What in the name of all that was holy was she doing here?

Fuck, had she stalked me here? Found my address somehow and gotten into the community?

I glanced past her, down to the road, spotted a little red Nissan sitting out there, parked on the verge, and nothing else. No one else. It felt like a fucking prank.

There was a damn good reason we’d agreed to one night and nothing more. Damn good reason we didn’t want to complicate our lives by being with each other.

“What are you doing here?” I grunted, focusing on her again. Even that was difficult. Christ, she was gorgeous. Too attractive, even through my rage at the fact that she was here. She wore a plain white blouse and a neat pencil skirt. Her collar was only slightly open, completely modest, no hint of cleavage in sight. Two delicate silver earrings in her ears, her dark hair tied back in a high pony tail. Hardly any make up.

Still as perfect as I remembered. I blocked those visions from streaming back now. Focus on this. Get her out of here.

“I—” She cleared her throat and adjusted her grip on a tote bag. “Wait a minute. What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” I replied, stiffly. “Is this your idea of a joke, Riley? I’m not laughing. We agreed we’d keep our distance. We agreed that our lives are too messed up to be involved with each other. We were clear on that.”

“Can you just—” She broke off mid-sentence again and opened her bag, reached inside it and rummaged around. “Where’s my cell? I left it in the car, shoot.”

“Your cell? Who cares about your cell? Riley, focus on me,” I said, firmly.

She looked up again, spearing me with those gorgeous hazel eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be here. Who told you where I live? How did you find me?” I’d worked damn hard to ensure my personal information wasn’t out there. One of the perks of being the owner slash CEO of a successful tech company. Frankly, it wasn’t just the fact that she was here that was worrying, it was the fact that there’d been some type of security leak.

Fuck that. It’s the fact that she’s here and has the potential to ruin everything. Ruin me.

I wouldn’t allow it.

“Not supposed to be here,” Riley said and swallowed again, blinking. “This isn’t right. This is all—what the hell? No. This can’t be happening.”

“It’s not happening,” I said. “You need to leave.” As much as it killed me to say it. An agreement was an agreement, and if this was how she’d act about it, then I’d call the whole thing off. Delete my #dateme app profile. Christ, I’d only created the damn thing to test out the features for myself. Research and Development had had questions and testing set up, and I’d insisted on being a part of it. It was my app, after all, representative of my company.

She held her ground, squared her shoulders as she’d done a month ago, a move I’d found entirely irresistible then. “Hold up.”

“Riley.”

“No, there’s got to be an explanation for this. If I run back to my car and get my cellphone, I can work this out, I’m sure. I must have come to the wrong address, that’s all.”

I blinked. So, she didn’t mean to be here? No fucking way. That was too big of a coincidence. Or it’s plain serendipity. I snuffed that out—didn’t believe in that crap.

“I don’t get it,” she said, the confusion scrawled across her forehead. It cleared, and she flicked that hazel gaze to me again. “Wait one hot second here, did you just accuse me of stalking you?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Of course. How else would you be here?” I didn’t have time for this, anyway. I had an appointment due right now, in fact.

“Well, thanks for judging my personality so easily, damn,” she replied. “I’m not here for you, Bryan.” Riley was stiff as a board now and speaking through gritted teeth. “I came to meet with my best friend’s brother, Roman Washington. I told you over the app, I have an interview today.”

I gripped the doorjamb and dug my fingers into it. This could not be happening. Not today. Not now. I checked my watch. Carly would be home in an hour, and I’d planned on introducing her new nanny to her then. This was disastrous.

“Hello!?” Riley clapped her hands. “Sorry, but you’re spacing out and I’m seriously late for my interview. I can’t even deal with this right now, I just—look, can you point me in the direction of Mr. Washington’s house, so that I can go see him? This is kind of a big deal for me, OK?”

“Why?” I asked. “Why’s it a big deal?”

“Seriously? You want me to talk about that now? I’m in a rush.”

“Just tell me, Riley.” I still didn’t quite believe this had happened, and that she hadn’t miraculously set this up. But then, why would she? She hadn’t faked anything with me thus far. Shit, should I have given her the benefit of the doubt? No, my paranoia far outweighed that part of my brain, and with good reason.

She inhaled sharply, dragged her tote to the front of her body and patted it against herself. “Because it’s what I want to do with my life. I want to work with children. I’m going to be a nanny first, then work my way up to being a high school teacher once I have enough money to study for my bachelor’s in—”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” I asked. She’d always been up late, but I’d assumed it was her restaurant shifts, not that she’d been studying.

“Why would I?” she countered. “We don’t talk about that kind of stuff, ever since… you know. It’s just not what we want to do. Keep it light, remember?” She shifted from one pump to the other on my front porch. So real, so here, and so blameless in this. Fuck! “Now that I’ve answered your questions. Bryan, could you kindly point me in the direction of Mr. Washington’s house?” She checked her watch. “Great. Now, I’m late. That’s going to make a good impression.”

“You’re at Mr. Washington’s house,” I replied.

She blinked at me, blankness descending over her expression.

“I’m Roman Washington,” I said. “That was the name I used to go by. I changed it. I’m Bryan Rome, now.”

“What?” The word dripped from her lips, exactly the opposite of what I wanted her to say. “Why?” Double whammy. Shit.

“It’s complicated. The reason isn’t important now. Regardless, I needed a fresh start, and this name was it. For both me and my daughter, Carly.”

“Oh my god,” Riley whispered, shaking her head. “Oh my god, this is seriously happening? This is happening?” She barked a rough laugh, then gripped her ponytail and tugged it, lightly. “This is actually happening. I can’t believe it.”

“I know,” I said. “I had no idea you’re the friend my sister was talking about. I don’t have a lot of time to spend with family.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, she told me that. She barely discusses her family life. She—your sister’s a great person, Bryan, I mean Mr. Washington. Oh god.”

“Bryan is fine,” I replied.

“She’s a good person, and she had no idea, obviously, that this would happen. She didn’t even know about the whole app chat thing. Not that it matters. Not that—” She inhaled deeply, held it, then released the breath again. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

“I didn’t tell you for a reason. We said—”

“I know what we said,” she replied, evenly. “We don’t need to rehash it. Anyway, the point is, this can’t happen anymore.”

My pulse picked up, and I gripped the doorjamb harder, my knuckles whitening. “What are you talking about?”

Riley stared me dead in the eye. “Naturally, I can’t be your nanny. So, I’m sorry for this terrible mix-up, and I’ll be out of your way now. Thank you for the opportunity.” Totally professional and cold, but there was something there, in her eyes, a softness. A brokenness.

What had she told me? A week ago, she’d mentioned that all she wanted was to follow her goals, and that one day, it would happen for her. That nothing else mattered. And then I’d made a joke and lightened the mood, and she’d joked back. We’d wound up sexting.

“Riley.”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to be OK?” I asked. I couldn’t offer her the job now. That was ridiculous. She was the woman I’d nearly fallen for. The one I’d held back from connecting with emotionally, because she was so damn perfect, so beautiful, so mysterious.

She couldn’t be the one who looked after my baby girl. Carly was my entire world, and I wouldn’t risk any harm, physical, mental, or otherwise, in any way shape or form. How much harm can she do? Riley’s pure. She’s good. She cares. She’s—I cut off the thoughts, ruthlessly.

Riley had taken a few steps back and folded her arms across her chest. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’d better go.” She turned away and made for that glittering red Nissan.

I chased after her, caught her arm, and turned her back around. “Wait,” I said, studying her face, her pale, long neck, her everything. Fuck, why did she have to be so gorgeous? Strong and soft all wrapped in one? And focused.

“I have to go,” she said, and swallowed, tears welling in her eyes.

“You’re crying.”

“It’s nothing,” she replied and swept her free hand beneath either eye to check she hadn’t wet her cheeks too much.

“What’s going on?”

“This was a big deal to me.” Riley sniffed and forced a bright smile. “I wanted this to be the first step on the path, but, you know what? It’s fine. This is just another obstacle on the path. I—shit, you don’t need to hear this. Just forget it. I gotta go.” She turned again, and I tightened my grip, spun her toward me.

“Don’t go,” I growled.

The overwhelming pressure that had started up in my chest the minute I’d opened the front door and seen her standing there exploded through me. The silkiness of her skin beneath my fingertips, the daintiness of her arm.

“Bryan.”

I kissed her before she could get another complaint out of that perfect, soft mouth, and my entire fucking universe exploded.