I clicked on my phone and scrolled through the email that had come through from the college admissions office one more time. As if that would make the number appear any smaller.

$11,000

For one semester.

Well, maybe it wasn’t quite eleven thousand. I was rounding up. But only by a few dollars. Not enough to make any real difference. The number still made me sick to my stomach. Where the hell was I going to come up with that kind of money to pay my tuition? How on earth did colleges and universities expect young people to be able to pay this kind of money?

The whole reason I was trying to get my degree in engineering was so I would be able to make actual money. I didn’t have money yet. Not enough to pay for four years of school at that price tag.

I had enough saved for the first semester.

Almost.

A few hundred more and I’d be able to finish buying my books. I’d be okay.

For now.

But there was no way I could pay that bill next year. I’d been counting on student loans. It was never ideal to go into debt to pay for school, but it’s not as if I had a choice. It was my only option. At least, it had been until they’d turned me down. The bank claimed my mother made too much money for me to qualify. They didn’t seem to care that I hadn’t spoken to my mother for over a year and even if she knew I was planning to go to school, which she most certainly didn’t, she wouldn’t give me a penny.

She’d been more than happy when I finally turned eighteen and she’d been able to kick me out so she could travel with whatever rich old guy she was currently fucking. It was fine by me. I’d been doing just fine without her, living with a group of girls in a two-bedroom apartment, saving up money so I could make my own way. Without her.

Hell, in spite of her.

Not that it mattered now.

“Fuck.” I slammed my phone down in frustration and then immediately looked around to see whether anyone had seen me.

It might not be all that glamorous, but I was dammed lucky to have my job in the pro shop of an exclusive country club. At the moment, it was the only job I had. It might not be enough to earn the kind of cash I needed, but it was better than nothing and I couldn’t afford to lose it.

If the manager caught me cursing, I was definitely going to catch shit. Fortunately, there was only one older woman browsing through the racks of golf shirts, and she didn’t seem to have heard me.

Feeling a little guilty for slacking off, I went to assist her in finding just the right shade of coral, and rang her purchase through the till. She handed me a one hundred dollar bill to pay for the forty-dollar shirt, and didn’t even bother looking at her change when I gave it to her. It would have been so easy to short her. She never would notice a few dollars missing, and maybe I could at least pay for my—

No, Abby! I chastised myself while at the same time putting on a bright smile for the customer. “Have a lovely day.”

I held my fake smile until the woman left and then I sagged against the counter.

Fuck. Double fuck.

I could not start stealing. After all, I did have morals and…fuck morals. I needed the cash. Besides, it’s not like my morals were totally untouchable. For a brief period, I’d even considered stripping like my friend Danielle did. She was putting herself through school, too. Only she was doing it in style. No money troubles for her. I couldn’t even fathom the amount of cash she could make in only one night. It was intriguing to be sure. Hell, it was more than intriguing. At her urging, I’d tried it out one night. My only problem was I had no rhythm. Like, zero. And as it turns out, you need at least a little if you want to get stage time.

It’s okay, Abby. You’ll figure something out. You always do.

I gave myself a nice little pep talk and did my best to put my money troubles out of my mind. At least for a little while. I focused on stocking the shelves and changing out displays until my shift was over and I could go home. I was standing on a step stool, doing my best to reach for the bust of a mannequin dummy that needed a fresh shirt display, when I heard his rough voice.

“You should be careful up there. It’s not safe to stand on a ladder without someone spotting you.”

I spooked and lost my footing a little, causing the ladder beneath me to jiggle. I let out a little shriek, but then found my footing when the ladder became stable again. I looked down to see an incredibly handsome man directly beneath me, one hand on each arm of the ladder, his face pointed up—giving him a fantastic view up my short khaki uniform skirt.

The blush in my cheeks came hard and fast. I grabbed the mannequin with one hand and quickly made my way to the floor. “Thank you.”

He grunted in acceptance, but didn’t move away, leaving me boxed in between the ladder and his hard chest. He was tall, with a wide, broad chest and thick, muscular arms that—despite the fact that he easily had twenty years on me—sent a thrill through me, right between my legs. There was something about a big, strong man that never failed to turn me on. Granted, the men I usually were attracted to were usually in their twenties. Despite the fact that he looked to be at least in his forties—judging by the streak of gray in his thick, black hair—his dark eyes and the way they were boring into me were definitely making my panties wet.

“You shouldn’t be putting yourself in danger like that.”

He looked at me, a disapproving smirk on his face, as though he were scolding a child. It was ridiculous, but something about that made me unreasonably excited.

“Thank you, Mr….”

“Conrad. Phillip Conrad.”

As soon as I heard his name, I recognized him from around the club. He’d never before been in the pro shop, but I’d definitely noticed him from afar, but only in a vague, damn that man is sexy from a distance kind of way. And I was right, too. He was fucking hot. His age, whatever it was, didn’t matter one bit because when a man exuded as much confidence as Phillip Conrad did, I was pretty sure he could be sixty and I’d still want him on top of me.

I forced myself to stop thinking of the man who still stood in front of me in such a way. After all, besides having recognized his sexiness, I mostly recognized his name. He was the Phillip Conrad. One of the most important, and wealthiest, members of the club. And that’s exactly how I should be thinking of him. In fact, it was the only way I should be thinking of him.

“Yes, Mr. Conrad.” I nodded demurely and half thought I should curtsey, but that would have just been stupid. “You’re right. Next time I’ll have someone hold the ladder.”

He eyed me for a moment with a look I couldn’t quite read. Just when I was starting to think I should go back to work, he took off his suit jacket and handed it to me. “I forgot to return this to the restaurant,” he said. “It’s a ridiculous dress code. You’d think since I spend thousands of dollars here every bloody day that they’d let it slide.”

“Rules are rules,” I said, just the way I was supposed to, even though I agreed with him. Phillip Conrad was known to routinely tip extravagant amounts in the bar and restaurant. If only I could get transferred there and away from the stupid pro shop, a lot of my troubles would be over. At least financially. But I knew how lucky I was to have the job I did have. It was a good one, and it could always lead to bigger and better things.

I took the jacket from him and laid it over my arm. “I’ll return it right away, Mr. Conrad.”

For a moment, I thought he might say something else. His lips turned up in a very slight, very sexy grin, and then he nodded before he turned to leave.

I watched him walk away. No, I watched his firm ass as he walked away. Damn.

As soon as he left the shop, I let out a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding and returned to the till to find something to occupy my time until I could close up. The sooner I could put Mr. Conrad and his ass out of my mind, the better I’d be.

I’d return the coat on my way out. The restaurant had a ton of loaner coats for guests who forgot the dress code or like Mr. Conrad, just refused to comply. They wouldn’t miss this one for another hour or so. I tossed the coat up on the counter and something fell out of the pocket. The second I bent down to pick it up, my heart raced.

Mr. Conrad’s money clip.

He must have forgotten it. I picked up the thick stack of bills. And holy shit was it thick. There must have been thousands of dollars there. I flicked through it quickly, mentally adding up the numbers.

“Oh my God.”

I counted again. Slower this time.

Twenty thousand dollars. And he’d just forgotten it as if it were nothing.

What was clearly pocket change to that man could pay for two whole semesters of my college education.

Or maybe only half of it could pay for one?

The idea was intoxicating.

And so very, very wrong.

But was it really?

Mr. Conrad wouldn’t miss it, and it would be a life changer for me. I’d be able to breathe again. I wouldn’t have to drop out of school. Really, it would be an act of charity.

Only the donor would never know.

Not that it mattered.

I fingered the bills again, and before I could chicken out, peeled off half of them, stuffing them into the only place I could think of—my bra.

Holy shit! What had I just done?

If anyone found out, it could cost me my job. Hell, I could go to jail. It could cost me everything. But…it was just so easy.

And nobody would get hurt. Mr. Conrad was richer than God. He wouldn’t—

A hand clamped around my arm like a vise. Mr. Conrad’s rough voice rumbled through me. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”