The Favour. Cara Summers

person, so I want to set the mood. Just name your favorite kind of music.”

      “You’re serious.”

      “The seconds are ticking away. We only have nine and a half minutes left.”

      “Okay. Okay. I like Bach.” This was ridiculous. When an oncoming pedestrian bumped her elbow, Sierra moved to the edge of the sidewalk, out of the stream of traffic.

      “That’s it? Bach? I have to come up with Bach on a car radio?”

      “No.” She grinned. “I also like Sinatra, Count Basie, the Beatles, the Beach—”

      “Stop right there. The Beatles I can handle. They were having a retrospective on one of these stations. Hold on.”

      Thunder rumbled overhead again, and Sierra edged closer to the wall of a building. It occurred to her that she was having a ridiculous conversation with a stranger she’d kissed in a bar, and she was enjoying it. The sound of “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” thrummed in her ear.

      “Can you hear it?”

      Sierra very nearly giggled. “Yes.”

      “Okay. I’m resetting my watch for the full ten minutes.”

      Sierra glanced at her own watch. If she gave him the full amount of time, she ran the risk of being late.

      “What do we do first?” he asked.

      Sierra drew in a deep breath as she pulled out the blue card she’d written her notes on. “We introduce ourselves and shake hands. I’m Sierra Gibbs, and you’re…?”

      “Ryder Kane.”

      “Oh.”

      “You don’t like my name.”

      “No. That’s not it at all. I just remembered that I didn’t even know your name until now. But I do like it. It…suits you.”

      “Thanks. I think.”

      “You don’t have to thank me for speaking the truth.”

      His laugh began deep in his throat and blended into the building crescendo that the Beatles were providing in the background. “Touché. I like you, Dr. Gibbs.”

      “I like you, too. I don’t understand it.” To her surprise, Sierra found herself relaxing and leaning against the wall. She didn’t understand that either. She hardly ever relaxed around men. The first raindrops fell, and a few stores down, a young woman gathered up the pieces of colored chalk her little girl had used to make a drawing on the sidewalk.

      “No doubt, it’s my charm,” Ryder said.

      Sierra giggled. “No doubt.” The raindrops began to fall harder, and she backed into the recessed doorway of a shop entrance where the owner had already put up a closed sign. “We don’t even know each other.”

      “Well, that’s the purpose of a speed date, right? So do you like movies?”

      “Love them.”

      “What’s your favorite movie?”

      “I’m supposed to be asking the questions,” Sierra said.

      “Humor me. I’m curious.”

      “Casablanca.”

      “That’s my favorite too. What’s number two on your list?”

      “Raiders of the Lost Ark—the whole trilogy.”

      “Good choice,” Ryder said. “George Lucas is a great filmmaker. He made my top ten. And you can’t beat those films for rip-roaring adventure. What’s in your number-three slot?”

      “Hitchcock. Psycho, Rear Window, North by Northwest, To Catch a Thief.”

      “That’s amazing. They’re all number two on my list. Now for the big question. Why do you love to watch movies?”

      Sierra bit back a sigh. “That’s easy. I love movies because they allow me to do all the things that I can’t do in real life. How about you?”

      “I like them because they end happily. That’s something that you can’t always get in real life either.”

      “True. I’m a fan of happy endings too.”

      “Seems we have something in common, Doc. What about books?”

      “Is it my turn to ask questions yet?” Sierra asked dryly.

      Ryder chuckled. “Sure. Go ahead.”

      Sierra glanced down at her blue card. “If you were a musical instrument, which would you choose to be—a guitar, a keyboard or drums?”

      “That’s easy. Depending on my mood, I’d be all three.”

      A little arrow of heat shot through Sierra even as she turned over the card. According to her notes, a man who favored a guitar was not only very good with his fingers, but very attentive to details. A master at foreplay. The man who preferred a keyboard would also be clever with his hands and very skilled at improvising. He’d provide a lot of fun in bed. The drummer would be more demanding. And he’d provide earthy, down-and-dirty sex. As her knees went weak, Sierra leaned against the wall of the building. Was it possible for a man to embody all three styles of lovemaking?

      “Earth to Sierra,” Ryder said. “How’d I do on that one?”

      “Fi—” Sierra cleared her throat and tried again. “Fine. You did just fine.”

      “So, tell me—what did you learn from that question?”

      “Learn?” Thunder rumbled overhead and Sierra backed further into the shop entranceway.

      “C’mon, Doc. This is some kind of psychological test, right? I say guitar and you slip me into a neat little category.”

      Sierra blinked. Ryder Kane’s easy, laid-back manner hid a very sharp mind. “Sort of. Is that why you said you could be all three? Because you don’t like to be categorized?”

      “Nope. I said all three because it’s the truth. Now it’s my turn. Which one of those instruments would you be?”

      “You’re not supposed to ask that yet. I have more questions.”

      “Aw, c’mon. Bend the rules, Doc. I’m curious. Would you be a guitar, a keyboard or a set of drums? Wait. Give me a minute. Let’s see if I can guess.”

      Sierra glanced up from the note card and saw that the rain was pouring down in earnest now. Pedestrians were huddled beneath umbrellas and hurrying to their destinations, and traffic on the street had slowed. She really should go. Her plan had been to arrive at the Blue Pepper early enough to review her notes and run through her introduction in her head. But the urgency she usually felt about arriving early had washed away as easily as the traces of chalk on the sidewalk nearby.

      “You’re definitely not drums,” he said.

      “No.” Sierra nearly smiled at the idea. According to her notes, “drums” were aggressive, loved fast, hard sex and could last all night. She had no problem imagining Ryder Kane being all of those things. Doing all of those things. To her. The pImages** tumbling into her mind sent rays of electricity right to her core.

      “I’m betting on the guitar over the keyboard,” he finally said. “But it’s a close call. Am I right?”

      Sierra tried to gather her scattered thoughts.

      “Are you still there, Doc?”

      Sierra moistened lips that had gone as dry as her throat. “The truth is….” Pausing, she cleared her throat. “I have trouble imagining myself as any one of the three. Of course, I’m aware of what each instrument represents.”

      “So it’s hard to give an unbiased answer.”

      “Exactly.” Sierra found herself