I'd planned my work schedule around the event, making sure I had two days off afterward to recuperate. I spent it mostly in my pajamas watching trashy reality television, the best way to unwind.

When I finally made it back into the office, my boss ambushed me.

"I need you to clear your schedule this afternoon," Martha said. "We have a last minute meeting."

"You know how much I hate those," I said. "I need time to prepare." Not to mention, I had about a million things to take care of after my two days off.

"We have a potential new client and they requested you specifically," my boss said. "This is a big one, Faith. Money and prestige."

"Me? Why?" I'd always been good at my job, but I didn't have a high profile position. I always worked in the background. My boss was the face of our company, not me.

Martha just pointed her pen at my face. "Be in boardroom C at three. Our client is anxious to talk to you about a new venture." Her eyes shined with triumph. "This could be the in we've been looking for."

"In?" Before I could ask further questions, Martha handed me a stack of papers.

I swung by my senior intern's desk and dropped off the heavy stack, with instructions to go through the anonymous attendee feedback we'd collected from the last event. What was the point of interns if you couldn't make them do menial data entry?

Once at my desk, I tackled two days worth of emails. I'd already responded to most of them — even on my days off I was never really "off" — but there were a dozen or so that needed a more thorough response.

I spent the morning and most of the afternoon plowing through my inbox, working through lunch. Before I knew it, three o'clock had arrived. Gathering my laptop, I made my way to the boardroom. Despite my hatred of surprise meetings, I plastered a welcoming smile on my face and walked through the door.

I stopped cold.

"What are you doing here?" My tone came out far colder than it should have when speaking with someone who could bring new work to my company. I couldn't help it. My mouth unconsciously twisted into a frown.

Damon stood in the middle of the room. With tailored black slacks and a crisp white collared shirt, I would have taken him for a regular client dressed in business casual.

He turned to greet me, his lips tilted into a smirk.

"Nice to see you too, Faith."

At least he hadn't called me sweetheart or any other of his demeaning nicknames.

He held out his hand for a handshake. I stared at it. He waited patiently. I considered refusing altogether. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my boss wore a look of alarm. Giving up, I went in for a shake.

His warm hand engulfed mine. Small sparks went through me as skin touched skin, almost as intense as when he'd laid his hands on my thighs. His grip tightened.

I pulled away hastily, not lingering. I hid my trembling hand behind my back.

"What are you doing here?" I asked again, aiming for a more polite tone.

"This is Damon Drake," Martha said. "He's come to us about an event he'd like to throw."

"I know who he is," I said automatically. I stared Damon down. "What is this?"

"You're an event planner," he said easily. "I need someone to plan an event. You see how this works?"

I had to look away, unable to meet his stare anymore without wanting to throw my shoe at his head. My Diana Six brand pumps were cute as hell. I wasn't going to risk breaking the heel because of someone like Damon.

"Out of all the event planning companies in the world, you decided to choose mine?" I kept my eyes trained on the whiteboard behind him.

"Why wouldn't I?" he countered. "I have experience attending your events, and you come highly recommended."

My boss glowed at the praise, even though it was meant for me. I couldn't just shut him down like I usually would.

Swallowing down a growl, I nodded sharply. I gestured to one of the high-backed leather chairs surrounding the conference room table. "Take a seat."

Damon sat. I chose a chair on the opposite side. He stood once again, switching chairs, taking the seat next to mine.

That smirk on his face made me want to claw his eyes out.

"If you two already know each other," Martha began, "then I'm sure you're aware Mr. Drake is in the entertainment industry."

I nearly snorted. "That's one way of putting it."

That made him sound too legitimate. Damon ran around on stage like a maniac, slept with a different girl every night, and drank like tomorrow was the end of the world.

I snuck a quick glance at him. His eyes swept up and down my body, lingering on my chest, angling his head to take in my legs. My heart thumped a quick beat in my chest.

"This is excellent timing, Mr. Drake." My boss flashed him an eager smile. "We've been looking to expand our business and this sounds like the perfect opportunity."

"What exactly are you looking for us to do?" I asked. "We don't have experience planning the sort of… events… you normally attend." If a raging rock star party could be called an event.

"I want to throw a charity fundraiser," he said.

I blinked, taken aback. That was about the last thing I'd expected to come out of his mouth.

"A fundraiser?" I repeated, just to clarify. "For charity?"

"Yes." He leaned forward in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table. "I want to raise money for homeless and at-risk teens."

My breath caught. I stared into his eyes, shining with sincerity.

"This is an issue close to my heart," he continued. "I could always just donate money myself, and I do, but it's not just about money. It's about awareness. Mental health and addiction issues, being subjected to neglect and abuse, exploitation and violence…" he shook his head. "There are so many vulnerable kids out there, and all that shit can really mess a person up if they don't get help."

Something in my chest, a ball of something hard and unyielding, began to melt.

"Mr. Drake, you sound like quite the philanthropist." Martha beamed at him, slathering him with compliments, as she always did with potential clients. "As you know, my company has a long history of working with non profits. I'd love to work together on a proposal for you."

"I'd actually like to work with Faith on this one. I have a feeling she'll be able to give me everything I need," he drawled.

That melting trickle froze to solid ice. I met his wicked expression with a glare.

Martha nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, of course. Faith is our best event specialist. Whatever resources you need, she'll make sure you get them."

"Great. It's decided then." He side-eyed me. "I suppose we'll be working closely together for the next few months."

I tried not to bare my teeth and snarl.

I couldn't deny this was a wonderful opportunity, a way to get our foot in the door with the entertainment industry. It would be great for a case study.

But I'd be working with him.

"I'll leave you two alone to discuss the details," Martha said.

Damon's eyes flashed, dark and heated. There was no way in hell I was going to let myself be alone in a room with this man. I could just imagine the naughty thoughts going through his head.

"I have a meeting off-site in twenty minutes," I lied, standing abruptly. "I need to leave now to make it on time. We can schedule another meeting for next week."

I hurried out the door before Martha could stop me. Quickly making my way to the exit, I stopped only long enough to grab my purse from my office. My intern flagged me down with a wildly flailing arm.

"Faith, I have a question about—"

"Email me," I interrupted, not stopping.

As I waited for the elevator to reach my floor, I took a few moments to calm my agitation. I had to stop letting him affect me like this. I had to stop letting him get under my skin.

What about under your skirt? My inner voice snarked.

I mentally pushed that thought away with a brutal shove.

Jiggling my leg impatiently, I rushed for the doors when the elevator arrived. I slumped against the metal wall, relieved to have escaped.

That man threw me off balance and I hated him for it.

I pulled out my phone, intending to respond to emails and texts. If I was going to leave the office early for a fake meeting, I could at least keep up with my work.

The elevator began to close.

Two hands pried it open.

Green eyes and a knowing smirk greeted me as Damon casually strolled through the doors.

My hand clenched around my phone automatically.

"You just can't leave me alone, can you?" I asked.

His eyes gleamed, that familiar devilish look reappearing as he leaned casually against the wall next to me. "Why would I do that, when you're so fun to play with?"

"I'm not a toy," I snapped. "This is my job. Mess with me all you want, but don't go screwing around with my career."

He opened his mouth.

"Don't even thinking about making a screwing joke," I warned.

"I was going to say, I'm not messing with you," he said smoothly. "I really do want to throw an event. The fact that I'll be working with you is a plus."

"Don't you have anything better to do with your time?"

"Nope. The band is on hiatus right now."

With a huff, I went back to my phone. I tried to ignore him, tried to pay attention to my work, but I could feel his eyes on me.

"What?" I pulled my phone to my chest, hiding the screen. I didn't need him reading my emails. "Stop staring."

"You sexing with someone?" he asked. "Is that why you're hiding your phone? I think I'm getting jealous again."

I turned to face him, folding my arms over my chest. "I was having a perfectly productive afternoon before you showed up. You ruined my day."

"How so?" He raised an eyebrow. "I'm bringing new business to your company. You should be thanking me."

"You could have at least emailed or called instead of ambushing me in a surprise meeting."

"Where would be the fun in that?"

Damon took two steps toward me. I held my hand up to stop him from coming any closer. He kept moving forward until my hand was pressed against him. He radiated heat even through his dress shirt. A full body flush went through me. I pressed my hand against him to push him away. Or maybe to get a better feel of those firm muscles. My brain fizzled out the moment my fingers felt the hardness of his chest.

His hand covered mine, keeping it in place. My fingers curled into his shirt. His head angled toward me. I inhaled a sharp breath.

Damon plucked my phone from my other hand and darted sideways. I gaped as he chuckled, my mind still reeling.

"Give it back." I made a half-hearted grab for the phone, but he kept it out of arm's reach.

He tapped rapidly on the screen. "Hm. No sexting. Just work emails. Boring." He tossed it back. I caught it with two still-trembling hands. "Don't know why I'm surprised. You probably haven't sent a dirty text in your life."

"I have so," I shot back, heart still pumping madly.

I should have just agreed. But he already thought I was an uptight killjoy. I didn't need to give him any more ammunition.

Of course, he jumped on it.

"Prove it," he challenged. "Send me something dirty."

"I don't have your number," I deflected.

"I just programmed it in."

With a frown, I scrolled through my contacts. Sure enough, he'd put his number in there. First name, Damon. Last name, Rock Star Sex God.

"I'm still not sexting you," I said.

"What about a kiss?" His eyes glinted with mischief.

"No!"

"A quick grope?"

"Not a chance."

The elevator doors opened and I stepped out quickly.

"What about holding hands?" he called out, teasing.

"Goodbye Damon."

As I hurried out of the building, I heard him laughing the whole way.