Chased by Love (Love in Bloom: The Ryders): Trish Ryder by Melissa Foster Page B

side to make sure she was okay. He was suddenly treating her as he had the kitten, like she was his to take care of. And she was surprised by how much she liked it.
    “No, thanks, but maybe we should move inside.”
    He shook his head. “Too confining. I think we have a little more time before the rain reaches us.”
    “You wouldn’t practice inside yesterday either.” She crossed her arms and stared him down. “In fact, other than cooking, sleeping, and showering, you haven’t been inside at all. What’s going on?”
    “I don’t like to feel boxed in.”
    “Okay. I get that. But what are you going to do when we have to do the bedroom scene?”
    He waggled his brows. He’d made a few playful gestures this afternoon, and she loved seeing that side of him, although she had a feeling it was an avoidance tactic.
    “I’m serious, Boone. We have to rehearse them at some point, and the more time we put into the scenes that you’re uncomfortable with, the easier they’ll be when the crew arrives.”
    “Who says I’m uncomfortable with the bedroom scene?” He stepped closer, bringing a full-on heat wave with him.
    “No one,” she managed. “I meant because you hate rehearsing inside. It’s the warehouse scenes and the other scenes where you’re confronted with Delia’s addiction that seem to make you the most uncomfortable. But I wondered about the bedroom scene because you really don’t want to rehearse inside.”
    Slowly, and seductively, his gaze slid down her body. “Baby, if you want to take me to bed, all you have to do is ask.”
    “Yes, please.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean that.” She was seriously losing it, and he was seriously deflecting. And now he had the sexiest grin on his lips. She. Needed. To. Focus.
    “I’m going to table that offer for a little while.” Little while came out as a whisper, or maybe a whimper.
    “You? On the table?” An illicit grin formed on his lips. “I’m liking the sound of this.”
    She held her palm out to keep him from coming any closer. “And you’re the master of deflection.” He shifted his eyes away, and she knew she’d hit the nail on the head. “Boone, if you have an issue with acting out the scenes that deal with Delia’s addiction, you need to clue me in.”
    He hiked his thumb over his shoulder toward the house. “Bedroom scene. Let’s do that.”
    “Boone.”
    He wrapped his arms around her and leaned down like he was going to kiss her. As badly as she wanted him to, her concern over his reluctance to talk about whatever was holding him back from those scenes won out.
    “Sounds like you’re afraid of the bedroom scene. I promise to be gentle. At least at first,” he said coaxingly.
     She pushed from his arms. “First of all, I wouldn’t want you to be gentle.” She waved a hand in the air, trying to slow her racing heart and get the image of being in bed with Boone out of her mind. “Just throwing that out there.”
    His lips curved up in a devilish grin. “Thought you weren’t into meaningless sex.”
    “I’m not, and stop distracting me. What’s going on with you and the druggie scenes?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Bullshit.”
    He walked away through the knee-high grass, and she followed.
    “Boone, you can talk to me.”
    “I am talking to you.”
    “Then let’s do the warehouse scene.” The wind kicked up and she crossed her arms to ward off the chill. “We can do it on the porch. It’s only a couple of lines.”
    He gritted his teeth, making no move to follow her to the porch.
    “I thought there wasn’t a problem.” She set her best speak-up-or-else stare on him.
    He shifted his eyes away. “There’s not.”
    “Then come on before the storm hits. God only knows how hard it’ll be to get you to practice once we’re trapped inside.” She dragged him toward the porch.
    “There’s always the bedroom scene.”
    “Aren’t you so kind to remind me?” She lay down on the porch, as if it