I’m a block away from the office, drumming on the armrest with one hand and steering my Aston Martin with the other, when I spot her on the sidewalk in a red sundress that’s long enough to be flirty instead of slutty, striding along in low heels, sunglasses covering her face. The mere suggestion of the curves of her petite body underneath the red fabric has me hard in an instant.

I don’t know what I was planning when I got into my car this morning. Because I’m a decent human being, I gave my driver the day off. Not my personal trainer, though. Carl showed up at my penthouse at 7:00 sharp and put me through my paces until the session ended at 8:00.

After that, all I had to do was kill time until noon, when I planned to leave for Marie Hantz’s Fourth of July party. We run in the same circles populated mainly with wealthy assholes like ourselves, and every year she puts on a huge production at her home on Meadow Lane in Southampton. I almost always go alone. Marie likes to invite her hottest single friends, and every year for the past four years I’ve taken a different one home with me at the end of the night.

Until this moment I’ve been dreading making small talk with all of those women, but as I wait at the light and track Catherine Schaffer’s delectable ass as she crosses at the intersection, scanning the street over and over for oncoming traffic, an insane mood strikes me.

When the light turns green I gun it across the intersection and glide into the only available empty space—right in front of a fire hydrant. I can see Catherine coming closer in my side mirror, and as she gets level with my car I roll down the passenger-side window.

“Miss Schaffer,” I call to her, and she startles, coming to an abrupt halt in the middle of the sidewalk. “Don’t tell me you’re going to the office on a national holiday.”

She raises her glasses an inch and bends down to look in through the window, giving me an incredible view of the soft curves of her breasts. Her face, already flushed from the heat, goes a darker shade of red.

“I don’t think that’s your concern, is it, Mr. Hunter?”

I give her my most winning smile, and the edges of her lips turn upward a little. “So you were heading to work.”

“You know,” she says, glancing up and down the block, “you don’t have to worry about when I plan to be in the office. I’m sure we won’t be seeing each other much.”

New strategy. “We didn’t have the chance to get to know each other yesterday.” My original plan in the five seconds that it took to steer my car over here was to ask her to have coffee, which now strikes me as the worst idea on the planet. It’s eighty-five degrees out and climbing. Still, the words that come out of my mouth next surprise me as much as they surprise her. “I’m going to a party. Come with me.”

Once I’m finished speaking, I realize that this is the solution I’ve been looking for. I absolutely cannot allow myself to get hung up on Catherine Schaffer. I won’t allow it. All I need is one day with her. This godforsaken bank holiday presents the perfect opportunity.

Catherine opens her mouth, closes it, and slides her sunglasses back down like they’ll help her consider her options in relative privacy. “Mr. Hunter—”

“Outside of the office, you can call me Jax.”

She smiles, and my brain splits in two. Half of me wants to do nothing but make her smile for the rest of my life. The other half recoils from the way the happiness in her face makes me feel—like I’m spiraling out of control.

“Jax.” She tastes my name in her mouth, then presses her lips together for a split second before she speaks again. “We’ve only spoken for what, a minute total? This is a major holiday. Isn’t there someone else you’d rather take?”

I dart my eyes toward the empty passenger seat, then focus back on her face. “Does it look like it, Ms. Schaffer? Don’t worry. I’m not looking for a romance. Only company at a party.”

Her shoulders relax a little.

“Outside the office, you can call me Cate. Everyone else does.”

It’s my turn to smile at her, even as images of her bent over the leather sofa in my living room flood my mind. “Get in the car, Cate.”

She hesitates one more time. “Where’s the party? Is it in the city?”

“No. The Hamptons.”

She blanches. “Where in the Hamptons?”

I can’t help but grin a little wider. “Southampton.”

Cate takes a step away from the car, straightening her back, and puts on a smile that rings false. “I can’t…” She pauses, swallows. “I can’t go to a party like that.” She gestures at her outfit.

I take in the red sundress. “I disagree. But if it’ll convince you to come with me, I’ll take you shopping for a different outfit right now.”

Her laugh is musical with a hint of confusion. I’m not entirely sure why I’m going to all this trouble. The insane energy between us will probably be gone by the end of next week. Who knows? Maybe the end of tonight.

There’s only one way to find out.

“If you wait much longer to decide, Catherine Schaffer, I’m going to get a ticket.”

For the first time, she glances down at the bright red fire hydrant, and her mouth forms a perfect O.

Then, without another word, she pulls open the car door and slides into the opposite seat, closing the door firmly behind her and pushing her sunglasses up over her hair. I get a glimpse of her unforgettable hazel eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” she asks, glancing over at me with a look that sends a rush of heat to my cock. “Drive!”