I get up early on Monday morning. I have to be prepared, even if my mind is still reeling from that evening at the Swan. Still, everything has to be perfect on my first day at HRM. The promotion has raised the stakes. Not only will I be working at HRM’s world headquarters, I’ll be handling a “high-profile client.” I’m not sure what that means yet in New York City terms—I’m certain it will be on another level from the clients I managed in Boulder—but this is going to be big.

My nerves started kicking in last night. I don’t have a fallback plan. The moment my house in Colorado sells, there’ll be nowhere to run back to if this job relocation goes south. I guess I could always try transferring back—but no, I couldn’t. If I’m not the massive success my previous supervisors predicted I would be, I could find myself jobless in New York, relying fully on Carolyn’s mercy.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t have a boyfriend—or a fiancé—to serve as my safety net.

There’s no choice but to be a smash hit at HRM from here on out. It was one thing to be a big fish in a small pond back in Colorado, but I’m going to need to be incredible if I’m going to succeed in New York. I can already sense the competition in the air. People here are bloodthirsty when it comes to climbing the career ladder. One wrong move, and you can go tumbling all the way down to the concrete, never to be heard from again.

The job isn’t the least of it.

I might be a little bit obsessed with Christian Pierce.

When I saw him at the Swan, I wanted to walk around the table and push that other woman out of the seat next to him. What’s the story behind those eyes? I couldn’t work up the courage to ask Carolyn more about him for the rest of the weekend. Something is making me hesitate. The last thing I want is to seem like some flighty idiot who latches on to the first shiny object she sees, even if that object happens to be a living, breathing man with an incredible body and eyes that keep me awake at night.

I can’t get him out of my head. The sexy half-smile, the way he’s so effortlessly charming, and his eyes…there’s something deeper there, a secret he’s not sharing.

Or maybe not. Maybe he is exactly what he seems—a billionaire playboy with too much money, a cocky attitude, and a body that can net him any woman he wants. Maybe I want him to be more complicated so I have an excuse to be intrigued.

Stop, I tell myself firmly as I apply a coat of mascara to my eyelashes. Makeup first—sharp and neutral and wholly professional—then my hair. I spent an extra ten minutes in the shower making sure my legs were shaved to perfection. You cannot have your attention overtaken by a man right now.

Not even if that man is Christian Pierce.

Did I imagine it, or was he looking at me with the same intensity I felt? The woman he was with—Melody, I think it was—didn’t look very happy about the little back-and-forth we had going between us when Carolyn and I were first sitting down.

Whatever. From what little I have heard from Carolyn, Christian dates like it’s going out of style.

My heart turns over. There’s another reason I should steer clear of him. From here on out, I’m only interested in men who give a shit about things like commitment.

And honesty.

Derek was the last bastard to get the chance at destroying my heart with bullshit like having a secret affair with my best friend. For an entire year.

I sweep my hair back into a flawless chignon, put on my new coral dress and a snappy blazer, slip my feet into nude high heels that make me look like a supermodel, and head out the door right on time, my phone and wallet tucked into an oversized purse that usually holds my laptop. On the off chance that HRM assigns me one today, I’m not going to want to haul two of them across the city.

I take the subway to Midtown, emerging into the bright July morning with a spring to my step and hope in my heart.

And Christian Pierce on my mind.

Bennett Walker turns out to be several inches shorter than I am, a concentrated ball of energy waiting to take on the day. He greets me as soon as I enter the building lobby. “Bennett Walker,” he says, holding out his free hand. In the other hand, he carries a leather portfolio. “Everyone calls me Walker. Feel free.”

“Quinn Campbell.” He rocks up and down on the balls of his feet, always ready to speed off in a different direction.

“We’re on the eighth and ninth floors,” he says as he guides me across to the security station, where the men there create a new I.D. badge that I will need to access the elevators. “I’m glad you’re here early. There are actually a couple of meetings already on your schedule for this morning.”

“Orientation meetings?”

“Client meetings.”

I don’t let the shock show on my face, although I can’t believe they’re having me meet with clients on my first day. “Okay,” I say as we wait for the next elevator car to arrive. “I’m assuming there will be some kind of briefing?”

“You’re good, Campbell,” Walker says with a grin on his face. “I can hardly tell you’re rattled. The briefing is going to be—” He glances down at his wristwatch. “Right now. Buckle up.”