His brown eyes soften. Actually soften. I try not to think too hard about it. The martini has definitely gone to my head, and now I’m looking at Ryker the way I looked at him the first night we met, and not looking at him like he’s my pain-in-the-ass, entitled client. He clears his throat. His hand reaches toward me before it drops to his side. I stare at it for a moment, wondering what he was about to do. Was he going to touch me? Surely not.
