When I first woke up, I couldn't figure out where I was. For a moment, I told myself it was because I was in a hotel instead of my own bed, but then I realized there was an arm around me and the memories of the night before flooded back to me.

Shit.

I eased myself out from underneath Taylor's arm and grabbed my dress from the floor. I dressed quickly, hoping the entire time that Taylor didn't wake up. I so didn't want to do the awkward morning after thing. I also wasn't going to do the whole leaving without a word thing. I found a pad of paper hanging on the refrigerator so I scribbled my number and said to call me.

I really did like Taylor, I thought as I hurried down the sidewalk to my car, but I remembered everything from the night before, including how DeVon had kept creeping up in my thoughts. I couldn't deny that I was attracted to DeVon, but I also could remind myself of all the shitty things he'd done to me. I did that the entire way back to the hotel and those thoughts followed me into sleep.

My phone ringing woke me hours later. I answered it with a groggy, “Hello?”

“Krissy? It's Taylor.”

I sat up. “Oh, hey.” Guess we were having the awkward morning after talk even though the clock said it was noon.

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner tonight.” There was a pause, and then he added, “I had a great time last night.”

“Me, too,” I said. “I'd love to go to dinner.”

“Great!”

She could almost hear that brilliant smile.

“Do you want me to pick you up?”

I hesitated. I wasn't sure I trusted myself to not invite him up if he drove me home tonight and I didn't know if I wanted two nights in a row. That felt a bit more like a commitment than I wanted. “Why don't we meet?”

“All right,” he said amiably. “I'll text you the restaurant information.”

“That sounds great.”

I was glad he didn't linger on the phone. I had a lot to do today, not the least of which was picking out a dress for tonight and finding someone who could do something with my rat's nest of hair. I'd almost forgotten what a mess just-fucked hair could be. I really hoped it wasn't as bad when I had come in that morning as it felt now.

I also knew I had to start apartment hunting, but I could put that off until tomorrow. I'd worked my ass off this week. I deserved a little bit of fun. I kept telling myself that as I treated myself to a trip to the salon. By the time Taylor's text came in around four, I'd managed to get rid of all my previous guilt and was determined to make tonight perfect.

I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes after eight, but Taylor hadn't yet arrived. The host showed me to a secluded table in the back, then left me to admire the expensive white linen tablecloth and romantic candlelight. I was impressed. I knew Taylor didn't have much money. Getting a table like this in such a nice restaurant must've cost a fortune.

I took my phone out of my purse, figuring I might as well check my messages while I waited. That way, I'd be all caught up and could turn off my ringer, allowing Taylor and I an uninterrupted evening.

I had just finished replying to a text from Carrie telling me that she and Gavin were going to be planning a trip to LA soon when I caught movement across from me. I started to speak before I finished raising my head, “Hey, you're late...”

My voice trailed off but my mouth hung open as I saw that the man sitting across from me wasn't Taylor, but DeVon. I snapped my jaw shut, my brain scrambling for a moment before righting itself.

“What are you doing here?” I was aware that sounded rude, but to be fair, he was the one who'd just sat down, uninvited. I sat up straighter. I didn't have any reason to be polite. We weren't at work or a business dinner or anything like that. This was my personal time. “You have to go,” I said firmly. “I'm on a date.”

DeVon gave me an annoying smirk that made me want to slap him. I clenched my hands together on my lap to resist the impulse.

“I'm sorry, Krissy. I know I shouldn't intrude, but I thought you might like to know that Taylor won't be coming.”

“What?” I couldn't have heard him correctly. How the hell did he know who I was meeting? And why was it any of his business?

“He, too, is familiar with the rule about no dating between clients and agents.”

I frowned at him. Was he seriously going to pull that bullshit again? “He's not a client.”

DeVon's smirk widened. “He is now. I just signed him.”