The flashes from the cameras are blinding, which makes me wish I’d brought sunglasses. It’s totally absurd to wish for sunglasses at ten o’clock in the evening, but the photographers outside my friend Sebastian’s brand-new restaurant in Midtown are relentless.

Dominic nudges me with my elbow. “Don’t look so pained. People will wonder if it’s about the food.”

“I haven’t even gone in yet.”

“They don’t care about that.”

Nothing affects Dominic Wilder—not the photographers, not anything. Except his wife, Vivienne, who looks every inch a fashion model as the two of them pose for the cameras. There’s another barrage of clicks, and then Vivienne steers Dominic toward the entrance of the restaurant, catching my elbow with her other arm. “Come on. I’m starving.”

He laughs, looking down at her with light in his eyes that sends a spike of envy straight through my gut. “You just ate.”

“Three hours ago…and what’s it to you, anyway?” Their good-natured teasing reminds me of Isabella. Although, I wouldn’t call what happened in my office good-natured. Or teasing. Unless you also call a rainstorm a hurricane.

Dominic and Vivienne’s voices wash over me, blending with the crowd as we move through the restaurant to the cordoned-off section in the back reserved for friends of Sebastian’s and investors. I count as both.

We’ve got a table for three, right on the other side of the velvet rope, and Dominic and I face each other with Vivienne between us. There’s one empty seat because I didn’t bring a date. Like an idiot, I didn’t bring a date, which is making Dominic wonder if something is up.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

I exaggerate his narrow-eyed, assessing gaze. “Do you think I’m going to run off with the silverware?”

“Something’s on your mind, clearly.”

“Business.”

Vivienne wags a finger in my direction. “False. You’ve had all day to think about business. Something else is eating you alive, Jasper.”

“Don’t you get started. I don’t need the FBI involved in this.”

She cracks a pretty smile, leaning back to let the waiter pour us what turns out to be a complimentary round of champagne from Sebastian. “Aha. So there is something to be involved in.”

“At least don’t start on him until we’ve had something to eat.” Dominic picks up the printed menu in front of him. It’s a four-course beauty meant to show off Sebastian’s skill in the kitchen, and my mouth waters from scanning my eyes over the text.

What would Isabella be interested in? The thought comes to me so automatically, so naturally, that I don’t realize I’m thinking about her until several seconds later, when it’s too late to stave off a raging erection. I pull my seat closer to the table and will myself to stop—stop thinking of her smooth voice, stop thinking of the way she’d look perched on all fours on my bed, the way she’d be a wild animal behind closed doors. No. I cannot spend the entire meal thinking about those things, or else—

The salad course comes out a moment later, and I shove the menu away. “That was fast.”

The waiter grins down at me. “Sebastian left a note.” He probably also mentioned that this table would have plenty when it came time to tip. 

My cock pulses in my pants. “I’ll be right back.”

Dominic has been murmuring something into Vivienne’s ear, but he breaks off and gives me a nod. “You all right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back in a minute.”

This is not going to be one of my most shining moments. Not by far. But I’m not going to be able to eat a thing unless I do something to take the pressure off.

There’s a gaggle of women outside the narrow hallway to the restrooms—which, as far as I know, are private—and none of them see me coming. 

“Excuse me.”

Five pairs of eyes turn toward me, and as they back off, murmuring a chorus of apologies, I can see that any one of them might be willing to...

Irrelevant. Because none of them are Isabella Gabriel.

I cut through the center of their gathering and head for the men’s room. I’m halfway down the hall when the door to the women’s room opens with a violent swish and someone barrels out of it, straight into me. I catch her by the elbow on instinct, taking her weight in my grip.

“Excuse me—” 

That’s all she has time to say before her eyes meet mine and the rest of the world falls away.

Unreal.

“Isabella.” I straighten up immediately and give her a wide grin, like I haven’t been rushing to the bathroom to jack off thinking of her.

One corner of her mouth rises in a surprised smile, and she pulls her clutch purse to her side. “Jasper Pace. What are you doing here?”

“Outside the women’s bathroom? I was minding my own business, and—”

“At Sebastian’s opening.”

“Oh. I invested in the restaurant. He’s a friend of a friend. We both came out to show our support.”

Her eyes narrow. “A friend of a friend?”

“What are you, the restaurant opening police?”

She laughs. “Hardly. I’m trying to figure out how we could possibly have ended up at the same function. It’s so random.” There’s a barb in her voice, but all it does is make me want to press her up against the wall right now, the hell with the audience.

I shrug one shoulder. “Maybe Sebastian knows someone who needs a seamstress.”

Her mouth drops open half an inch, and I want to put my thumb between her teeth, let her bite down.

“Pardon me.” The low voice behind me leaves only one choice, and it’s the perfect one. I step closer to Isabella, half a step between us at most, and let him squeeze by. 

She’s inches away, and even after he’s gone, I don’t step back. Her eyes are on mine, and there’s a pink blush to her cheeks that tells me I’m not the only one who’s been thinking.

“Do you have enough room?” She cuts her eyes down to the front of my pants. I’m hard as a rock, and it’s obvious.

“I have too much room.” I turn slightly away, adjusting myself, and then I lean in. “What would you think about a change in terms?” I could take her into that bathroom right now and lock the door. Her nipples are hard beneath the fabric of her dress, and her breaths are coming shallow and quick. “We could start the clock on that month right now.”

It’s a risk, and I know it. It shows too much of my hand. But I need her. 

Isabella’s eyes go wide.