Brett grabbed Kelsey and pulled her inside his apartment. She stumbled a little, but he managed to keep kissing her even as he shut the door and turned her around and pressed her against it. Yes, she thought, over and over. Yes, yes, yes, YES, YES! How could she even have thought of denying herself this? How?

"We're not going to have any more talk about assault, are we?" he asked between kisses.

"No," she said, breathing hard. "No more of that."

"Thank God."

He kissed her all the way into his bedroom, where she fell backward onto the bed with his lips barely leaving hers. And then he was pulling her clothes off and taking his off, too. It was exciting. Thrilling. Breathtaking. Sex at the speed of light, with hands and lips and tongues all over the place.

She wanted him. Now.

He grabbed a condom, barely putting it on before she reached for him again and pulled him on top of her. He slid inside her, and it astonished her that she was already so slick and wet. He moved, thrusting hard, breathing hard. Beneath her hands, his back muscles tightened, released, and tightened again as he drove her higher and higher. He murmured to her, words of affection and encouragement, and hearing his voice in the dark was the most intoxicating, most carnal, most orgasm‑inducing thing she'd ever experienced.

And then she was coming.

She felt as if he’d pushed her off a ten-story building. She might have even screamed a little as she fell, flying, swooping, sailing all the way to the ground. She realized she was clawing his back, but she just couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. She had to grab onto something because she was falling, and he was falling with her. Seconds later, they landed, then collapsed together in a boneless, satisfied heap. Brett fell to one side, limp as a dishrag, still breathing hard. He slowly turned to look at Kelsey, and that was when it struck her.

She’d just had sex with Brett Hollister.

Even after her mind returned to its pre-sex capability, it took her a bit to process that thought. At first it seemed like she’d done a good thing. Nothing that felt this good could possibly be wrong, could it?

Then she remembered. They were oil and water. Black and white. Night and day. Two people who should stay as far from each other as humanly possible so they didn’t collide and burst into flames.

But it was just sex. No big deal, right?

Who was she kidding? It was a big deal. Sex had always been a big deal to her, and she’d leaped right into it as if common sense had totally deserted her.

Then an even worse thought occurred to her. Maybe all this was because of some dumb bet he’d made with another bartender at Gianelli's. Hey, Hollister! Twenty bucks says you can’t get her into bed!

That thought drove her to scoot over and sit on the edge of the bed, and with every second that passed, she felt more desperate to get out of there. She got up and grabbed her clothes, wanting so badly to dress leisurely, blow him a kiss, and then stroll out of his bedroom as if what happened between them had meant nothing to her. Instead, she fumbled around with her jeans, finally cramming one leg into them as she hopped on one foot, then reversing the process, praying the whole time she didn't stumble and land on her ass. Then she realized, as she pulled her jeans up, she'd forgotten to put on her panties.

“Why are you getting dressed?” he asked.

“Because we’re finished.”

“Finished? One orgasm? Seriously?”

Her heart thudded hard, her knees about as strong as melted chocolate. One orgasm had practically knocked her unconscious. If he gave her another one, he’d be busted for second degree murder.

“Once is enough," Kelsey said.

“Oh, babe,” he murmured. “Once is never enough.”

Babe? She turned back, intending to tell him that a million years of evolution had taken place, and it was time his caveman mentality caught up. But now he was leaning against the headboard, his arms folded across that beautiful chest, wearing that trademark smile. He looked big and sexy and self‑assured, and it was all she could do not to rip her clothes off again and leap right back into bed with him.

She turned her back to him again, grabbing her panties from the floor and stuffing them into her jeans pocket. She pulled her shirt over her head and started for the door.

He sat up. “Kelsey—"

But she was already out of his bedroom. She had the sense of him getting up to follow her, but she was dressed and he wasn’t. She scooped her purse up from where she’d dropped it on his living room floor and raced out his door. As she crossed the hall, she fumbled for her keys, then ran into her apartment and closed the door behind her. She turned and leaned against it, clutching her hand over her heart. She still couldn't breath. She felt as if she hadn’t taken a good, solid breath since he’d given her that street corner kiss.

Had she actually done it? Had she actually had sex with Brett Hollister? She felt so damned confused. And the state of confusion was a place she hated to live.

She went to her kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She opened the cap, but instead of taking a drink, she held the cold bottle against her cheek, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. Okay. Time to think about this logically.

Conclusion: She was making way too much out of the whole thing. Yes, she’d done it. And it had been good. Quite good. Nice entertainment for the evening, but that was all. And now he was out of her system. Brett could go back to his womanizing, and she could go back to feeling sane and balanced and orderly. And when she saw him again, she'd just act as if she slept with sexy men every day of the week and twice on Sunday, but she had chosen to move on.

And that would be that.

* * *

After Kelsey left, Brett flopped onto his pillow, letting out a heavy breath of frustration. What the hell? In spite of the roundabout route they'd taken to his bed, the sex had been great—spectacular, actually—and then all she’d wanted to do was leave?

The woman was giving him whiplash.

And as much as she’d clearly wanted it, she’d also regretted it once it was over. He’d never had that happen before. He could honestly say he’d never had a woman bolt from his apartment. He was only a few months away from turning thirty. Surely that wasn’t the Age of Doom, was it? When he went from attracting women to repelling them?

He got up, grabbed his jeans, and pulled out his phone. He dialed his brother’s number. After a couple of rings, Jacob came on the line.

“Talk fast,” Jacob said, a little out of breath. “I’m under enemy fire.”

“Jacob. Lay down the squirt gun. This is serious.”

“Squirt gun? Are you kidding? I’m talking heavy artillery!”

“Then lay down the Nerf gun. I need to talk.”

“Aaaghhh! I’m hit!”

Brett heard some muffled shuffling around. Then a five-year-old voice came on the line. “I killed him dead, Uncle Brett!”

“Are you sure? Always double tap.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot.”

More shuffling around. More sounds of agony from Jacob. Then silence.

After a moment, Jacob came on the line again. “Okay. The battle’s over. I’m dead. So what do you want?”

“I have a question. Am I ugly?”

“Ugly? Hmm. Well, you’re not as good‑looking as I am, but judging you against the general population, I’d say…no.”

“Do I smell?” “I don’t know. I guess your basic body odor is relatively inoffensive.”

“Am I a bad conversationalist?”

“Does quantity count?”

“Never mind.” Brett sighed. “It’s hell to walk around with a latent defect you can’t identify.”

“So who is she?”

Brett paused. “What do you mean?” “The woman you can’t get.”

Suddenly Brett felt like the biggest loser alive. “I can get her,” he said on a sigh. “I just can’t keep her."

“Good for her.”

“What do you mean, good for her? Whose side are you on?”

"It's about time a woman made you work at it. Is she worth keeping?"

"Yeah. I think she is."

“Then quit whining. To quote the Tao of Frank, ‘Anything worth having is worth fighting for.’ So go fight.”

Then the line went dead. Brett tossed his phone aside and flopped back on the bed again, feeling no better than before he called. God. Their father and those dumb inspirational sentiments. He quoted them with all the authority of Confucius himself, as if he’d personally made them up, and then he expected his sons to live by them.

But the more Brett thought about it, the more he had to admit that maybe that particular phrase had merit. Was Kelsey worth having? He thought about what a good person she was. How she didn’t fall at his feet the way other women had been known to. And no doubt about it‑‑she had a body he wanted to get to know even better. That part was really shallow, but hey. It just meant Kelsey was the whole package, making him want her even more. The fact that she might have a hang-up or two about him, or sex, or something else he hadn’t determined yet, didn’t dissuade him.

Asking her out didn’t work. Being “nice” only made her wary or pissed her off. He had to find a way to get her to loosen up and relax and take things a little less seriously. He had no idea how to do that, but he’d find a way. She was definitely worth having. And that meant she was worth fighting for.

He smiled to himself. Or maybe worth fighting with?

* * *

The next day at noon, Kelsey sat at Johnny’s Subs having lunch with Angi. Johnny’s was even busier than usual, with wall-to-wall people, guys shouting orders behind the counter, and Johnny himself ringing up customers.

“So how did things go with Paul after you two left?” Kelsey said.

Angi shrugged nonchalantly. “Pretty good, I guess.”

“So are you seeing each other again?”

“Yeah. He asked me to dinner tonight.”

“Tell the truth. You told him to ask you to dinner.”

“Of course I did. How else is he going to learn?” She looked at the last bite of her tuna sandwich and made a face, shoving the basket aside. “That was pretty bad.”

“My BLT wasn’t so great, either,” Kelsey said.

“Why do we keep coming here?”

“Because as busy as it is, it’s not as bad as some places, and we only have an hour for lunch.” She sighed. “I wish that food truck would come back.”

“Angelo's Foot-Long Muffulettas?” Angi closed her eyes with a rapturous sigh. “I hear you on that.”

“I'd kill for one of those,” Kelsey said.

“I’ve been watching them on Facebook. They’re sticking to the Upper East Side. I wish they’d come back down here.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m going to get on Angelo’s Facebook page and beg.”

“Good idea.” Kelsey grabbed her phone and wrote on Angelo’s wall: Angelo! Come back to Midtown. You have customers waiting.

Then she thought about Brett’s friend request.

Driven by a compulsion she couldn't ignore, she looked at it again. She'd already told him she wasn't going to accept it, and the fact that he'd seen her naked didn't change anything. Did she really want to put her personal life on display for him, too, letting him see everything she’d posted for the past umpteen months—years, even? The very thought of Brett scrolling through her life freaked her out just a little too much.

“Kelsey?” Angi said. “What’s the matter?”

Kelsey snapped her gaze up. She lay her phone face down and shoved it aside. “Nothing.”

“You have a funny look on your face, like you’re going to throw up, or something.”

"I'm fine."

But was she really? Ever since she’d left Brett’s apartment, she’d imagined him wearing a big, self-satisfied grin as he told the other bartenders at Gianelli’s what they’d done. Kelsey the Cop? Yep. Nailed her.

Then came all the backslaps and high fives and other crude congratulatory male behavior. Worse, though…maybe there wouldn't be any of that. Maybe it would be more like, Kelsey the cop? Seriously, dude? How much did you have to drink?

She had to talk to somebody about this or she’d go nuts. Angi wasn’t just her partner. She was her best friend. That’s what best friends did, right? Helped put things into perspective?

“Okay, I’m not fine,” Kelsey said. “I did a crazy thing last night. But don’t worry. I’m never going to do it again.”

“You did a crazy thing? This I gotta hear.”

“Brett Hollister…”

“What about him?”

“He…well…”

“Well, what?”

“He and I kinda…last night…”

“You kinda what?”

“Had sex.”

Angi jerked upright. “You had sex with Brett Hollister?”

“Will you keep your voice down?”

“How the hell did that happen?”

“We walked home from Gianelli’s together. And then when we got to our building, it just kinda…happened.”

Angi blinked. “Seriously?”

Kelsey twisted her mouth with irritation. “Is that really so impossible to believe?”

“Well…yeah.”

“Thanks a bunch.”

“Come on, Kelsey. You know what I’m talking about.”

“What you mean is that I’m not his type.”

“Oh, hell, no. Not even close.”

“All right,” Kelsey snapped. “You’ve made your point. But it doesn’t matter. It didn't mean anything.”

“I don't get this. You had sex with that beautiful, beautiful man, and you're looking for meaning?” She leaned in, her eyes lighting up like fireworks exploding. “Tell me about it. Every single second of it. And don't leave anything out, or I'm going to reach inside your head and yank it out.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Angi sat back skeptically. “Did you or did you not have sex with him?”

“Yes. I did.”

“So how can there be nothing to tell? Was he good?”

Good? She'd had an orgasm that knocked the earth off its axis. “He was okay.”

“Okay?” Angi said, looking disappointed. “That’s it?”

Kelsey sighed. “Maybe a little better than okay.”

“That’s more like it,” Angi said. “So when are you seeing him again?”

“Never.”

“So he dumped you already?”

“No! In fact, he didn’t want me to leave.”

“So why did you?”

That was a really good question. One she was going to have to think about.

Okay, she had an answer. Because she’d been right in the beginning. It was just sex. Just sex was fine once. But past that, what did she become? The woman across the hall who answered booty calls without thinking twice? Brett seemed to be perfectly happy serving alcohol to party girls and flirting for tips. If that was the way he wanted to live his life, fine. But she didn’t want any part of it.

“Brett’s not my type. He’s not the least bit serious about anything. And he has to be pushing thirty, but he’s still a bartender. Where’s the future there?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there’s a big future there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Paul told me Jerry is opening another restaurant and making Brett general manager of Gianelli’s.”

Kelsey sat back, dumbfounded. “Brett? A manager?”

"Nobody's supposed to know yet. Paul knows only because he overheard Jerry talking to Brett. Brett told him the whole story, but Paul's not supposed to tell anyone until Jerry can have an employee meeting and announce it."

"So what is the story?"

"Jerry wants Carlos to run the new restaurant, so he's promoting Brett to Carlos's job as manager of Gianelli's. And get this. Paul said Brett is also talking to Jerry about putting up an equity stake in the company."

Kelsey was astonished. “He’s going to be a partner?”

“If they make a deal.”

“He has that kind of money?”

“Yeah. Surprised me, too. But Paul swears it’s the truth.”

Kelsey couldn't believe it. Brett wanted to buy into Gianelli’s? That was probably a smart business decision, considering the people who flocked there. But Brett Hollister? An actual businessman? She’d always assumed he had about as much depth as a drop of vodka, but now she saw him in an entirely different light. Could there be more to him than she’d ever imagined?

"Wait a minute," she said. "If Paul's not supposed to say anything, then how do you know all this?"

"You’re allowed to tell secrets to somebody you're sleeping with."

"Yeah? Where is that written?"

"Under the covers. Check it out the next time you’re doing it with Brett."

"I told you there's not going to be a next time."

"Uh-huh. "Angi rose from the table and pointed at Kelsey. “Pilates class tonight. Don’t forget.”

Kelsey rolled her eyes.

“I know. Sounds stupid. But if you’re already in shape, Sven will design a workout that’ll kick your ass.”

Kelsey was going to have to see that to believe it. She had a black belt in karate, could bench press a hundred and forty pounds, and had once done a boot camp with an ex‑Navy SEAL who believed you hadn’t had a real workout unless you threw up afterward. So what could a little stretching and bending on some strange apparatus hope to accomplish?