Jaggar downed her shot and winced as the liquid burned. "I mean, you should have seen the look on his face when he heard that I was being offered the job too. You could just see him internally pitching a hissy fit."

Jaggar's best friend, Andrea, just laughed. "I swear, nobody can be this bad. And can I get more than his cheesy work headshot to look at? I feel like I need to see this guy for myself, assess his hotness. You might be biased."

"Believe me, I’m not. Stupid good looking. So pretty he makes your head hurt. But a complete asshole."

"Are you sure you’re going to be able to work with him? I mean you've done nothing but talk about how much you hate this guy for going on a year now, and now you’re going to be on air together?"

Jaggar held up her hands. "I can behave myself. You'll have to have this conversation with him."

Andrea's dark brown eyes addressed her levelly. "You're sure you're okay with it?"

"I have to be. This is my career."

"Honey, there are other stations, other opportunities."

"Yeah, well. Mom called today right after the meeting so ... "

Andrea let her head drop. “So let me guess. Right after, you compulsively called and accepted the job."

Jaggar smiled sheepishly. "You know me too well."

"A byproduct of being your roommate for four years at Northwestern. You can’t let her pushing your buttons lead you to make poor decisions, right?"

"It's fine. It'll be fine." Jaggar signaled the waiter for another round.

"Oh, I saw your segment this morning. It was super cute."

Jaggar wanted to forget how she'd started the whole day. But there was no escaping it. "Et tu, Andrea?"

Her friend giggled. "Oh come on. Even you have to know how funny that was. But the best part was how you recovered. I was so proud of you. I made the teachers in the break room watch too."

"It feels weird having teachers watch my bad attempts at being sexy."

"You were cute. Stop freaking out."

"You know what, it was actually fun. I enjoyed it and I'd do it again."

"You know what? If you go, I'll go with you. You made it look fun. And I’ve never been to a strip club."

Jaggar's mouth hung open. "Never? How is this possible? In that case, we're going next week."

"Done. I can work some more on my moves." Andrea did a little dance and smirked. "And just who will you be using your newfound, badass, sexy chic on?"

"Well, I can find somebody. Besides, the little I learned already came in handy." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she snapped it shut. “Shit."

Andrea's eyes went wide. “I knew there was something off about you. Tell me everything. Let the lonely teacher live vicariously."

“You're not lonely. And last I checked, you have a steady boyfriend who will propose any day now."

Her friend waved her off. "We aren’t talking about me. We're talking about you and your newfound skills."

"Okay fine, but this goes into the vault."

"You’re kidding me with that shit, right? Besties for life. So auto-vaulting this info."

With a sigh, Jaggar leaned forward. “You know Griffin?"

She nodded. "Mr. Asshole, yes."

"Yeah. Well, we sort of had a moment in the elevator today."

Andrea's eyes narrowed. "Define moment."

Jaggar swallowed then told Andrea everything that had happened in the elevator.

Andrea fanned herself. "Holy shit. That's hot. You were just grinding up against him. Like ... "

"Yeah. I mean, at first it wasn't on purpose. But then, he gripped my hips and I could hear his moan in my ear. It was like this whisper of need."

"Are you sure this guy is the devil? Because that sounds sexy as hell."

"Oh, I'm sure he's the devil." Sexy as sin too. “So definitely the devil."

Andrea laughed. "Okay, I just want details. Like, you could obviously feel the goods. Grower or shower?"

Jaggar's bark of laughter barely broke into the din of noise around them. "Oh my God, I wasn’t there inspecting. Just my ass."

"I mean you guys were grinding on each other. In an elevator. Full of people. Did someone see you?"

"No. All anyone saw was an overstuffed elevator. It was such a weird moment."

"So what happened after?"

“Nothing. We both went into Ryan's office and I was the only one who walked out disappointed. We didn’t talk about it."

"Are you going to?"

"Hell no. I mean it was … it just was, but it never should have happened. We don’t like each other and now we're going to be working with each other. Plus that insane TVN sexual harassment policy. Never going to happen." But even as the words tripped off Jaggar's tongue, her hairs on the back of her neck stood up in awareness. Her muscles tensed in readiness.

Griffin. He was here somewhere. Jaggar looked up and searched the crowd. And of course, there he was leaning against the bar, looking sexy in his dark jeans and graphic T-shirt. His hair looked damp. Maybe he'd gone home for a shower and change.

Kicker was, he was staring right at her.

Suddenly it was just like in the elevator. And they were locked together in a cocoon, where no one could see them. And this time, he was doing things too delicious to talk about.

She remembered the way his hands held onto her in the elevator. The way they'd dug in. The moan he made at her ear. Hell, she wouldn’t be able to forget that ... ever.

"He's here, Andrea. Be cool. Bar at your three o’clock."

Instead of surreptitiously looking to her right, her bestie whipped around to the opposite side. "Which one is he?"

Jaggar laughed. "Your other three o’clock."

This time Andrea's look was a little more subtle, but when they both looked over he was gone. Shit, where'd he go?

"I see you're looking for me. So I figured I’d let your friend here get an up close and personal look."

Andrea's mouth hung open as she stared up at him.

Jaggar shivered as he slung an arm around her shoulders. Griffin Styles was touching her. Holy hell. Be cool Jaggar. Do not molest him ... again. She tugged his arm from around her shoulders. "Griffin. I see you’re still full of yourself."

He grinned. "Oh, you can’t tell me you’re still mad about the striptease from this morning? You looked like you were having fun."

"You think that’s what I'm mad about?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're making a big deal out of nothing."

"You're kidding me right? You weren’t there in that meeting? Did you get told that you weren't going to get important news stories because you had a vagina? Or that because you're a woman and ‘relatable,’ they want you doing the human-interest stories? I'm a journalist. Same as you."

Andrea shook her head and leaned over. "She's cranky and I'm Andrea. Nice to meet you."

Griffin, damn his stupid good looks, shook her friend's hand. "Hi, Andrea. Would you please put in a word for me and tell her I had nothing to do with that? I got hit today too. For months, everyone has been telling me I'm getting my own show. Now I get to share the stage with the woman who's been fucking with me since she showed up."

“I've been fucking with you? You’ve been making sure I get the crap assignments. You realize, in a network as large as TVN, there are only two females on the executive team, three managing directors, and a pitiful few who get to report hard-hitting news? It's insulting. I came to TVN with a fantastic resume and I’m relegated to the glorified weather girl? All thanks to you."

He rolled his eyes and tossed his head back. "For the last time, you didn’t hear that right, okay? That wasn’t my intention. And I didn't send you because you’re a woman. It was sort of a newbie hazing, or rather, letting you show you had the chops. Before you got sent someplace dangerous to report on something."

Her bubbling temper now threatened to spill over. "You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know where I've been. You couldn’t determine that. But you treated me like I'm some green reporter with a twinkle in my eye for the big city, not a reporter with her master’s who spent the six months before in Cornerton, Missouri, reporting on the racial tensions there."

In places like Cornerton, where pockets of deep south attitude still prevailed, a young black boy and young white girl were murdered two years ago. They'd caught the perpetrators. The trial and conviction of the man who'd killed the white girl had been speedy and the judgment harsh. But the two men who'd beaten the young black boy to death, that trial had dragged on. And in the end, the perpetrators had only gotten six years. The community had broken into outrage. She'd been right there on the front lines.

Griffin's brows rose. "Cornerton? No shit."

"Shit." She slid her gaze over to Andrea who watched them intently. "But instead, you had them make me the glorified weather girl for my first on-air assignment."

His jaw clenched. "Okay look. We're going to be working together for the foreseeable future. Can we just call a truce? You know, so we're not trying to kill each other at every turn?"

"A truce sounds like a wonderful idea. Griffin, is it? Why don’t you join us? You can by us a drink," Andrea offered.

"Andrea, that’s a fantastic idea. What are you ladies having?"

Andrea ordered her usual pineapple and Malibu. Jaggar was in the mood for a proper drink though. After the day she had, she could use a little mind numbing. "Long Island iced tea."

He blinked at her. "Seriously?"

"What's wrong with a Long Island?"

He put up his hands."Oh nothing." He then pointed at his face. "But this right here, this is my judgment face."

Despite herself, she laughed. "Okay look, it's not sophisticated or anything, but that's my drink order and I'm sticking by it."

"Yes, but since I’m going to get the drinks, the bartender will be judging me now."

"You can take the heat, can’t you, Griffin?"

"I can handle anything you throw at me."

She didn't exactly mean to check him out as he walked over to the bar, but damn, he was Griffin Styles after all. There was a reason the women at the station talked about him in whispered hushes. The guy was totally doable.

The moment he was out of earshot, Andrea whacked her on the arm. "Are you freaking kidding me? That was Griffin? The same Griffin that has been tormenting you for months?"

"Yeah, that's him. Dude thinks he’s God's gift to women."

"That's because he is, Jaggar. I mean did you get a look at that ass?"

Jaggar sighed, letting her eyes wander over his body again. "Only all day, every day. The man is beautiful. He's also a jerk face."

"I don't know; he doesn't seem so bad. And he just offered you a truce. He's buying you a drink."

"You don’t know him. There is some angle there. Something. I just have to be on my toes."

"Or on your back."

Jaggar laughed. "Are you suggesting that I sleep with him?"

Her best friend nodded vehemently. "Immediately and without hesitation. Matter of fact, climb him like Everest and conquer his gorgeous ass."

"Never going to happen. In case you missed it, we can’t stand each other."

"Stand each other my ass. The tension crackles around you. Not to mention, he so totally would."

"Dre, he's a guy. I have tits. It's sort of a done deal. Most guys would." She rolled her eyes. No need for Andrea to know she only fantasized about doing that. It was her favorite me-time fantasy. Too bad he was such a jerk … One who just offered a truce.

"No." Andrea finished her drink. "It's you. Because if a man looked at me like he was just looking at you, I'd have handed over my panties already, like ‘please take these. I won’t be needing them anymore.'"

Jaggar laughed. "The thing is, I can see something like that happening to him. I bet you it's happened before."

"You bet what's happened before?" The low timbre of his voice as it rolled over her did funny things to her insides ... and her panties.

Jaggar recovered quickly. "Andrea was asking if you orchestrated my stripper showing this morning and knew I'd bust my ass on the pole. I told her without a doubt you were familiar with the inside of a strip club, and you figured me and poles don't mix." She shrugged. "Joke's on you. It was kinda fun. You ever taken a spin on one of the poles?" She winked at him.

Griffin smirked. "Well, not all of us can be as talented with a pole as you are."

To avoid snickering, Jaggar took a sip of her drink, letting the strong liquid slide down her throat, numbing the shitty parts of her very long day. "You know, it's surprisingly difficult. You need a lot of core strength."

"I'll just take your word for it."

"Whatever. It's a hell of a workout. Most guys wouldn't be able to handle it."

Andrea grinned. "You're serious about continuing to take classes?"

Jaggar shrugged. "Why not?"

Griffin's moss green gaze landed on her face, the laser focus unrelenting. That was probably the look that got his interviewees talking. "You're going to go back?"

"I think it was fun."

"I'm not sure if 'clumsy stripper' is a thing, but hey, you could start a whole new trend."

Jaggar smacked his arm. The contact was nothing, but she could feel the electricity snaking up her arms. She had two rules about her unfortunate Griffin Styles fantasies.

First rule of sex dreaming about Griffin was don’t talk about sex dreaming about Griffin.

Second rule: We don’t let tingles in the thong happen in the real world.

Griffin looked around. "So where's this infamous boyfriend?"

Andrea frowned and Jaggar nearly choked on her drink. She'd made up that boyfriend to keep from getting hit on. Andrea, however, did not get the memo. "What boyfriend?"

Jaggar groaned. "I made him up, okay. To keep the creeps off my case."

He leaned close and whispered, "Your secret is safe with me."

She was so screwed.

As he hung out with them for another hour, he was charming, even sweet at times. The two of them bickered like teenagers, but he was really nice to Andrea. He also seemed completely oblivious to the women openly staring at him, practically taking off their undergarments and placing them just so, over his face.

Andrea checked the time. "Damn, you guys, I need to go. I've got an early commute in the morning."

Jaggar glanced at her watch. "Actually, I need to go too. Apparently I'm starting a new job tomorrow."

Griffin stood as well. "I'll walk you two out. It's starting to get too packed anyway."

The Slice of Life bar was mostly loungy between five and ten. After ten, they switched out the DJs and it turned into a full bar and club.

"You don’t have to. We're good. Besides I'm sure you have people to meet or something."

"Nah, I came in here for a drink. I know the owner and it's close to my place. Besides, I'll feel better once I put the two of you into a cab."

Jaggar frowned. Why was he being so nice? Maybe he really did want that truce? Outside, Andrea hopped into a cab and he attempted to hail one for Jaggar, but she stopped him. "I only live ten blocks or so that way. I’m good. I could use the fresh air anyway."

He laughed and it caused a dimple to appear in his left cheek. Hell. She was a sucker for dimples. She mentally added the change to her me-time fantasies. Me-time Griffin had no dimple. "You think I'm going to let you walk home on your own after you’ve had a Long Island? I must have really been a jerk if that's what you think.”

“No, it’s not. It’s just, you’ve done your makeup duties. You don’t have to.”

“I kind of have to insist. Either that or a cab. This is still DC. Take your pick.”

She did need the air; the Long Island was potent as hell. “Fine. Shall I call you Lancelot or Galahad?”

He grinned. “King Arthur is fine by me.”

Damn his stupid dimple. She’d be dreaming about him tonight.

* * *

When Griffin wasn't so busy trying to get back at her, he could see she wasn’t so bad. He'd been serious about the truce. They did have to work together and whether it was his own show or not, the only thing he could control was himself. How about employing some control right now?

He'd been in a semi state of hardness since seeing her tonight. He had to get that shit way the hell under control. The problem was every time she touched him it was like some kind of primal mating call or something. Think about something else. Anything else. "So how long were you in Cornerton?"

"About two months, during the height of everything." She shook her head. "I've been terrified before, but that was just some next level kind of stuff. There were some people taking advantage of the situation, and the tensions of course, to loot and look after themselves. But then, most people were just trying to live and peacefully protest. There was this martial law attitude going around. The authorities had an extremely heavy hand. It was scary. I was just trying to avoid getting tear gassed or worse. But, the adrenaline, it is sort of addictive. You know what I mean?"

"I do. That's how I feel every time I get sent to a war zone. It’s dangerous, but there's a part of me that thrives on that."

They walked in companionable silence for a moment before he just asked the one thing that had been on his mind since that morning. "You want to talk about that thing in the elevator today? Or are we going to pretend that didn’t happen? I just want to know so I know what to do with it going forward."

She sighed, and then veered to the left. "I don’t know what—"

"You were there, Jaggar. Rubbing your ass into my crotch."

Her face flamed. "Would you be quiet? I have neighbors."

She stopped in front of a house just off the beaten path. Probably would have been safe for her to walk, but he was glad he hadn’t taken her at her word.

She tugged on her purse. "What I was going to say is I don’t know what happened. It was crowded. It certainly won't happen again."

He took a step into her space. "It was crowded? That's all you got for me? I've been hard since just before ten this morning and all you've got is, 'It was crowded'?"

Her eyes went wide. "You were the one with your hands on my hips holding on as if you were terrified I'd stop."

His eyes rounded. “Terrif— You are such a damn pain in the ass. Fine, pretend all you want. We were both there. I just want to know one thing, Jaggar, and I'll drop it."

She tilted her chin even as she closed the gap between their bodies. "What's that?"

His gaze dropped to her lips and he could almost taste her. With the moonlight in her hair and her so close, he could feel her warmth, sense her heartbeat. "Were you wet?"

Her lips parted with a short gasp and her tongue peeked out to wet her lips. She was so fucking sexy. Her voice was whisper soft. "Did you want me to be?"

Every sense was on high alert. She smelled fucking incredible. Like summer strawberries. What the fuck, Styles? Back away, back away now, said his brain. But his cock still remembered the way she’d turned her hips into him, that deliberate switch to make him hard. Yeah, his cock had a good point. And she smelled too good.

"You look like you want to say something to me, Griffin."

"It was a simple question, Jaggar. Were you wet? Are you wet now?" His heart made a valiant attempt to jump out of his chest. His body had shut out all ambient noise. All he could hear was her voice. All he could feel was the whisper of her breath. All he could focus on was her full lips, slightly parted.

"Yes. I was wet then. As far as now, not yet, but I will be in a minute."

Fuck. This was a bad idea on so many levels. Terrible. Ill advised. Moronic. But fuck it. With a groan, he pulled her to him tight and brushed his lips over hers, waiting for her consent. Waiting for her to give him the real answer. Either she wanted him or not. If not, he would walk away and just like the elevator, they'd pretend it never happened.

He waited for it. Willed it even. Prayed that she had the willpower that he seemed to lack right about now. But then she sighed, making room to welcome his tongue. And like a fool, he followed the siren straight into the rocks.

Instead of tasting like Long Island Iced Tea, she tasted like mint. She must have popped one when he wasn’t looking. Sweet, with a hint of bite. She arched her back into his body as they kissed, his tongue delving in deep. He ran his hands into that dark as sin hair, anchoring and angling her head so he could deepen the kiss.

In seconds, they were out of control, with her tugging at his T-shirt and pulling him into her. He tugged her hair and with his other hand cupped her ass, bringing her cleft in direct contact with his pulsing erection. Yes. Fuck, she tasted good. The misery he'd been going through for weeks; he'd needed this, needed her.

He changed the angle and picked her up, carrying her a few steps to her door so he could brace her properly and her hips rolled.

The combination was heady: her taste, her scent, the way her body melded to his. He braced her against the wall and his cock nestled against her cleft. She rocked her hips, sliding her sweet heat over his hard erection and he was ready to combust. Ready to blow apart and take her with him.

All he wanted was to get closer, faster, harder. More. With her hands wound around his neck, and his hips pressing into that juncture between her thighs, his hands were free to explore. And God, he'd been dying to touch her for months. Her hair, that glorious inky black hair, and her skin was just as soft as he thought, like warm satin under his fingertips.

He slid a hand under the hem of her top. She arched into the caress as his hand skimmed up her taut, flat belly. Taking his time, he teased each rib, wanting to touch as much as she'd allow him to.

God he hoped she allowed him to. With each breath, her breathing grew more and more shallow. She made this sexy mewling sound at the back of her throat, and his cock jerked in his jeans. It was part plea, part mating call.

He dragged his lips away from hers in an attempt to get a clearer head, but instead, he kissed along her jawline. Then found that hollow behind her ear. Chants of his name fell off her tongue like a plea. "Griffin, Griffin, Griffin." It was like a drug, as her voice seemed to get louder and louder. Telling him what he wanted to hear. Fuck it, hike up her skirt and take her here against a wall, in full view of anyone who dares to look. He was helpless to stop himself, her unseen power binding him to her.

"Fuck, Jaggar." For the first time in his life, he had no idea what to say to a woman in his arms. He was so awestruck.

His thumb teased the underside of her breast, covered in lace and then he slid up and he slid his thumb over the thin scrap of lace covering her nipple. Her cries would be loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but he didn’t give a fuck. What he wanted was the two of them naked in her bed, not stopping until he was buried deep, with her beneath him, on top of him, in front of him. Shit, any way he could have her, he was all about that.

He pressed gently, circling the hardening tip and a growl tore out of her throat. "Harder."

His head snapped up and he pinned her with his gaze. She wanted him to pinch her nipples? Fuck, he was more than happy to oblige. With his thumb and forefinger, he tugged the fabric down, exposing her breast. When he plucked at her nipple with his fingers, she dug her hands into his hair and tugged. "Oh God, Griffin. So good."

So responsive. There was a clawing kitten hiding under the exterior of sweet Jaggar. And he liked it. "Do you want me to use my teeth next time?"

She shivered and her hips rocked into his again and the tingles started in his spine. "You must taste like fucking heaven.” He wanted to yank up her blouse and suck her into his mouth and not stop until he’d given her an orgasm like that.

But a noise in the distance broke into their trance. A bottle breaking, footsteps stepping into the crunchy glass. Shit.

What the fuck was he doing? He released her gently, setting her feet back onto the concrete. "Go inside, Jaggar," he muttered through clenched teeth. Every cell in his body told him to kiss her again, to go inside with her. To fuck her until neither of them could walk.

"What?" Her eyes were heavy lidded and hazy. She looked sexy. Confused.

"Go inside."

"But I thought—"

“Go. Inside," he said more firmly. "I'm going home. But I'm not leaving until you're inside."

"You’re not coming in?"

He swallowed hard. Stay strong. Stay strong. Stay strong. "No."

Her brows snapped down as she glared at him, but she picked up the purse she'd dropped, then unlocked the door and walked in. He stood there on her doorstep for several minutes after she'd shut the door in his face.

He'd wanted to go in. Damn, she'd wanted him to go in. But now that his brain was coming back online, he knew it was a bad idea. Touching her was a bad idea. The electricity might have jumped off the charts when he was with her, but he knew better than to shit where he ate. He just had to keep himself from touching her again. Somehow he had a feeling that would be easier said than done.