My gaze bounces from Jason to Jerry as I weigh my choices. Neither is good. I’ve never been convinced that Abe and his goons aren’t watching my every move. If they saw me in the street with Jason, well, that I can explain. I’ll just tell them that it was a simple case of mistaken identity. That he mistook me for an old girlfriend.

I won’t even be lying. Jason remembers me as that bright, hopeful girl with her whole future stretching out ahead of her like a shiny ribbon that he knew seven years ago, but she’s gone. I’m what’s left.

But if I leave here with him, if I am being watched, what would happen then? Abe and his father aren’t the type to let a connection to a billionaire go unexploited.

I’ve never been able to determine if they’re keeping an eye on me. I’ve merely lived my life assuming they are. Which is why I’ve made sure to never socialize with anyone that I don’t share a working relationship with or do anything else that could potentially put someone else’s life in danger.

My attitude has always been that it’s easier to be safe than to live with someone else’s misery weighing on my conscience.

One the other hand, it’s clear that Jerry really wants to make a good impression and as far as he’s concerned right now, I’m a vital part of that. If I refuse to go with Jason, Jerry will find some petty and vindictive way to make me pay. If I’m lucky, it will be shifts like last night that continue on long after I should be home. If I’m not lucky, he’ll come up with some excuse to fire me, and that’s the one thing I can’t afford.

No amount of freelancing will make up for a steady paycheck.

And there’s Jason himself. His taste still lingers on my lips, making it nearly impossible for me to focus on my job, and now that he’s standing right here, looking at me with eyes the color of melted milk chocolate and the sweetest expression of longing on his face, my resistance is weakening fast.

Just looking at him weakens my knees.

My mind flips through my possible options, and keeps coming back to the same choice.

If someone is watching me and questions what I’m doing with a billionaire like Jason Monroe, they’ll simply have to accept that this is a business deal.

Hopefully, I’ve never given Abe, his father, or any of their goons a reason to spy on me. I cross my fingers, just in case.

“Coffee sounds lovely,” I tell Jason.

Decision made, I stand up and pull on my coat. I toy with the idea of leaving my laptop here. I hate hauling it around. Each time I carry the bag, I feel like I’m wearing a big neon flashing sign that begs muggers to attack me. Still, I’ll feel better with it near as opposed to wondering and worrying if Jason is going through it while I’m away.

It’s exactly the kind of thing he’d do if given half a chance.

Jason’s eyes shine brighter than the sun. “Outstanding.” He rubs his hands together. That, plus the sheer excitement in his eyes, reminds me of Kelsey as she waits for her birthday party to start. “I know of a great place just a few blocks from here. Run by a pair of locals so the coffee is better than that sludge the franchise chains sell. I’ll drive.”

“Sounds good,” I tell him.

As we walk toward the door, I feel the eyes of my co-workers following me as they wonder about my connection to Jason and just what we’re going to be doing.

I wish there was a subtle way of letting them know that the only thing we’ll be discussing is business. For one brief, shining night, Jason was the most wonderful thing in the world, but now, as a result of choices I’ve made, he can never be a part of my life again.

Once this coffee date ends, I’ll once again erase him from my life, and if he decides to become an active investor in Abutilon Telemarketing Services, I’ll simply quit and find another job. It’s not like boring, dead end jobs like this one are difficult to find.

Jason holds the door open, letting me go first before he follows me. His hand finds my lower back as we walk to the elevator. I stiffen and take a deep breath. Relax, I order myself. It’s normal. Lots of guys, especially in the Midwest, place a hand on the back or shoulder of the woman they’re walking with. It’s a kind of primitive gesture, a throwback to a more chivalrous time when men felt honor bound to protect their women.

Slowly, my muscles soften and my hips gently sway beneath his touch. Even through my coat and blouse, I feel the warmth of his palm. It comforts me, easing some of the tension I’ve carried since the birth of my daughter and I aligned myself with the mob.

How long has it been since a guy has touched me and I haven’t felt the need to throw up all my defenses?

Too long.

Lately, every time a man makes a move to touch me, I spend all my energy trying to evade their advances. It’s nice to not have to worry about that for once, to simply take comfort in feeling a hand on my back and the knowledge that for now at least, I’m not alone.

I slide a sideways glance at Jason and the realization hits me like a truck. While I don’t know what the next few hours are going to bring, he’s come back into my life, even if just for a little while, and I’m not over him. Attraction continues to burn low in my belly. I want him to be mine, if only for a little while, which is all we can safely enjoy.

Based on how he kissed me on the street, he’s still very much attracted to me. And my warming blood is proof that my libido still fancies him. Denying him is about as futile as trying to deny a rising tide. Some things simply can’t be held back.

We reach the elevator and Jason presses the call button. I stand beside him, surreptitiously studying him out of the corner of my eye.

I analyze every single aspect of his appearance, filing it away so I can pull the memory out again the next time I feel lonely.

He’s changed in the last seven years, but from where I’m standing, the changes are an improvement. Dark, sand-colored hair that looks like it’s cropped short, not for fashion, but rather to contain curl, because already the ends are starting to wave.

Nicely spaced ocean blue eyes sit above a nose that’s been broken once or twice. His lips are a bit fuller than the average male, and they’re currently tipped up in a very nice-looking smile that makes my internal organs quiver.

His shoulders are wide and his stone-gray button-down shirt stretches over a well-developed chest and flat stomach. Clearly, he’s found his way around a gym at some point.

My eyes slide lower and lower. They skid to a stop at mid-thigh, where his hands rest against the sides of his legs, the long, graceful fingers curved into very loose half fists. They hold me in thrall.

Wide, deeply tanned palms narrow into wrists that are roped with sinew. His nails are trimmed short and, though they gleam in the light, it’s a healthy gleam rather than the buffed and shined manicure so many men have taken to getting these days. These are masculine hands, hands that aren’t afraid to get dirty, or throw a punch, or…please a woman.

Even as the thought blasts through my mind, I remember how they felt against my skin seven years ago. How they’d peeled my clothes away, one item at a time, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. How they’d warmed my breasts as he’d kissed the side of my neck. The scrape of his calluses as those same hands slid lower and lower. How they’d held me and soothed me afterwards.

I clench my thighs together and bite my lip while anticipation zings through me. Startled by the unexpected reaction to the mere sight of something as ordinary as a pair of hands, I rip my gaze away from them and find him watching me, his head tilted to the side and one brow raised as he stares directly at my mouth.

The ding announcing the arrival of the elevator makes us both jump.

Memories continue assaulting my mind as I follow Jason into the elevator. I haven’t told him, but when he led me to that abandoned lifeguard station on the beach, he changed my life forever.

Prior to that moment, I’d never done more than engage in the occasional petting sessions with guys, but even before Jason’s lips touched mine, I knew that he was different, that he was special.

I’m lucky.

He could have been rough, he could have been careless, but it was almost as if, even without me telling him, he’d known it was my first time and had taken his time, making the experience a prized and precious memory.

Maybe that, and not lack of time or concern about how it will impact Kelsey, is why I haven’t felt the desire to go on more than one or two dates with a guy before calling it quits. I’m afraid that they’ll never be able to compete with Jason’s memory.

Maybe my subconscious believes it’s better to be lonely than try to live with disappointment.

The elevator doors whisper closed behind us and Jason hits the button for the ground floor. He looks at me and something in my expression has him raising a quizzical brow. “What?”

Other men might not be able to compare to what my body remembers, but Jason is standing before me right now. And he’s made it very clear that he’s still interested in me.

No, I can’t afford to build some wild fantasy about the two of us riding off into the sunset together, but is there any solid reason that we can’t spend a few hours making some new memories?

I moisten my lips. “I don’t want coffee.”

“Okay.” Jason shoves his hands into his coat pockets and continues studying me. “What do you want?”

I take a deep breath before stepping closer to him. His breathing quickens.

Gaining strength from the evidence of his interest, I lean even closer until my lips are the merest whisper away from his. “Do you really want to know what I want?”

I lift my head a fraction of an inch higher and press my lips against Jason’s, pouring all the loneliness I’ve felt during the past few years into the kiss.

My tongue traces the outline of his lips, marveling at how soft they feel against mine as his arms wrap around my hips, pulling me into him until his warmth surrounds me. He opens his mouth, allowing me to deepen the kiss.

Restlessness courses through me and I squirm against him and groan against his mouth. I slide one hand up his back until my fingers tangle in his thick, silky hair. My other hand finds his collar. I slide down the zipper of his coat and toy with the buttons on the shirt he wears underneath, exposing a vee of chest.

Riding instinct, I pull my mouth away from his and rain kisses along his jaw and down the side of his neck until I reach the base of his throat.

As my tongue swirls in the hollow below his Adam’s apple, Jason clenches at my clothing. “Good God, Ella,” he gasps.

I rise up on my toes, brushing first one and then a second kiss against his parted lips before grinning at him. The elevator grinds to a halt and the doors slide open.

“I want you to take me somewhere that we can be alone.”