Nine-thirty on a Tuesday night and Tamara Schneider had finally left her cramped office. She’d settled on a barstool at StarBar, the only bar in Albany, New York, that carried her favorite sweet sparkling wine. She was ordering a third glass when her friend Giselle made an indefinable noise.

Tam put the glass down. “What?”

“Oh my god, Amiga!”

There were few things that made Giselle Mejia gasp like that, and as they weren’t at work, the Democratic Leader of the New York State Senate hadn’t made one of his rare miscues on social media. Probably.

Which meant it was something else. “What, chaverah?”

“Amiga, the dude walking in here. He’s…gorgeous.” Giselle turned back toward the front of the bar and using her beer bottle as a way to disguise the fact she was pointing “Mmmm.”

Tam couldn’t help herself; she followed Giselle’s gaze and almost dropped her wineglass on the tile floor.

Fuck. A. Goddamned. Duck.

What the hell was Adam Klein doing in Albany? Her last Internet search had him safely ensconced in DC, far, far away from her. He’d even started a charity hockey league—which meant he’d gone from being an asshole to an asshole do-gooder. And now he was here. It wasn’t fair.

“Wait, does someone need killing?”

Tam smirked. “No. Not really. Just…incapacitation.”

“I can work with that.”

“No.” Adam Klein was dangerous, but she didn’t want him injured. Not most days, anyhow. “It’s not worth getting embroiled in an international controversy.”

Giselle raised an eyebrow. “International?”

“Canadian. Diplomat. Human quagmire. He’s supposed to be in DC.”

“So what the hell is he doing here?”

“Beats the fuck out of me,” Tam replied. “But I’m gonna go find out.”

Confronting him directly was a horrible idea. So of course that’s exactly what Tam was going to do. Liquid courage and all that.

“Bailing you out of jail for assaulting a diplomat is not my favorite way to spend a Tuesday night, ‘kay?”

Tam laughed. She wouldn’t go as far as physical contact; that always got her in trouble. Which is why she’d been lucky he’d spent the last few years working in DC.

“I’m not going to assault him. I need to find out what he’s doing in the state capital. For professional reasons.”

“Professional reasons?” Giselle snorted. “Suure. “

“I’m doing the Senator’s business and keeping an eye on any random Canadian diplomats that might be in town to investigate legislation.”

Giselle’s laugh broke the momentary silence. “Sorry,” she choked out. “You’re serious and I…wow. Just don’t do anything stupid with the diplomat. And I expect stories tomorrow, kay?”

“Nothing’s going to happen. After I manage conversing with him, because I’m tired and it’s late already, I’m going to go home. Alone.”

“Whatever you say.”

Tam shook her head, put her glass down and straightened her sweater before dismounting the barstool. Her destination was the Canadian who’d found a spot at the other end of the long bar.

Adam Klein stood out like a sore thumb. Even if she didn’t know who he was, she would have noticed the cheekbones, the bright eyes, the dirty blonde hair that framed his face oh so perfectly, the way he wore a suit as if it was made for him. So many emotions crossed her heart and settled into her stomach as she approached him, watched the way he’d propped himself up against the bar like he owned it.

He was gorgeous, untouchable, and, as she’d told Giselle, a quagmire. But what she had neglected to tell Giselle is that he was the destruction of a young girl’s dreams. She hadn’t seen him in six years, and she wished it had been long enough to erase him from her mind and memory. It wasn’t.

It definitely hadn’t been long enough to stop her heart from racing as his eyes lit up as he caught sight of her, a smile curving his lips.

“Hi,” he said.

Instead of melting into a pile of goo at his feet like half of her wanted to do, or punching him to indulge the other half, she put her hands on her hips and glared. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged those broad shoulders, his eyes caressing her body and making her regret how tight her sweater and skirt were. She felt overexposed, and wished she hadn’t left her coat by Giselle.

“Visiting,” he said nonchalantly. “I hear the capital region is nice this time of year.”

Lie. It sounded as if Adam had spent time rehearsing it. Not to mention, he held that beer bottle for dear life. Tam knew Adam’s hands were never still when he was lying.

“Try again. Last I heard you were twiddling your thumbs in DC.”

He laughed, looking around where they stood, like he was searching for a camera. Of course he would. The last time he’d gotten in front of one, he’d embarrassed her on international television.

“I’m collecting shot glasses—American capitals. I got the one from the national capital. Now I’m collecting states. Albany was first on my list.”

“Next.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked so uncomfortable, she almost felt sorry for him.

But almost never counted.

“Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t know? That I have a general purpose but nothing specific as of yet?”

She nodded. After her many years working in politics, that had a ring of truth.

Now that she’d accomplished what she’d come to do, Tam should turn on her heel, grab her jacket and leave him, and this bar, behind. But she couldn’t make herself. She didn’t want to walk away, and she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Maybe it was because Adam seemed uncertain, his hands still fiddling with the beer bottle. He’d never been uncertain in front of her. Not ever. Even when he’d shared his emotions, he had been confident, cool, and comfortable. As if he hadn’t been worried about her reactions.

“Tam…”

She looked up at him, waiting to see what he was going to do or say next. It would be so much easier for her to walk away if he’d said something to set her off. Almost anything he’d say at this point would be sufficient.

“I didn’t know I’d be here. I didn’t go in search of you.”

Except that. Except for his obvious and clear understanding that his presence in the city she lived in wasn’t what she wanted. His active struggle with his inability to continue following what he’d agreed to the last time she’d seen him, jolted her in a way she hadn’t expected. It looked off on someone whose natural diplomatic mode was a shade less than cocky.

His obvious vulnerability seemed to ooze from his pores, and grabbed Tam in the worst of places. It made her want to ease his hurt, to stand next to him, talk to him, to soothe him. Maybe touch him. Take his jacket off…

Unfortunately, she remembered why she’d told him she never wanted to see him again; why she’d declared her next destination was a place that didn’t have a Canadian Embassy or Consulate: he’d given her the illusion of security before he yanked it away as only a scared little boy could do.

And she still couldn’t walk away. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, couldn’t leave him in the dust that he deserved. He’d started that conversation, and she couldn’t finish it. She couldn’t turn her back on him.

“You’re staring,” his smooth voice intruded on her thoughts. “But it doesn’t bother me.”

It didn’t? He wanted her to stare at him? He felt comfortable with her eyes on him? Suddenly vulnerability was out the window and she needed to tell him.

“You bother me.”

“I do?”

There were many ways someone could bother another: ‘bother’ as annoy, ‘bother’ as tease, ‘bother’ as couldn’t stand. They’d gone from vulnerability to tacit permission to annoyance in a matter of moments. And yet, instead of the vulnerable he was at the beginning of the conversation, he seemed surprised.

How? What part of his brain would keep him from realizing his mere presence annoyed her? Whether it was a surplus of arrogance or something else she’d managed to miss, she had absolutely no idea.

So she had to make sure he got it. “Yes.”

He stood there, face blank, silent. No sign of anything. No emotion. Nothing.

Now her conflicted emotions went from sympathetic to downright angry, the way they should have as soon as she saw him. Adam was a diplomat now; his emotions were a game, something to manipulate situations to his advantage. He didn’t deserve her sympathy or understanding.

Ass.

Before, six years before, he’d taken her to the New York premiere of Shadow Squad, the huge film that starred his famous cousin. It had been a weekend spent rubbing elbows with Sam Moskowitz, aka Mr. Shadow, and Adam’s cousin and close friend. . A romantic weekend which she’d thought was heralding their future.

On the red carpet, she’d been introduced as Adam’s date. Sam was an up-and-coming actor, and Adam was about to break out as a hockey star. They were cousins on the make…except for the part, when prompted by Sam’s excitement about Adam’s relationship, Adam took the opportunity to tell the world that Tam and he were “just friends.” The clip had gone viral and the Internet regurgitated it every time Sam’s career took another turn. The humiliating moment would never die.

But Tam could tell Adam she never wanted to see him again. End this right here and now.

Why didn’t she?

Her heart wouldn’t let him go, and the sweet wine she’d been drinking made the rest of her agree. Heat blazed inside of her as she stood in front of him, and the familiar scent of his cologne made her high. The Pandora’s box of her emotions had been unlocked and drove a young girl’s hope into her body. She hated it. All of it. But she wanted him.

And she’d have him.

She kissed him. Hard. She crashed through the tension and that mask he wore. His lips slammed against hers, his tongue joining the moment, increasing the heat. He relaxed against her and pulled her close. His hands knew where to touch her, and she couldn’t help but grab his ass.

She tore her lips from his. “Where are you staying?” she whispered.

“What are we doing?”

“One night. You and me.”

He shook his head. “You’ll hate me,” he said. “No.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I don’t already?”

He shook his head. “This is different, this would be different. Hating me because…you hate me is different from hating me and yourself at the same time.”

“Asshole.”

“You know I’m right.”

Instead of listening to his sanctimonious garbage, she kissed him again, her mouth on his. She couldn’t stop touching him, her hands moving down his back, his body tight, then loose, his ass hard under the silky cotton of his suit pants.

Before she completely lost herself in the feel of him, she let him go. She wanted him to feel the frustration that lanced through her. “Taste me tonight, or taste your regret tomorrow morning.”

Mission accomplished, she headed back towards her barstool, grabbed her coat, waved to Giselle and headed out. Like she’d expected, she was alone, though instead of feeling triumphant, she was tired, frustrated, and not drunk enough to deal with the letdown.