I crash down into the plush mattress of my bed back at the hotel and pull out my phone.

What’s shaking, hot stuff? I shoot the message at Mr. BadBoy and let the warmth of the heater wash over my body.

Normally, I wouldn’t be working on vacation. Or, let me correct that: normally, I never mean to work on vacation. But the Mr. BadBoy mystery is a fascinating piece of work that I intend to unravel, and when I’m on a mission, it’s rare that I let up until I get what I want.

Which is exactly how I scored Chloe, for that matter. And since I don’t want her to catch my workaholic ass dabbling in business during what’s supposed to be relaxation time, it’s best if I put my hours in while she’s busy getting dolled up.

It takes a few minutes for Mr. BadBoy to message back, which isn’t unusual for him. Knowing his type, he’s either hard at work himself or pretending to be.

Plenty of my clients think it’s clever to keep a woman waiting before they text back. Makes sure they don’t appear over eager.

But when it comes to Ms. Winters, no one keeps her waiting for long.

Freezing my balls off in Iceland, Mr. BadBoy finally messages back. Why don’t you come warm them up for me?

I’ve gotta read the message twice just to fucking believe it. This jackass is in Iceland too? Crazy-ass fucking coincidence.

I’d be glad to, darling, I message back. Considering I’m here in Reykjavik myself.

Of course, warming some other billionaire’s balls up is the last thing I want to do with my Icelandic getaway. If anything, I should be the one having my balls warmed—by Chloe’s hot little mouth, if I have it my way.

But Ms. Winters, naturally, is more than happy to play space heater for billionaire crotch. Unsurprisingly, I get my next message back right away.

Horny fucker can’t even stick to his own five-minute rule.

Time and place. Let’s meet up, and you can put those gorgeous hands of yours to work.

I look down at my own fingers. Big, thick, and a little hairy on the backs of my palms. Pretty fucking manly looking, all things considered. While my hands look incredible smoothing over Chloe’s gorgeous bare skin, I can hardly imagine that they’re what Mr. BadBoy wants cradling his junk.

All the same, it’s unlikely that I’m going to get another chance like this again. I see coincidences as gifts from fate, and I’m not one to fuck a gift horse in the mouth.

Unless Chloe is the gift horse in this metaphor, I guess. In that case, hell. There’s only so much temptation a man can take.

I send Mr. BadBoy a Google Maps link to a popular restaurant in the center of the city. Upscale. Chic. Small enough that I’ll be able to pick him out from the crowd for myself, but not so small he’ll be able to spot me while I’m doing it.

I don’t say anything else, because Ms. Winters is a fucking badass. When it comes to flirting, whoever is talking the most has the least power.

Mr. BadBoy must know this too.

See you there, he says, and that’s the end of it.

Looks like we’ve got a date.

I don’t fucking want to be thinking about business right now, admittedly. I’m enjoying spending time with Chloe, sans all the meetings and conference calls and annoying texts from my assistant. But the Mr. BadBoy account will keep fucking haunting me if I don’t check him out while I’ve got the chance.

Still, it would be a better evening if I could just savor Chloe’s sexy fucking presence without work looming over my head for once.

It’s fucking crazy, really. I’m not the kind of guy to fall for a woman. Let alone the kind to fall this hard and this fast. Ever. End of story.

But Chloe makes me fucking crazy. The way she gets in my head and dances around all day on those smooth, sexy legs of hers. The way I’m thinking about her, even when she’s away.

Even when I’ve just fucking spent time with her. Even now, when I should be prepping for more goddamn work.

I’m starting to care about Chloe, I realize. Not that I didn’t care about her before or anything, but there’s a difference between hoping someone gets home safe and hoping that she’ll still be thinking of you when she gets there.

This girl. This fucking girl. She’s under my skin, burrowing her cute little fingers right into my fucking heart.

She might actually be someone that I could have a real fucking relationship with. As opposed to just real fucking, which is pretty much what the rest of my romantic history amounts to.

It blows my mind even thinking about this, but look, this is Chloe, for fuck’s sake.

You’ve seen her. You’re heard her adorable little laugh. You know how fucking cute and sexy and all encompassingly overwhelming she can be.

So can you blame me?

Didn’t think so.

And even crazier? I can even see that perfect little picture I’ve held in my mind for so long. The one where it’s Ben and me—with a woman who can love us both. I’ve got to be out of my mind to want that woman to be Chloe.

But there it is.

That’s what I want.

I just have no fucking clue how to get it.

* * *

Chloe comes out of the bathroom looking so damn fine, it kills me. I know she’s just done her hair, put on makeup, and shimmied into her sexy little outfit, but all I can think of is how bad I want to mess that hair up, make that makeup, and tear those fucking clothes right off of her.

The day at the spa has made her even more beautiful, if that’s even possible. It makes me want to pamper her like this for every day of the rest of her life. Let’s see how she glows after a year of luxury.

Hell, at this rate, after a week of pampering, she’ll probably be so hot, my fucking cock will explode.

Actually, I’m not going to take my cock exploding quite off the table yet for tonight. After we get dinner and this Mr. BadBoy thing sorted, I think Chloe’s excellent evening look deserves a good, hard, post-dinner fuck. If I’m destined to explode, it might as well be balls-deep in Chloe’s tight cunt.

“You ready, babe?” she asks me.

Babe. I’ve never liked it when a girl has called me that before, but out of Chloe’s sexy lips, I couldn’t imagine anything I’d like to hear more. Except for maybe, Oh, Aaron! Fuck me already. Take me now, right here on the floor! Dinner be damned…babe.

“Aaron? Helloooo.” Chloe waves her hand in front of my face, and I turn to her with a charming smile.

“Sorry. You just look so damn good in that dress I’m imagining how I’m going to get you out of it.”

“Dinner first.” Chloe giggles. “Let me get a bite to eat, and then you’re welcome to whatever you like for dessert.”

I lick my lips, tucking my phone back into my pocket. I reach over to the nightstand by the bed and order a limo to whisk us away to our evening feast.

“Is it always limos with you?” Chloe asks.

“Don’t act like you’re not impressed.” I laugh, leaping up from the bed.

Then my phone beeps again. I think it’s going to be Mr. BadBoy, possibly canceling on me again. But I’m surprised to see it’s a message from Ben.

I just stand there and stare at it.

“Everything okay?” Chloe asks, coming up beside me. Then: “Who’s Ben, and why does he love you?” There’s humor in her voice, but also confusion.

It’s as if fate is telling me now’s the time. I haven’t told her anything about him yet. What will she think? Will it scare her off?

But she’s standing there waiting expectantly, and I realize it’s now or never.

“Ben’s my son,” I say quietly, watching closely for her reaction. For any sign of what the fuck or oh hell no.

None of that is there. A little surprise, sure, because I know I just threw her for a total fucking loop. But there’s also a softness in her eyes mixed with curiosity.

“Tell me about him,” she says. “I know we’re supposed to be at dinner soon, but I want to know if you want to talk about it.”

I find that I do. So I tell her all about it. About my wife that passed away, how I was a single dad struggling to run a business and play the role of both mother and father, how he’s away at boarding school, but that I look forward to the time when he can be back with me all the time.

I stop just short of telling her that won’t be until the right woman comes along and can love him like she loves me.

Then she surprises the fuck out of me by taking my face tenderly in her hands and giving me a slow, gentle kiss.

“What was that for?” I ask.

She shrugs and gives me a small smile. “Just for proving you are real after all.”

I laugh lightly. “What does that mean?”

“Just that you have this air of mystery about you. You don’t let me in on everything. But this? It just proves to me that you’re as incredible of a man as I suspected.”

I’m totally fucking stunned. This woman is the one who’s incredible. And I know right now that I can’t let this one get away. There’s something about Chloe Colburn that screams out that she’s the one.

My entire business is built around helping people find their perfect match. And out of nowhere, this woman walked into my life, and it’s evident that she is. If I can’t recognize that, I’m a total fucking idiot.

And we all know that isn’t true.

I kiss her back, and before long, a call interrupts us to let us know the limo has arrived. We ride to the restaurant, and it’s like I can feel the change. We’ve entered new territory. And I really fucking like and want to explore it more.

At the restaurant, we order fish on Ethan’s suggestion. It flakes off at the tip of my fork gorgeously, buttery and smooth, cooked in good oil and fresh herbs.

I watch as Cassie laughs at some ridiculous joke Chloe’s just made. The conversation is all around me, and I’m wading in it, interjecting in when it’s appropriate, but for the moment, I feel a little like my head is underwater.

I’m on a fucking cloud, aware of my feelings for Chloe, but there’s also another thing I have to deal with. Something I now wish wasn’t on tonight’s agenda.

I need to figure out how I’m going to meet Mr. BadBoy without him knowing it’s me, and fast. There’s always, I guess, a wig and some lipstick as a last resort, but I have a funny feeling that I’m not exactly Mr. BadBoy’s type.

I need someone classy, beautiful, and most importantly, female.

Someone sexy and believable, like Chloe.

Or...like Chloe’s twin. Yes. Oh my fucking God, yes, that’s it.

When Ethan gets up to talk to the manager about the wine list and Chloe slips away to the bathroom to touch up her lipstick, I see my chance and jump on it.

“Cassie,” I say, scooting my chair over next to her and glancing around to make sure we’re not overheard. “How would you feel about doing me a…very small favor?”

“A hundred bucks,” Cassie says.

“What?” I raise an eyebrow. “Do you want to know…what the favor is, or anything?”

“Sure.” Cassie nods amicably. “But it’ll cost you a hundred bucks.”

“You’re dating a billionaire.” I laugh, slipping the money out of my wallet.

“Yeah, but it amuses me to take your money,” Cassie says, smug as she tucks the hundred into her top. “So, what’s the deal?”

“I’m investigating a…client,” I explain, doing my best to leave details vague.

“Is this where you tell me what you do for a living?”

“He goes by the name ‘Mr. BadBoy.’”

Cassie wrinkles her nose in delight.

“Oh my God. I knew you were into some weird shit.”

“You have no idea.” I laugh, shaking my head.

Sending Cassie in place of Ms. Winters is a perfect idea. Mr. BadBoy will be expecting a girl, after all, and Cassie is a hell of a girl.

Plus, she’s almost as good-looking as Chloe is. And Chloe is pretty fucking fine. I know that if sexy-ass Chloe came up to me introducing herself as the saucy, irresistible Ms. Winters, I wouldn’t think twice.

And neither will he.