“Listen, I don’t blame you. Just … maybe wait until after you go on an actual date together. It’s one thing for us to drool over how good he looks in a pair of jeans and a cowboy hat—by the way, if there’s ever an excuse to get him wearing nothing but those two things, you need to somehow manage to take a picture and send it to me, thanks in advance—and another for you to get all dreamy-eyed because he kept you from getting into a fistfight at a major fundraising event.”

  She’s right. I know it.

  “I will take your advice into consideration, Counselor.”

  And I do. All throughout the day, as I do my nails and curl my hair and try hard not to be too nervous, I remind myself to look at this in a big-picture sort of way. This is just one date. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that.

  I mean, sure, he made me laugh. We’re into the same sorts of movies.

  And he has a pair of brown eyes I could sink into and never surface.

  And, God, he’s so tall! I never knew I had such a thing for tall men. Amazing, the things a girl can learn about herself when she’s forced to date for the sake of her career.

  It’s with his height in mind that I slide into a pair of ambitious heels. They’re a lot higher than anything I’ve worn recently—a solid four inches. Even that will put me half a foot shorter than him, but it will at least make things a little less awkward if he should, you know, decide to kiss me. Repeatedly.

  Not that I have my hopes up or anything like that.

  I have the ankle strap to the second shoe in place when there’s a knock at the door. My heart just about jumps out of my chest, and instantly, I hate what I’m wearing.

  Another knock. “Kitty?”

  Oh, crap times two. It’s Sunday night!

  The only thing that keeps me from slapping my forehead as I hurry to the door—carefully tottering on these ridiculous heels—is knowing I’ll leave a red mark on my head and Paxton will be here any minute.

  When I open the door, Matt whistles as he takes in the full sight of me. “Wow. I didn’t know our Sunday night takeout and TV watching got so fancy. I would’ve dressed up a little.”

  True, compared to my black dress and stilettos, his T-shirt and cargo shorts don’t quite match up.

  “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “You forgot? I mean, this is something we’ve been doing on Sunday nights for weeks.”

  “I know; I know. But things got crazy last night. I made a date for tonight with my new book subject, and I forgot it’s Sunday and this is our thing.”

  “It got crazy at a charity ball? Man, I thought the bachelor auction was something. Maybe I need to go to more of these events.”

  “I really am sorry.”

  He shrugs, grinning. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just one night. If anything, I could catch up on some work.”

  I wag a finger at him. “Uh-oh. I think you’re working too hard.”

  “I’ll try not to make a habit of it.” He follows me into the apartment, where I continue to get my stuff together. “So, who is this guy?”

  “I met him last night at the ball.” I have to laugh at myself. “Doesn’t that sound weird? I met him at a ball.”

  “So, he’s the next guy you’re writing about?”

  “I hope so anyway.” I look up from my purse and hold up crossed fingers.

  “You know, maybe I’ll go out tonight. Maybe I need to mix things up a bit. I’ve been spending too much time at home.”

  I look back at him while going through my purse to make sure I have what I need. Where’s my lip gloss? “That’s a good idea.”

  “You think so?”

  “Sure! Why wouldn’t I?” I look at him again and find him frowning. “What’s wrong?”

  “Hello?” There’s a rap against the still-open door.

  Matt and I both turn in time to see Paxton cautiously entering the apartment.

  And, gosh, he looks so good that I forget to breathe all over again. Just like I did when I was looking at the pictures on Hayley’s phone. Now, he’s wearing a dark suit, the collar of his white shirt opened to reveal just a hint of tanned chest.

  “Hi!” I squeak like a mouse. Great, not the most confident way for that to come out.

  He smiles, completely dazzling me. “Hey there. Sorry I’m a little early.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Punctuality is important, right?”

  To my horror, Matt snickers. “Did you just figure that out?”

  I shoot him a warning glare from behind Paxton as the two men approach each other. “This is my friend, Matt Ryder. He lives across the hall.”

  Did I emphasize the word friend a little too much? Maybe. But it’s important to clarify things like that in times like this—when two men are eyeing each other as warily as these two are right now.

  I swear, if he screws this up for me …

  Paxton extends a hand. “Good to meet you. Paxton Cleary.”

  Something in Matt’s face shifts. A muscle twitch, the slight flaring of his nostrils. “Cleary Oil, right?”

  “You’re familiar with us.”

  “Matt is a manager for a lot of high-profile clients and their investment portfolios,” I explain.

  Matt nods. “Sure, your name’s been tossed around a lot lately.”

  Paxton pretends to wince and then chuckles. Almost. “So long as you aren’t advising your clients to dump us.”

  Matt grins. “No. Not yet anyway.”

  “Okay!” Time to get the hell out of here. “I’m starving. What did you have in mind?” Meanwhile, I’m trying to usher Matt out of the apartment.

  “I could go for a steak. Though you haven’t eaten a truly good steak unless you’ve had one in Texas.”

  Matt chuckles as he crosses the hall to his door. “We know how to cook a steak up here in New York too,” he assures my date.

  “We’ll see.” Paxton gives him a tight nod while I struggle with the lock on my door.

  My palms are so sweaty that I can barely get the key into the lock without fumbling and almost dropping it.

  What is it with these men when they meet Matt? Seriously, he’s just my neighbor.

  I don’t breathe easily until we’re on our way down the stairs and Matt is behind us.

  What is it about him lately? Sure, it was thoughtless of me to forget to let him know about the change of plans tonight, but he’s not usually like this.

  “At least you don’t have to worry about intruders and threats, living in the big city by yourself.” Paxton casts a look up the stairs just before we turn on the landing to go down the next flight. “Not with a bulldog like that living across the hall.”

  I definitely need to change the subject. “What’s it like outside? Should I have brought a wrap?”

  “I think you’ll be just fine with my arm wrapped around you,” he states, tucking me under his arm as we walk out of the building.

  Nothing like the perfect start to a first date—thanks to Matt—but Paxton’s arm around me is already making it better.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “So, tell me more about yourself. I want to know all about you.”

  Darn it. Not that I’m against talking about myself per se, but it’s so much more fun to listen to him. That slight twang to his voice is enough to melt me down to nothing. I would listen to him read the restaurant menu all night long if it came down to that.

  Still, I can’t refuse him, not when he’s looking at me the way he is. The lighting in the restaurant is dim, the atmosphere sophisticated and quiet. There’s definitely a sexy vibe around here too—one of those very masculine, very classy places with black walls and supple, high-backed leather booths. I feel like I have to speak in a whisper so as not to take away from the vibe.

  “I’m a pretty simple person.” I shrug. “As we established last night, I don’t fit in very well with my grandmother’s crowd.”

  “You did establish that, yes.” His mouth twitches, like he’s trying to hold back a smile.

  “I’m a writer, which you probably overheard last night as well.”

  “I did overhear that. I understand you write”—he finally smiles—“romance. Not filth.”

  “It’s amazing how just you saying that word puts me right back in that moment.”

  “I’m sorry.” He gets serious again. “Honestly, I’m not trying to antagonize you. The whole thing sounds pretty silly to me. You were right to call her out for being a hypocrite. I know a lot of women like her, and you hit the nail on the head. The ones with the biggest trust funds are the first ones to tell other people how to live their lives. The hypocrisy can be downright staggering.”

  I can’t help myself. “You know a lot of women like her?”

  He’s cool rather than rising to the bait. “I’ve known my share. Which is why I’m out with you right now and not one of them.”

  I still can’t help myself. “I saw a few trying to catch your eye last night. That blonde even pretended to stumble, so she could fall into you at the bar.”

  His head snaps back slightly. “Is that what that was about? I thought she’d tripped.”

  “Please. I’m surprised you have any feeling in your arm after the way she was holding on to you last night.”

  “You’re observant.” He’s chuckling as he raises his glass of scotch. “I suppose that comes with the territory of being a writer though. You get to observe people and put them into your books.”

  This is it. This is when I have to tell the truth. Isn’t it? I mean, that’s the only fair thing to do.

  He deserves to know he might end up in a book if this goes anywhere, which I most sincerely hope it will because just sitting across the table from him has my nerves sizzling, my heart fluttering. It’s like being a teenager with a crush. I have to remind myself that eye contact is not a bad thing, that I should stop blushing and looking away when he tries to hold me in place with that penetrating stare of his.

  “It’s funny you should mention that. I’m in the process of getting started with my new book right now. And it might hit close to home for you—the main character, I mean.”

  “How so?”

  Might as well get the whole thing out of the way now. I take another sip of my drink before launching into a shortened version of the story, but this time, I decide to not go so far back.

  I simply say, “My editor wanted to change my image a bit and asked me to write about leading men from different walks of life.”

  He leans back against the booth, nodding slowly. “And this time, you have to write about, what?”

  I cringe a little. “A cowboy.”

  “I see. So, the reason you were interested in me last night was for the sake of a book?”

  “Oh God, no!” I rush out.

  “I was only kidding,” he whispers. “I’m the one who approached you, remember?”

  Oh. Right. “That wasn’t funny.”

  “You’re right. It wasn’t. Can you forgive me?”

  “I guess so.” I give him a little shrug. “I do have to write a book after all.”

  He has a very nice laugh, the kind of laugh that gives a person no other choice but to join in. “Hey, what man wouldn’t want to be the subject of a romance novel?”

  “It wouldn’t be you exactly. But I need to research, you know? Learn about your business, find out the sort of things you do. People want to dismiss romance, but it involves just as much research and care as any other genre.”

  “I have no doubt. And I respect your hard work.” He leans in closer, eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “Are you sure there aren’t any other ways I could provide inspiration?”

  Yep, there’s that tingle again. Only now, I have the real thing in front of me, not just a picture. I manage to catch my breath enough to whisper, “Well, that depends on how you feel about after-hours research. I would never want to assume.”

  My entire body lights up like he just touched a match to a flame. I can’t believe this is happening. I’m sitting here, blatantly flirting with this guy, and he doesn’t mind knowing there’s a book at stake.

  “I’m afraid my after-hours services as a consultant on this work of fiction will require compensation.” He folds his hands on top of the table, sitting up straighter, like we’re suddenly negotiating in a boardroom.

  “And just what should this compensation consist of?”

  “I think you’ll find it pretty standard. Frequent meals together while I’m in town this week. The occasional hand-holding. Maybe a peck on the cheek when I drop you off at home.”

  It’s a real struggle, keeping a straight face. “I think that can be arranged. Your terms are more than fair.”

  “I think so.”

  I tip my head to the side. “Of course, I was prepared to give you a lot more than that. If only you had asked for it.”

  He leans in, winking conspiratorially. “Haven’t you ever heard of renegotiating contracts further down the line?”

  “I’m sorry, but my terms are final.”

  The tips of his fingers skim the back of my hand. “There’s always room for renegotiation, darlin’.”

  Darlin’. He called me darlin’, just like out of a cowboy movie.

  “Have you decided?” Our server waits nearby with an expectant smile.

  I guess she wouldn’t appreciate if I asked for a bed. Or even a couch in the back room. Hell, I would settle for a secluded booth because I want this man. Just the way he’s touching the back of my hand has me yearning for more.

  Somehow, I manage to get through dinner without bursting into flames or melting into a puddle, and we are now in the car, headed back to my apartment.

  “I know this sounds like the oldest excuse in the book, but I truly do have an early meeting in the morning.”

  I only shake my head with a smirk. “Please. Don’t try to pull the oldest line in the book on a writer.”

  “How can I make it up to you?” He helps me out of his car, and we leave the driver waiting out front while we dash up the steps and then up to my floor.

  “You have nothing to make up to me. After a dinner like that?” I might not eat again for a week, but it was worth it. And much like when I dated Blake Marlin, my billionaire boss, there weren’t any prices on the menu. At least this time, I knew what to expect.

  “But you did want to learn more about me, right?”

  “Of course, but we have all week.” I narrow my eyes to slits when we reach my front door. “Unless you were planning on ghosting me after tonight.”

  “Damn it.” He snaps his fingers with a frown. “You figured out my whole plan.”

  “Laugh all you want, but it wouldn’t be the first time a guy did that to a girl.”

  “Not this guy, little lady.” Before I know it, he has my face between his hands, and he isn’t laughing anymore. “No, Kitty, I have no intention of ghosting you after tonight. Book or no book.”

  “I’m glad,” I whisper. “Book or no book.”

  His eyes. Oh God, his eyes. I start to drown in them, but his hands on my face and his thumbs stroking my cheekbones pull me closer, and I’m saved as his mouth catches mine in the sweetest, most tender kiss that still somehow sparks a blaze in my core. All of him is in this kiss. It’s slow, skillful, the kiss of a man who knows who he is and what he wants and how to make a girl feel wanted and safe and taken care of.

  His slow kiss turns into a heated frenzy of emotions, and it takes all the self-control I possess not to wrap my legs around him and take him to the floor. Just as I’m in need of air, he pulls back.

  “Wow.” He clears his throat after what feels like an hour of kissing. “I sincerely wish I didn’t have to be up before the sun.”

  “Me too.” I can barely stay on my feet; I’m so dizzy and winded. There can’t possibly be enough blood in my brain, what with all of it having traveled further south.

  “I guess it’s for the best that I leave you now.” He glances across the hall. “I wouldn’t want your bulldog getting upset.”

  “He’s a good guy. Protective but good.”

  “Hmm.” He looks at me, brows raised. “All righty then. I’d better be going before the driver gets a ticket for sitting out there. What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  I’d jump up and down if it wasn’t for these shoes. Knowing me, I’d break an ankle. “Getting together with you, if possible.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear. What would you like to do? I don’t get to the city much, only one or two times before now, so all I know about it is what I’ve seen on TV and in the movies.”

  “Leave it to me then.” I stand on my very tippy-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek and take a deep whiff of his cologne. It’s so masculine and musky and sexy; it drives me crazy.

  It’s only when I’m alone in my apartment and the blood has flowed back to my brain that it hits me.

  I have no idea what to do with a cowboy in the city.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Wow. You really knocked it out of the park this time.”

  “Thank you?” It feels kind of strange, accepting congratulations for the fact that Paxton happens to be gorgeous. I didn’t have anything to do with that.

  “I’m just saying, if you don’t end up walking bowlegged after riding him or a horse—or preferably both at different times—when this is all over, there’s no hope for you.”

  “Maggie”—I laugh—“you’re too much.” I’ve come to expect it from my editor.

  “Is he going to take you home to see how he lives?”

  “One thing at a time,” I beg. “I’m just glad last night went well. He’s a very sweet guy.”

  “And sexy as hell.”

  “Yes, that helps too.”

  “Let’s see …” I can just about hear her tapping her nails on her desk as she ponders. “I think it would be fabulous to have sex in a barn, in the hay.”

  “Fabulous? I mean, aren’t barns kind of smelly sometimes?”

  “Come on. You can’t tell me the notion of being completely swept up in the moment—even if the moment takes place in a smelly barn—doesn’t appeal to you. Having this Paxton throw you down on the hay and tear your clothes off because he can’t be bothered to keep his hands off you for another minute.”