I don’t like Jeff Doon, but as far as I know, he doesn’t need killing. That could change at any moment, though.

Doon is harmless but so fucking transparent. I don’t know how Temperance doesn’t realize that he obviously told poor Louise she wasn’t allowed to come, until Doon himself sits down at the last remaining male spot just before the first round of speed dating starts. When he slides into that seat, I swear we could power this entire city off her glare—one Doon completely misses.

Even if she were single, the man wouldn’t have a chance. He’s attempting to jump from Little League to the majors, and that shit doesn’t happen.

I had to google speed dating when Temperance first told me about this event, because I didn’t have a clue what it was. Strangers sit down at tables, and one group moves every five minutes. During the five minutes two people are at the same table, they have the quickest blind date in the history of blind dates.

It wouldn’t surprise me if Doon signed up Louise as a fake participant just to leave an empty spot. Most likely, he had to figure Keira was going to be here and Temperance could easily fill in. The fact that he was desperate enough to suggest her brand-new assistant handle things tells me that Doon may have orchestrated this whole event just to have five minutes of uninterrupted time with Temperance.

I’m not faulting the guy’s taste—I’d do a hell of a lot more than set up a fake dating event to get some time alone with her.

Unlike her douchebag of a posturing ex, Doon doesn’t trip even my first wire for a harsh reaction. He’d need six lifetimes, not five minutes, to get a date with a woman like Temperance. And if I pulled a gun on him like I did the guy at the scrap yard, he’d piss himself, then faint.

I shift, once again making a circuit of the room to pretend like I’m keeping tabs on everything, but I’m really only keeping tabs on Temperance.

Even though I have no concerns about Doon, I’m not about to leave her without protection.

I’m watching Doon and Temperance so closely, it takes me longer than it should to realize there’s another man paying way too much fucking attention to Temperance as she speaks to all these different guys who no doubt want to take her home tonight.

I switch positions so I can watch him watching her. He’s at the bar, and he’s taken one of the two seats that have a vantage point from the main area of the restaurant into the closed section where the event is happening. Unless my instincts have completely gone to shit, he’s been nursing the same glass of whiskey for a while, because he waves off the bartender as she asks him again if he needs anything. Forties. Dark hair going gray at the temples. Narrow shoulders. He pretends to play with his phone, but mostly he watches Temperance.

I’m not in a position where I can get a picture of him to run through facial rec software, so I can’t get an ID yet, but I will unless he bolts. There’s no way in hell Temperance is walking out of here without me knowing who the hell he is and why he hasn’t stopped watching her.

My gut says he’s working for the trafficking ring that’s after Ransom, but I can’t prove it.

The five-minute interval is finally up and the men are forced to rotate. I do a quick count and wonder how much longer this crazy shit is going to go on.

More than one woman participating in the speed dating has cast a glance my way, but they’re looking in the wrong direction. To me, they’re all potential threats, and nothing more.

The only woman in this room who matters is the one I can’t get enough of—in bed or out.

Ever since Temperance picked up that kava bowl, I’ve pictured her on the deck of my house in Fiji, overlooking the ocean and the reef, her hair blowing in the breeze before she sinks into the pool to float away the day.

I was shocked she’s never left the state of Louisiana, but after her explanation, it makes sense. Wanderlust is a bug I can’t shake, and even though I have the warehouse here in New Orleans, I have houses in four other countries, and I like to spend time at each of them every year. I want to be the one to take her to those places. Experience them again for the first time by seeing them through her eyes.

She’d love the waterfall that splashes into the jungle cenote on my property in Mexico. We’d swim naked in the cold, fresh water and eat mangos from the tree in my garden, before shooting the world’s best tequila and fucking under the glass ceiling in the bedroom until the stars came out.

She’d stare in wonder at the Alps from the living room of my mountaintop château in Chamonix, France. I can picture her bundled up in a sweater, holding a mug of steaming hot chocolate, sitting in front of the massive stone fireplace.

And Spain . . . I can picture her drunk on incredible wine after we gorge on paella and watch the sun set over the water from my villa.

I want to see her in all those places. Places I’ve never brought another human being. Places I’ve never wanted to bring another human until now.

Temperance changed that. She’s changing me.

But neither of us can change the consequences her brother’s actions have unleashed.