Outside the Vale Chemical building, I stared at the business card in my hand. Under my opposite arm, I carried a bag of takeout—burgers, fries, and two milkshakes from my favorite joint. The address of the nondescript, four-story limestone matched the information she’d scribbled in a precise slanting script. It was only a block from my office. I’d passed it every day on my way to and from work, never giving it more than a cursory glance. I’d been making the trek across town to see her when she’d been next door all along.

“She’s expecting you,” the security guard said when I gave him my name. He handed me a lanyard with a guest pass hanging at the end. “Down the hall to the elevators, second floor, third door on the right.” He pressed a button to open the security door. The glass doors slid open with a quiet whoosh.

The leather soles of my shoes squeaked on the spotless white linoleum as I walked the hallway. My heart pounded in my chest throughout the short elevator ride. The car stopped on the second floor. I brushed sweating palms over my thighs. Although this wasn’t a date, it felt like one.

The plaque above the third door on the right read Dr. Bronte Hollander. Doctor? I drew in a deep breath before knocking.

“Come in,” Bronte called from the other side.

I opened the door and had to blink twice to comprehend what I was seeing. She stood in the center of a large room, dressed in a white lab coat. The windowless room was spotless and organized, without a scrap of paper out of place. Stainless-steel counters held glass beakers and Bunsen burners. Mathematical formulas were scrawled across an enormous whiteboard.

Bronte held a test tube up to one of the fluorescent overhead lights, squinting at the contents. It took my brain a few seconds to wrap around the sight of her in such a different environment, but it was definitely Bronte. Her long, red hair was piled on top her head in a messy bun. Black-rimmed librarian glasses perched on the tip of her upturned nose. I’d always thought her attractive, but she was sexy as fuck in that getup.

“Hi.” Her eyes seemed brighter than usual. “You found the address okay?”

“I did. My office is just down the street.” I set the food on the desk and walked toward her. Beneath her lab coat, she wore a faded gray Metallica concert T-shirt. Bare skin peeked through the ripped knees of her jeans. I swallowed, wanting to run my tongue over those slivers of pale flesh.

“Really? Where do you work?” She stripped off her latex gloves and tossed them into a stainless-steel receptacle. “I don’t know what you do.”

“I’m Vice President of Accounting for Ascension Corporation,” I said.

Her eyes widened. “You like numbers. I knew it.”

“I never really thought of it like that, but yeah, I guess I do.”

“Me too. Numbers are awesome. They’re safe, predictable.”

“And that’s important to you?” I studied her heart-shaped face, searching for clues into her mind.

“Yes. I don’t like surprises. I like knowing what’s going to happen before it happens. Numbers always act the same way. Every time.”

“And when I showed up at the coffee shop with Hayden, that was unpredictable, wasn’t it?”

A flush brightened her cheeks, endearing her to me even more. I found her inability to hide her feelings refreshing. “Yes, but it’s okay. I don’t know why I overreacted like that. I think being back at home with Dad and Jo caused me to relapse a little.” At my questioning gaze, she shrugged. “I have anxieties.”

“Like what?” The deepening color of her blush indicated her growing embarrassment. Without thinking, I dropped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her into my side. She fit perfectly there. The scent of her shampoo teased my nose; she smelled amazing. The warmth of her body heated mine.

“Oh, all kinds of things. Most of the time I can control them, but whenever I’m nervous or out of my element, it’s more difficult. The coffee shop seems to bring it out of me.” She shifted away from me, and I dropped my arm. “I think it’s because Dad and Jo treat me like I’m still a kid.”

“But you’re a doctor?” I kept pressing for more information, my curiosity growing with each passing minute.

“Yes. I’ve got a doctorate in chemical engineering and mathematical science. It sounds more impressive than it is.”

She paused at the sink to wash her hands. I set the food on a table near the door. Something was different about her, something I couldn’t quite put a finger on. She seemed relaxed, at home in her environment. Her confidence opened a new door between us. Would she be that confident in bed? To ease the pressure inside my slacks, I tried to think about something other than her perky tits underneath that surprising T-shirt. Distracting myself, I followed her lead and washed my hands. When I turned around, she’d spread our lunch across her desk, each item perfectly parallel and perpendicular to its neighbor.

“I hope I got your order right. A bacon cheeseburger with the ketchup on the top bun, mustard on the bottom. No pickle or onion.” She’d been very explicit in her order.

She pried the buns apart from the meat. Her shoulders slumped in relief. “Yes. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Is there a reason you ordered it that way?”

“Well, keeping the condiments separated maintains the integrity of the flavors. When you combine the two elements, they turn into something else.” The bridge of her nose scrunched. “Something yucky.” She bit into the sandwich and breathed a sigh of contentment. “You have no idea how difficult some people find it to follow basic instructions.”

I laughed, amused by her pleasure over something so simple. “It doesn’t take much to make you happy, does it?”

She cocked her head, considering. “No, I guess not.”

“But your work makes you happy? I mean, you seem happy here.”

“I love it here.” Her face brightened, and her gaze traveled around the room, filled with smug satisfaction. Jesus, who was this person? I’d been mildly amused by the klutzy girl at the coffee shop, but this self-assured woman intrigued and aroused me.

“What—exactly—do you do, Dr. Hollander?”

She laughed at the formal address. I smiled back at her, feeling lighter than I had in years. “I’m a synthetic biologist.”

“Do I even want to know what that is?”

“Probably not.” Her mouth curved in a half smile. The light caught her eyes, heightening the blue of her irises, sending a bolt of attraction straight to my dick. The sensation put me off balance. It wasn’t pure lust, like I’d felt for Hayden; this was a different type of desire. I wanted to know what made Bronte tick, how she came to be so smart, why some guy hadn’t already snapped her up.

“What are you working on today?”

“I’m deconstructing plant DNA, trying to replicate the process of photosynthesis for use as fuel in humans.”

“Sounds complicated.” We fell silent for a few minutes while we ate. It gave me a chance to study her delicate features. Bronte could have walked straight out of the pages of a Viking novel. She looked nothing like Amy, who’d been dark and petite. The familiar stab of pain sliced my heart at the thought of my deceased wife. A flare of anger followed the hurt. I was so tired of living my life according to the feelings of a woman who no longer existed. Although I knew it was irrational, I hated her for leaving me here to continue without her.

My appetite, which had been healthy upon arrival, disappeared. I tossed the food back into the empty sack. “I didn’t realize how late it was. I’d better get back.”

“You just got here. Did I say something wrong again?” Bronte put down her cheeseburger, her fair brow furrowing.

“No. It took longer than I thought to get the food.”

“Oh, okay.” Her gaze dropped, and she bit her lower lip. She looked innocent, vulnerable, and disappointed. What the fuck was I doing? It wasn’t Bronte’s fault that Amy died, and I had no reason to feel guilty for being here.

“Hey, it’s nothing you did.” I took her pointed chin between my thumb and index finger, tilting her face up to mine. Our eyes met, and my chest constricted, filling with the overwhelming need to kiss her. “We’re friends, remember?”

She nodded. I brushed a thumb over her trembling lower lip. Did her lips taste as sweet as they looked? Would she moan if I kissed her? Her pupils enlarged, darkening her eyes. All of my male instincts rallied and screamed for me to take her mouth.

“I have anxieties, too.” Instead of kissing her, I chucked her under the chin like a fucking coward. I wasn’t ready yet, and neither was she. “We’ll do this again, okay?”

* * *

I don’t know why, but I let fucking Carter talk me into another night on the town the following Saturday. The thought of sitting at home, alone, on a Saturday night seemed more painful than warming a barstool at a dive bar and drinking myself into a stupor. While he hit on a busty brunette, I chatted with the girl next to me. After a half-dozen whiskey sours, I found myself in the alley with my dick in her mouth.

I leaned against the brick wall of the building and tipped my head back, feeling a mixture of revulsion and relief. She reminded me of Bronte, pretty with large eyes and silky strawberry-blond hair. I buried my fingers in her hair and moaned as she took me deeper. In my inebriated state, it was easy to pretend it was Bronte kneeling in front of me and not some stranger. Bronte’s lips gliding along my shaft. Bronte’s blue eyes blinking up at me. My balls tightened, preparing for orgasm.

“Bronte,” I murmured. I tugged on the girl’s hair, trying to warn her. “I’m going to come.”

“Who’s Bronte?” the girl asked a few minutes later as she reapplied her lipstick, studying her reflection in a compact mirror. “Is that your girlfriend?”

“No.” I zipped up my fly and straightened my shirt. If I’d felt like an ass with Hayden, I felt doubly so with this girl. Hell, I didn’t even know her name. What the fuck was wrong with me? Now that the heat of release had faded, the emptiness in my gut doubled in intensity.

“Do you want to come home with me?” the girl asked.

“No, but thanks for the offer.” An awkward pause followed. I wasn’t sure what to do next, so I gave her a hug.

“My pleasure.” She laughed, shaking her head at my awkwardness. “Oh my God, you’re so cute. Do you want my number?” I didn’t, but I didn’t want to be rude, so I handed her my phone. She texted her phone from mine then handed it back. “There. My name’s Diane. Call me if you want to get together. No expectations, just a little fun.”

“Okay. Thanks, Diane.” The pavement wavered under my feet. I braced a hand against the loading dock to stabilize myself. I wasn’t drunk, but I hadn’t eaten all day either.

“You can stop thanking me now.” She moved up the steps to the back door on spiked heels. I followed her on unsteady feet.

“Okay, thanks.” Jesus, I really was an idiot. “Sorry.”

We’d only been outside about fifteen minutes. During that time the bar had emptied. Carter was nowhere to be found. Fucker. I eased onto a barstool and signaled the bartender. “Stoli on the rocks, please.” I watched him pour the vodka into a short glass filled with ice. “Have you seen my friend?”

“Your buddy left with some girl. Said he’d catch you later. He paid your tab.” Before he slid the glass across the counter, he cocked an eyebrow. “You got a ride home?”

“Yeah. I’ll catch a cab.” I made quick work of the drink and had one more for good measure. I flipped the bartender a twenty then weaved my way to the front of the building and waved down a taxi. The thought of going home to an empty apartment filled with reminders of Amy made my stomach turn. Unable to face the solitude quite yet, I gave the driver my address and asked him to take the long way.

The cab cruised along the quiet streets. I rested my forehead against the cool glass of the window and watched the blur of lights flash by. After a minute or two, I pulled out my phone and deleted Diane’s number from my contacts. I scrolled past Bronte’s name, stopped, and backtracked. My thumb stuttered over her name, accidentally calling her.

“Shit.” I hit the red button to end the call. It rang back immediately.

“Rhett?” Bronte’s voice sounded twice as sweet over the phone. “Did you just call me?”

“No.” I cleared my throat.

“Yes, you did. Your name is on my caller ID.”

“Um, I must’ve butt-dialed you.” I slapped a hand to my forehead. “Did I wake you?”

“It’s only midnight.” An awkward pause stretched between us. “Where are you?”

“In a cab, heading home.” I rubbed a hand across my eyes, struggling to remain coherent. “Can I come over?” Where the fuck did that come from?

“Sure. Okay. I’ll text you the address.”

Adrenalin rushed through my veins. I could feel every beat of my heart in my temples. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my subconscious threw up a caution flag, but the drunk part of my head squelched the warning. What was the harm in hanging out with a friend for a bit? It was better than watching TV alone and passing out on the couch like I did so often these days.

I tapped the driver on the shoulder and had him change directions. Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up in front of a Victorian apartment building on the fringes of the historic district. I paid the cabbie then stumbled up the front steps. Bronte must’ve been watching from the window, because she buzzed me through the security door before I could press the call button.

The apartment door was ajar. I hesitated at the threshold. This was either a really good idea or a really bad one. Only time would decide. I knocked, and the door swung open. Bronte came out of the hall wearing a tight pink T-shirt and a tiny pair of shorts. I’d never seen her wearing anything but conservative clothes before. Her tits were full and round, the nipples visible through the thin cotton. I swallowed hard, feeling my shaft lengthen at the sight of her.

“Hey, come on in.” Catching the trajectory of my gaze, she blushed and shrugged into a robe, pulling the belt tight around her waist.

“This is a nice place,” I slurred and braced a hand against the couch for support. The motion of the cab and lack of food had heightened my buzz.

The apartment was spotless, sparsely furnished, and bright. Bronte’s bare feet moved noiselessly over the gleaming pine floors. She tugged on the sleeve of my jacket, helping me slide out of it like a child. “Sit down. I’ll make you some coffee.”

“That’s funny. You’re making me coffee.” I snickered and slid onto the sofa.

“Where have you been?” She moved around the galley kitchen with quiet efficiency, heating the water in the microwave, then pouring it into a French press.

“I went to a club with Carter. He’s my best friend.”

“I thought you didn’t have any friends.”

“Well, he’s more like a brother than a friend.” I stood and weaved my way into the kitchen, filling up the space with my big, clumsy body. She tried to pass me. Her breasts brushed against my chest. My body jumped to attention.

“I’ve never been to a club.” She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, a gesture I found endearing.

“Never? Are you kidding? How old are you?”

“I just turned twenty-eight.” Her forehead furrowed. I dragged a finger along the dent between her brows.

“Twenty-eight and never been to a club. Unbelievable.” I clucked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Next, you’re going to tell me you’re still a virgin.”

“I don’t tolerate alcohol very well, so I don’t drink,” she replied. “And I’m not a virgin.”

“Thank goodness.” We were standing close enough for me to feel the heat from her body. I closed my eyes and drew in a lungful of her clean scent. “God, you smell good.”

“Rhett?”

“Yes.” I opened my eyes and wobbled. The movement made my head spin. I lurched forward, extending my arms to catch myself, catching a handful of Bronte’s breasts instead. I laughed and righted myself. “Oops. Sorry. About the boobs.”

“Go sit down. At the table.” She pointed to the dining table. One corner of her mouth quivered with a suppressed smile. “And don’t touch anything.”

I took two steps toward the table. My stomach, disturbed by the motion, lurched. The remnants of my dinner landed on the floor with a splat. “Oh, shit. I’m soooo sorry.”

Bronte’s arm came around my waist, guiding me down the hall. “Here’s the bathroom. Don’t move. I’ll clean things up.”