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attached to private swimming pools, or from behind the wheels of golf carts. This was no different.
    Damn Alexandria’s words for winding their way back into Avery’s thoughts. She straightened her shoulders. “I can carry my own bags.” In no way would she confuse this with a social visit.
    Ryker’s brown eyes traveled over her face, pausing ever so slightly on the tight line of her mouth. Then his expression turned. “I’m offering social etiquette and nothing more.”
    “Well, I don’t need it. I don’t need your charity.”
    “I didn’t bring you here for charity.”
    “That’s good,” she quickly countered, hating how self-confidence could be such a slippery slope. “Treat me just like any other businessman.”
    He rolled his substantial shoulders as his gaze narrowed. His dark brow shadowed smoldering eyes. “Man? A man would know to hold his tongue in my presence,” he continued with a quirk to his perfect lips. “And he would know to show more respect.”
    Her lips compressed. “I just want to be very clear here. I came to survey the venue of your event. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
    “I have never questioned this point. Why are you?” His bold gaze was more of an accusation than his words could ever be.
    “Me?”
    “That’s precisely what I said.”
    “Just forget it. I just want to be treated like—”
    “A man.” He released his grip on her bag.
    It tumbled hard enough to spill open.
    Avery saw a twitch in his jaw. He stopped himself from picking up the contents, which littered the ground, and she was sure it was because of what she’d just said.
    She couldn’t worry about that right then because out there for God and everyone to see were all her innermost belongings. Bras. Panties. Everything she held private in clothing was right there for the world to see.
    Could embarrassment actually kill a person?
    If it could, Avery was about to succumb.
    Dropping to her knees, she immediately fanned out her arms to rein in her personals. She couldn’t stuff the bag with her silky undergarments fast enough. Great that he wasn’t helping. Last thing she needed was for him to be touching her underwear. Embarrassment turned her pink cheeks to hot red. Angry red. “Now look what you’ve done.”
    “In this case, I would normally help out a male colleague, but my polite gestures have the reverse affect on you, so I won’t,” he said, a muscle knotting in his jaw.
    “Thanks a lot for mocking me.” She flicked her gaze up to him.
    His jaw muscle tensed again. “I’ll be waiting inside.”
    Did he? Seriously? Just walk away? Leave her here crouching on all fours and frantically stuffing underwear into her bag like she was some kind of squirrel hoarding nuts?
    She forced her stare away from his broad shoulders and muscled back as he strolled away.
    That was the last she saw of him for the next hour. Like hell he waited. She’d long ago put away her things. Apparently, it was a lot faster to stuff clothes in a drawer than to scoop them up off the driveway.
    She decided to check the room for an Internet connection and set up her laptop on the desk near the bed. She peeked out the windows. Paced. Peeked out her door down the long marble-tiled floor.
    Where had all his staff gone?
    An hour later, boredom got the best of her, and she decided, Ryker be damned, she wasn’t about to sit around in this room all day. She’d give herself a tour of the place. She was bored. And tired. And by gosh, it was about time she sought Ryker out and demanded an explanation. Or food. Or something.
    It didn’t take long to come face-to-face with the source of her frustration. In the front hall, she met Ryker head on.
    She drew back before they collided.
    His head down, his gym shorts on. She couldn’t help but notice how his expansive chest glistened from his workout.
    “The gym’s in back if you want to have a go,” he practically grunted at her. Switching gears, bemused, he looked at her with a tiny crack