His single word held all manners of interpretation: surprise, confusion, and maybe only because I wanted to hear it, a touch of trepidation.

I couldn't believe that J. Carter was the one and only Jaxson, Maggie's cousin-in-law and vanishing kisser extraordinaire. And here I thought I was going to be able to push him out of my mind.

Grace - zero; fate - one.

Jade had been accurate, if not crude, in her assessment of the man she'd sent me to see. Personal knowledge of how well he could kiss added to the panty-dampening factor. I mean, if he could kiss that way, I could only imagine how he'd make the other men I'd known seem like boys. Not that I'd had a lot of experience in that area.

Oh, god! Was that why he left me cold? Could he tell I didn't have a lot of experience with sex? Was I that bad at kissing? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph help me get through this.

I plastered on my best "calm face." Smile, Grace. You can do this.

"I'm surprised you recognize me given the back of my head was the last thing you saw."

Okay. That probably wasn’t the best way to start!

His eyes dipped knowingly to my legs and slowly worked their way back up, lingering on my breasts before refocusing on my face. His eyes flashed, and his mouth curved into a smirk as he squared his shoulders and met my eyes head-on. "Oh, I assure you, as beautiful as it is, the back of your head isn't what I remember most about you, Grace."

Damn it! The way my name rolled off his tongue like butter on hot corn sent a dangerous thrill down my spine. I might have held the advantage the second he saw me, but this was a man used to taking control.

My face flushed under his gaze. He strode around his desk with the grace of a panther until he stood before me, not touching but close enough I had to look up at him.

I cleared my throat and focused on why I was here. I thought I managed to sound cool and collected. "Shall we get on with our appointment, Mr. Carter? I'm sure your schedule is as busy as mine." I scooted around him and sat in a leather chair in front of his desk.

"So formal today, Grace. What happened to 'Jax?'" Instead of returning to his side, he crossed his legs and leaned against his desk.

Geez. Now his crotch was right at my eye level. Even with the loose pleats in his pants, I could see a bulge behind the zipper as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

Why was I here again? He grinned as I scowled. "We ceased being on a first name basis the moment you disappeared without a word last weekend."

"Very well. We'll play it your way." He scooted back behind his desk and folded his hands on top of the surface. "I believe you were here to negotiate some money for a charity event you're organizing, correct?" His formal tone marginally helped me regroup.

Forcing my gaze to his, I took a deep breath and started my well-rehearsed spiel. "Yes, I'm selling tickets for a charity dinner. The City Council voted to create a new youth facility where kids can—"

He held his hand up. "What's the bottom line, Ms. Hart? How much are you asking for?"

"Don't you want to know what the money is for?"

"I'm assuming if you're vetting it, I won't have a problem with it."

"But, you don't even know me." He was making this too easy, and a wave of apprehension washed over me.

"I learned enough about you a few days ago. You have high standards, and you care enough about people to respect their feelings even when they're idiots. How much more do I need to know you to write you a check for something you obviously believe in?"

"Because most people don't hand over money without knowing what they're buying."

"Buying indicates I get something in return. Are you offering me something?" His eyebrow quirked, and his eyes glittered, making me feel off kilter.

"Din...dinner."

"Sold."

"Um, okay, then." Maybe he wasn't a prick after all. "We'd also appreciate if you'd consider a donation beyond the dinner, such as donating something for the silent auction. Or equally important, you could become a mentor at the center. You're very successful for someone your age, so I'm sure you'd be an excellent role model for one of the young men or women enrolled in the program. Your drive, your ambition, your success…any kid would look up to you. I mean, if you knew the background of some of these kids your heart would break..."

"You're assuming I have a heart," he interrupted. "I told you I'm not a prince, and I'm not a role model for whoever these kids are. But I'll ask the head of my finances to forward a check for five thousand dollars. Will that be acceptable?"

I wasn't sure why I felt so deflated despite his very generous offer. "Oh. Well, that would be wonderful, of course. It's very generous." I stood and extended my hand across his desk. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Carter. It was nice to see you again."

"It's Jax." When I started to pull away, he held tight. "Tell me the truth, Grace. Did you know who I was at the wedding? Was the charm all part of a strategy to loosen me from my money?"

It felt like his voice vibrated straight to my hand, distracting me from his implication. Then it hit me with full force.

"I beg your pardon?" I jerked my arm away. Yet another person who sought to judge me without even knowing me. Of course, he didn't know my behavior with him at the wedding wasn't like me. But this, thinking I'd tried to flirt my way into his pockets, was beyond the pale.

"Oh, I'd love to hear you begging, Grace. But a girl like you wouldn't know anything about that though, would you?"

His statement was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. My Jax-buzz quickly died.

I lurched to my feet. "Which is it, Mr. Carter?" I challenged, emphasizing the use of his formal name. "Am I the innocent girl who doesn't understand your sexual provocation, or am I the whore who tried to seduce you into a generous donation? You can't have me both ways. At least now I have my question answered about you."

His eyebrows arched. "What answer is that?"

"You're a jackass."

Rather than the astonished reaction I was going for, he seemed amused. "'Jackass,' Ms. Hart? I'm surprised you'd use such a word."

Gah, this man drove me nuts! "Why, because my dad's a pastor? You think that somehow makes me a saint or less human?"

"Maybe. It definitely makes you out of bounds and off limits."

I bored my gaze into his. "Ahh. We come to the crux of the matter. You're afraid of my daddy, aren't you? Afraid he'll call upon the Almighty to strike you with lightning?"

Now he seemed insulted. He stood and moved to stand in front of me. "Are you calling me a coward?"

"You tell me." I poked my finger in his chest. There was no yield in the flesh under the shirt. "You're the one who walked away as soon you saw who my dad is." I shrugged. "Maybe this is just a show, all sound and fury. Maybe all those rumors about big pockets making up for a small, well, you know, are true."

Liar! There's nothing small about this man, and you know it!

"You mean the size of my cock?" He grinned as he took in my pink cheeks. "I assure you, there is nothing small about mine. I'd love to show you sometime."

"I'm not here to discuss the size of your... attributes, except how big of a contribution you're willing to make, Mr. Carter."

"Attributes?" He laughed. "You can't say it, can you? I was right about you after all, wasn't I?"

"You don't know anything about me, Mr. Carter. Of course, I can say it. I don't find this to be an appropriate conversation, that's all." Could I sound more prudish? Talk about living up to his preconceived notion!

"Say it, Grace. Say 'cock,' and I'll write you an even bigger check for your charity."

Oh, he's so smug! I pretended to think about his words. "How much?"

He pulled a checkbook out of his desk and wrote a number on it and held it up for me to see.

My jaw dropped; it was double the money. I eyed him suspiciously. "All this for one little word?"

He smirked. "Trust me when I say the size of the word doesn't come close to measuring the size of the subject."

My subconscious rubbed her hands gleefully; he was offering me a way to make him pay for his smart mouth—literally.

"Mr. Carter, you're clearly trying to back me into a corner and embarrass me, but it won't work. I can say with confidence that we'll raise enough money without your contribution."

"That might be, but we both know this would go a very long way toward helping."

I rested one hand on my his tapped a finger against my mouth with the other. "You know, I think I was wrong. I don't think you're scared of my dad. I think you're scared of me. You don't know how to handle a real woman." I tilted my head and studied him. "Your loss, Mr. Carter. You remind me a lot of a rooster I once saw."

"A rooster?"

"Mmhmm. He strutted around, crowing about himself and thinking all the hens would come a’runnin when they saw him."

His mouth quirked even as his eyes narrowed. "Which is it, Grace? A jackass or a rooster?"

I grinned. "Definitely a rooster. The lazy kind at that."

Once again, he looked at me with a curious expression.

"Yep. You know, the one who wakes up in the morning and says, 'Cock a doodle don't.'"

His jaw dropped. I snatched the check from his hand, and skipped to the door, pausing only a second to wave my fingers over my shoulder before flying down the hallway. My heart raced as I waited for him to chase me or send someone to stop me. But as I reached the elevator door, all I heard was a roar of laughter in the distance.