“Damn, damn, and double damn.”

I glance at the watch strapped around my left wrist. “Damn,” I say one more time.

I spent a small fortune on the timepiece because, in addition to looking good and keeping accurate time, the watch does everything from monitoring my heart rate, to calculating my daily calorie intake, to letting me know exactly how many steps I’ve taken during the day. The one thing it can’t do is turn back time so that I’m not late for my date.

I slam my feet into my favorite pair of high-heeled strappy sandals and grab my purse off the table. “Don’t wait up for me,” I yell over my shoulder, not caring that the large dog I share my apartment with can’t understand my words. Saying them out loud makes me feel less lonely.

I take advantage of the elevator’s mirrored interior to spread some bronze eyeshadow on each lid and freshen my mascara. The elevator comes to an abrupt halt and the doors slide open, revealing the lobby, as I dig through my purse for my favorite tube of lipstick.

“Come on,” I mutter to myself as I keep digging through my purse and step off the elevator and into the lobby. My fingers sort through packs of gum, Chapstick, a pair of reading glasses, a book, and a pair of chopsticks. But no lipstick. “I know you’re in there somewhere.”

Without breaking stride, I bend my head closer to the purse’s opening, hoping to spot the dark plastic tube. “There you are!”

Just as my fingertips brush against the smooth, cool plastic, my forward progress slams to a halt as I careen into a wall of muscle.

“Umph,” I yelp as my body bounces off the wall. I crash to the floor, landing in an undignified heap.

“Are you okay?” Warm hands reach for me, stroking along my arms and running down the length of my back. Little bursts of electrical current shimmy along my skin in the wake of his touch, making me want to lean into the owner of those hands and explore what would happen if there wasn’t a dress between us.

I force myself to ignore the strange sensations that are warming my blood, and make a quick assessment of my legs, ass, and head. I’ll probably have a few interesting bruises tomorrow, but nothing seems broken, sprained, or twisted.

“I’m fine.” I glance at the person I crashed into and my stomach instantly ties into a knot. Figures! Of all the people who live in the Dovetail Apartment Building, the one I’d run into is Garret Holden. The same Garret Holden I’ve been crushing on since I first laid eyes on him. The only man who can make me tongue-tied and weak-kneed with just a glance.

Garret Holden who stood out from the rest of the men who inhabit the Dovetail, not only because he always wears faded t-shirts and ass hugging jeans instead of the business suits and because his dark hair is far longer than current fashion trends dictate, but also because he has the most smoldering eyes and best body I’ve ever seen.

Each time I catch a glimpse of him, my knees go weak and I forget how to breathe.

I drop my gaze down to his left hand. The platinum wedding band is still wrapped around his finger. It catches the overhead light and I look away. It’s just my luck, the hottest, sexiest man I’ve ever met already has a wife.

Even though I’ve yet to catch a glimpse of Garret’s wife, that ring means he’s off limits—but that doesn’t keep my hormones from doing all sorts of crazy things whenever he’s around.

“I’m so sorry.” Garret’s voice drags my thoughts away from the strange reaction my body has to his nearness and back to the present.

“Huh.” The sound, which is little more than a grunt, makes me wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole. Normally, I’m quite articulate and have an extensive vocabulary.

“I’m sorry,” Garret repeats. “I didn’t mean to knock you down.”

“Oh, that.” I place the flat of my hand on the cool floor tiles and start to push myself up and off the floor. If I’m going to embarrass myself while having a conversation with Garret Holden, I’m damned well going to do so while standing on my own two feet.

Garret’s massive hands cup my upper arms, sending more electric signals to all sorts of interesting places as he helps me up.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Hey! Look at that! My mouth can form words and my brain can turn them into complete sentences! “This was completely my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Garret asks one more time.

I nod and bend my mouth into a nervous smile. “Oh yeah. Nothing damaged but my pride, and that usually bounces back pretty quickly.”

Trying to be nonchalant, I lean just a little closer and breathe in the scent of his aftershave. I don’t know what brand he uses, but it’s my new favorite scent: it’s both spicy and fruity with just a hint of—I take another sniff—motor oil?

Garret nods again. He bends and starts picking stuff up from the floor.

I glance down and a fresh wave of humiliation rolls through me. Slipping wasn’t enough. I also dropped my purse and the contents have spilled all over the floor. Without a word, Garret tucks each item, including the tube of lipstick that started this whole disaster, back into my purse.

Still, it could be worse. At least my tampons are still zipped securely into the interior pocket.

“Thanks,” I mutter as he hands the bag back to me. I hook it over my shoulder and search my brain for something witty and kind of flirty to say. After all, the ring and wife mean he’s off limits, but that doesn’t mean I can’t flirt. Right?

Before anything springs to mind, he bends and picks up one more item.

Garret hands the purse to me before reaching for one last thing that has slid farther across the floor than the other items. It’s the paperback romance novel I snagged from the rack at the grocery store. The one that caught my eye purely because of the obviously naked hunk on the cover.

I burn with embarrassment as Garret studies the cover for a second before handing the book to me.

“Is it any good?” he asks with a pointed glance at it.

My mouth opens, fishlike, a few times. I shove the book into the bag and stumble backwards a few steps.

“Um. I don’t know.” I mentally roll my eyes. Great, more witty conversation. “I have to go. I’ve got a date.”

Before Garret has a chance to respond, I turn and hurry out the door and into the parking garage, knowing full well that tonight’s date is going to have a difficult time measuring up to Garret Holden.