How the hell did he manage to find me?

The thought rattles round and round my brain while the ancient elevator wheezes its way up to the top floor. I was so surprised to hear his voice on the other end of the line last night that I hung up before launching into my customary phone spiel, which includes the name of the company.

He must have run a reverse phone search, but since the call center I represent uses a system that creates dummy numbers so people have a difficult time blocking us, tracking down the origins of the late evening call should have taken several days, not just a few hours.

And why did he bother?

We had a one-night stand seven years ago. We were just two people who experienced an instant and intense attraction that morphed into lust. We’d enjoyed each other’s bodies before going our separate ways.

There’d been consequences which I had—no, am—dealing with, but Jason was free to move on, to do whatever he wanted. Between his looks, enigmatic personality, and newfound fortune, the most beautiful women in the world must be throwing themselves at his feet.

So why put any time and effort into tracking me down?

I suppose it could be a strange coincidence, some funny twist of fate that happened to put us on the same street at the exact same time, right after I accidentally called him. Not likely, but not outside the realm of extreme possibility.

But that kiss. Even now, several minutes later, my lips tingle and my knees aren’t as steady as they should be. Heat warms each place his hands rested, as if he branded me with his touch.

He kissed me like a man who hasn’t been kissed in a very long time. He kissed me the way girls always dream of being kissed, like he was a man who’s finally found the very thing he’s been searching for his entire life.

Nonsense.

I shake my head in an effort to knock my thoughts back on a more realistic, less fanciful path. I’m not the kind of girl who inspires anyone to pine after them for several years. I am more the love ‘em and forget about ‘em type.

Still, it’s nice to think that I am, even if it’s just a bit of fun.

And Jason. HOLY COW! I’ve looked at enough pictures of him to know he’s changed since our one night together, but man, I assumed the photos were photoshopped or at the very least airbrushed.

Wrong.

Talk about an extreme makeover. Seven years ago, he was a skinny guy dressed in tattered swim trunks and a Surf’s Up T-shirt and hair that hadn’t seen a pair of scissors in at least six months. This time, dressed in designer jeans and an expensive pea coat, he was perfectly groomed and my hands hadn’t been groping the same skinny body. Somewhere along the line Jason bulked up. Now instead of being a cute geek, he’s turned into a major hunk – and way out of my league.

Though based on his greeting, maybe he doesn’t know just how hot he’s become.

For a moment, I was been tempted to run away with him. And if it was just me, I would, without the slightest hesitation.

But it’s not just me. Not only do I have Kelsey, I also have to think about Abe, Abe’s father, and everyone else who would be very interested to learn that I know Chicago’s newest – and hottest – member of the billionaire club. There is no way they’d ignore the connection. They’d find a way to exploit it until Jason is as firmly under their thumb as I am.

There’s no way I can do that to him.

The elevator doors slide open before I can work out an explanation for Jason tracking me down and greeting me with the kind of soul-shaking kiss that only happens in the movies.

Jerry’s angry glare clashes with mine, yanking my thoughts away from Jason and back to where they should be: cold, harsh reality. “Where have you been?” he demands.

“What? Why?” I’m a few minutes late, but that’s hardly the end of the world. Very few of us actually show up on time, a fact that Jerry barely notices, probably because he’s so rarely on time himself.

“I just got word from upper management.” Jerry wraps a big hand around my arm and steers me to my little cubicle. “A potential investor is coming this morning.”

“An investor?” The call center earns enough money to pay wages and keep the lights on, but past that, it doesn’t make much money, at least not as far as I can tell. It certainly doesn’t seem like the kind of business a serious, legit investor would take an interest in.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“In the grand scheme of things, nothing.” Jerry turns down the row that houses my cubicle. One of the newest hires, a pretty redhead who’d graduated high school last spring, walks toward us on her way to the water cooler. Jerry sucks in his gut and runs a hand through his hair while shooting her a half leering smile. She rolls her eyes and keeps walking.

Smart girl.

“But I want everyone here, at their cubicles, and working the phone lines as if their life depends on it when the guy gets here.” We reach my cubicle and he releases me. I resist, barely, the urge to rub my upper arm. “And what happened last night?”

‘So much’ is my knee-jerk answer, but I’ll be damned before I tell Jerry that.

“What do you mean, what happened?”

“I went through the records and the last call you made, it looks like you hung up. Looks like you did it almost as soon as the call connected.”

“Oh, that.”

Figures. The one and only time I hang up the phone is the same time Jerry actually does his job and checks things out. I take off my coat and carefully hang it on the back of my chair, using the time to think up a reasonable excuse. “There must be a glitch in the system. Like you said, I made the call, and the phone disconnected. I didn’t know what to do about it, so I called it a night.”

“Great,” Jerry mutters as I slide into my chair and put on my headset. His eyes rove up around the room but I get the impression he doesn’t see anybody, that he’s lost in his own thoughts. Funny, I don’t usually think of Jerry having any thoughts, beyond which employee he wants to seduce. “Someone with money coming in and things start breaking down. Typical.”

He walks away before I can respond. It’s the only time I can remember him leaving my side without making some sort of lewd comment or trying to cop a feel. I could get used to this. Maybe potential investors should distract him more often.

I hit the computer’s power switch and wait for the ancient machine to slowly boot up. My mind drifts back to Jason.

He looks good. He’s filled out since that night in Florida, losing that gaunt, half-starved look that plagues tall guys through their teens and early twenties. And he’s become more confident—that was the other thing I noticed just before he’d captured my lips with his own.

I glance at the list of calls I need to make before the end of my shift and enter the first number into the computer. Clicks and beeps sound in my ear while the system struggles to connect.

A moment later a woman’s soft, slightly harassed hello sounds in my ear and I shove all thoughts of Jason from my mind. I can’t afford to think about him now, if I’m going to pay off my debts and protect my daughter—Jason’s daughter.

I need to focus on what I’m doing and not do anything that will cost me my job.