After lingering for a few moments, I have to pull away. I’m not ready to break our connection, but the damn rocks are killing my knees. While she rises, I find a trash can beside the nearby towel stand and do away with the condom. When I turn back, I expect to find her dressing.

Instead, she’s run stark naked into the water.

I’d ask anyone else if they were crazy, but Keeley flips a laugh at me over her shoulder, like she knows I’m wondering what the fuck she’s doing. Instantly, I see a bright happiness beaming from her face. Since that’s what she wants out of life, I feel good. Weirdly content.

“Come in the water,” she calls to me.

“I’m not skinny dipping in the ocean. What if someone calls the cops to say there’s more than one moon shining on this beach?”

Her laugh this time is heartier. “Then we sweet-talk our way out of it or go to jail, but how many times in life will we have the chance to do something like this?”

Probably not very many. She has a point.

I shuck my shoes and pants. “I must be crazy. I blame you.”

“Good.” Keeley turns to me, flashing me a full frontal of her glorious nudity. “You should.”

I just had a monster climax less than five minutes ago, but I’m already hoping my recovery time is short. I’d love to get her back to the condo, into my bed, and do every crazy, dirty, wonderful thing to her I can think of.

“I will,” I promise as I head into the brisk Hawaiian water.

Her smile—whether she means it or not—looks sultry. “I love being a dangerous woman.”

Though she sometimes seems so sweet I could get a cavity, I sense her wild side just under the surface. The male animal in me wants to feel her again. Tame her—at least for an hour or two.

I take her hand. With the other, she bends to splash me.

“You want a fight?” I challenge.

“Maybe…”

She’s flirting. I love it. I’m never playful after sex. Most of my partners get their clothes on and leave, which is a relief. Tiffanii always showered the smell of sex—of me—off her body before she rolled over and went to sleep. In fairness, as a flight attendant, she often had to be up by four to work the 6:30 a.m. flight to Honolulu. Still, it pissed me off.

But Keeley wants to…frolic. I can’t think of a better word. She’s splashing and giggling and enjoying life.

It’s contagious. I smile and splatter her with water in return.

With a sigh, she falls against me, still grinning, then steals a kiss. She’s gone before I can pull her in closer, staring out at the vast ocean again.

I sidle up behind her and wrap my arms around her. My lips fall to her shoulder. She’s the perfect height for me to press kisses there. She shivers in my arms.

“If you don’t stop making me happy, how are you ever going to get rid of me?”

“Who says I want to?”

She scoffs. “Oh, I know your type. If you’re too busy to come home and take advantage of this view, you’re too busy for a relationship. It’s okay. I get that you want satisfying, not meaningful.”

A few hours ago, I would have agreed with her. Now I don’t know what the hell is going on. An impulsive side of me I would have sworn didn’t exist is telling me that I should try to make something of my connection with this girl. Keeley is interesting. She holds my attention. She’s not into herself—her life, her parties, or her looks. She’s into the people around her. She’s into living. She makes me look at my life differently. Come to think of it, she’s everything I’ve never had in a woman before.

If Britta truly knew this woman, my assistant would approve.

But Griff, the thirty-million-dollar listing, and the task I need to ask of Keeley tomorrow loom. I want to keep her with me longer…but my brother will lose his shit when he meets her. He’ll fall all over himself to win her. He’ll half-ass the Stowe estate to be with her. Doesn’t that sound stupid? But trust me, it’s true. And once the Stowe heirs see he’s too busy chasing tail to chase leads, they will cut him loose. Then bam, I’m in. It’s gold. I’ll celebrate.

But I’ll be celebrating alone.

Well, not exactly. I’ll have Rob and Britta. They’ll make a pretty penny from this deal, too. And I’ll find another woman to make me feel good again, right? Now that I know how important personality and a carefree spirit are, I’ll look for those qualities.

“I may surprise you yet,” I tell her.

Not with the meaningful relationship stuff. Although…I wonder if there’s any chance she’ll agree to distract Griff and continue to sleep with me.

That sounds bad, I know. I probably shouldn’t even consider the possibility. I’m worried about asking, too. I’ve seen what she can do to a man’s gnads. It makes me shudder.

“Really?” She turns in my arms and smiles. “I think I’d like that. Now take me back to your place. It’s getting cold.”

Judging from the position of the moon and the incoming tide, midnight is fast approaching. She’s small, and the wind begins blowing. Her nipples turn hard, and I have to remind myself her reaction isn’t because she wants me again.

I’ll work on that.

I pull another round of gentleman out of my ass, scoop up her clothes, and hand them over. “You got it.”

She wraps her dress around her damp body. It clings everywhere. I stop in the middle of shaking sand out of my pants to stare. She simply sparkles.

“Hurry.” She curls her arms around herself.

I can almost hear her teeth chattering as she shoves her bra in her dress pocket and fetches the bottle of wine.

I’m looking around for my damn boxer briefs when sand pelts my back. It sticks to my skin, and I know it’s going to be impossible to get every grain off before I have to slip my clothes back on.

I whirl around to find Keeley holding in a laugh. “You threw sand at me?”

Her eyes dance. “Oops. My hand must have slipped. My bad.”

“You’re a shitty liar.”

That makes her laugh more.

I raise a brow at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you back.”

“Oh, big man with big words.”

“No. Big man with big promises.” I fumble around in my clothes until I finally find my underwear, then do my best to brush off what sand I can before thrusting them on.

“I’ll look forward to that,” she taunts.

I finish dressing and we make our way back toward my unit. She tosses the wine bottle in the nearest bin, and I grab her hand. It feels automatic. By her own admission, she likes me and doesn’t seem to mind that I’m the kind of guy who puts business first. Maybe that will work in my favor tomorrow.

When we reach the condo, I direct her to the guest suite, which has a private bath attached to the separate bedroom. Moments later, the water turns on, and after some rustling, I hear a grateful sigh. I would rather have showered with her, but I have so much sand stuck to my body, I’m not sure I can get clean without getting her dirty again. Okay, that’s not the only issue. I’m also out of condoms in my bathroom.

Once we’re both showered and in the bedroom, though? Yeah. I smile and melt under the spray of water.

As I’m stepping out, my phone rings. I look at the clock. Eleven fifty-two p.m. It’s either an emergency or an international buyer, but either way, there’s no question I’ll answer.

“Maxon Reed.” I wrap the towel around my waist.

Twenty minutes later, I hang up with the client from London who conveniently forgets about the time difference a lot and leave a quick e-mail for Britta about follow-ups from the conversation. I also tell her I’ll be in late tomorrow. I don’t say why, but I know talking to Keeley about Project Griff isn’t likely to be a five-minute process.

Once finished, I pause. I’m not hearing rustling around the rest of the condo. I get the feeling that quiet from her can be dangerous. I frown. Has she gone back to the lanai? Or fucking left me?

After throwing on some shorts and a T-shirt, I charge into the living room—and stop short at the sight of Keeley asleep on my sofa. Her damp hair is wound on top of her head in a haphazard knot. Her face is completely devoid of makeup. Without all the color and sparkle and vampy lipstick, she looks young. And really lovely. I’ve been with women who wear their cynicism all over their faces, even when they sleep. Keeley lies in repose with her hands pressed together under her cheek, every muscle in her body perfectly relaxed.

Do I ever allow my guard down this much and just let go?

I stare a moment more. Should I wake her up and move her to a bed? That strategy holds the most potential for another round of sex. I don’t want to pass up that opportunity, especially if she stops talking to me tomorrow.

“Keeley?” I shake her shoulder.

She doesn’t even open her eyes, merely swats at me with a halfhearted backhand. “Go away.”

I can barely understand her mumble. “Don’t you want a bed?” I fondle my way up her stomach to cradle a breast, and the second I get her flesh against my palm I get hard. “How about round two? C’mon, sunshine. Let me make you feel good again.”

Her little grunt is cute. “No. Happy.”

She rolls over and turns her back to me. I stand, stare, blink. Then I have to hold in a laugh. Apparently, she doesn’t like to have her sleep interrupted. Message received, loud and clear, even if I don’t like the content.

I sigh and fish a blanket out of the closet near the door, then spread it over her supine form. She lets out a contented little sigh. Her rhythmic breathing tells me she’s fallen into deep slumber.

So…I guess that’s it for tonight. I should go to bed and try to grab a few hours of sleep myself. I need to hit tomorrow hard. I have a Griff problem to solve and Keeley is key. I hope she’ll be open to remaining lovers. But from everything I learned about her, I don’t expect it. And if it’s a choice between keeping the woman or crushing my adversary…Griff is going down.

* * *

Sunlight burns through my lids as I swim to consciousness. It’s already after sunrise?

Stunned that I’ve overslept—I can’t remember the last time that happened—I open my eyes. The clock in front of me shows three glaring red numbers—9:18?

I’ve normally fielded a dozen calls by now. The damn device starts ringing in earnest at just after six most mornings, but a glance at my nightstand tells me my phone isn’t there.

Gaping, I sit up, raking a hand through my hair. I might have been disoriented a few moments ago, but I’m wide awake now.

“Good morning,” a soft female voice says beside me.

I turn to find Keeley. The previous evening rushes back to me.

So does the task before me today.

God, she looks gorgeous, face freshly scrubbed, hair falling in soft waves around her as she reads my morning paper with a glass of orange-mango juice in hand.

“Morning.” When did she get in bed beside me? “Um…”

“I hope you don’t mind. When I woke up about three, your bed looked more comfortable than the sofa, and I wanted to be with you.”

I’ve been curled up beside her for hours and I didn’t know it? I’m slipping. I wish I had a do-over so I could do her again. At the very least, enjoy that the sheets beside me are warm and smell like her. I’ve had my fun, though. I hate it, but the time has come to shift focus from pleasure to business—at least for now. “Do you know where my phone is?”

She gives me an uncertain smile. “Your text messages started dinging at ten after six this morning. When you didn’t move at all, I figured you could use the rest. So I silenced the phone and moved it to the kitchen.”

She’s let me sleep through critical business communications for the last three hours?

I leap out of bed. This is terrible. Fuck, it’s catastrophic. If there’s an issue, my chance at the Stowe listing could slip through my fingers and right into Griff’s hands so fast.

“About an hour ago, someone named Britta called and wanted you to know the world hasn’t collapsed.”

The driven Realtor in me who knows I didn’t get to number one on the island by sleeping the day away? That part of me wants to chew Keeley a new one. I don’t. She meant well. Still, I can’t quite keep my voice softer than a dull roar as I hover over her. “You silenced my phone and then answered it? What if it had been a client?”

“Relax,” she insists. “Geez, you’re so tightly wound. One of the body’s most natural healing mechanisms is sleep. You said you hadn’t had any in a long time, so when you kept snoozing through the dinging, I thought I was being considerate to let you rest. And I wouldn’t have answered, except the caller ID popped up as ‘office,’ and she rang you three times in five minutes. Is she a colleague?”

“Britta is my assistant.”

“She didn’t sound happy that I’m still here. You two have a thing?”

I shake my head. “No. I think of her like a sister. A few years ago, she was involved with…” Why am I opening this can of shit? It’s not important right now. “I need my phone.”

Keeley gestures to the bedroom door, which leads out to the kitchen.

I stomp my way across the hardwoods and pick up the device. Twelve texts, five missed calls, two voice mails, and seventeen urgent e-mails. I groan aloud as I attack everything I missed.

Surprisingly, one of the voice mails is from Britta saying that she’s handled most of the e-mails and half the phone calls. I realize the majority of the texts are follow-ups from the other missed communications.

The sky isn’t falling—yet.

The only e-mail that disturbs me is from a buddy who owns a drone used for snapping panoramic real estate photographs. He says that Griff left him a message last night, asking him to assemble a video of shots he’s taken of other oceanfront, multimillion-dollar estates around the islands. And could he have that done in under four weeks? Griff is bringing out all the fun, new weapons to seal the deal with the Stowes.

Fuck. Playtime is definitely over.

I start a cup of coffee for myself, drag in a deep breath, and shuttle my temper for two reasons: One, Keeley is hard to stay mad at. Two, if I’m going to persuade her to distract my brother, yelling won’t help. Granddad might have been a poor Nebraska farmer, but Miles Ambrose was also a damn smart man. I remember him telling me that a body would catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

As the Keurig fills the last of my mug and sends steam upward, I splash in some creamer and head back to the bedroom. I stare at her, looking so relaxed, leg bent and thigh exposed. Is she wearing one of my dress shirts? Yeah, and she looks sexy.

“Please don’t be mad,” she says softly.

“I’m not mad. I’m simply meticulous about the way I treat clients.”

“Of course. I know business is everything to you, Maxon, but there’s more to life.”

Obviously, she believes that. That’s her choice. I like the fact that she’s passionate about her point of view. I simply disagree.

I drop the argument. Annoying her doesn’t serve my purpose. It’s far more important to decide how I can bring her on to my team. Do I sweet-talk her into doing me a favor? If I give her an emotional plea, I stand a better chance of keeping my balls when I tell her what I want. She’s the kind of girl who will always help a friend. I just don’t know if she considers me one.

If that doesn’t work, I’ll move on to plan B.

“Now is an incredibly busy time, and I’m working on a deal that could make or break my future. After Griff splintered away, I could have lost my business. I already felt as if he’d stolen my girl and half my sanity. All deals are important, but if I land this one, it will cement everything I’ve worked my ass off for my whole adult life.”

“You already said you’re the most successful guy on the island. Don’t you have enough money?”

“It’s not just that.” And she should understand. She speaks fluent emotion, right? “This is about confidence, too. It’s about believing in yourself, knowing you’ve done everything to be your best. When you make moves you really feel are best for the client, the market, and your future and they’re completely rejected by your own brother, someone you loved and you swore would always love you back…” I have to take in a bracing breath to finish this sentence. Something about being near Keeley dredges up all the hurt I thought I’d shoved down. “It’s tough to recover. This deal is critical for a lot of reasons.”

That’s admitting way more than I want to.

“Oh.” She sets the paper down. “I know I don’t have a head for business, but I didn’t think of all that. Sorry.”

If she doesn’t have a head for business, I wonder what she’s studying in college. She must have some plan. “What are you majoring in?”

“Hospitality and tourism, with a minor in culinary arts. It’s taken me a few years and a lot of dropped classes to figure out what fits me. So…I’ve still got three semesters left before I graduate.”

And probably a mountain of student loan debt. That might give me some leverage—if it comes to that. “What will you do with your degree?”

She hesitates. “I have an idea. I’m excited about it…but you’ll probably laugh.”

Why the hell would she believe that? “I won’t.”

“It won’t make sense to you. You’ll think it’s silly.”

“Try me.”

She paused. “Okay. You should love what you do, right? Be happy and all that. So…I have this dream to incorporate a bunch of the stuff I love by opening a bed and breakfast on the water someday. It would be a paradise for foodies who also like yoga and the outdoors. I want to source as many of the ingredients for my meals as possible from locals. Everything I cook would be healthy but delicious. I’d have yoga in the morning, great outdoor activities like hiking and snorkeling all day, top-notch spa facilities, then guided meditation at night.”

I can see Keeley doing that. If she could get the paperwork, taxes, P & L statements and all the other stuff she’d consider boring but practical, that would be a fantastic fit.

But something about the scenario bugs me. I realize she wants to share her happy life and favorite hobbies with someone, but has seemingly subtracted a steady boyfriend or husband who will cherish her in favor of a revolving door of preppy, earnest millennial guests. Not that I’m volunteering for the role, but I wonder why. I have a feeling this answer is important if I want to understand her.

“I like it.” I sip my coffee. “Add some of your live entertainment to the mix and you might be onto something good.”

She blinks. “You think?”

“Yeah. There’s a market for resorts like that. Good online promotion could drive word of mouth, and you might create a real destination.” In fact, this concept may be the most practical idea she’s had. I wouldn’t go to a place like that—the meditation and the yoga make me roll my eyes—but I can’t deny they’re both popular activities. Add in a pretty Hawaiian beach, along with awesome food, and it could be sought-after and trendy. A moneymaker.

“Really? That’s a relief.” Keeley sighs. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told.”

She chose me to bare her dream to? I feel humbled…and guilty. I was a bit curious, sure. But mostly I wanted ammunition I might use to convince her to help me sink Griff. That probably makes me sound like a terrible human being. At least I’m honest.

I have to press forward. What else can I do? I would be stupid to put a girl I haven’t even known twenty-four hours before the business I’ve worked a lifetime to build simply because the sex was fantastic and I like her as a person. Time to put on my big boy britches. I need to compartmentalize my wants into a mental slot below my responsibilities and do my job.

“How many classes are you taking a semester? A full load?”

She shakes her head. “One or two. It’s all I can afford. And time is usually tight since I still have to earn multiple paychecks to keep a roof over my head.”

“So you’re a handful of classes short of graduation?”

“Four, yeah.” She sighs. “So close but so far away, just like my goal. Even if I get out of school soon, I’ll be stuck working for someone else while I build up enough savings to buy a place. Oceanfront won’t be cheap, and I’ll probably have to do renovations. But I’ll figure it all out eventually.”

She has dreams but lacks capital and knowledge. Now I’ve got real leverage…

Why am I feeling suddenly squeamish about using it?

Fuck that. I have to forge ahead or Griff wins. “What if we could help each other?”

“How? Do you know someone willing to be an investor?”

“Not someone. Me. I need a favor. And I could help you in return. You have goals and are lacking some resources to meet them, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m in the same position, actually. Remember I told you I was working a big deal? I’m actually in competition to list one of the premier estates on the island.” I hesitate. After Keeley bared her soul to me, this conversation is uncomfortable. Since all’s fair in business, I shove the feeling away. “I have one competitor. He’s good, but I’ll do a better job. The heirs of this estate lost their mother and want to be rid of the house quickly. I can get them top dollar. Landing this listing would give them everything they want monetarily during their time of grief while helping cement my recovery from the past. A win for everyone.”

“Where do I come in?”

I have to tread carefully. “The person I’m competing against is Griff. After romancing my ex-girlfriend so shortly after our separation, he walked away from our business and left me in a lurch. I had to start over entirely. I’m still building back. Now he’s trying to elbow me out of this critical deal.” Well, it’s sort of the other way around but… “He’ll do his best to stab me in the back again. I can’t lose.”

“I see why you two don’t talk. He doesn’t sound like a great guy.”

Actually, he can be. We were not only brothers but best friends once. One terrible week changed everything.

“He’s not the same man he used to be.” He stopped listening to me, stopped trusting. He turned even more cynical and ruthless than me.

“I’m sorry. It must have been hard. I don’t have siblings so I don’t completely understand, but…”

After losing Griff as both a business partner and a confidant all at once, I grieved as if he had died. “Damn hard, yes. So I was hoping you could help me move on. Would you be willing to lend me a hand to land this deal?”

“I won’t be much help.” She chuckles at herself. “Remember, I’ve got no head for business.”

“Don’t worry.” I flash her a smile. “I have that part down.”

Keeley shifts in the bed, sips her juice again, and pauses. “What do you want me to do?”

I brace myself with another sip of strong brew, then set the mug on my nightstand. This deserves my undivided attention.

“I know my brother well, both professionally and personally. I know his strengths and weaknesses. I know this isn’t the right listing for him…and I know how to ensure he doesn’t get it.” I clear my throat because it feels incredibly tight. I’m nervous. Damn it, this never happens to me. “He’s not good with multitasking. If you’d be willing to…distract him for a couple of weeks, he’ll lose focus and the heirs will choose me as their Realtor.”

She frowns, clearly thinking. I sit back and let her. Rushing her won’t help my cause. Suddenly, realization dawns across her face. “I’m confused. Do you want this listing…or do you want revenge?”

“I’m not trying to stab him in the back.” Much. Just enough for him to feel the sting. I don’t wish him actual harm. “It’s just business. It’s survival, in fact. I would compete hard against any other agent who wants the same seller.” And that’s true. “It’s just a coincidence that Griff and I are related. The heirs of this estate will absolutely come out on top if I list their property. But I need your help to make that happen.”

“So…this is nothing underhanded?”

“He’d do the same to me.”

“That doesn’t make it right. And you didn’t answer the question. Tell me what you mean by ‘distracting’ your brother.”

I shrug like it’s no big deal. “Talk. Be friends. Invent a few small problems he can help with. He can’t resist a damsel in distress. If you disrupt his focus for a while, I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars—cash—the minute I get the listing. Think of the student loans you can pay off or the down payment for a B and B you can start accruing interest on. That money could solve a lot of your problems.”

“Money isn’t everything.”

“Sure.” I say the words to humor her, though it’s pretty damn important in my book. “But this could turn your life around. All you have to do is say yes, and you could be starting your future.”

“What about integrity? Six figures is a lot of money simply to ‘spend time’ with your brother. In order to earn this small fortune, do I have to sleep with him, too?”

What are the odds that he won’t try to seduce her? Big, fat zero. I try not to wince. The idea that Griff might put even a finger on Keeley makes me want to punch his teeth down his throat. But I want this listing more than I want anything. Not for the money. Not even for the prestige. But I can’t let the chance to beat Griff and return the big “fuck you” slip past me because I’ve got a soft spot for this woman I barely know.

Hopefully, I can make her see that my business maneuvers have nothing to do with how much I like her.

“I’d rather you didn’t sleep with him, obviously. I had a great time last night. I usually don’t have much interest in seeing a woman beyond the morning after, but I want to see you again.”

That’s as honest as I can be. If she digs much deeper into my motives, I’ll be coughing up the details of my life tragedy and showing her all my battle scars. I never share that with anyone.

“Seriously?” She sounds incredulous—but not in a good way.

“Look, I’m in no way trying to offend you. I would never ask you to sleep with someone else, especially a guy you don’t want.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” she replies tartly.

“On the other hand, after one night, I don’t have the right to ask you to be exclusive. You don’t strike me as a girl who’s looking for permanence right now, anyway.”

“I’m not, but what if flirting and acting a little helpless isn’t getting the job done? What if the only way I can pull his attention from this listing is to drop my dress and climb between his sheets?”

I shy away from that visual because if it scrolls across my brain again, I might lose my composure. Damn it, this is unlike me. I try to focus on what to say instead. Normally, I’d mumble some platitude about everyone sacrificing to get what they want in life. But I doubt Keeley would ever give up her scruples to get ahead. The realization makes me feel a little guilty. No, kind of like a shithead.

I’m unfamiliar with those feelings. Being with Keeley Kent is exhilarating—but confusing.

“Um…”

“What you’re really saying is that if your brother likes me and I’m motivated to screw him, you won’t be thrilled but it’s all for a good cause, and you’ll pay me handsomely for my efforts.” She tsks. “You know, having sex with people for money is usually called prostitution. And the people who make the hookups happen are usually called pimps.”

I didn’t think of it that way. Keeley has a point I’d rather not see.

“If your charm alone isn’t stealing his attention, then we’ll talk about it. Come up with a strategy.”

“That may include whoring myself,” she asserts. “You’re not denying it.”

She’s taking the worst possible spin on this. “I’m also not enjoying it! For the record, that’s not what I think of you at all. And I didn’t mean to upset you. We can get creative, so all you have to do is make him think you might have a thing with him someday. Maybe after you clear up your aggravated case of herpes with a gonorrhea chaser.”

“What? I’m not lying to him about something like that!”

“It would be a good reason for him not to have sex with you.” Actually, about the only reason I can think of.

I’m botching this totally. I know it. Every time I open my mouth, I shove my foot even deeper.

“Here’s a better reason: I’m not saying yes.” She tosses her hand in the air. “I can’t believe you’re offering to pay me a hundred grand to most likely sleep with your brother after we’ve spent the night together.” She slams her juice down and launches herself out of bed. “I thought I liked you. And now I feel like a total impulsive idiot. I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you’re clearly not someone I want to spend another minute with. I don’t want any part of this low, demeaning scheme.” She stomps out of the room.

I follow. “Keeley. I’m sorry, sunshine. I’m not trying to insult you. This is all coming out wrong. You’re amazing. Fantastic.”

“Do not try to sweet-talk me. There’s no positive spin you can put on this that will make me want to help you screw your brother over by letting him screw me.” She jerks her dress and heels off the arm of the sofa and marches for the guest room. “That’s not who I am. And just because I was easy for you doesn’t mean I’m cheap.” She slams her way into the bathroom.

Shit. That did not go well.

I lean against the door. “I don’t think you’re cheap. I think you’re beautiful. You make me laugh. I can’t tell you the last time a woman—hell, anyone—has done that. And you even make me look at myself critically. Those are just a few reasons I don’t want to stop seeing you. Those are the qualities I know will intrigue Griff, too. I wasn’t trying to insult you. It’s a compliment…just poorly worded. Will you come out so we can sit down and talk about this?”

Keeley doesn’t say anything until she yanks the door open, now fully dressed in last night’s clothes. “No. Even putting aside the whole Pretty Woman aspect of this scheme, it sucks. You can phrase it however you want, but this is about revenge. That’s bad karma. It will come back to bite you in the ass. I don’t want anything to do with it. He’s your brother. Don’t do something you’ll regret later.”

She grabs her purse and stomps to the front door.

I grab her arm, feeling more than a little panicked. “Where are you going? I drove you here.”

She jerks free and reaches for the knob. “It’s a hotel. I’m sure I can get a taxi.”

Yes, the bellmen are very helpful that way. Damn it… “Don’t leave like this, Keeley. The last thing in the world I ever want to do is upset you.”

That part is so true it almost hurts.

She pauses, stills. “I really wanted to like you. Hell, I really wanted to keep you. But not after this. Good-bye.”

Her sniffle tears at my heart. Before I can call her back, she’s out the door.