The Prophet (Ryan Archer #2) (31 page)

“Too long.”

“I totally agree.”

“Larry was stripes,” Archer said. “So congrats, you are losing.”

She winked at him. “We will see.”

They finished the game and drifted to a booth in a dark corner at the back of the bar. Maya smelled of Armani and the scent of her turned Archer’s brain to mush. Dewey brought Maya a longneck bottle and Archer ignored his water, hypnotized at the sight of her and being so close to her for the first time in as long as he could remember.

“I was surprised to see you the other day,” Maya said.

“You weren’t
supposed
to see me,” he said.

That made her smile. She touched a cut on his face. Her hand was soft and small and perfect. She frowned. “You need to take better care of yourself, young man.”

Archer could barely swallow.

“What brings you here?” he managed to say.

She shrugged. She sipped from the beer, trying and failing to suppress a smile. “It was just very nice seeing your face. So I thought maybe I’d like to see it up close and hear your voice.”

“Are you dating?”

“I’ve tried. But I found what I was looking for a long time ago, and there’s a lot to live up to after you’ve had something like that.”
 

“I can relate,” he said.

A long silence lingered. Condensation from Archer’s bottle of water dripped to the table. He was dizzy from her perfume. Then her hand ventured across the table and found his.

“Do you know what I’m thinking right now?” Maya asked.

Archer stared into her eyes. Those fabulous brown eyes that turned him to putty every time. He shook his head. “I don’t have a clue,” he said.

“Come closer,” she said, leaning toward him.

Archer leaned forward and she placed a hand on his neck.

Then Maya whispered something into his ear.