I stomped down the sidewalk to the Fly Bar, my high heels clicking against the cement, barely missing the divots in the shitty sidewalk. I swear to God, if I fell, I’d kick him in the balls for making me come to this dive.

I’m the one who hired him, not the other way around.

By the time I walked inside, my clothes were damp and my throat was so dry. I needed a gallon of water to quench my thirst.

I shook the thoughts of his balls out of my mind as I walked toward the bar. He was leaning back in his chair and sipping a drink, oblivious to my presence.

I cleared my throat as I approached. I needed to be tough or at least act like the pit bull I’d become known as. I couldn’t show weakness.

Not to him or any other man or I’d be eaten alive.

I squared my shoulders, shifting slightly. “Mr. DeLuca.”

“Race,” he replied without turning around.

I took a moment and studied him. His shoulders looked broader than I had fantasized about this week. The corded muscles of his neck looked more taut and strained where they connected. I wanted to touch him, feel the strength underneath his clothes.

I pushed my thoughts away before I sat down, tossing my purse on the bar. “I’m here as ordered.”

“Good.” He stared at the television screen. “Cubs are doing crappy this year,” he mumbled as he tossed some peanuts in his mouth. His stubble was back, giving him the look I’d come to love. The tiny hairs dotting his face moved together as if in a choreographed dance as he chewed.

I wanted to reach out and run my fingers across them to see if they were as coarse as they looked. “I hate baseball,” I muttered, looking around the bar, trying not to stare at him.

“Such a shame,” he replied, glancing at me. “You’re flushed. Are you okay?” he asked as he tilted his head, studying me.

I peered at him out of the corner of my eye. “It’s hotter than hell outside. I just walked two blocks in high heels from where I parked to get here. Naturally, I’m flushed.” I fanned myself, playing off the attraction I could no longer deny.

“Well, let’s get you a cold drink to help cool you off.” He snapped his fingers and the bartender walked toward us quickly.

I shook my head, blowing out a breath.

All he had to do to get service was beckon her, but me—I had to wait to be noticed.

“Thanks,” I mumbled through gritted teeth.

She leaned over the bar, showing off her tits as she rested her chin in her hand. “Can I get you another?”

“I’ll take a martini, extra dirty,” I blurted out with a snarl.

She glanced at me and turned her attention back to him. “And you, handsome?” she asked, batting her eyelashes, ignoring me.

Seriously.

It took everything in me not to reach over the bar and crack her.

Women like her were the reason I had the problems I did at work.

“He’ll take another, sweetheart,” I snapped, the vein in my temple pulsating.

“Just another beer, Lisa.”

She nodded, glaring at me as she began to walk away.

Fuck, he was on a first-name basis with her.

Does he like her?

“She’s probably going to spit in my drink,” I mumbled.

“You’d kind of deserve it if she does.”

I looked at him, trying to remain calm. “I didn’t need to see her tits hanging out. I just wanted to order a drink and speak with the man I hired about my case. We’re here for work, not tits.”

He stared at me, not saying a word as Lisa set our drinks down.

I ignored Lisa as she lingered a little too long. “This is a business meeting,” I added as I kept my gaze locked on his, wringing my hands together in my lap.

“I know, but you don’t have to be so uptight. It’s Friday, we’re at a bar, and I’m in good company. Unwind a little. We have a lot to talk about,” he said. Then his tongue darted out and swept across his lips.

My eyes dropped to his mouth. My skin flushed as his tongue swept across his lip. I fisted my fingers and kept them in my lap.

When his tongue disappeared, a grin spread across his face. “Can we drink to that?” he asked.

My eyes shot up to his. “To what?”

“Unwinding and good company?” He smirked, holding his glass up and covering his lips with the liquid.

“I’ll drink to something cold and a tit-free zone.” My gaze wandered down his arm to his biceps. I swallowed hard, noticing the way the T-shirt cut into his flesh.

“Fine.” He chuckled. “To titless women and cold company.”

I raised my glass, not realizing exactly what he’d said, and swallowed a mouthful.

As I set my glass down, I averted my eyes. “So, what news do you have to share with me?” I asked as I tapped the olive-laden toothpick against the rim of the glass.

He explained every procedure and boring fact he’d uncovered. At some point, I think I zoned out, because the next thing I knew, a new drink appeared in front of me.

Without interrupting him, I sipped my drink and listened to him babble on about tech bullshit. I let him go on and on and stared at his lips as they moved with each word. By the time I’d nearly finished the second drink, he was ready to give me the information I’d been waiting to hear.

“I tracked the IP address from your email and used other methods to find the culprit. I was shocked to find that the IP originated not in New York, but from right here in Tampa.”

I recoiled, my mouth falling open. “Tampa?” I asked, gaping at him.

He nodded, turning the beer in his hands. “Yeah. I was surprised. I thought, based on the information you gave me, that it would be from New York too. It doesn’t mean that it couldn’t be someone on the list you gave me, but we need to expand our search parameters.”

“Fuck,” I mumbled. “This is a complete clusterfuck.” I bit my lip.

“I’ll get it solved, Race. Don’t ever fear that.” He gave me a sweet smile. “Who here would want to harm your reputation?”

I winced as I shook my head. “The question is who doesn’t.”

His face fell. “Are you that unlikeable?”

I sighed. “I work in a male-dominated industry. I’m not the type of girl to take shit from anyone,” I said as I rubbed my face, barely having any feeling in my cheeks. “I’ve made a lot of enemies at work. No one likes a woman executive, especially the men who think they’re better than I am.”

“Is it really that brutal?”

“More brutal than you could ever imagine, Morgan,” I said.

He stroked his lip. “Let’s start with your competition at work first. Anyone who would be threatened by your success?”

I swirled the last of the liquid in my glass, trying to avoid looking at him. “I could fill a notebook,” I replied, starting to feel sorry for myself. “I think I need another.” I tipped my glass, noticing that it was basically empty.

God, I had so many haters.

Was it because I was a bitch? I hated the term. I thought I was tough, but I heard the murmurs in the office and the whispers about being the biggest bitch in the company when I walked by.

I never put much thought into people liking me. I didn’t give a shit if I made friends, either. The only thing I cared about was being successful and doing a good job. Now, I had to watch my back and wonder about who wished for my failure enough to threaten me.

“Write down their names,” he said, pushing the paper in front of me.

I jotted down twenty names, mostly males, of people I could picture wanting to see me crash and burn.

“Do you have any friends, with a list of enemies that long?” he asked, pushing the drink closer to me.

I dropped the pen. “Not really,” I said, clasping my hands together.

“Too busy trying to get ahead?”

For some reason, his statement made me giggle. “Yeah, something like that.” I giggled again as I glanced at him.

He wrinkled his nose. “Maybe I should cut you off.” He put his hand over the glass and started to pull it toward him.

I scowled and moved quickly, placing my hand over his. “Don’t you dare! I need that drink. I earned that drink this week, goddammit.”

“Whatever you say,” he whispered.

The warmth of his hands had my thoughts drifting to the feel of them caressing my breasts. My face flushed as I realized he was staring at me.

“You feeling okay, Race?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching.

I cleared my throat. “Just a little warm from the weather still. I can’t seem to cool off.” I fanned myself, pulling on the collar of my blouse.

“Sure.” He grinned, pulling his hand from my drink. “You want ice water instead? Maybe that would help cool you off.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Nope, just another martini.” I brought the glass to my mouth, watching Morgan over the rim as I polished it off.

I needed to get myself together.

I didn’t have time to fantasize.

There was someone after me, and I needed to focus on that. One slipup and whoever had it in for me would probably pounce on my shit and use it as an opportunity to ruin me.

I made a mental note—all future conversations were to take place over the telephone.

One-on-one contact could be hazardous to my health.