Chapter One

Ashton

TEN YEARS LATER

The ladies room seemed like the perfect place for me to gather up my courage and muster some kick-ass, psycho mumbo-jumbo in order to face the corporate suits waiting for me in the conference room. A little lip gloss, a little bullshit.

Staring at the mirror, I recited over and over, “I’m smart, I’m a great negotiator, I don’t give up…and I am NOT going to puke all over the conference room this time.” I stuck my tongue out, the mirror reflecting my silly face right back at me.

Dear God, I needed some makeup. Deep in my bag I found some nude gloss, a tube of black mascara, and some bronzing powder. Either this bathroom, with its soft yellow tiles and low lighting, made my skin look sallow and washed out, or I needed a damn vacation. Probably the latter. Maybe somewhere tropical and warm where I could soak up the sun and get my tan on. But first, I needed to close this damn deal. The deal of the century. The career maker.

My boss, Henri, had all the confidence in the world in me to get it done. He hadn’t even bothered to come with me to the meeting. No need for babysitting because everyone knew I excelled at everything I did. So what if my perfectionist tendencies and reputation as an alpha hard-ass had kept all the possible suitors away from me? Running like scared pussies with their hair on fire.

Henri’s last words had been, “You’ve got this kid. Don’t let me down.”

So if this deal did go through, I could be on my way to Tahiti or the Bahamas really soon. Deeply tanned skin, mojitos on the beach, cute cabana boys waiting on me hand and foot. The one night stand I desperately needed but never seemed to have time for because I was married to my career.

Okay, Ashton, concentrate. You need to seal the deal. I slicked on the nude gloss and swiped some mascara across my lashes. A touch of bronzer and I thought I looked pretty damn good. My cosmetic armor. Like a sexy, deal-closing machine. Watch out, Ivanka Trump! I’m on my way to the big time! After today, I could afford one of her handbags.

The makeup refreshed my face, but I was still standing in front of the mirror trying to convince my feet to take me out of the bathroom. My mind raced. If I were successful in negotiations, I would snag a huge bonus and possibly a promotion. Of course, I could always fail. There was always a real possibility I could lose the deal and cost my company millions of dollars of potential lost revenue. That thought made my stomach turn. Nope, not going to throw up.

Tough. As. Nails.

I chided myself for even thinking like that. I was not going to fail. I could practically manipulate the actions of the people on the other side of the table. Ten years of experience in negotiating deals will teach you that, and I had put in a lot of hard work to get where I was today. Fourteen hour days, six days a week for years. Drumming my fingers on the marble countertop, I took a deep breath and let it back out. I was determined to go back to the office with a win under my belt.

The company that I worked for, TriStar Real Estate Investments, owned world-class restaurants, hotels, and office buildings around Atlanta. We were branching out to other states including Florida and North Carolina. I was employed as a real estate agent and it was my job to procure potential investment property to add to our already impressive real estate portfolio. I had ten years under my belt in assisting my boss in negotiating multi-million deals just like this one. It had earned me the nickname The Ashtonator around the office. Like a kick-ass, deal making machine.

This particular real estate deal included buying a resort hotel and restaurant in Destin, a fairly small tourist town located on the coast of Florida’s panhandle. I had been to Destin before. My parents loved to vacation here, attracted by its clean, emerald waters and sugary white sands. But this time I was here to work. Not to laze around on the beach, sip tropical concoctions, and soak up the sun. Well, maybe later.

Now, the problem with this deal was a difficult seller. There was a parcel of additional land he owned next to the hotel and restaurant. My boss wanted the vacant land to build a small shopping center to complement the amenities the hotel would offer its guests. The seller, of course, didn’t want to include that land in the deal. It was my job to convince him that it would be in his best interests to include it.

I was given a number – our highest offer – that I could bring to the table to entice the seller to give us the land. These types of negotiations proved difficult to do over the phone, so Henri sent me, his ace, to Destin to close the deal in person. Lucky me.

I checked my watch. It was go time. I looked over my lucky red Dolce & Gabana suit – according to my stylist, red was the color of power – that was tailored to fit my athletic frame. I ran a hand down the length of my skirt to smooth out any wrinkles and, checking my watch one last time, pointed into the mirror and in my best Austrian voice mumbled, “I’ll be back.”

I didn’t want to be late for the meeting, but I certainly didn’t want to be early. This was a mind game I learned from Henri – you always wanted to be the last person to walk into the room, but you couldn’t leave them waiting. If you showed up too early, you gave the other person the power by looking too eager. If you showed up too late, it could cost you their respect. It was a delicate balance, but with practice it became easy to nail.

My Jimmy Choo heels clicked on the Italian tile floor as I headed out of the restroom and to the lobby. The receptionist told me that everyone was ready and waiting so she led me to the conference room. I blew out one last nervous breath before I waltzed into the room with a confident attitude, destroying the butterflies in my stomach.

At the head of the conference table sat Mr. Kyle Albertson, the owner of the property. He rose to his feet and shook my hand, which I received with my trademark photogenic smile. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, he turned to introduce the other man in the room. I didn’t pay much attention to him at first, but when I did, my heart stopped.

Literally skipped multiple beats until I felt a whoosh as my blood rushed to catch up.

No fucking way.

My mind defaulted to the worst possible scenario. I was being set up. This was a cruel joke. Why else would Quinn fucking Andrews be in the same room as my difficult client, Mr. Albertson? I looked around the room for hidden cameras, waiting for my older brother, Griffin, to spring up from his hiding place and yell “Gotcha!”

Instead, Mr. Albertson simply laid his hand on my arm and asked with concern in his voice, “Are you okay, Miss Jansen?”

“I thought I saw a ghost,” I whispered.

Once I regained my composure, I nodded to reassure the man before he thought I’d gone bat-shit crazy and tanked the pending negotiations. Quinn walked over to me and held out a hand. My entire body was numb, but I managed to stuff my clammy hand in his and shake it.

“Ashton Jansen,” I squeaked.

Quinn, however, was unfazed. He turned his attention to Mr. Albertson and said, with what I swore was a stifled chuckle.

“Miss Jansen and I have known each other since we were kids. I don’t think she was expecting to see an old friend today. Hence, the startled reaction.”

What? I didn’t need him to protect or defend me.

“You’re…” I couldn’t finish my sentence.

My mind was still in denial that my childhood crush, the guy who took my virginity and trampled my heart, all in the same night, stood before me like some kind of unwelcome blast from the past. I had skillfully avoided this guy for ten years, which had been a difficult task since our families still stayed in touch.

It took great effort on my part to ignore anything that had to do with Quinn. Every time there was an event for my family to attend that involved even the most remote possibility of running into Quinn, I had an out. An ironclad excuse. Yet here was proof that I couldn’t outrun him forever.

“My law firm is representing Mr. Albertson in the deal,” he said.

Was he talking to me? His eyes darted around the room but never settled anywhere long enough for me to know for sure.

I’d heard from my mother that Quinn had gone to Harvard Law and then passed the bar exam with flying colors. Always the triple threat. Good looking, smart and charming. Except when he lied like the fucking dog he was. The part she’d neglected to tell me was that he’d moved to Florida.

Quinn Andrews. Bastard extraordinaire. Debaucher of virgins and breaker of fragile hearts. One thing I could say for sure about Quinn, he still looked hot enough to make my heart go pitter-patter. Which pissed me off so badly steam started to rise off my pasty white skin.

His eyes were still ice blue, and his dimples had not lost their ability to melt a girl’s heart when he smiled. Except this particular girl now had a brick wall around hers that rivaled the work of a thousand masons. He’d finally cut his long hair, but there was still enough to thread my fingers through. Those Benedict Arnold fingers twitched at the very thought. I shook my head to eradicate it.

Quinn fucking Andrews. Girls in high school compared him to a younger Matthew McConaughey. I could definitely see the resemblance now, especially with the addition of a barrel chest and a five o’clock shadow. He was dressed in a dark grey suit that accentuated his intense eyes. How was it that ten years had gone by and he was somehow even more gorgeous? Why couldn’t he have stress induced dark circles or a beer gut? Time had been good to him. Too good.

Christ. I really never wanted to see Quinn ever again. Not many women would want to see the man who took their virginity and skipped town, never even saying goodbye. Quinn knew how much he had meant to me. I’d been chasing him around the schoolyard since I was ten years old. When I was sixteen, he’d finally taken notice of me. My every fantasy had been fulfilled when he took my hand and led me upstairs to make love to me. It may have been brief, but that one unforgettable night changed everything. Because I hadn’t repeated it since.

At first my urge was to slap him, instead I shook his hand and ignored the jolt of electricity between us. Lucky break for him. This meeting was important for both of us. I needed to deal with the situation with grace and confidence, even if those feelings were scarce at this moment. A smile and a handshake and a sad attempt at clearing my head. But all I could think about was Quinn sliding his cock inside of me. That long, thick, gorgeous cock that felt so good …

“If you’ll excuse me, Miss Jansen. I have a meeting, but Quinn will handle working the deal for us. I trust him with this particular piece of business.” Mr. Albertson excused himself from the room, leaving me all alone with my childhood crush. Dear God, help me now.

No. No. No.

“Ashton,” Quinn said with a slow, smug smile. He said my name with the same throaty drawl he used the night we’d been burning up the sheets.

Dammit! Focus, Ashton, focus!

“What?” I said.

Pathetic. I am a wretched loser prostrating myself at the altar of a reprobate. Remember what he did to you, Ashton. Remember how he broke your heart so badly you’ve never gotten over it.

Quinn laughed. He held a chair out for me and said, “Have a seat.”

I had to get it together. The fact that the other negotiator was Quinn Andrews didn’t change anything on my end. I still had a deal to make. All I had to do was repress our horrible…sexy…past.