crawled back into bed. She couldn’t fight the memories this time. The three years she’d spent loving Ryder during her time at Oxford passed in a painful slide show in her head, leaving her restless and aching.
She’d chosen family over love. Now that choice was coming back to haunt her.
“Karma is a bitch, girl. And you just got yours.”
She still wore his old uni sweatshirt.
Ryder shut the door to the guest bedroom, tossed his duffel on the bed, and hung his garment bag in the closet. The room was furnished simply, with a white floral-patterned quilted bedspread and generic framed floral prints on the wall—the kind you’d buy at a retail store.
Why didn’t she have any of her own paintings in her home?
Her alarm code numbers, one-one-two-four—November twenty-fourth. Their first proper date after several meetups in the Catz Library.
Strange how that date remained engraved into the far recesses of his brain when so many others had faded away.
He’d finally worked up the nerve to ask her out. She’d been down, missing her family, and he’d found a restaurant in London serving traditional American Thanksgiving foods. The look on her face, the sparkle of delight in her eyes when she’d seen the menu, had made him feel like a bloody superhero. He’d fallen in love with her right then.
He set his Glock on the night table next to the queen-size bed. Unbuttoning his shirt, he quickly undressed and pulled on a pair of navy running shorts.
Christ.He couldn’t shake the image of her standing in her driveway wearing his sweatshirt. The neckline sagged off one shoulder, the length coming to mid-thigh. Her legs were smooth and toned, and he imagined them wrapped around his waist as he thrust into her, over and over, until they both came in a fiery burst of release.
She’d been incredibly responsive to his touch.
He’d been addicted to hers.
A sharp pain lanced Ryder’s jaw. He unclenched his teeth.
Shebroke up withhim. Why, after all this time, did she keep so many reminders of their relationship?
The pieces of the puzzle didn’t fit.