Chapter 5

FIVE

Saylor

Dinner is fun.

Canyon is a lot more serious than I expected him to be, but he's smart, articulate, and thoughtful. There's a dark, broody side to him, and he doesn't laugh a lot, but he has a lot of interesting stories, he talks about more than just hockey, and despite the unspoken agreement that we're going to sleep together tonight, he doesn't spend the evening making crude or suggestive remarks.

In fact, if I didn't know better, I wouldn't have thought he was even interested in sex.

Well, okay, that's not entirely true.

Every once in a while, we share a look that tells me he has more on his mind than expensive red wine and beef bourguignon, but it's nice to be out with a man I can talk to. We both love football, we both enjoy golfing, and it feels like we've been friends for longer than one night.

Why do I always fall for the unavailable ones?

I'm not falling in love, of course, but I'm more drawn to him than I've been to any other guy I've met in years. I'm intrigued to discover he's five years younger than me, and he's been playing in the big leagues since he was nineteen. He's originally from Illinois but doesn't get back there too often. He also doesn't live far from me, which will be convenient if he sleeps over.

"You want to drive?" he asks as we wait for the valet to bring his Ferrari around.

"You trust me?"

"You break it, you bought it," he says, his face so devoid of emotion I can't tell if he's joking or not.

"She's too pretty to break," I whisper excitedly, taking the keys from the valet and sliding behind the wheel. I adjust the seat to accommodate my shorter legs, fix the rearview mirror, and fasten my seat belt. After a slight hesitation, I pull off my high stiletto heels and hand them to him. "Easier for me to drive a stick without heels," I say.

He takes my shoes without hesitation, holding them on his lap as I ease the car into traffic.

"Can I take her up to Mulholland?" I ask, referring to a hilly road that has some of the best views of downtown Los Angeles and the Hollywood sign, as well as some of the most expensive and exclusive houses in the world.

"Wherever you want," he replies.

I head in that direction, getting a feel for the car.

It's a dream to drive, fast and smooth, and I love how it handles. I've considered buying one over the years, but it seemed extravagant and unnecessary. Not to mention stupidly expensive.

"Head for the Hollywood Bowl Overlook," Canyon suggests. "We can stop there and talk for a while if you want."

For someone who isn't interested in anything but sex, he sure knows how to take a girl out on a romantic date.

There's more to Canyon Marks than meets the eye, and though I try to tell myself we've already established the boundaries of our relationship, I can't help but wonder if we could stay friends.

Friends with benefits?

Nah.

That would get complicated.

I need to let go of that line of thinking and focus on having fun.

And driving this amazing car.

"Now I'm going to have to buy one," I mutter when I finally pull over. "That was so much fun."

"My dad told me not to buy it, but I couldn't help myself. He didn't complain when I let him drive it, though."

"I'll bet he didn't." I take my shoes from him and slip them on before getting out of the car.

It's dark and the overlook is officially closed, but there's a small spot where you can park if you don't stay long. If a cop drives by, he'll make us leave, but we potentially have a few minutes to enjoy the view of the city.

"It's so pretty up here," I say softly.

"It is." He moves closer to me, sliding his arm around my waist.

"I always dreamed of living here," I admit. "When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a movie star, and I was enamored with anything Hollywood. I started modeling with that as my goal, but I started making money as a model and it seemed silly to switch gears. I'm probably too old now."

"Old?" He looks down at me in confusion. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-one."

"You don't look it," he says, his eyes laser-focused on mine. ‘I would have guessed twenty-five."

"Thank you. I'm sure I could get some roles if I put the effort into it, but honestly, I'm happy doing the occasional modeling gig while focusing on my art. I love to paint and draw, and it feels like too much work to try to break into Hollywood at this stage of my life and career. Although I've done some acting, I don't enjoy it nearly as much as thirteen-year-old me thought I would."

He brushes my hair back behind one ear.

His eyes are incredibly blue and if he keeps looking at me the way he is, I'm going to kiss him.

He does it instead, lowering his mouth to mine slowly but purposefully.

Our lips met tentatively, with soft whispery kisses that don't deepen. Instead, he seems to take his time, exploring and teasing, letting us get to know each other.

"You taste sweet," he says against my mouth. "I really want to take you home, baby."

"I want that too." I lean into him. "If we go straight to my place, you'll have to take me back to my car in the morning, since I left it at the gallery."

"That's not a problem, but I have practice at ten, so we'll have to leave around eight-thirty."

"Gallery opens at nine, so we would've had to do that anyway."

"You want to drive?" he asks.

I smiled. "I really do."

"Go for it."

* * *

The drive to my place doesn't take long, and I cut the headlights as I pull into my driveway.

"This is nice," he says, looking around.

"It's quiet, the neighbors are great, and it was pretty affordable all things considered."

"No garage?"

I shake my head. "My only regret. Well, that and the lack of wine cellar."

He chuckles. "Same with the condo I rent. It's spacious and everything is new, but there's nowhere for a wine cellar and there's no pool. I'd love to be able to swim every day in the summer."

"Yeah, that's on my house bucket list too."

I turn off the ignition and hand him his keys. "Come on."

We walk to the front door just as the door of the connected house opens. My neighbor, Joel, is coming out with a bag of garbage.

"Hey, Saylor," he says, smiling.

"Hey, Joel. This is my friend, Canyon. Canyon, Joel and his wife Gina live in my rental unit.

"Nice to meet you." The two shake hands as I unlock the door.

"Have a good night," I call out, closing and locking it behind us.

"Night, Saylor!" Joel's voice fades behind the door.

"He can be chatty," I whisper to Canyon.

"Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" He looks around. "This is big and really beautiful."

"Thanks. I totally renovated it when I bought it, and I love coming home at night. It's mine, you know? Not just because I own it, but because I made it exactly what I wanted."

"That's the plan if I ever knuckle down and buy a place."

"You want a tour?"

Why am I offering a guy I was going to have a one-night stand with a tour?

Am I a dumbass or what?

"Sure," he says, surprising me.

"Oh, um, okay." I motion to the living room. "This is the main room. The fireplace is gas, and the flooring is luxury vinyl plank, which is both water- and scratch-resistant."

"I love the built-ins," he says. "And that painting above the fireplace… it doesn't look like yours."

"It's not." I smile. "It's a Tim Cantor."

"Never heard of him, but it's nice."

"I love his work." I lead him toward the dining room. "This is the formal dining room, which I usually only use around the holidays." We continue into the kitchen. "The kitchen is a little smaller than I'd like but I don't have time to cook much, so it wound up working out okay. There was linoleum from the seventies in here when I bought it, and now it's all stainless steel and granite, which I like much better."

Why am I babbling about the house?

He probably doesn't care.

"I love this." He runs a hand over my black countertops. The granite I'd chosen was shot through with flecks of turquoise and gold. It had been ridiculously expensive, but I'd known I wanted it the moment I saw it.

"Not too busy?" I ask, wrinkling my nose.

"For whom?" he asks curiously, turning to me. "Your house, your taste, your money. Who cares if it's busy? I think it's stunning and exotic. Much like you."

Every time he says something like that, my heart skips a beat.

Men told me I was beautiful every day when I'd been modeling full time, but it sounds different coming from Canyon.

"Thank you." My voice is a little scratchy, and I'm not sure why.

"You nervous, babe?" he asks softly, pulling me against him, though his touch is light. "We don't have to do this. I'm okay going home."

I shake my head. "I'm not nervous, it's just…well, normally you don't plan a one-night stand. The ones I've had were always spontaneous. This feels different. Like we're friends. Out on a date."

"We are out on a date." His gorgeous blue eyes turn cerulean. "And it doesn't have to specifically be a one-night stand. It can be friends with benefits. A hookup. Hell, it doesn't have to have a name. It's just us here. We can do—or not do—anything we want. No pressure."

Every word that comes out of his mouth makes me like him more.

Sleeping with someone as enigmatic as Canyon is probably a mistake, but there's no way I'll back out now. I'm desperate for him to touch me again, kiss me, and eventually take me to bed.

"Would you kiss me again?" is all I could think to say, since anything else might include me begging him to fuck me. Or something equally ridiculous.

"Been hoping you'd say something like that." He doesn't give me a chance to second-guess myself because this time his kisses are deliciously passionate, his tongue sliding against mine with purpose. He digs his fingers into the hair at the back of my neck, keeping me a most willing captive.

His body is strong and firm against mine, muscles bulging in his arms and shoulders. My hands drift up his torso—which is also very hard and muscular—exploring the feast that awaits me.

I love sex.

It isn't always as good as I might like, but when it is, I can't get enough.

And something tells me I won't be able to get enough of Canyon.

The way he kisses is sensual and practiced, as though he knows exactly what buttons he needs to push to turn me on. He doesn't rush either, apparently perfectly content to just stand here in my kitchen and kiss. And kiss. And kiss some more.

Until my heart is racing and the spot between my legs feels damp.

"You taste so good," he whispers when he finally pulls away. "I want to lick every inch of you."

"I'm very much looking forward to that."

"I think you're wearing too many clothes," he says gruffly.

"You mean this?" I'm wearing a dress, and I run my hands down my sides. "You should unzip me." I turn my back to him and feel him lower the zipper. I let the dress slide down very slowly and then take my time stepping out of it.

"Bra too," he says, before I have a chance to turn around.

"Help yourself," I tease.

It takes him about two seconds to unsnap it, and I let the bra fall off as well.

Then, ever so slowly, I turn back to him.

His breath hitches and there's no mistaking the desire in his eyes.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Saylor. You're perfect."