trip?
Ryder’s fingers brushed across her shoulder. He gave her arm a little squeeze that felt like reassurance. Had he done it because he’d felt her tensing up?
And why would he care since no one could see that?
He wouldn’t. He was just really good at acting his part.
She was out of her depth with a man like Ryder.
During the two days of strategic planning, every minute had been so intense and fast-paced there’d been no chance for needling doubts to poke holes in her confidence.
She’d assured Murdock she could manage the relationship part of this mission. She might have oversold herself.
When it came to the opposite sex, personal interaction was her weakest skill set.
In the office, she was fine. After hours, not so much.
And she was well aware of her own shortcomings. Her last relationship five years ago had shone a blinding spotlight on every one. Bernard, the Gucci-addicted jerk she’d fallen for in college, had listed them thoroughly and often.
Bianca had gained acting experience out of the relationship, if nothing else. After the first month together, she’d pretended to be happy to make things work with him.
But that had been a child’s game compared to this.
Now she had to co-exist with a man she’d convinced herself, and everyone else in the FBI on this case, was guilty of murder.
Doubt niggled at her conviction, though. Truth told, it had been nudging her conscience since she’d first met Ryder in person at the prison. The pilot did another visual check, pausing on the left again then turning back to his controls.
She cut her eyes up at Ryder, whose forehead was drawn tight in thought. He glanced over at her then at the pilot then back at her again.
What was going on behind that glittering silver gaze?
Ryder’s long fingers moved to the base of her neck and massaged the tight muscles.
Like most sexy guys, he was good at charming his way into a woman’s good graces. Was he seriously trying to work that charm on her ?
Maybe it was lack of rest and constant stress, but Bianca’s muscles would not get on board with her indignation. They tingled with relief—and something else that bordered on an electric zing she was beginning to recognize every time he touched her. She let her head fall forward to hide the surprise she knew was on her face.
And she barely caught the moan before it slipped from her lips. Not that anyone would hear much over the engine and rotor noise, but Ryder might, and she didn’t want him to know how much she liked his touch. Her stomach flip-flopped with guilt because— truth time —she’d been wound tight as a spring for days, and she wanted him to keep going.
What was wrong with her? Playing a role was one thing, but if Ryder was capable of murder, how could she actually take pleasure from his touch?
This is not the time for that kind of soul-searching.
Right now she had to play along. Give back as good as she got.
Bianca considered several actions and settled on slowly turning to him then placing her hand on his chest and sliding it across to wrap his waist.
Ryder stilled, just as he had when she’d touched his leg in the limo.
Please don’t yell at me right now. When he only continued to study her as if he’d just discovered a new species, she took a deep breath for courage and snuggled against his chest.
In her peripheral vision, she caught the pilot looking to his right, which meant he was going to turn to his left next.
Would this look real enough to make him report his impression of the happy couple to Hubrecht, even if Ryder wasn’t returning Bianca’s advances?
She felt like an idiot hanging on a man who was ignoring her. She gave Ryder what she hoped was a look of encouragement. Come on, Ryder. I’m trying. Hug me back or something.
Ryder hesitated a microsecond then must have read the invitation in her eyes.
But he sucked at interpreting eye messages, because instead of just putting his arms around her, he kept drawing her
Ryder’s fingers brushed across her shoulder. He gave her arm a little squeeze that felt like reassurance. Had he done it because he’d felt her tensing up?
And why would he care since no one could see that?
He wouldn’t. He was just really good at acting his part.
She was out of her depth with a man like Ryder.
During the two days of strategic planning, every minute had been so intense and fast-paced there’d been no chance for needling doubts to poke holes in her confidence.
She’d assured Murdock she could manage the relationship part of this mission. She might have oversold herself.
When it came to the opposite sex, personal interaction was her weakest skill set.
In the office, she was fine. After hours, not so much.
And she was well aware of her own shortcomings. Her last relationship five years ago had shone a blinding spotlight on every one. Bernard, the Gucci-addicted jerk she’d fallen for in college, had listed them thoroughly and often.
Bianca had gained acting experience out of the relationship, if nothing else. After the first month together, she’d pretended to be happy to make things work with him.
But that had been a child’s game compared to this.
Now she had to co-exist with a man she’d convinced herself, and everyone else in the FBI on this case, was guilty of murder.
Doubt niggled at her conviction, though. Truth told, it had been nudging her conscience since she’d first met Ryder in person at the prison. The pilot did another visual check, pausing on the left again then turning back to his controls.
She cut her eyes up at Ryder, whose forehead was drawn tight in thought. He glanced over at her then at the pilot then back at her again.
What was going on behind that glittering silver gaze?
Ryder’s long fingers moved to the base of her neck and massaged the tight muscles.
Like most sexy guys, he was good at charming his way into a woman’s good graces. Was he seriously trying to work that charm on her ?
Maybe it was lack of rest and constant stress, but Bianca’s muscles would not get on board with her indignation. They tingled with relief—and something else that bordered on an electric zing she was beginning to recognize every time he touched her. She let her head fall forward to hide the surprise she knew was on her face.
And she barely caught the moan before it slipped from her lips. Not that anyone would hear much over the engine and rotor noise, but Ryder might, and she didn’t want him to know how much she liked his touch. Her stomach flip-flopped with guilt because— truth time —she’d been wound tight as a spring for days, and she wanted him to keep going.
What was wrong with her? Playing a role was one thing, but if Ryder was capable of murder, how could she actually take pleasure from his touch?
This is not the time for that kind of soul-searching.
Right now she had to play along. Give back as good as she got.
Bianca considered several actions and settled on slowly turning to him then placing her hand on his chest and sliding it across to wrap his waist.
Ryder stilled, just as he had when she’d touched his leg in the limo.
Please don’t yell at me right now. When he only continued to study her as if he’d just discovered a new species, she took a deep breath for courage and snuggled against his chest.
In her peripheral vision, she caught the pilot looking to his right, which meant he was going to turn to his left next.
Would this look real enough to make him report his impression of the happy couple to Hubrecht, even if Ryder wasn’t returning Bianca’s advances?
She felt like an idiot hanging on a man who was ignoring her. She gave Ryder what she hoped was a look of encouragement. Come on, Ryder. I’m trying. Hug me back or something.
Ryder hesitated a microsecond then must have read the invitation in her eyes.
But he sucked at interpreting eye messages, because instead of just putting his arms around her, he kept drawing her
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