By the time Gabriella woke, Tyler was gone. The space where he’d been had cooled, but his scent was everywhere. On her sheets. On her pillows. On her.

Gabriella stared at the ceiling, steeling herself for the remorse she was sure would hit at any moment. Yep. Any minute now. Remorseville.

She stretched. Fuck regrets. Not taking that trip. She felt amazing. Tired, but pleasantly used. Even now the memory of Tyler entering her, stretching her, filling her, made her sex pulse and ache. Her breasts were tender, and her lips were swollen, as if he’d been kissing her only minutes before. She glanced at the clock. Hours. It had been hours since she and Tyler first hit the mattress.

The sun would be up soon. She caressed the area he’d vacated, wondering how long he’d stayed. He had drawn two more orgasms out of her before taking her again. After, she’d fallen asleep in his arms, her mind and body exhausted. Tyler whispered flirty, filthy words in her ear as she drifted—words to assure her they were far from through.

Fine by her. As long as they kept things professional while in her office, she’d gladly get naked with him for as long as he wanted her.

You, and how many other women?

The alarm screeched. Gabriella silenced the noise with a slap.

No. She refused to think about Tyler with other women. Therein lay insanity. Roger had cheated on her, leaving her with some serious trust issues. But Tyler wasn’t Roger.

She and Tyler had an agreement, and it didn’t include promises or exclusivity. The arrangement was a crock, really. At least for her. One man at a time was her limit. She would sleep with Tyler without any kind of commitment or proclamation, but she had no interest in bed-hopping.

Gabriella threw back the sheet and caught more of Tyler’s scent. The warm spice of his cologne mixed with his own personal pheromone that caused her girly parts to sizzle with glee.

Sparing an extra moment to pick up the pillow he’d lain against, Gabriella brought it to her nose. Someone should bottle that smell and call it Hot-Blooded Male. She would be first in line to buy enough to make sure her sheets never smelled of anything else, ever again.

Tossing the pillow back to the bed, Gabriella got up and went into the bathroom. She took a quick shower, leaving her hair to wash later. The weather promised to be another scorcher, so she plaited her hair into a thick French braid. She powdered the shine from her face and added a dusting of blush. A light coat of mascara and some clear gloss for her lips and she deemed herself presentable.

She opted for tan shorts, a lightweight, V-neck shirt, and the most comfortable pair of sandals she owned. Perfect for work. Sensible for meeting Roger for coffee.

His text last night had been vague. When she shot back they had nothing to talk about, he turned arrogant, telling her it would be in her best interest to meet him. She hated the hold he had on her. A hold that would disappear the second he signed the papers turning the house over to her. The lawyers had been going back and forth for months, but Gabriella had been adamant. She had the most financial investment in the house. She didn’t want anything from him—no buy-out, no settlement—she just wanted the house. As of last week, Roger hadn’t signed the papers.

Gabriella couldn’t afford a fight. The paperwork alone had drained her financial reserves.

Gabriella turned off the lights and headed for the door. Her purse still lay on the floor where she’d dropped it last night. She picked it up, noticing a yellow sticky note stuck to the door.

His handwriting was legible, but rushed and somewhat sloppy. Not surprising for someone who probably spent as much time signing his name as he did playing ball. She grinned as she imagined Tyler playing beat the garage door. He’d probably tripped the floor sensor at least once in his bid to escape.

She shoved the note into her purse, double-checked the locks, and headed to the car.

Gabriella arrived at the coffee shop before Roger. She’d left early enough to get in front of rush hour traffic and made it to downtown Little Rock within twenty-five minutes. She was glad for the extra time. She needed a quiet moment in order to settle her nerves before Roger arrived. She took a booth within sight of the front door and ordered an iced dark roast.

“Any cream or sugar?” the waitress asked.

“No, thanks.” Gabriella snickered at the grimace on the young girl’s face. People drank espresso all the time. If it wasn’t a muggy ninety degrees outside, she might’ve gone that route. But it was, and no way would she order anything hot.

Seemingly satisfied Gabriella knew what she was in for, the waitress nodded. “Would you like a pastry to go with your coffee? We’ve got a great apple tart this morning.”

“No, but thank you.” Maybe her stomach would stop roiling once she knew what Roger wanted to discuss. “I’m expecting someone though, so if you could—”

“You’re early.”

Gabriella startled at the voice she’d spent years adoring. Roger slid onto the seat across from her.

Damn it. “So are you.”

She hadn’t seen him for months. Had avoided watching the news on his particular channel in an effort to forget about him and the life they’d shared. She waited for pain to assault her chest. For the memories of their life together to overwhelm her with loss. She’d given up her life in Boston for this man. Looking at him now, she just felt … sad. Not for the loss of what could’ve been, but for the dishonorable man he’d become. A liar and a cheat, camouflaged by a pretty face. He’d done her a favor. She understood that now. The realization made her heart feel lighter, less encumbered by the ugliness of their breakup.

Thank God she hadn’t married the bastard.

Roger ordered, then turned his attention to her. “Thank you for meeting me, Gabby. You look good.”

Image meant everything to Roger. When they were together, leaving the house with her messy braid and little makeup would’ve caused a different response.

“Yeah. You, too.” As usual, Roger was impeccably dressed. Dark gray suit, white shirt, shiny red tie. Not a hair out of place. Camera-ready, as he liked to call it. The only noticeable imperfection was the thin line of sweat beading his upper lip.

Good. She hoped he was sweating his balls off under all those layers. She shouldn’t be the only one uncomfortable.

“Thanks.” Roger ran a hand down his tie, smoothing it as he went. “How’s business?”

The waitress delivered their order. Gabriella fortified herself with a drink before responding.

“Business is great. Busy as ever.” She hated insignificant small talk. She didn’t see the point in asking a question if she wasn’t interested in the answer, so she cut to the chase. “What’s this all about, Roger?”

He eyed her glass. “First cup?”

His condescending tone crawled all over her. She fisted her hands in her lap and took a deep breath, pondering what kind of jail time came with socking an ex-boyfriend in the jaw.

“I have work. I don’t have time for idle chit-chat. You wanted to talk. Here I am. Talk.”

His green eyes blazed. “When did you become so hostile?”

Right around the time he left her for another woman. “Is this about the house? My lawyer tells me you haven’t signed the paperwork to transfer the property over to me.”

Roger toyed with the edge of his napkin. He sighed. “I’m not going to sign.”

The room swayed.

“We agreed.” She dug her elbows into the table and laced her fingers so she wouldn’t take that punch. “If you expect me to offer you money, let me remind you it was my savings that made the down payment. Let me also remind you who’s been paying the mortgage for the last six months.”

“My name is on the mortgage, too. I have just as much right to the house as you do.”

“The hell you do!” Gabriella dropped her fists to the table hard enough to make the silverware jump.

Roger recoiled, his gaze quickly scanning the area. “Don’t make a scene.”

Because a scene would be way worse than him taking her house.

“Why?”

“It’s unseemly. Don’t embarrass yourself … or me.”

And this was the man she’d wanted to marry.

Roger hadn’t always been so self-absorbed. Or maybe he had and she’d chosen to ignore it. The saying ‘love is blind’ must be true, because the man sitting across from her now was a total stranger.

“What?” He pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief and pressed it against his lips.

“That’s not what I meant. You hate that house.” He’d been furious at the cost to remodel the front room into a secure therapy room for her. Said it would lower the overall value. “Why do you want it now?”

He refused to meet her stare. “I don’t hate it. Riverbend is a thriving community. It’s the perfect location to raise—”

“Oh my god. It’s her, isn’t it? She wants my house.” Gabriella rubbed her temple, warding off the sudden pain developing behind her eyes.

This couldn’t be happening. If she lost the house, she also lost her place of business. Everything she’d worked so hard to create. She’d have to start over. Again.

Roger reached for her hand. Gabriella jerked back, plastering herself against the booth. Was there no end to the pain he would cause?

Red stained his cheeks. He stared at her with cold, hard eyes.

“I’m not going to argue with you about this, Gabby. I’m willing to give you a fair settlement.”

“And I’m supposed to roll over and play dead because you’ve made a decision? I don’t want your money. That house isn’t just my home, or have you forgotten? It’s also my place of business.”

“Don’t be dramatic. There are other places you can work. There is a spa on every corner in this town.”

“The type of work I do isn’t conducive to the spa environment, and you know it.” She wasn’t having this argument again. Roger didn’t take her work seriously. Never had, and it seemed he never would.

She folded her shaking hands in her lap. She picked at her fingernails as tears burned her eyes. She blinked, willing them back. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying in front of him. He’d only accuse her of trying to manipulate him.

“I don’t know why you’re getting so upset. Keeping up the house as well as paying the mortgage payment on your income has got to be a strain. An apartment would be less expensive to maintain.”

She glanced up. “Have I missed any of the payments since you left?”

A frown crinkled Roger’s brows.

“Well? Have I?” She bit her quivering lip and tried to swallow the lump lodged in her throat.

Roger drummed his short, manicured fingernails against the table. He drew in a breath, straining his perfectly starched shirt. “I’m not talking about this anymore. I thought it best to work this out between us. I expected you to be reasonable. If you can’t do that, I’ll have my attorney call yours and we will go that route. Keep in mind, I might not be so generous if you drag me to court.”

Of course he wouldn’t. He had an image to uphold.

A single tear escaped. She brushed it away as two sneakered feet came into view. Gabriella looked up and sucked in a breath.

Tyler. Sleeveless shirt soaked through with sweat, ear buds draped over his shoulders, the sexiest man she’d ever seen—Tyler.

“Hiya, gorgeous. Fancy meeting you here.”