The man was an absolute conundrum to me.

All I knew was that the closer he moved to me, the stronger the pressure and fluttering in my lower abdomen got. I crossed and uncrossed my legs under the table, trying to do it without him noticing, but he appeared to catch everything.

Looking at him too long was a huge problem. The heat in his eyes when he gazed at me was a shock. So on to business and then I could get the hell out of here before I started rambling like an idiot. “You mentioned your sister’s manuscript?” His sexy little snicker danced across my skin, raising the hairs on my arms.

“All right, let’s get down to it. You did good, by the way. I appreciate the honesty.”

What? I peeked up at him. “Why wouldn’t I be honest with you? You were.”

He shook his head as he smiled, but didn’t look at me. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Why would you say that?” Being honest was going to kill him?

“Honesty is rare these days. So, my sister’s a literature professor, but she’s a closet romance junkie. Always wanted to write. After three kids, she’s decided to do it. For some reason, she trusts me to give her the ‘male perspective,’ probably because I’m no bullshit—”

“Who? You?” I couldn’t help it. He’d definitely proved he didn’t sugarcoat a damn thing.

“Smartass.” He chuckled. “Kind of hot, sweetness.”

Why did I blush like a damn pre-teen when he called me that? I hated men who called women “sweetness,” but with him, it came out so . . . sexy. Focus! Back to business. “So you, being the good brother and all, offered to read it?”

“I don’t remember the offering part. Older sisters. They kind of guilt you into things, throw shit at you, and tell you to get it done. I have a soft spot for my sisters, so I couldn’t say no. The problem, why I need you, is that I don’t know what to do with this thing.” He lifted a good-sized manuscript from his gym bag and dropped it on the table.

“Is she good?” I ran my hand over the cover. God, I missed working with hard copies.

“Babe.” His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “It’s fucking erotica—some kind of graphic, dark shit that my damn sister wrote. I’m a dude. We have the internet for a reason. We don’t need to read it.”

The genuine horror on his face that his sister wrote erotica was priceless, and I pressed my lips together to stop the laugh. He was . . . fun. While his reaction was stereotypical male, his audacity was kind of sweet. I didn’t have siblings, but I could understand a brother not wanting to read his sister’s erotic novel. And if she wrote anything like the queries I’d been receiving for the new line, cardiac arrest wasn’t out of the question.

“Well, has she sent out any query letters to editors or agents?” I tried to keep my amusement in check, but amusement turned to something . . . heated the second his eyes locked on to my mouth and he smirked at me.

“She’s too paranoid. Doesn’t think it’s good enough. So . . . ” He lifted his eyes back to mine. “I’m the one she wants to make the call, but I don’t know shit about it.”

I shouldn’t have accepted, but I honestly felt sorry for him . . . and I did have my own little problem I needed assistance with. But did I have the courage to ask him? “I can’t promise I’d have it back this week, but if you give it to me, I’ll take a look at it. Be warned, Jaxx. If I do this, I will be honest with you regarding her options.”

“I’d expect nothing less, and I’d be in your debt.”

Perfect. And yet I still feel like an evil cougar . . .

I nodded to him. “Okay, then.”

The warm smile and ease in his facial features was almost hypnotic until he tilted his head at my computer bag, then the manuscript. “Hardcopy okay, or would you rather have an emailed document?”

Business. Right. This didn’t make my head hurt as much as staring at him did. The tension in my shoulders eased and I leaned back against the cushions once again. The heat of his arm behind my head warmed my hair, but I forced myself to stay still, because honestly, I kind of liked it there. Besides, if I moved any farther away from him, I’d fall off the damn seat and land on my ass. “Since I’m just reading, I’ll take the hardcopy with me.”

He nodded. “Thank you for doing this.”

“No problem. I wouldn’t want your world rocked knowing your sister probably thinks dirtier than you do.”

“The fuck she does.” He laughed.

Men. I shook my head. “Why is it men freak out when women express themselves sexually? Writing provides an outlet for some women. If you ask me, men should read romance novels. They might learn a thing or two.” I smiled so he knew I was joking with him—kind of—but oh, was that the wrong move.

He leaned in and covered my hand with his. “First, we’re talking about my sister expressing herself sexually, so yeah, no. Any woman not related to me, I’m all about equal rights on sexual expression. Second, I’m going to ignore the huge fuckin’ generalization on men, because I’m inclined to agree with you about a good majority of the tools out there. That said, some of us are just born with a gift.” His eyes dropped to my lips.

I might’ve actually stopped breathing.

“No romance novel, manual, or how-to-book required.”

Wretched hell! I deserved that for teasing him. I needed a distraction—fast.

Quickly, I took my hand back and dug through my purse. I pulled out my cards, completely ignoring his little speech, which while cocky as shit, I’d have bet my house was close to gospel, in his case. Dear God, please don’t let my hands sweat.

“Here’s my card. After I read it, if your sister wants to talk to me, I’d be more than happy speak with her.” I pointed at him. “No promises, though. Just hold on to it for now, please.”

“Yeah. Of course, I appreciate it. Between us.” His fingers caressed the tops of mine when I slid the card over to him.

I didn’t immediately pull my hand back, but slowly eased it over in front of me again. The heat of his soft, yet callused fingers lingered on my skin like when the sun initially burns, but then dulls to a comforting warmth. His hands were mammoth, and they felt like he’d done manual labor at some point. One of his hands could definitely hold both my wrists . . .

Jesus! Where did that come from? Slutty much? Way too much erotica talk . . . My heartbeat drummed through my head . . . and lower.

He moved his hand from the back of the bench and gently tucked a stray hair behind my ear before leaning forward, his face inches from mine and to my amazement, I was okay with it

“After you told me what you did, I did my research. I know you edit for one of the top five houses in the U.S., Valentina. Name your price. You’re doing me a favor that’s gonna take time from your clients, and I won’t have you do it for free.”

Out of all the insane and crazed thoughts I’d ever had, this was about to be the worst. I couldn’t take money from him. I was simply doing a favor, because this manuscript didn’t come to me through the proper channels. Ethics. I couldn’t work on it. Yes, it would take time from my clients, but I read fast, I didn’t need the money and I just couldn’t say no to the man.

I took a long drink of my coffee, letting it burn down my throat for courage.

“Jaxx . . . I don’t mind reading your sister’s manuscript, but I can’t properly edit it. I can’t work on it. It’s just my opinion you’re getting. If she wanted to go through the proper submission procedures with my house, then yes, given the genre, it would either come to me or one of my junior editors.”

He sat back, putting a little distance between us.

Green. His eyes were that beautiful golden green today. I had a hard time staying focused just looking at him.

“Ah, shit. Right, I didn’t consider conflict of interest. I don’t want to cause a problem.”

I put a hand on his forearm. We both dropped our eyes to my hand at the same time, and I pulled away fast. I didn’t think. I’d just reacted. And I’d touched him. I cleared my throat. “No. You didn’t let me finish. I’ll read it. I just can’t take money for it.”

“You can’t do it for free, even if it is just your opinion.”

I nodded and glanced at my intertwined hands on the table.

Just ask him!

“How about . . . How about we trade services, so to-speak?”

He arched an eyebrow, and that deadly smirk that made my thighs quiver slashed across his mouth. “I’m all about trading services, sugar. What do you have in mind?”

“Not that! Is—is that what you thought I meant?” I recoiled with a hand at my throat. Did I actually have an inner slut I was unaware of that allowed innuendos like “trade services” out of my mouth? In seconds, my skin grew so hot my hand burned.

A rich, hearty laugh rumbled from his chest and out of his perfect mouth. “You, are a serious buzzkill. But yes, I know what you meant. What do you need? Name it.”

I took a deep breath, stalling to find the right words to say without sounding desperate or like an idiot. How could I put this?

His warm hand covered one of mine and squeezed. “Just say it.”

Screw it. “So, I have this Christmas party, which isn’t really a Christmas party, since it’s now January, but that’s what they’re calling it, and it’s in LA this year. Anyway, it’s next weekend. Saturday. I hate these things, and my best friend usually goes everywhere with me for work. When I have to travel or attend these functions, she’s my go-to, but my boss says it’d be better if it were a man. A date. But it doesn’t have to be a date. I just need your body—no! I mean, I just need a male. So if you don’t have your children next weekend and you’re not—”

His loud, boisterous laugh cut me off and my shoulders dropped.

Oh, well handled, Ace.

“Yes. I’ll go with you. My kids are with their mother next weekend. They got something going on with her, so we switched. Was that so hard?”

You have no fucking idea!

All the tension drained out of my shoulders and chest. “Thank you, but, it’s black tie.” I peeked at him to see the impact. Most men hated tuxes or suits.

“Is a suit cool?”

“Of course. Yes.” And I bet you look absolutely amazing in a suit.

With a nod, he drained the last of his coffee. “I think you’re letting me off easy. I’m in, but me in a suit is definitely not a fair trade in the favors department. Just sayin’.” He checked his phone. “I have my daughter’s softball game in an hour, so I have to take off, but thank you. Thank you for doing this for me.”

I jumped up and gathered both our cups. “Not at all. Thank you, although I’m sure you’ll be cursing me when you’re at a table with stuffy executives and horrifically rich food.”

I twisted around to throw the cups away. When I turned back to the table, he was right in front of me. Our chests were inches apart.

“Hey, I’m sorry I have to rush off—”

Shaking my head furiously, I took a step back and found I couldn’t. The damn trash can blocked any retreat. Jeez, having him this close did stupid things to my heart rate and unthinkable, delicious things to every other part of my body. “Don’t be. It’s your daughter.”

He was so far into my personal space that breathing became an issue. And I didn’t hate it.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

I looked down at my feet and casually wiped my palms on my jeans. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

His finger came into my field of vision and touched just under my chin. Softly, he lifted until my eyes met his. “Are you okay being this close to me?”

His eyes drilled into mine, and for the life of me, I couldn’t look away, so I went with my gut response. “Yes.” It must have come out a whisper, because he dropped his head closer to mine.

The sexy smirk was back, and I had the distinct feeling I may have to go home and change my panties, which was something I hadn’t felt in . . . Who the hell knew how long?

“I don’t know why I make you nervous, Valentina, but if you trust me enough to escort you to this work function, trust me enough to not hurt you. I was going to say, I’m sorry I have to rush off, because I like talking to you and I’d like to know more about you.” He brushed his thumb over my cheek as he let go of my chin.

A strange emptiness settled deep in the pit of my stomach at the loss of his touch, completely irrational and illogical. He was unexpectedly gentle for such a gigantic man. “Me too,” I blurted before I said something ridiculous and awkward, or before he noticed that my nipples were about to poke through the damn material of my way-too-thin shirt.

We left the coffee shop, and he walked me to my car before going to his. I got in, and right before he closed my door, he held it and leaned down to me. “Yeah, and for the record, I’m more than okay with you ‘just needing my body.’”

I opened my mouth, but he shut the door before I could get a word out. All I could do was stare as he walked across the parking lot, his huge back quivering from laughing so hard.

What the hell did you just get yourself into?