Unlikely by Sylvie Fox Page A

he needed. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass, placing his outstretched hands above him.
    The sound of a light knock and his heavy wood door opening shook him from his reverie. “Ryan, do you need anything before I cut out for lunch?”
    Thank goodness he had the presence of mind not to turn around when Evangeline poked her head in. The last thing he needed was a sexual harassment claim. “Can you call the realtor and confirm the Big Bear reservations when you get back? I’ll e-mail you some files I need after your lunch break,” he called over his shoulder.
    “Will do, boss,” Evangeline said, mock saluting him before closing the door behind her.
    Ryan reviewed a few agreements with various actors, writers, and directors before he quit for the day. The impending weekend weighed heavily on his mind. His promise to be the first lover who would bring her to fulfillment, so to speak, was a huge responsibility. It was like deflowering a virgin. He needed help. He couldn’t imagine calling his brother or asking his mom for advice, so he high-tailed it out of his fourteenth story office and headed over to the biggest bookstore within driving distance.
    He generally wasn’t a fan of the huge mega bookstores with their in-house coffee bars, but he was professionally trained to turn to books when he needed an answer to a particularly difficult issue, and shaking that kind of habit was not easy. He prowled around the bookstore, having no idea where to begin to look. He rebuffed help from a twenty-something employee, too embarrassed to explain his needs.
    Finally, he came upon a “Sex, Love, & Relationship” section in the far corner of the third floor. Ryan browsed titles that promised to school him in the art of seduction or make him dummy proof when it came to sex. He flipped through a couple of books and made his choices, not quite meeting the eyes of the checkout girl as he handed over his platinum credit card.
    He stayed up far too late reading, and taking notes on his trusty yellow pad. He was going to be ready for the weekend.
 

Chapter Seven
 
 
    Sophie’s bedroom looked like a tsunami had hit. In her haste and nervousness, she had strewn clothes everywhere. What did one pack for a weekend that was going to be filled with either sex —in which case she’d be naked most of the time—or, if he gave up on his eleven-point plan, a number of long walks through the woods with the dog in tow? She wanted to believe that she would finally experience the kind of sexual release that books and songs were written about and wars were fought over, but deep down it felt hopeless.
    She ran to the den and checked the Big Bear temperatures on her laptop. It was definitely sweater weather out there —a full twenty degrees cooler than the Valley. She haphazardly threw together a couple of pairs of jeans and a few of her less outrageous sweaters, and pulled her shearling lined leather jacket from the back of the closet. She yanked on a black turtleneck and jeans, and pushed her hair, still dyed Goth black from yesterday, into a checkered newsboy cap and set it at a jaunty angle.
    Sasha followed her to the kitchen as she bagged kibble, a couple of chews, and plastic bowls for the dog.
    She nearly jumped out of her skin when Sasha started barking before the doorbell chimed. It took a few deep breaths before she could work up the nerve to open her front door. Her mouth almost went dry at the sight Ryan. How had she forgotten how hot he was?
    The white turtleneck he wore highlighted his broad shoulders, flat stomach, and lightly tanned skin. She balled her hands at her sides, though she was itching to run her fingers through his hair, and trace his slightly stubbly jaw line. His hair was getting a little long in the back, and curled deliciously along his collar.
    The dog was not nearly as inhibited as Sophie was. She had no problem showing her excitement. She launched herself off Ryan’s legs, encased in fawn corduroys, and