Angelica waits until mid-morning on Wednesday to answer me, so long that I’ve half dismissed her. If only I could get that perfect body out of my head, force her smile from my mind. Yes, she’s the perfect remedy for erasing my memories of Emerald, who never looked that gorgeous even on her best day.

Her text comes in during a meeting with Connor. When my phone vibrates, I force myself not to look at it. I keep my eyes firmly planted on Connor’s face, even when he glances down at the phone.

“You sure you don’t want to get that?”

“It can wait. Finish what you were saying.”

“Their estimates on the area of influence were too high, but I think there’s a way to salvage this. We’ll need to readjust some of our own targets, but it’s doable.”

“Hard numbers?”

Connor shakes his head. This business with the media company is taking longer than I’d like, but I’m going to get it right.

“OK. Let me know as soon as they come in.”

“Will do.”

He gets up from his seat across from my desk and leaves, whistling a tune I don’t recognize. The second he’s out of sight I snatch my phone from my desktop.

My heart turns over. The message is from a number I don’t know, but it says,

I’m getting back to you. Where should we meet? :) -Angelica

I save the number into my contacts and then type a reply.

The Purple Swan. Give them my name at the main entrance. 8:00.

Then I follow it up with the address, my nerves jittery. I never get jittery.

The Swan will be perfect. I haven’t been going regularly for almost a year—things with Brandon, Inc. required more of my attention, and then there was Emerald—but I don’t think twice about it. It’s an exclusive club that offers everything: private rooms, dancing, and world-class dining. The clientele is made up of New York City’s richest, and they’re quick to kick out people who disturb the peace.

Angelica is early. I know because I come through a side entrance to the lobby at 7:50 on Thursday and she’s already waiting, stunning in a black dress that makes the one she was wearing in the elevator look like something you’d wear to clean the house. She stands with her back straight, looking toward the front entrance with a little smile that fades, then returns, then fades again.

My cock hardens at the sight of her. Everything about her is pure perfection, from the way she’s pulled her hair back into a delicate twist to the way she sways, ever so slightly, on her high heels.

I allow myself to appreciate her for as long as I can stand it, and then I approach, sliding my hand across the small of her back as soon as I reach her. This is going to be bare skin by the end of the night. She stiffens, then turns toward me. When her eyes meet mine, her smile is bright enough to power the entire city.

“Jett Brandon,” she says, looking me up and down. “You snuck up on me.”

“I could say the same about you. What were you doing, lurking in that elevator?” My tone is light and teasing, but some strange emotion flashes in her eyes. “Don’t worry,” I continue, laughing. “I’m glad you happened to be there at that moment.” As I speak, I slide my hand a little lower, down to the very top of the curve of her ass, and she doesn’t pull away. In fact, she leans into it, ever so slightly.

“So,” she says, her smile a slow burn. “What’s the deal with this place? Are we eating? Dancing?”

“Are you hungry?”

Angelica bites her lip, her eyes dancing. “I could eat.” She lets her eyes travel down over my body again. Whoa. I might not be the only one who wants more than dinner, which is going to make taking her home an easy task.

“I reserved us a table in one of the more private dining rooms,” I say, removing my hand from her back. A little frown crosses her face when my touch fades, but I’m instantly offering her my arm. She slides her hand into the crook of my elbow, and I’m sure she doesn’t intend to, but she gives my bicep a little squeeze.

“Nice,” she says softly, almost to herself, and I laugh out loud. So she did mean it, after all.

* * *

We banter over a five-course meal, Angelica ratcheting up the heat every time she speaks. Apparently the comment I made about not letting a woman control my life didn’t faze her.

“I’m very particular about pillows,” she says during a discussion we’ve somehow launched into about thread counts and sheets. Then a slow smile spreads across her face. “You get a bad pillow, and you can’t get comfortable on your back, or on your front....”

“It’s the same with women,” I answer with a straight face.

She jokes and prods, sparring with me until finally I feel like I’m about to burst into flames. That’s when she stands up, tosses her napkin onto the linen tablecloth, and looks at me with a wicked expression. “Did you mention dancing?”

I underestimated her in the elevator. She’s a conquest I want to capture, and now I think we’re playing the same game.

“You mentioned dancing.” I follow her lead. There’s no need to wait for the bill to arrive—all of this will be added to my tab.

“I did, didn’t I?” She takes my hand, pulling me toward the doorway of the dining room.

Outside the threshold, she pauses, listening. The Swan has invested heavily in soundproofing technologies, so in the hallway there’s only the faint thrum of dance music.

Angelica takes a few more steps, her straight spine emphasizing her breasts, then turns back to me, her hand still in mine. “Don’t keep it a secret,” she says. “Where’s that music coming from?” As she speaks, she steps closer, and her scent—flowery and fresh—wafts over me. We’re holding hands, but it’s electric.

I take in a breath to answer, but all I can think of is covering her mouth with mine, tasting her sweetness. Her eyes are ocean blue in the low light of the hallway. Her face is inches away, and as I look into her eyes, her expression shifts from playful to passionate.

“We could dance,” I say, my voice husky, “or we could....” I put my free hand on her waist, drawing her in another couple of inches, and then I lean down to whisper in her ear. “...do something more exciting.”

Her breathing starts to speed up as I speak, and by the time the final word comes out of my mouth she’s almost panting. We’re so close. So close—

Without a word of warning, she turns her head and our lips collide, lust igniting every nerve ending in my body. I pull her against me, hard, and I guide her backward until her back is pressed up against the opposite wall. She tastes amazing, the way she opens her mouth and lets me explore her has me rock-hard and dizzy.

I only pull back when she gasps for breath, and that’s when I show my first sign of weakness.

“We could dance. Or you could come home with me. Right now.” It’s not a question.

“Please.” Her voice is heavy with desire.

“This is one night.”

Now it’s her turn to lean in. “One night is all I need.”

Six words, and I’m rushing to get her home.