Free Just One Night: Sex, Love & Stiletto Series by Lauren Layne

been too caught up in her own want to notice his. But never before had she goaded him as blatantly as she had that night. And never before had she felt his eyes burning into her back as she walked away.
    He wanted her, all right.
    She just hoped he wanted her
enough
.
    Riley slid open the door as quietly as she could, relieved that it made almost no noise.
    She noticed the smell first. Not a boozy, barroom-floor type of smell but a delicious grainy aroma with a hint of sweetness.
    The last time she’d been in here, there’d been nothing but enormous moving boxes and a jumble of metal equipment everywhere. Now it looked like … something.
    She found herself looking at several rows of wooden barrels. They were all carefully labeled with dates and check marks. She knew he’d hired several people to help with … well, whatever it was he did here, but the labels were clearly in his handwriting. She knew instinctively that these big barrels were like his babies. Someone else might help him fill them, but they were
his
.
    What must that be like? To belong to Sam Compton?
    Knock it off. Don’t get weepy about the whole business
.
    The warehouse was organized and rustic and oddly appealing, but there was no sign of the man. She ran her hand over the barrels as she made her way toward the other side of the massive structure until she reached a door. She remembered the space being one large open room, but he’d obviously put walls up to make this a separate room since the last time she’d been here.
    Her heart skipped into overdrive when she opened the insulated door and moved into the main part of the distillery. If Sam was here, this is where he’d be.
    She didn’t know which would be worse—finding that he wasn’t around or finding that he
was
here, but not alone.
    This is what she got for not calling first, but planning ahead had never really been Riley’s style. She was more of the just-go-with-it persuasion. Except when it came to sex, of course.
    Which was exactly what had gotten her into this whole freaking mess in the first place.
    Her heels made a steady
tap-tap
against the concrete floor as she scanned for signs of movement. She wound around a table covered in what seemed to be labeling equipment, a bunch of other scary-looking pot-type things she didn’t recognize, a stack of boxes containing empty bottles, and then …
    There he was.
    Dressed in jeans and a tight white T-shirt, and looking far better than any man had any right to look, he was crouched in front of one of the enormous copper vat-type things that lined the far wall.
    She watched him for a second as he tinkered with some tool she couldn’t see, gathering her courage as she debated her best opening.
    I need an itsy-bitsy little favor involving your joystick
.
    Nah, too simpering.
    I can’t imagine doing this with anyone but you
.
    Too revealing.
    Wanna hump?
    Better …
    “Hey.” Okay, not her best opening. But at least it was
an
opening.
    Sam froze for several seconds before slowly standing and turning to face her. She’d been expecting surprise, and there was a split second of that before it turned to something far more telling.
    Wariness.
    “Riley,” he said, idly twirling some wrench-type thing before crossing his arms and studying her.
    “Sam.”
    “Is showing up unannounced considered fashionable in Manhattan?”
    She lifted a shoulder. “Haven’t gotten any complaints before.”
    “No, I don’t suppose you would,” he said darkly. “Is your dress made out of plastic wrap?”
    She glanced down at the formfitting red sheath. “It’s Trina Turk.”
    “I don’t care if it’s made out of some yet undiscovered new element; it doesn’t belong ina distillery.”
    Riley knew him well enough to hear the subtext. You
don’t belong in the distillery
.
    “I haven’t been out here since you bought the property,” she said, keeping her voice easy.
    He slapped a hand against his thigh. “Damn it! I knew all my party