Patrick woke up alone.

He sat with a start, gaze darting around the room. Cassie wasn’t there. His breathing went shallow, and his chest locked down until he heard the sound of the shower running. Leaning forward, he put his head in his hands and took a few deep breaths.

Man, Pavlovian reactions were hard to kick.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t wake up by himself all the time. If a woman was in his bed until after sunrise, it was because the fun had lasted that long. But waking alone unexpectedly was a slingshot into the past, and his accelerated heart rate proved that last night had been the epitome of bad decision-making on his part.

The plan had been to find someone else. To flash some hot, willing, twenty-or-thirty-or-he-couldn’t-care-less-year-old in Cassie’s face. But somehow, he’d ended up propositioning her instead.

Blinking back the bright sunlight, Patrick yanked off the covers, threw on a pair of boxers and dropped to the floor. He needed to move in order to think. Balancing himself on his hands and toes, he started his morning routine, planning on doing as many reps as possible before his arms gave out or Cassie finished in the shower, whatever happened first.

Maybe it was her smug attitude that had set him off course. She’d thought she was unattainable, beyond his ability to ensnare, and he’d had to prove her wrong. Or perhaps it was another instance of the Dunham-Allbright battle of wits—nothing would piss her off more than getting seduced by him, and he’d been compelled to show her he could both dance, and get her from rude to breathless, without breaking a sweat.

But as he felt the first beads of perspiration on his forehead, Patrick knew all of that was bullshit. He’d gone after her because she blew his goddamn mind. Because her wit and playfulness was as hot as her body. Because one time with her wasn’t enough, and he abso-fucking-lutely needed to get at her again.

And that was a problem. Because he never slept with the same woman twice. And now he was offering her a fucking exclusivity contract.

His nose met the floor, arms shaking as he hit his two-hundredth push-up. There was no rationalizing his way out of this one. He’d told her he made exceptions, and that was true—a rare bonus night when he ran across someone he hadn’t seen in years and it was clear there was a leftover itch that could use a little scratch. Nothing like chasing someone a week after he’d had her, and nothing like what he’d suggested last night. But it was the look in her eyes, that damn eyebrow when she insinuated one night wasn’t going to be enough to satisfy. Most women barely admitted they had one fantasy. Cassie looked like she had so many scenarios cooked up in her head, there weren’t enough hours in the night to get through them all.

God, he wanted to get through them all.

No longer able to hold himself up, he flipped over and switched to sit-ups. It was true what he'd told her about picking up women for show—doing it in front of her face, waiting for her to be jealous. Seeing that flash of disgust in her eyes turned him on in ways he couldn’t fathom, and he wanted an endless supply of that, wanted her angry and sweaty and gasping his name.

Sex. That was all he was offering. A not-really-friends-with-benefits situation. Yeah, this might’ve been a change of pace for him, but wanting a sexy woman in his bed on a recurring basis wasn’t a crime. And Cassie was totally on board with it.

Not totally. Not at all, actually. She hadn’t said yes yet.

Patrick dropped to the floor with a smile. Cassie wasn’t an exception to his rule. She was his biggest challenge yet. A whole other ballgame of seduction. He didn’t need a reason for wanting to do this, other than one simple thing: most women wanted him. Cassie didn’t. And that was enough for him to want to change her mind.

The shower shut off. Patrick jumped up and quickly mopped his brow with a T-shirt before hunting for some clothes for both of them to wear. He wasn’t gonna let her walk out that door without giving him an answer, and the second she put that dress and shoes back on, he was either going to need to fuck her again or get her the hell out of his apartment.

Forcing himself to think G-rated thoughts, Patrick got dressed. By the time Cassie had emerged from the bathroom in a towel he’d found something for her to wear too.

“Good morning, birthday girl. I hope you enjoyed your shower.”

“I did.” She blushed—yeah, blushed, looking a tiny bit…uncomfortable? Embarrassed? Cassie nervous was a sight he’d never seen before. And fuck, did it turn him on.

He gestured toward the bed. “I laid some clothes out for you.”

“Do you keep extra clothes hanging around for your morning-afters?” she asked, no longer uneasy. No, that snark was back in full force.

“No, smartass. It’s just for you. Although I was kinda hoping to put you back in that sash you were wearing last night.”

She laughed. “I wish I hadn’t left it behind. It got me a bunch of free drinks at Hard Wood.”

“And a lot of lap dances, I assume.”

“A few. And by the way, you cheated last night. At the bar.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When you surprised me with my drink. Did you find out what I like from Lilly?”

“Nope.”

“Then how’d you know?”

“Easy. It’s the same drink you always have.”

“You’ve noticed that?”

“We’ve been going to bars together for months and you always order a blood-orange cosmo. Did you think I wouldn’t remember?”

Another part of his propensity to observe and remember everything, as well as a lovely side effect of having an alcoholic mother: he was always aware of what everyone drank, how much and how often. It was why when Jack had lost himself to alcohol after Eve’s death, Patrick had locked up his friend’s liquor cabinet and stolen the key.

It made him think, though. “Out of curiosity, how much did you have to drink last night?”

“If you’re asking if I was drunk when I decided to go home with you, the answer is no.”

A tight notch in his chest released a little. “Good to know. I’m planning on cooking you breakfast, so you can either put on these clothes, eat naked, or get back in that dress. Which will only end up getting you naked again.”

“Cocky, aren’t we? Are you so sure I’d want another round?”

Why did he like the way she fought him at every turn?

Patrick took a few steps toward her and ran one finger along where her towel was wrapped securely around her breasts.

“Yes, I am,” he said quietly. A noticeable shiver went through her. “Now, what would you like for breakfast?”

“Do you cook for all your conquests?”

No. “I can’t consider you a conquest yet. You haven’t accepted my offer.”

He kissed her then, sweet and easy, his lips lightly brushing along hers. She was holding back, arms still firmly wrapped around her towel, but she moaned and leaned into him. Patrick smiled in triumph.

“So, what would you like to eat?” he asked. “And don’t say surprise me. I want to know.”

She thought for a moment. “Do you have bread?”

“I do. Several kinds.”

“Eggs?”

“Yup.”

“Cheese? Bacon?”

He did a mental account of his fridge. “I have gruyere and some strips of applewood smoked.”

“I’ll have all of it. Eggs over easy. Toast crusty. Coffee too. Definitely coffee.”

“As the birthday girl commands.” Although he would’ve thought she liked her eggs hard scrambled, not easy. Nothing soft suited her.

How long had he wanted to know what made Cassie Allbright tick? Finding out that one tidbit was a gateway drug, because now he wanted to know everything. Why she’d decided to become a lawyer. The reason she was happy to be away from her family in Florida. How a woman as beautiful and sharp as her hadn’t gotten snapped up by some other lucky bastard by now.

He wanted answers to all the complicated questions, and to the simple ones like how old she was.

Nothing wrong with asking that harmless one, right?

“By the way, how many years of Cassie Allbright being on earth are we celebrating?”

She flopped down on the bed and sighed. “Thirty-nine.”

Just seven years younger than him? “Not possible. You don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

She rolled her eyes. “Go cook breakfast.”

Patrick laughed and went into the bathroom. Yeah, this was different, and he was enjoying her company, but pushed any concern about it aside. The comfort level was there because they’d known each other for a while, and he had an agenda. He needed to put her at ease in order for her to say yes.

And she was going to say yes.

He did his business, then headed to the kitchen and went to work. He was so focused on the percolating coffee and the pops and crackles on his stovetop he didn’t notice Cassie in the room until she’d pulled out a chair at the bar.

She was a sight to be seen in his old white button-down. Her bra was visible beneath it, and when she leaned over the countertop, it gave him an ample glimpse of cleavage.

Nope. No sex. He was making breakfast. Breakfast.

“I hope this meets your standards,” he said as he checked the sourdough slices in his toaster, making sure they didn’t burn.

“It does. Hey, how come you don’t have any curtains in your bedroom? It’s seriously bright in there.”

The light was harsh in his bedroom sometimes, especially when the sun was reflecting off the river. “Aesthetics. I wouldn’t want to block out that fuck-awesome view.”

But the truth was not having anything between him and the skyline made him feel less alone.

He plated their food, and they both tucked into it. They were silent for a few moments until Cassie looked up at him.

“So.” She bit off a mouthful of bacon. “This agreement we’re talking about.”

He couldn’t hold back his grin. “What about it?”

“I need specifics. What would it entail?”

“Still treating this like a lawyer, huh?”

“Damn straight. I need to know the terms of something before I reach a decision on it.”

“Fair enough.” He put his fork down and crossed his arms. “It entails whatever you want it to.” It was too broad an answer, but he wanted to see what she said first.

“At the basics, I’m thinking it involves me making a list of my fantasies, and you carrying them out.”

His dick twitched at the thought. “Sounds great to me.”

She tapped her fork against her plate. “Have you done something like this before?”

“Nope. You’d be the first.”

“Why do you want it with me?”

Because she kept him guessing. Because she made him irritated and horny and happy all at once. Because he couldn’t quite peg what it was she craved, and hoped he’d get to find out.

“Is there something wrong with enjoying how I made you scream, and wanting to do it again?”

Her stoic expression didn’t change. Patrick offered her an amused sigh.

“It’s like I said—I’m getting tired of the hunt. I think I’m due a sabbatical from it. But I’m also incredibly attracted to you. And now that I’ve proved I can do what you want…” He waited, hoping images of last night would flood her mind. She flushed and smiled. “I’d like to know the rest of your steamy thoughts.”

Her smile widened, but she didn’t seem convinced yet. She picked up another strip of bacon and munched on it thoughtfully.

“Why don’t you do relationships?”

“That’s a complicated question.”

“Then give me a complicated answer.”

He felt stretched too thin, scars from years past protesting at being prodded. “I could ask you the same thing. Why is there no man in your life?”

“You’re dodging the question.”

“I am.”

Cassie threw him that luscious sneer he’d learned to love and hate. “Then I guess I will too.”

“Touché. I suppose I have to give if I want to get.” He picked up his coffee and swirled the liquid around. “I don’t do relationships because it’s easier. No hearts involved, no one gets hurt.”

He took a sip, hoping she didn’t notice his uneasy swallow.

“I guess it’s the same for me,” Cassie said. “No emotions, no disappointments. I also work like a maniac, so I don’t have time to date. Although that could be an excuse.” She winced, as if she regretted telling him that, a small show of vulnerability. “I don’t have the best track record with dating.”

“Why’s that?” He felt like a toddler, asking why, why, why, but this question had been plaguing him for months.

“’Cause most guys don’t like women who are tougher than them.”

“You’re not that tough.”

She bit into her toast with a grin. “You haven’t seen me in court.”

He hadn’t. Suddenly the image of her all powerful, commanding a judge and jury’s attention, had him forgetting to eat.

“I’m argumentative,” she continued. “But I have to be. Comes with the territory when you’re a lawyer, especially a female.” She ran a hand over the back of her neck. He’d seen her make that move before. A self-soothing thing, perhaps? “One of my ex-boyfriends called me a battering ram.”

Protective instincts he hadn’t known he had kicked into gear. “Want me to have him killed for you?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Not necessary. He was one of many idiots I dated, and most of them said similar stuff. I call the shots when I see them, and don’t let up until I get my point across. So while it’s true I don’t have time to date, when I do meet someone it falls apart pretty soon after it starts.”

She focused on her food, and Patrick did the same, stunned by this new side of her. Cassie was tough, but there were chinks in her armor. He’d spent months trying to widen those cracks, poking at them like a schoolboy pulling at pigtails. Now he wanted to solder those openings back together.

“If it’s any consolation, I like your battering-ram ways. As long as I get to ram you back.”

She chuckled, then placed her fork on her plate. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“At Jack’s party… You said you admired me. Was that true?”

She glanced up with those ice-blue eyes, ones that had so often been filled with hatred when they met his. They were now unguarded and defenseless. It cut into him like a hacksaw, opened his chest up and stole his breath away.

“It was. You’re a mouthy pain in the ass, but I respect the hell out of you.”

She smiled, one side of her mouth a little higher than the other and fuck if that didn’t light him up.

“If you wanted me then, why did you act like you didn’t after?”

Patrick started to come up with an excuse, but what the hell. “I thought you weren’t interested in me. I wanted to pursue it, but the next time we saw each other you were as…”

“Bitchy as usual?”

He grinned, glad it was her who finished the sentence. “I was going to say standoffish. But yeah. Basically.”

“You did the same thing, you know. Acted like your usual dick self.”

“I suppose I did.”

Their eyes met, then locked. Had they been misunderstanding each other this whole time?

“I wanted more,” she admitted. “But I didn’t think you did.”

Just like that, months of resenting her dissipated like steam. “Does that mean we’re doing this?”

Her face changed to something soft. A gentle expression he’d never seen on her before. “Maybe.”

Excitement flared, a firecracker in his gut. Patrick reached out again and stroked his pointer finger lightly along her arm. “How do we get that from a maybe to a yes?”

“Persistent, aren’t you?”

“Never said otherwise.”

Her eyes darted down to his hand. Her breathing shifted. “I’m kind of late to the party on this, but, you’ve been tested, right?”

“Yes, I have. Recently. All clear, and I always use protection. I can provide you with the results if you want.”

“No, I believe you.”

He waited before asking, “And you?”

“It’s been over a year for me, but I was clean the last time I went. I can get them done again if you want.”

A year? Good lord. Were the other men in Boston blind? “That won’t be necessary.”

She nodded, no longer uneasy. She was back to being confident. All hotshot, businesslike attorney.

If role-play was on her list of fantasies, he was in for it.

“I know I said the opposite before,” she continued. “But I think we should tell Jack and Lilly. It’ll be easier than hiding. And we’ll probably end up telling them on our own, so we should just get it over with.”

“Agreed.” Hope buoyed in his stomach. This sounded like an accord. “Do you have any other conditions?”

She curved forward, sultry like a cat. “Every agreement should have an escape clause.”

He couldn’t imagine needing one—not with how they seemed to be on the same page with everything—but he was fine with meeting her needs. “And what condition frees us from our obligation?”

“We keep our feelings out of it. All sex. No emotions, no disappointments.”

Patrick beamed. “No hearts involved, no one gets hurt.”

Cassie leaned in and traced a hand along his forearm. “Then it’s a deal. I have a short-term claim on you: I come up with the fantasies, and you fulfill them. If someone starts to have feelings, our agreement becomes null and void.”

“Sounds perfect.” And now the negotiations needed to wrap up, because, yeah, he wanted her again. “Should we put this in writing?”

“Not so long as we both know what we want. I have no desire to fix a bad boy, and I don’t believe I’m the one to cure you.”

“Good.” Patrick moved in to kiss her. “I don’t want to be cured.”

---

At noon on Sunday, Patrick was sitting with Jack at Barrel ’n’ Flask, waiting for Brady to arrive. Jack had initiated this lunch the day before, saying he hadn’t gotten anywhere talking to Brady on the phone, and hoped having Patrick around would ease the truth out of him.

He’d do what he could. But he had truths of his own to share, and since the younger Archer brother was running late, now was as good a time as any.

Without looking up from his menu, Patrick casually said, “Cassie and I slept together.”

Jack didn’t look up either. “I was wondering when that was going to happen.”

“It did. Three times.” The third after they’d finished breakfast, with her bare ass naked on his countertop.

“And this is going to continue?”

Hell yeah it was. “For the time being. Cassie has certain needs, and I’m going to meet them.”

A quiet hmm was Patrick’s only response before Jack glanced over his menu. “Just don’t fuck it up.”

“Meaning, you’re afraid I might hurt her?”

“Meaning, I’m afraid Lilly might castrate you if you do.”

Patrick coughed out a laugh. “I think Cassie would beat her to it. Don’t worry, she and I are on the same page.”

Jack nodded, then put his menu down as Brady barreled into the room.

“Sorry I’m late.” He dropped into his seat and leaned his head back against it. “Tough morning.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Patrick saw Jack’s forehead crease in concern.

“What’s going on?” Jack asked.

Brady exhaled, scratching his beard before sitting up. “I’m…struggling at work.”

“It’s Sunday. Were you working this morning?”

“No. Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Patrick didn’t think work was the reason Brady looked haggard. “Work sucks for all of us, kid. What else is going on?”

Brady stared at the table. “Allegra isn’t doing well in school. Behavior problems, refusing to do her homework. It’s been a rough transition from summer to getting back into it.”

His leg bobbed under the table. Patrick and Jack exchanged glances.

“And?” Patrick prompted.

Brady lowered his chin. “And I think Sam and I might be headed toward divorce.”

Shit. He’d been expecting as much, but still. Those two had been together since they were in college.

Jack steepled his fingers together, tapping them once against his mouth. “Do you think there’s somebody else?”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s that. It’s—” Brady shrugged his enormous shoulders, still bulky from B.U. football. “She seems annoyed at everything I do. We barely talk, unless it’s about the girls. And I can’t remember the last time we had sex.”

Heavy stuff, but fixable. Patrick tried to lighten the mood. “Maybe you need to shake things up. The two of us can certainly help you with ideas.”

“No thanks.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause it’s weird. And gross.”

“It’s not gross,” Patrick insisted. “Think of it as getting advice from your elders. There’s little I haven’t done, and if it’s getting smacked around that Sam might be into, your brother’s the authority on that.”

Jack tensed. Brady’s head lifted in openmouthed aversion.

“You’re the authority on what?”

Oh. Crap.

In his attempt at helping, Patrick had forgotten Brady’s lack of knowledge on his big brother’s proclivity toward dominance. Jack’s jaw was stiff as he met Brady’s gaze.

“Lilly and I engage in BDSM play. She’s my submissive,” he said. “So was Eve.”

Brady’s brow was so furrowed Patrick worried the lines would remain permanently etched. “Hey, buddy. You look far too shocked. Haven’t you ever heard of—”

Brady held up a hand.

“The movies. The books. I know. Sam has them.” His face contorted as he looked at Jack, like he wasn’t sure who his brother was. “You’re a Dominant?”

Jack’s hands remained steepled. “I am.”

Brady rapidly pushed his seat back. “I need some air.” He made his way toward the exit. Jack sighed heavily.

“Hey man, I’m sorry,” Patrick began, but Jack cut him off.

“Don’t be. It was bound to happen. Didn’t think he’d react like that though.” He shook his head. “You go talk to him. Clearly he doesn’t want to speak to me right now.”

Yeah, somebody needed to go out after the kid. And Patrick owed it to them to fix this, as best he could anyway.

“All right. Order some nachos or something. Maybe food will help get him back inside.”

When Patrick had pushed the pub’s door open, he found Brady leaning against the building, facing an empty Fenway stadium. The air was crisp enough to be uncomfortable if the sun weren’t so bright. Patrick stepped into the sunshine.

“You want to talk about what happened in there?”

Brady’s jaw worked. “I didn’t know about Jack. It shouldn’t bother me.”

“But it does because…?”

“Because I’m not like Jack. I’m…the opposite.”

“The opposite?”

Brady’s cheeks burned brighter than the Sox flags fluttering in the breeze above them.

Oh. Oh. “As in, you’d rather be the one getting smacked around.”

He nodded and hung his head. “If being Dominant is what Sam wants from me, if that’s the only way I can keep her—” He choked back a sob. The kid’s anguish was palpable. “It used to work between us. It used to be good. You don’t know what it’s like, to be in love with someone, for it to be so damn perfect, and then to feel totally helpless as it crumbles in front of you.”

Oh no, Patrick knew what it was like. To wake up one morning and discover that the life you’d planned on living had vanished while you slept. “I’m sure this will come as a surprise, but I do know how you feel.”

“You?” Brady asked. “When have you ever been in love?”

Patrick squinted at the sunlight. The gold beams reminded him of the shoulder-baring peasant blouses Sofía used to wear. He recalled every detail about her, from the way she smelled to the deep brown of her eyes. So different from American girls, she had an air of mystery to her, and captured his heart instantly. He’d captured hers, or so he thought, and what they shared together was pure magic.

Then that magic ended, nearly destroying him.

“A long time ago.”

“What happened?”

Nope. Not going there. “It didn’t work out. But it doesn’t mean that’s the way it’s going to go with you and Sam.”

“Maybe,” Brady said quietly.

“Have you tried talking to her? Telling her how you feel? Or—” How did he phrase this? “—the things you want in bed?”

Brady responded with a grim shake of his head. “I can’t.”

Patrick was no king at expressing his emotions either. And he couldn’t imagine admitting something like that to your wife. Brady took a deep breath, and Patrick had a feeling the kid was done with their little heart-to-heart.

So was he, to be honest.

“I’m gonna go back in.” Brady pushed off the wall. “I need to apologize to Jack.”

Patrick retrieved his phone and pretended he’d received an important message. “You go. I’ve gotta read this. I’ll be there in a second.”

Once Brady was gone, Patrick pocketed his phone and leaned against the building. Staring at the yellowed leaves on the ground and branches in front of him, he willed away thoughts of the woman who’d broken his heart. He tried to keep them out, because whatever hasty stitches he’d managed to fasten across his heart got ripped open at the memories. Two decades had passed. He should’ve recovered by now. Should’ve been able to move on and fall in love again.

He hadn’t. In fact, he’d made a point of avoiding connecting with anyone at all.

The fear that he’d started connecting with Cassie crossed his mind, but no. What they were doing was different. Sure he wanted to get to know her, but there was no romance involved. Just an enormous amount of sex, and with a woman who was as adamant about not getting attached as he was. She’d come up with a foolproof stipulation to make sure that didn’t happen. If either of them started having feelings, they were out. Game over. Done.

The wind kicked up, swirling leaves in circles around in the street. Patrick pushed off the wall and went inside.