The mood in the diner was just the way Ryker James liked it: bustling and upbeat, with enough background noise to turn the high walls of his booth into a protective bubble. As he scrolled through the messages on his phone, a server set a plate of food on the table in front of him.

Slabs of tantalizing bacon stuck out from underneath a slice of toasted bread. Stomach growling, he put his phone down. "Thanks, Gena."

"Who?"

The unexpectedly smoky voice caught his attention. He raised his head. Who indeed. The woman standing in front of him wore a black apron bearing the Iola's Eats logo, but this bit of clothing was where her similarity to Gena ended. Gena lacked the long, shapely legs of this new waitress, as well as her curvy begging-to-be-touched thighs. An equally pleasing and well-rounded chest poked out of her white, short-sleeve shirt. "You're not Gena."

Her steely blue eyes grew large. Ryker's simple three word statement seemed to have thrown her. She tucked a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "No, I'm Aim...Emmie. I'm Emmie. I just started working here."

He nodded, wondering why his sister hadn't told him about the new hire. "I'm Ryker James."

"Oh!" Her doe eyes remained caught in the headlights.

He couldn't resist grinning. There was something enticing about Emmie's easily surprised state, as though everything in her life must seem perpetually new.

"So I take it you know the name?"

She must, of course. Everyone knew that Ryker James was the CEO and founder of MechaJames, named the number one technology start-up company by Popular Science three years ago. No wonder she appeared so shell-shocked. It wasn't every day that a girl in a dinky town like Moon Beach met someone famous. Kind of famous, at least. Okay, famous in the tech world, and famous in Oregon, but hey... that fame was spreading faster than mosquitoes in standing water. "You're probably wondering what I'm doing at this hole-in-the-wall diner, right?"

Her eyes narrowed, surprise replaced by wariness and what looked to be annoyance. "Why would I wonder that? This is your family's restaurant, right? Ryker James—that means your grandmother must be Iola James. And Trisha hired me. She mentioned she has a brother, which I take it is you. You look like her. Same nose. So, why wouldn't you be here?"

"Exactly, Emmie!" Still grinning, he raised his hands and gestured to the row of fifties-styled booths and a pair of swinging doors leading to the diner's small but tidy kitchen. Black and white photographs depicting important moments in the town's one hundred plus years of history filled nearly every available spot on the wall. Each image offered a jolt of nostalgia. "I practically grew up in this place. Despite everything, I think it's important to remember our roots. That's why—"

"I'm sorry," she cut him off. "Despite what?"

Now it was his turn to look surprised. "Well, I mean...after eighteen patents and the success of MechaJames, I could easily have left Moon Beach, moved the company to Seattle or Silicon Valley or really, anywhere I wanted, but I chose to stay right here."

"I see." She nodded her head. "What did you call your business? MechaJane?"

His smile finally escaped him altogether. Maybe she didn't know, or maybe she was trying to be coy because she knew exactly who he was. This could be her way of unleashing a set of ulterior motives. It was cynical of him to jump to such conclusions, perhaps, but that didn't mean it wasn't a possibility: the enticing woman standing in front of him could very well be a gold-digger whose attack strategy included pretending she was above caring about his fortune.

"MechaJames, as in Mecha plus my last name equals the robotics company I run. You must have heard of it. We're the biggest private employer in the county. You can't turn a corner in Moon Beach without hitting our logo plastered on busses, sides of buildings: my face superimposed on a robot."

"Your face is on a...." She shifted her weight to her right leg, then back to the left again.

"I was kidding about that part." He stuck a fry in his mouth. "Actually, we did try a Ryker-Robot logo a few years back, but it made small children cry, so..."

"Right. Okay, well Mr. James of MechaJames, do you need me to top off your coffee?"

He'd barely had a chance to sip it. "No, I'm good. But if my sister is available, could you send her out to me?"

"Of course."

She turned on her heel and hurried off to the kitchen, only stopping briefly at another table to collect their plates and ask them if they wanted desert. Ryker watched her go and in doing so confirmed that the shapeliness of her thighs continued all the way around to a luscious backside.

He rested his head against the back of the booth and smiled. Ryker was hopeless when it came to a well-endowed woman. Getting absorbed in all of those soft places was the best way to lose oneself, in his opinion. This one, this Emmie, certainly fit his tastes. Still, the way she brushed him off had been unsettling, as though she either had no idea who he was, had no interest in him, or both. These scenarios did not sit well with him.

It was far more likely that his original assertion was correct: she knew who he was and was playing him, making him think that she had no love for a rich man's money. Ryker was all too familiar with that type of woman. His heart fell for a second as he thought of Carin. She was the one who had taught him women could deceive you in such a manner, making you think they loved you when what they actually loved was your net worth.

He shook his head to get Carin out of it. At least he'd discovered her disloyalty before they'd walked down the aisle.

Since the fiasco with his ex-fiancée, Ryker had had no interest in forging any serious bonds with a woman, despite his grandmother urging him to try his luck again. Simply put, he preferred getting lucky to trying his luck, and that, thankfully, happened as much as he wanted it to. But luck in bed and luck in love were two different things. He was done gambling where love was concerned.

It was way too soon to know if Emmie was another Carin-type. Possibly, she was just looking for some high-class fun without meaning to use and abuse him. One thing was for sure: if she was playing a game of deception, she was awfully good at it. He'd almost believed her to be clueless. Almost. Twisted though it might be, the prospect of flirting with a woman who may or may not be lying through her teeth was an undeniable turn-on.

He would have to watch to see how far Emmie took things. Hell, it would be fun to play along. It had been ages since he'd met a woman who appealed as much as she did after only a brief meeting. He would be sure to give her more opportunities to play her game with him, more opportunities for him to test out the fit of those soft spots against his considerably harder ones. Then, right when she thought she had him where she wanted him, he would be the one to pounce.

Just as he was imagining what pouncing on his family's newest employee would be like, his sister slid into the booth across from him. "It's the lunch rush and I've got a brand new waitress who's still learning the ropes. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Hi to you too, Trish." He picked up his sandwich and took a bite, chewing slower than he needed to, savoring the smoky bacon and juicy tomato as well as his sister's expression as she watched him.

"Whatever. The only words you spoke to me when you got here today were 'Hey, get me a BLT, will you?' You're a real jerk sometimes, Ryker."

He put the sandwich down and wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin. "But a loveable jerk, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Get on with it."

"What happened to Gena?"

"She moved back to California. Her mother had a stroke and she decided to relocate in order to help care for her. I told you all of this last week, don't you remember? We threw a party here Friday night with a cover charge to help pay for her moving expenses. None of this is ringing any bells, is it?"

He thought for a moment, but nothing came to him. Probably he'd been texting with Dan or one of his other employees when she'd told him all of this the first time around. He'd likely mumbled a response but hadn't actually taken in anything she'd said. "Okay, so who's the new girl?"

"The new woman is Emmie. I believe you've already met when I sent her out to your table to deliver your meal."

"Yeah, but... who is she? I've never seen her before."

"She's new to town, she needed a job, has three years of waitressing experience, and she could start work immediately. So I hired her. She likes mystery novels and cats and long walks on the beach at sunset. Is there anything else you want to know?"

"Yes, but I have a feeling you're not going to tell me."

"Your feelings are correct." Trisha tapped her fingers on the Formica tabletop. "She seems nice, Ryker. Don't be a jerk with this one. In fact, don't be anything with this one."

"What, I'm not even supposed to talk to her? Come on, Trish, you make me sound far worse than I am."

"No, I make you sound exactly how you are, like an emotionally crippled womanizer. Ever since Carin..." She looked down at her hands. "Sorry to bring her up, but Ryker, you can't let one awful woman turn you off of a stable relationship with any other woman. With that attitude, someday you'll find yourself old and wrinkly and alone."

"You forget, I have tons of cash. I'll be old and wrinkly, maybe, but cash will always buy me companionship."

Trisha frowned. "I thought that was the last thing you wanted: to have to buy a woman's affections. I thought you wanted someone who was genuine."

He tried his best to hide his own frown. "Maybe buying love will be the closest I'll ever get to the real thing. At least if that happens, I'll be going into the relationship with eyes wide open."

His sister eased herself of the booth. "That's about the saddest thing I've ever heard. And if you believe it, then you really are a lost cause. All the more reason that you stay away from Emmie. I get the impression she's not the sort of person you can buy."

Ryker huffed. His sister couldn't possibly know that. She'd just met Emmie, after all. Besides, if there was one thing his ex-fiancée had taught him, it's that everyone could be bought.

Every single person in this world had a price. You just had to find out what it was.

A/N: And... the story has officially begun! What do you think of Ryker? A bit full of himself, or just damaged goods in need of some healing? Redeemable, or insufferable (or both!)?

Thank you so much for checking out this first chapter. Here in Amberville, I like to promise you, dear readers, impossible things if you will do me the honor of voting for each chapter. For instance, votes received on this chapter will be used to hire a design firm to redo the MechaJames company logo. Ryker's head on a robot did indeed make schoolchildren cry, but their current insignia, which bares the slogan "Robots: Safe, Dependable, Not at ALL Interested in World Domination" could probably use some work. Please vote and help his fledgling mega-dollar company out! 

Today's dedication is for the winner of my Summer 2016 Block Party giveaway,  Atomictara. Yay!! Thank you for participating, Tara!