Bryant stretched his neck, hearing it click in one thousand different places. He’d run for an hour around Central Park that morning, but it hadn’t helped; needed a massage, maybe some physical therapy. Getting old sucked. Having a job that required him to spend so much time with his butt on a chair wasn’t helping, either.

He’d barely seen Tori today, which might have contributed to his sour mood. She’d waltz into work, back in her business attire, about five minutes after he’d locked himself in his office. As Jeremy was trying to get him to agree to change their software, he couldn’t go see her. Then, after the IT guy, he had to deal with a report he’d asked for, a call from a potential client, an email from Naomi, a call from James, and, before he knew it, Tori was leaving for lunch. He hadn’t had the time to find an excuse to go bug her in her office all morning.

He’d find something. He always did.

Bryant was in the process of replying to his ex when the corner of his eye caught something he couldn’t ignore. Today, Tori was wearing a dark purple pelated, flowy skirt that looked like it might feel softer than heaven. It moved with each sway of her hips. She’d paired it with a tight black blouse, her favorite wool jacket and, needless to say, her signature fuck-me shoes.

He saw her enter the floor, and expected her to walk past his office to reach hers, like she did every day. Maybe she’d paused by Sam’s desk to say hi.

But instead, Tori stopped in front of his door, and opened it.

Abandoning his email, Bryant immediately got to his feet. She’d come to him. For the first time. Ever.

Was the office on fire?

“Hey.”

“Hey?” he echoed, his confusion obvious.

Tori stepped into his office, and closed the door behind her. He gripped his desk, cursing his brother, who had chosen one of those trendy open plan offices with glass walls. Never mind the fact that he’d also had one of those in his firm back in London. Right here, right now, he wished for some privacy.

Why? He mused. It wasn’t like she’d let him fuck her on the desk.

“I spoke to Lexi.”

He stared at her, and his lips curled up. She’d come to him, and she wasn’t here to talk about work, either?

“Have you, now?”

“I did. And I need to apologize, I guess? By the sound of things, you were just helping her out. I guess I wanted to say, sorry about assuming things.”

That made him frown.

“This is about Saturday,” he conjectured.

She wanted out of this weekend now her friend had reassured her that she was okay. He should have seen that coming.

Tori nodded. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have acted like I was entitled to know your business. Lexi is obviously fine, and she’s an adult. You both are.”

Bryant sat on his desk, and forced himself to returned his gaze to his computer.

“Was that all, Tori?”

He expected her to get out of there, turn on her high heels and go. Why wasn’t he hearing any steps?

He turned back to her.

Fuck.

She was looking down, and nibbling at her bottom lip like the sexy vixen she was.

“I…I mean, you can say no, of course.”

He sat back on his chair, his eyes fixed on her.

“Talk.”

His tone made her look up, her lips slightly parted. She must have sensed the difference; there was no smile, no teasing now. Bryant was done playing cat with this pretty little mouse.

“I’d still like to see your club.”

The silence might have lasted an entire minute or less than a second, he wasn’t sure. Then the corner of his lip slowly curved up.

“Why?”

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other one, feeling awkward.

“I’m intrigued.”

She wasn’t, not really. Lexi had been intrigued; so she’d researched dungeons on the internet, doing the leg work. Bryant doubted that Tori fell in that category. She wasn’t interested in BDSM - but she was interested in him.

Not demanding that she spelled that out for him took a lot of self- discipline.

“Of course.” He’d never sounded more casual. “I’ve already penciled you in on my schedule.”

The woman blushed and smiled.

“Great. Hm, I was wondering if there’s a dress code? I can’t imagine whatever I’ll be wearing to the benefit will be appropriate for…wherever we’re going.”

“Wearing the right thing…that’s important to you, isn’t it?”

She shrugged.

“Standing out feels like a cry for attention. I reserve that for family dinners,” she ginned.

He smiled back, recalling the way she’d dressed the previous day. Halfway through the lunch he’d endured after she’d left, he understood her. The shorts had been a way to get on her mother’s nerves, and he couldn’t blame her. The woman was a piece of work.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

She didn’t even need to think about it.

“No.”

Bryant couldn’t say he was surprised by that answer. He amended, “Do you trust me to pick out an outfit for you? You can always bring something else, and wear that if you’re not comfortable with what I’ve bought.”

Tori tilted her head.

“You like that, don’t you? Picking a woman’s clothing.”

Damn astute woman.

“Yes.” For good measure, he added, “Very much so.”

She held his gaze, and eventually shrugged.

“Why not. I’m a size four on top, six for the bottom.”

He wrote that down.

Damn. Bryant must have done something very, very right in another life.

Four hours later, when everyone was leaving the office, a tall, familiar figure walking in reminded him of an appointment he’d completely forgotten about.

He inwardly sighed, wishing he could just go home and lie down. Plastering a smile, he went to greet Carter, who was chatting away with Sam, a massive dog at his feet.

“Hey, mate, glad you could make it,” he lied, his hand extended to stroke the dog’s head.

“No problem. The lady of the house is on a strict deadline, so she just ignores me. I left food and coffee around her desk, we’re good to go for an hour.”

He spoke of his woman very fondly, smiling in a way Bryant recognized.

“Cassie, right?”

His friend nodded. “Yes. She’s an author. She’d write through a fire alarm, so right now, I don’t actually exist.”

There was no heat behind his words.

“What does she write, anything I’d recognize?”

“If you’re into books with half naked guys on ’roids on the cover, then yeah, probably.”

Bryant grimaced.

“Not my thing.”

“There’s nothing wrong with romance books, especially when they’re written by Cassie,” a raspy, sensual voice interjected a second before Bryant smelled Tori’s heady perfume.

“Hey, Buddy,” she baby-talked, scratching the dog, who enthusiastically licked her face.

Tori let him make a mess without so much as a blink.

Could that woman stop being so goddamned perfect?

“Tori,” Carter kissed one of her cheeks, so naturally it must have been a normal thing, for them.

Do not, I repeat, do not punch the guy in the teeth. He’s your friend. He isn’t interested in your woman.

Telling himself that wasn’t helping. He didn’t get to kiss her, so no one else fucking should, either.

“Heading out?” Carter asked. “We could certainly use a woman’s opinion if you have some time.”

Never mind punching him. Carter was obviously his best friend.

“Oh?”

“I’m going to buy a place around here; a real estate agent sent me some options, but I don’t have the time to go visit a ton, so I figured I’d ask a native about the area, the market value, that sort of thing. But, hey, another set of eyes would be great.”

“Home shopping,” she bobbed her head. “That’s always fun. I did have a date with my Kindle and a lush bath bomb, though. What’s in it for me?”

“We were going to grab a burger and some beer.”

And because the woman was annoyingly perfect, she declared, “Sold.”