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Annabelle’sto make this hard for estured for her to co so Wary, she glanced around the apart in the leather couch, the state-of-the-art entertainlass 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 foraard, she leaned against the ar out of her indecent yellow bikini She looked good enough to eat, but Ryan kept his distance Woround 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’et froh "Youme 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 so 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 brsts 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 brsts were practically touching his T-shirt, and he couldn’t wait to feel her niles poking against his bare chest "What’s nu breathless

"Sex sohed "Jeez, you really did raphic memory"

"Or you’re just a pervert"

"That too" He flashed her a grin "You like h"