A bead of sweat trickles down the back of my neck. It’s hot out, and my skin is alive with it—and alive with the sight of Weston Grant, despite the fact that I was running away from him to cool off. And then, right when I think I might burst into flames, right when I’m ready to turn on my heel and go anywhere else....

“My Town Car has unbelievable air conditioning. It’s running right now, waiting for me to climb inside.”

He steps six inches to the side, inclining his head toward a black Town Car parked at the curb, his driver standing by the back door, holding it open. A breeze kicks up—thank God for the wind—and delivers a swirl of the icy air from inside the car as a soft caress over my cheek.

Damn him.

My instinct is to tell him to climb into his car and enjoy it by himself, but the sidewalk is baking in the heat, and standing here, his eyes like the humid center of the jungle, I want so badly to slide across the smooth seat of that car and rest against the cold fabric that I can’t force the words from my lips.

A smile crinkles the corners of his eyes, and I’m done for. 

“Fine,” I say finally, making a move toward the car. “But it’s only because it’s so torturously hot out. It’s not because you’re Weston Grant.”

He laughs out loud, the sound sending a tingle of pleasure across my shoulders, and he follows me to the curb. I duck my head and slip into the back of the car, Weston sliding in next to me. His driver shuts the door with a soft click, and then we’re enveloped in the air, an arctic blast in the middle of the late August heat.

I can’t help myself.

I lean my head back against the buttery soft leather and sigh. “This is so….”

“Wonderful?” Weston shifts, totally at home in this space. I’d half expected him to move closer and try to ravish me. The word ravish echoing in my own mind makes me laugh.

“Cold. I was going to say, it’s so cold.”

“Too cold?”

“Not a chance.”

He grins, assessing me from across the seat. “Where to now?”

I sit up straight, giving him a look that makes a deep rumble bubble up from his chest. “This is your car. You don’t have a place in mind?”

Now Weston does lean closer, dropping his voice and looking around like there’s anyone but his driver to overhear us. “I want to tell you something. Something… confidential.”

My heart beats faster in spite of all my resolve not to get excited at the sound of his voice. It’s a pipe dream and I know it—I’ve spent the last four days imagining his voice, his eyes, his body, and in person, all of those things playing at my senses, I can feel that determination starting to crumble.

I can’t let it.

He’s not a good man. I detest the way he makes his money—with brute force and no consideration for the people he’s gouging. I cannot be interested in him…

It’s happening anyway.

“What?” I’m not going to let him see me breathless and excited over it.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“I would never have guessed that.” I flick my eyes up to the ceiling of the car, a playful eye-roll that ends in a smile. “Nobody says no to Weston Grant.”

“Where did you hear that?” His smile flickers between sultry and impish, and the combination is making my heart race. Absolute confidence shines from his face, but I know it doesn’t always. I know, because I surprised him at the Rose. I can’t be the only woman ever to do that, to ever turn him down.

I give him a pointed look. “Who would ever say no to you? I see the papers. You’re taking over other companies every other day. You’ve got your arm around a different woman every week.”

“Not quite that often.”

“Still. I imagine, with a face like yours….”

“Oh? You like what you see?”

He’s sliding closer as we talk, leaning in, his eyes on mine. He’s not searching for another distraction. All of his focus is on me, and it’s so intense—so hot—that it’s overtaking the air conditioning. And now I’ve walked right into a trap that I set up for myself. Who the hell am I around this man? I’m barely holding on to my collected waitress persona from the Rose. “I like what I see,” I admit, because it’s true. Weston Grant isn’t known as the sexiest bachelor in New York City for nothing. “I’m not sure about—” I bite my lip and immediately force myself to stop. “I’m not sure about what a person gets.”

“For a law student, that was surprisingly vague.”

Blush rises to my cheeks. “I don’t know what else to say. I have no idea why you seem to be interested in me, when you could have—”

“Any woman on the planet?”

I nod.

“That’s the thing.” Weston narrows his eyes at the same time that he reaches out, tracing two fingers down the outside of my wrist. The pads of his fingers leave burning trails down my flesh, the hair on my arms rising with full-body goosebumps. “I can’t have any woman on the planet.”

This time, my voice is breathless, though I try my absolute hardest to sound casual. “No?”

“No. Only one woman has ever refused me. And that woman refused me twice.”

I take in a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and instead I get a lungful of his scent, his clean masculine scent, like a mountain river underneath the barest spritz of cologne. Under my shorts I’m slick and wet and ready. All this after one touch, after a few words dropped from his lips like priceless jewels—the kind you could sell for enough money to save your father and yourself. 

“Who’s that?”

His eyes are locked on mine, so green that they’re spellbinding. “You.”

I shake my head, trying to clear the haze, but the laugh that I let out doesn’t sound convincing. “That can’t possibly be true.”

“It is true.” He leans back and I gulp in a breath. “Today was my last try. If you said no today, I’d have bowed out of your life altogether.”

My heart thunders in my chest, and there’s a twist in the pit of my gut that takes me by surprise. I don’t have a good reason to care if I never see Weston Grant again. We’re nothing to each other. And yet…. “I didn’t say no.”

A huge smile illuminates his face. “You have no idea how glad I am that you didn’t.” Then he turns toward his driver. “Dave, the Lounge, please.” His driver nods and catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “Juliet, this is my driver, Dave.”

“Nice to meet you, Dave.” I’m still buzzing with the near-miss that I shouldn’t care about, and part of me is dying to return to that conversation, dying to sink back into Weston’s voice. But I straighten my back. “Is that where we’re having our lunch date?”

“It’s one block away,” Weston says, glancing at his watch. “And we’ve already spent ten minutes of the hour. I’m not willing to waste another second with you.”