“I couldn’t find my…well, my athletic supporter,” Cade is saying with a wide grin aimed at Andrea. He pauses. “So I dug into my mom’s drawer and took out one of her bras.”

“Oh, no,” Andrea says with a groan, smothering a laugh in her hands. Her eyes are dancing, and she’s riveted by his story.

“Keep in mind, I was only five. I thought I was being clever. I folded her bra up and stuffed it down my pants. Thankfully, she realized there was an odd bulge before I got to T-ball practice.” Cade breaks down laughing, and Andrea follows. “I don’t know if she ever forgave me. I do remember she threw that bra away and warned me to stay out of her dresser.”

“My brothers were nuts,” she says, “but they never did anything like that. I remember them playing flag football in the fall with a pair of my dad’s underwear, though. He was furious when he saw them running up and down the street, his tighty whities stuck in their back pockets.”

I give a tight grin as the two of them swap stories like peas in a pod.

Andrea is doing exactly what I asked her to do—be personable and charming. Hell, she’s doing even better than I imagined. Cade is engaged, charmed by her.

And it’s killing me.

I’m torn between letting her chill out and let her do her thing, and wanting to haul her over my shoulder and make her remember what happened between us this morning. Because right now, it’s like that never occurred. Not when Cade is here, right on the edge of his fresh sports career.

Fuck.

I interject here and there and struggle to maintain my cool. Can’t give away my feelings to her, or to him. I gotta work this deal, even if I’m irritated at her engaging so willingly and happily with him.

I feel like I’m out of control. I’ve known this woman all of two days, and she’s already flipping me inside out. What the fuck is happening to me? When do I get jealous about a woman? Never. I’m the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, and all the women I hook up with know that.

Not that she’s a casual hookup of mine. No, she’s my fucking employee, and yet I can’t seem to stop staring at her or wanting to touch her.

The press of her thigh against mine, watching her shift and feeling her rub my shoulder in the booth, it’s kept me in a constant state of arousal. I’m betting our buddy Cade is turned on by her too. How could he not be? She’s fucking gorgeous.

The two of them continue to share stories about their childhood as the waiter comes by, and Cade grudgingly agrees to have a cocktail. But just one. I know I should be happier that he is as wholesome as he seems, but I’m too irritated by their flirting.

And irritated with myself for being irritated over it.

Once again, I steer the conversation back to Cade and what he’s seeking. I want to pin him to concrete answers. Deliverables. That’s what I can do, if I can get him to open up about his goals. But he seems more interested in trying to good-old-boy swoon Andrea’s clothes off. Even worse, she’s falling for it.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the caller ID. Hmm, I should definitely take this—this guy wouldn’t call me unless it was for a good reason. “Excuse me,” I say as I shift in my seat, and Andrea takes the hint to let me out of the booth. “I need to take this call. I’ll be right back.”

I press the button to answer once I’m a few feet away. “What’s up, Quentin? I’m right in the middle of a meeting with Cade.”

“Yeah, I know.” Quentin’s voice is deep and rumbling, like rocks falling down the side of a mountain. The man is also the size of a mountain. “Heard some news and thought you might wanna know now, rather than later.”

My chest gets tight. Fuck. This doesn’t sound good. I step outside of the restaurant and peer into the bold blue sky. “Fire away.”

“So, I heard through a connection that Cade has no intention of signing a deal with The Baldwin Corporation.”

I drag in a slow breath, exhale. Quentin wouldn’t bullshit me. “How sure are you?”

“He told my connection that he’s using you as leverage to get a better deal with a different agency. Sorry, man. I know this wasn’t what you wanted to hear. Just trying to save you time and a headache.”

My irritation from earlier turns into full-blown anger. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“You know if I ever get back in the game, I’m coming right to you. I know you play fair and clean.” Quentin played third base for Baltimore until he got cancer and had to be treated. After that, his wife had a baby, and he decided to stay close to home and spend all the time with them that he could. Can’t fault the guy—that sort of situation would scare me too.

“You just keep focusing on getting well and raising that cute baby of yours. Then I’ll hound your ass,” I tell him. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget.”

We hang up, and I blow out a harsh breath. Yeah, I’m pissed, but I know how things work in this industry. Everyone uses everyone.

The nature of the game.

Still, so much was fucking riding on this, and now it’s gone. A wasted trip, wasted time. I could have been working on another potential client instead of blowing a full fucking day to some young choad who thinks he can wheel and deal me.

Screw that.

I glide back into the restaurant like I don’t have a care in the world. I’ll be damned if I’m anything but professional in there. When Andrea sees me, she slides out of the booth to let me in, but I don’t move.

“Gonna have to cut this short,” I say evenly, not letting my face give away my emotions.

Andrea stands beside me, eyes wide with shock. It’s clear I caught her off guard.

And Cade, too. He frowns at me, confusion in his eyes. “Everything okay, Ryker? We just got dinner served. You sure you don’t wanna sit down with us?”

“You stay and enjoy your meal. It’s on me, of course. I’ll leave my credit card info with the waiter.” I nod at him. “I look forward to hearing your decision. You know how to reach me.”

With that, I grab Andrea’s elbow and lead her out of the restaurant. It’s only a couple of blocks from the hotel, and she wanted to walk, so we take the trek back.

Andrea doesn’t waste any time—once we’re around the corner and on the sidewalk, she says, “Okay, so are you going to fill me in on what just happened?”

“You were wasting your time flirting with Cade,” I tell her.

She inhales sharply through her nostrils. “Excuse me?” The anger dripping from her voice is evident. “I wasn’t flirting. I was trying to woo a potentially important client. You know, the job you brought me here for.”

I’m still irritated though. She can call it what she wants, but she was definitely responding to his flirts. “Cade’s a scumbag. You should be a lot warier of his intentions.”

Andrea scoffs. “Seriously? That’s pretty ironic, coming from you.”

“It isn’t ironic at all. I’m looking out for you.” We head into the hotel and step in the elevator. It’s filled with tension now, but not the good kind. No, we’re both angry with each other. Me with her, because she can’t even be honest about what she was doing. And me with me, because I shouldn’t even care, and a part of me knows I’m being a bit irrational. Okay, maybe more than a bit. “This industry is filled with dirt bags who will take advantage of someone like you the first chance they get.”

She turns in the elevator and looks hard at me. There’s flint in her eyes, and her breasts are heaving, cheeks flushed. She’s fucking gorgeous when she’s worked up, even in anger. “I think you’ve certainly proven your point in that regard, Ryker. Lesson learned.”

Fuck.

She means that I’m one of those dirt bags. A hot flush works over my throat. “I’m not…”

The elevator door dings open, and she spirals away from me and enters her room without a backward glance.

* * *

An hour later, after fuming in my room over this turn of events, I head down to one of the bars in the hotel. Order a bourbon on the rocks and drink it, fast. Then another. When the third comes, the burn has settled into my veins and I’m feeling more relaxed.

Since I pissed off Andrea, I’ve been struggling with how I feel. What she said. With guilt over what happened on the plane. Fuck.

I should stay away from her. I’ll keep my distance, have another one of the senior agents mentor her. She can still do good for the company, just not under my watch. I refuse to give anyone more ammunition against us, like offending the one female employee we actually have.

I need her.

I’ll fire out a text to Wilson in the morning asking him to take over. He’s steady, easy to get along with. More like a grandfather. His clients love him because he’s so reasonable, yet he gets what he promises. He’ll be a good resource for her.

The thought of not working with her dampens me, but I refuse to be one of those people she was talking about.

I shake it off as best as I can and stare into my bourbon glass, as if the answers to my problems are there. Without Cade, we’re going to need to find a new strategy. I’ll have to double down, start scouting better. It’s fall already, and football season is well underway. Also, basketball is raring to go. Two key sports for our agency.

As the minutes tick by, I feel a weariness settle into my bones. I just wanted to make a company that was ethical and successful. I believed we could have both. But Damon Forbes fucked me over when he fucked over his clients. And I don’t even know where he is, because he took off and fled the country when he was caught. So I can’t even promise to get the money back. Not yet, at least. And I don’t have enough liquid cash to pay them.

My attorneys are still working with me on the best course of action to right the ship, but I can’t sue him and press charges if we can’t find him. Hope that private investigation firm I hired a couple of weeks ago will make magic happen.

I refuse to give in and give up. I have no option. I already lost my dream career when I got injured. I’m not losing this too. I’ve spent years building this company from the ground, and one fucknut isn’t going to steal it from me.

“Looks like you’re reading tea leaves,” a low voice murmurs beside me. A voice I recognize and didn’t expect to hear.

I spin on my bar stool and see Andrea there, wearing a pair of jeans that were made for her and a black off-the-shoulder shirt with small sparkles. She’s so gorgeous it hurts. And I’m surly and buzzed and not in the mood to deal with this. My attraction. The tension. All of this.

She takes the seat beside me. “I’m sorry I walked off earlier. I was mad.”

“I know why you were mad.” I face my drink again. “What happened was inappropriate. I’ll have you reassigned to another mentor as soon as we return to the office.”

Andrea doesn’t move, doesn’t speak for a moment. “If that’s what you want,” she says flatly.

No, what I want is to drop her on the nearest bed and plunge balls-deep inside her. To taste her skin and hear her cry out my name as she comes around my cock. But I’m not going to get what I want, so I shrug without speaking. Nothing left to say anyway.

“I…” She clears her throat. “The fact that you’re willing to reassign me proves you’re not just trying to take advantage of me. I just…I don’t know what happened on the plane, and I’m really confused.” I can hear the bewilderment in her voice, and it draws me, compels me, to look at her again.

Her eyes are wide, fixed on mine. Lips parted. That delicate pulse in her throat is fluttering again. The one that throbbed when she was fingering herself for me. God, I wish I could fucking lick her pussy. Even one small swipe. Just to have her on my tongue. Just to know.

“Ryker, I…” Her cheeks burn, and she drops her hands into her lap. Fiddles with her fingers. “The stuff you said, no one has ever spoken to me like that before. But it really turned me on, and I know you’re my boss and that maybe that was a one-time thing for you, an impulse, but—”

I lean forward and take her mouth with mine.

That first kiss whooshes the air out of both our lungs. She smashes up against me, and I cradle the back of her head. I dive into her mouth, taste her wet warmth, feel the smooth glide of her tongue. Fucking hell. All this pent-up passion in a woman who exudes innocence. I fucking need it. I need her.

Her fingers cling to my shoulders as she opens for me like a good girl, draws me deeper.

I manage to pull back and note with satisfaction that her lips are swollen. Because of me. “I’m going to pay my tab,” I tell her slowly, so she’ll understand. If she wants to back out, I want her to have time. To not feel coerced or like I’m taking advantage of her. I want her willingly submitting to me.

She gives a small nod.

“We’re going to go upstairs to your bed,” I continue.

Her mouth opens more, and she licks her lower lip. Nods again.

“Andrea, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t move,” I say in conclusion. “And if that isn’t okay, I need you to say so now.”

There’s a brief pause. “I want that too.” The admission is quiet but firm.

I toss money on the bar top, barely bothering to see how much I’m throwing down—I’m certain I overpaid. Then I grab her hand and draw her toward the elevator. Toward her bed.