Juggling my purse, laptop bag, and stupidly large sweet tea all while trying to hit the button to unlock my Jeep is a sight to behold, I’m sure. With everything dumped onto the front seat and myself hoisted up behind the wheel, my phone dings. Digging it out of my purse, I swipe my thumb across the screen to light it up. There’s an email notification from my friend Layla James.

“Yes. Perfect timing,” I say to the empty SUV as I fire it up. I called her last week to help me out with some ideas and maybe some connections for Beau to create some good press. Something a little outside the box. She runs a blog and seems to have some superpower for knowing what will blow up next, so I know she’ll have some fresh ideas for me. Even though the couple things I already have lined up are great, a little outside perspective never hurts.

Tossing the phone aside, I put my blinker on and pull into traffic. I have to meet Beau at the studio so we can go over his schedule. I would love nothing more than to avoid him for the next little while, but I don’t have that luxury.

I’m still kind of pissed at myself that I didn’t take into consideration that the tabloids would link us. So stupid. It’s my damn job. I think I knew and just tucked it away so I didn’t have to think about it. I called Judge about thirty seconds after I kicked Beau out of my office and asked him if he thought they would, and he laughed long and hard until I hung up on his ass. I’m surrounded by asses.

I make it to the studio space we own in under five minutes. We tried getting space in the same building as the offices, but had to settle for this, and maybe having a little distance isn’t the worst thing. Once in the underground parking garage, I juggle everything back out of the Jeep and into the elevator.

The moment the doors slide open, I hear a woman’s laugh. Confused, I strain to hear as I move toward the sound, but the damn acoustics in the place are so good both in and out of the sound booths, I can’t really hear a damn thing, just muffled voices and another laugh. I can hear the flirtation in this one. It’s practically dripping from it.

Coming into the reception area from the hall I see Beau kicked back in one of the deep purple armchairs arranged near the picture window of the booth. Jean-clad legs planted wide in that manspread thing guys do, there’s a woman I’ve never seen before perched on the arm of his chair, draped over the back, toying with the hair at his nape. Beau’s certainly not discouraging her, grinning up at her like a fool as she whispers in his ear.

The woman startles when I clear my throat. I watch as Beau places a hand on her back to steady her, his eyes on me, that stupid grin of his not slipping.

“You’re late,” he says, making no move to stand, his large hand falling to the trim waist of the girl still happily sitting beside him. You would think that she would look a little more uncertain not knowing who the hell I am. I could be his wife for mercy’s sake. Thank the Lord I’m not, but I could be. The thought that that doesn’t even bother her or cross her mind makes me madder than it should. She doesn’t even bat an eye or say anything, just looks at me and waits.

“I left you a message. I assumed when you didn’t answer that you were in the studio…working.” I flick my eyes to the woman. I’ve about had it with her just there, blinking at me. “Who are you?”

“Amie.”

I raise my brows in question.

“I'm new.”

“You're fired.”

“Now, Sugar-–”

I pin him with a look that dares him to undermine me. He holds up his hands, finally taking his hand from her waist and doesn't say a word. This has nothing to do with him and everything to do with her and the way she has conducted herself with a client. Well, almost nothing to do with him. Amie just looks at me, mouth hanging open.

“But—”

“We’ll mail you your check. You can leave the keys on the desk.” Without another word, I stride past them and into the studio to greet Gus, the guy who works the boards.

“Who hired her?” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder, not bothering to see what those two are up to now that I’ve left them alone again.

“Amie? The agency sent her over last week when Nelle called them for a temp.”

I nod and place my sweet tea down and dial Nelle, leaving a message for her when I get the voice mail.

“It’s Addy. Get another temp for the studio. I had to let this one go.” Just as I’m hanging up I add, “Preferably a man.” Gus is watching me with raised brows and a knowing smirk. “What?”

“Nothing at all, Addy.” Smart man.

“How’d the session go?”

“The session went great,” Beau says from the open door. “Did you really need to fire that poor girl?” Gus chooses that moment to excuse himself.

“I’m done for the day here, you mind locking up?”

I wave him off letting him know I will. When he closes the door behind him Beau repeats himself.

“Did you have to fire her?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. That’s not how we conduct business here. This is a recording studio, not a brothel. You might want to make note of that yourself.” Finished with this conversation, I sit at the table and pull out my laptop, ready to get to work.

“A brothel? Seriously? We were just talking, Addy Mae. No need to get your panties all in a twist.”

“I would have to be wearing them to have them in a twist,” I shoot back without thinking. You can’t say things like that in front of a guy like Beau. He proves it in the very next breath.

“I don’t think I believe that. Dare you to show me.” I don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling. I can hear it in his voice.

“I’m not showing you the goodies, Beau.” Doing my best to keep my tone bored I pull up the calendar on my laptop.

“I double dog dare you. You know you can’t turn down a double dog dare, Addy,” he teases.

“Not gonna happen. You can’t dare your way under my skirt. I’m much harder to get than the women you’re used to.” With a smirk of my own over that little dig, I look up at him. That’s a mistake. His eyes are full of heat, wolfish. Like I’m Little Red Riding Hood and it’s about to go down.

“I know. That’s what I like about you.” Beau steps further into the room. “Why’d you fire that girl?” He doesn’t even know her name. I don’t know if I like that or hate it.

“I told you why.”

“That was a lie. I want you to tell me the real reason, Sugar.” His drawl has a way of making the word sexy and just a little bit condescending all at the same time. Or maybe it’s just him.

“It wasn’t. We can’t have our receptionists in the laps of our clients. It’s unprofessional.” One more step and he’s standing right across from me, his scent of leather and something fresh luring me in. This. This right here is why I’ve been trying to keep my distance. He makes me stupid. He smiles, talks to me all slow and sexy, and I melt. I’m no better than the girl I just fired. I’ve barely spent any really time with him, and already I’m affected. In a big way.

“That’s a reason all right, but it isn’t the reason. You fired her because she was on my lap.” He places his palms on the table between us and leans down so we’re eye level. “Admit it.”

“Why? Why do you want me to admit it? What happens then? You lay me down on the table here and dare me some more.” I huff out an exasperated breath and look away to gather my nerve and resolve. Bringing my eyes back to his, I sigh. “I can’t do this with you, Beau.”

“Do what? Talk? This is hardly foreplay, Sugar.” He chuckles.

“But it might as well be.”

“Just say that you like me. You try to act like you don’t, but you do. I saw it in the way yours eyes flashed fire when you walked in. I heard it in your twang when you gave her what for.” Beau catches his bottom lip between his teeth and smiles. “When you’re mad, your Texan is turned way up. All sassy and Southern.” He’s enjoying this. Fucker.

I groan out. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t like you. I do. But I get attached to things…people…easily. I don’t want to get attached to you. I’m not saying that I am, but it wouldn’t be hard. And you goin’ around being all sexy and talking sweet and then add to that all the time we’re gonna be spending together basically pretending to be together, and I’m in trouble. I don’t want to be in trouble.” That was way more than I planned on saying, dammit. He’s got me rambling like a damn tumbleweed in a dust storm.

“You think I’m sexy?”

“Beau—”

Straddling the chair, he lets his hands dangle over the back, drawing my attention. “Addy, you won’t get attached to me. I won’t let you.” His face has gone from playful and flirty to somber and deprecating. “I won’t let you get attached to me. I’ve seen what happens to good girls when that happens. I’m not the kind you get attached to because I’m not the man you’ll bring home to meet daddy. Not my thing.”

I don’t know why that makes me feel more sad than relieved, but it does. He must still be really hurting over Jenny.

“Not your thing anymore,” I prompt.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Never was.”

That leaves me more confused than anything. Determined to change the subject though, I turn my laptop around so he can see the calendar I’ve pulled up. I don’t want to talk about all the ways I can let him get to me or hurt for him because of the pain he’s carrying around. Best to focus on work. Work is safe.

“So. I’ve got a couple things for this week and the next and then the benefit concert is after that.” I use the trackpad on the computer and scroll over to tomorrow. “I know it’s short notice but this will be a simple dinner for a local foundation that Stone and Willow contribute to. The charity raises money to help get more music therapy programs into schools. We’re going to be attending in their place.”

“Okay. Not that I don’t like to do charitable things, but how is that going to generate good press.”

“It’s by invite only, ten thousand dollars a plate. The press is interested in who is shelling out that kind of money. Wear a suit.”

A low whistle slips from between his teeth. Not waiting for him to agree or disagree, I move on to the one I’m most excited about. “One of my contacts called me the other day with this and it’s perfect. They’re doing a ‘barn raising’ of sorts.” He lifts his brows in question, a little like I might be crazy. “Every year they choose a family in the community to build a house for. From the ground up, completely free. This year’s family is from my daddy’s church. A couple who lost everything in a tragic house fire a year ago. They’re expecting their first baby in a couple months, so we’re going to build them a place to come home to. The news crews will be there the whole time, and it’s sponsored by Country All Day radio. My friend called to see if I had anyone to join me.” I’m practically bouncing in my seat over how perfect this is for him.

He nods approvingly. “I’m in. Can I bring my brother?”

“Of course! I’ll put his name on the list. We have to be at the site by six that morning, work starts at about seven or eight.” I make a note to add Sealy.

“You’re gonna come out there that early?”

I stop typing and look up at him. “Of course. I help out with the build every year.”

He cocks his head, a dubious look on his handsome face. “You work with tools?”

“Ummm, yeah. What, because I’m a girl I can’t get dirty? Well, I hate to tell you this, Beau, but I’m real good at getting dirty,” I tell him smugly. Then it sinks in. Shit. That didn’t come out right. The damage is already done though. I just wait for the fallout as he runs a hand over the dark stubble covering his chin. His hazel eyes alight with mischief.

“That right?” Beau drawls out slowly.

I fight the smile flirting over my lips and roll my eyes, not bothering to give him the satisfaction of an answer. There’s nothing I can say. I walked right into that one and left myself wide open.

“When you put it that way, how can I say no? I would love to get dirty with you, Sugar.” The smirk he flashes is pure sex. And sin. And trouble. And just all the things I love and shouldn’t. I can almost feel the invisible lasso falling over my head and dragging me Beau’s way.