Felicity sat at her desk Monday morning feeling pretty pleased. Her laptop was open, and she had on the coverage from the bachelor auction. What could she say? She was pretty darn good.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t slept too well the past two nights because she was still trying to work out what she would do about her mother’s house. About all the unpaid bills. She guessed she and her mother would get an apartment, but it would be more than the house her mother would lose. It would be the memories. Of having young children running around. Of her brother. She frowned and thought of the American flag her mother had put in that shadow box on the wall. Where would they display that in a new apartment?

Sadness filled her, and other memories rushed through her. The funeral, another failed surgery on her heart. Her mother had used every bit of equity in that house to make sure she got successful medical treatment. Too bad, the surgeries hadn’t worked.

Pressing her hand to her chest, she took in a slow breath. Her heart therapist had told her it wasn’t good for her to be too stressed out. Inhaling again, she thought of how she wished she knew how not to be stressed when you had a heart condition.

Opening her eyes, she refocused. Since she hadn’t been given any other projects to manage, she spread an old newspaper on her desk and got out the glue she’d bought. Picking up the cardboard box she’d pushed all the glass into, she pulled out the big pieces one by one. She was determined to put the vase back together. She’d always been fascinated by glass and loved this style of turquoise glass in particular. The vase had been expensive, and she knew her mom had seen her eyeing it in that second hand store a few weeks ago, where it had still cost over two hundred dollars for just a small piece.

“Ms. Song.” Mr. DaVinci didn’t bother to knock, just swung the door wide, a grin on his face. “Our star.” He swept into her office and paused right in front of her desk, holding open his arms. “How you managed to pull the whole thing off is a wonder to me, but I saw the coverage. You were beautiful, magnetic, star material."

Liking that her boss was happy, but feeling a bit unsure, she moved around the desk and fell into a hug. “It was fun.”

DaVinci let her go abruptly, and the smell of tobacco and mint were swept away. “Okay, so I’m thinking we make the date a huge thing.”

“I can’t do it.” She said flatly.

“What?” DaVinci spun back to her. “What do you mean you can’t do it?”

“It’s not my job,” she said quietly. “I’m not some paid escort, am I, Mr. DaVinci? You hired me to be a PR rep, not to date a quarterback.” She knew she sounded ungrateful, but it was against her personal policy to date.

Mr. DaVinci looked caught. “This could really be huge though.”

It didn’t suit to throw it in his face, but she needed leverage. PR was too often a double-edged sword.

“Because if you were running a brothel, then I would be forced to go out with Mr. Kincaid. But, you’re not running a brothel, right? And you wouldn’t want anyone to think that I was a paid escort, would you? That would not be good for business.”

Mr. DaVinci had a reputation for outstanding PR work and nothing on the shady side. While other firms used provocative campaigns and downright salacious images and innuendos, DaVinci always kept it family friendly. He prided himself on this. It was what had drawn her to this firm. Pinching his lips, he sighed in clear frustration. “You’re good, Ms. Song.”

“That’s why you hired me,” she said confidently. Turning back to her desk, she took in a long breath. “I can help you find someone. I can help with—”

“You’re the only one who will do.”

Spinning back around, her eyes connected with Kade Kincaid.

He stood in the doorway of her office, wearing a black leather jacket and holding his helmet. He had on jeans, and his hair was rumpled. He wore one of those tight under armour t-shirts she always wondered why people thought were okay to assume served as casual clothes.

“Mr. Kincaid.” Mr. DaVinci had on his aristocratic voice again. “So good to see you.”

Kade put up a hand. “Can I speak to the lady alone please?”

Mr. DaVinci looked uncertain and turned to her.

“It’s fine,” she said, her heart rate kicking up a notch, but she did feel nervous. Even butterflies, she thought to herself. How ridiculous. She wasn’t some teenager.

“Okay,” Mr. DaVinci said as he rushed out of her office, ceremoniously closing both doors behind him.

Mr. Kincaid stood there, looking all bad boy dashing and glared at her. “I was confused the other night when you threatened to expose me as a sham.” He pointed at her and let out a light laugh. “Then I actually thought you were brilliant because why would you do it as part of a job?”

Part of her wanted to laugh because of the obvious cockiness of this man. The other part wanted to flip him off. “I told you I don’t date. I take as much pride in my work as anyone else. The other night was work. But a date would be blurring those lines.”

Moving to her desk, he put his hands on it and leaned in. “No. No, it’s something else.”

Attraction filled her. This man was what every other woman in America would want to date. “You don’t understand.”

“Price.” He exhaled. “Why would you do it as part of your job? What are you making?” he whispered and put a hand over the side of his mouth conspiratorially. “Eighty? A hundred?” He said the numbers flippantly. “Name your price.” He challenged.

Anger burned into her at this cocky, snotty, larger than life football player. Strike that—at the dynasty. The oil money dynasty that Kade Kincaid represented. She was pretty sure he’d never wanted for much. He said, ‘eighty, a hundred’ like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t just spent four years investing in her education in order to earn that money. “No,” she said calmly, resolutely, crossing her arms tightly. “I’m not going out with you.”

“Why?” He pushed forward, coming to lay his hands on the desk in front of her.

“I told you—”

“You don’t date.” He said the words like they were bitter pieces of salt. “C’mon, Ms. Song. I was at that auction. You worked it. You had the audience. You made them laugh. You ..." He sputtered and flashed her an admirable glance her way. “They liked you.”

She shrugged. “So what?” She knew how to be liked, knew what to say to the press. Yes, she was a good Vanna White if she wanted to be, but she didn’t want to be Vanna for him. Dating anyone wouldn’t do. When you had a heart condition no one could fix, you kept personal relationships at a distance.

Complete confusion filled his face. Pulling back, he looked at the newspaper and pieces of glass on the desk. “Is it really because I broke your vase? Because I’ll replace it.”

Staring at her vase, she felt defensive over it, as if all his wealth could replace her mother’s offering. He would never understand. “There are just some things that can’t be fixed.”

Looking confused, Kade turned to her bookshelves. He picked up different books on the shelf and thumbed through them, then put them back down noisily.

It was getting aggravating, having him here. “Mr. Kincaid, I will help you find a replacement date who is quite suitable. She will be every bit a Titans’ cheerleader and non-stalker Sheena that you’ve dated in the past.”

His dark, brooding eyes were back on her. Heaving out a sigh, he took his leather jacket off and tossed it across the arm of a chair. “No.”

Getting more and more infuriated by the second, she threw her hands up. “Mr. Kincaid—”

“Kade.” He waved away pretense. “Just Kade.” He didn’t get closer to the desk, but he put his feet shoulder width apart and crossed his arms, appearing very stalwart, almost militant. As if he were a cop standing in front of a crime scene before he scoured the place for clues. “I need you to go on that date.” Sizing her up and down, he held his ground.

“No.” She said even more defiantly.

“What if we worked out a contract between us. Just something your boss doesn’t even have to know about. We decide on a quick and tidy sum for the date. I mean, the date is a date, right? I’ll take you up in my helicopter and take you to dinner. We’ll let them record us, and Texas, heck America, will be happy. And no one has to know about the money.”

“I don’t want your money.” Her voice was ardent. No one understood, and she wouldn’t give them a chance to understand. She didn’t date.

Still keeping his arms crossed, he shook his head. “I didn’t want to do this.”

Confused for a moment, she watched him go to his jacket and pull out a sheet of paper.

He read from it. “Notice of foreclosure.”

Stunned, she bolted to her feet. This was over the line. “How dare you!”

“I had my guys look into you.” He didn’t look a bit remorseful.

Of course, he would. He was Kade Kincaid. He wasn’t an ordinary run of the mill guy. Every part of her started to shake. “Get out." How dare he? She picked up the vase she’d been fixing and threw it across the room at him.

He dodged it, picking up his jacket. He left an envelope on the chair. “I’m giving you this, as a gesture.”

She held her ground. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

He pointed to the envelope. “No strings attached.” He pulled the door closed.

She let out the breath she was holding and quickly sucked in another. She stood there wondering what she would do. Her heart raced, and she sat back in her chair, trying to calm herself. She needed this job. She had to keep it together.

A thought struck her. Would Kade go talk to Mr. DaVinci? Would he complain? She knew Mr. DaVinci would never allow her to stay, not after this. Not with a guy with the name Kincaid getting upset.

Standing, she decided to go talk to Mr. Davinci. She didn’t want to, fearing the worst, but she had to know what Kade had told him.

Moving to his office, she saw him wave her in, the phone still at his ear. He put up a finger to have her stay then turned it off and gave her his attention. “Well, Mr. Kincaid says it’s all good. He’ll figure out something for the date, so you’re off the hook.”

“Okay.”

He waved her away. “Apparently, he has another someone in mind, so just help him transition with the press, and you’re golden.”

She felt sucker punched. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re good.” He turned back to the phone. “Yeah,” he said into the phone. “Can you hold on a sec?” he asked whoever was on the phone, turning to her and handing her a file. “I told you about the Senator’s daughter who needs some PR help. Please meet with the family tomorrow and let me know your plan to help clean up her image.”

Taking the file, she turned back to the lobby and went back to her office. She was mystified. It wasn’t like Kade Kincaid to give up so easily.

Strolling into her office, she eyed the envelope on her chair. Unable to stop herself, she went to it, ripping it open, then tugging out the piece of paper within.

Quickly unfolding it, she read what it was.

A deed to her mother’s house.

He’d bought it? She stumbled back, but kept reading.

The language stated the home was now owned by her and her mother. She held to the chair to steady herself.

There was a little yellow piece of paper taped to the deed. It had a phone number on it and the words ‘A gesture of my affection. Call or text anytime.’