Kate glowered at her phone for the third time in the last minute. She was on the rooftop terrace of her hotel, trying to get some work done, but her brain kept drifting back to the text she had received the night before. Who had sent it? It had been a photo of her standing before her mother’s grave. No message, just like before.

There was no way she would be able to convince herself that the text was from a pissed off event planner. But whom would it be? Who would want to stalk her?

She shook her head. Ignore it. Do your job. She shoved her phone back in her bag and stared down at her tablet. The sun was beating down on her back, but the shade above the table allowed her to see the image on her device. She didn’t make it a habit of working outside, but the day was too beautiful to waste indoors, and she hoped the fresh air would help ease her suffocating anxiety. Still, she felt as though someone had a vice grip on her throat and was squeezing the life out of her.

She couldn’t allow some crazy person to knock her off her game, though. She needed to finish the web design for the gala, hire a caterer and band, and wrap up many other details for the event. She was lucky the hotel had an in-house designer who could set up the ballroom at hyper speed, and in the way Kate had envisioned. But there was still so much more to do.

She didn’t like weddings because they took too long—but hell, planning something in a week wasn’t what she had in mind, either.

Kate had suggested to Julia to invite some of the veterans whom the Maddox Group had already helped to become success stories. She wanted some of them to speak about their experiences, hoping that the personal touch would entice more support from the deep-pocketed attendees. She thought it would also be a great opportunity for the veterans to network and meet potential investors.

The fundraiser would raise money and awareness to help veterans and their families. It would bring in new investors to help launch businesses led by veterans. And, as Julia hoped, it would provide some relief for Michael as more individuals joined the cause.

Kate knew that auctioning off Michael was a little gimmicky, but she also knew it was a surefire way to maximize attendance and rake in the dollars. A small smile wandered to her lips when she envisioned Michael in a tuxedo—for about the fiftieth time.

She knew she’d have the same reaction that all the women at the gala would have—butterflies. Just like last night.

For some absurd reason, she had longed for Michael’s muscular arms to wrap around her body, to protect her. She wanted to lose herself in his embrace, in the tingling sensation of desire that swept through her when she was near him. That was why she had needed him to leave her hotel room—she was beginning to doubt her ability to trust herself around him. Her body seemed to assume control and her mind took a distant second. Hell, more like a distant tenth.

She’d been off her game since the moment she boarded the flight to Charlotte, in fact. It had to be because this was the city where her mother had died.

Last night, she’d crossed a line by bringing him into her hotel room. She hadn’t been thinking straight. And when she opened up to him about her mom, he’d morphed into someone cold and broody. The man must’ve had his own issues.

Kate startled at the sound of her phone.

“Hi, Dad,” she finally answered.

“I’ve been calling you for days. You didn’t even answer on your birthday.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been busy with a client.” She chewed on her bottom lip. It was a nervous habit she had developed when she was a kid.

“I want you to come back home. I don’t want you in that God-forsaken city.” His voice sounded a little raw, or raspy. Had he been yelling recently?

“Dad, I’m fine.” Am I? “I like it here.”

Except for the fact that I have a stalker.

Kate cleared her throat. “I, um, visited Mom’s grave yesterday.”

Silence.

“There were fresh flowers on the grave. Who do you think put them there? Do Grandma and Grandpa visit?” It seemed unlikely, however. Her grandparents had abandoned their home on Lake Norman days after her mother died. They never bothered to pack their belongings or sell the house—they just left. They had been living in Savannah, Georgia, ever since.

It was all very . . . odd, to say the least. But anytime she would press the subject in the past her dad would brush the topic under the rug.

“Dad.” Her eyebrows quirked with worry. “Dad?”

“I want you to come home. Now.” His voice was edgy—rough.

“The event is Saturday. I’ll be home shortly after that.” She exhaled a frustrated breath. “I understand why you hate this place. I know it’s hard for you, but I think—I think I might like to open a third location here. It would be good for business.”

“And I really just want you to come home. Please, Kate, for me. Please, get the idea of Charlotte out of your head.”

The line was dead.

She stared at her phone, feeling guilt twist in her gut for upsetting her father. She set the phone on the table just as it began ringing again. It was an unknown number.

She let it ring a few times before answering. “Hello?”

“Kate, darling. How are you?”

Relief flooded her when she recognized the voice. “Joseph, I’m so happy to hear from you.” She stood and walked toward the railing, looking down onto the street twelve stories below.

“You’ll be even happier when I tell you that my plans have been canceled for next weekend. So, I’m free to cater your event. What were you thinking? Duck? Filet? Lamb?”

Kate reveled in the good news. It was just what she needed. “I think duck and filet would both be great. I will email you the details. Thank you so much—I owe you big time.”

“Anything for the beautiful Kate,” he said, his heavy Italian accent adding extra charm to the sentiment.

Kate had known Joseph since her first solo event upon taking over her stepmother’s company. He had saved her then, and he was rescuing her from potential disaster now. She just hoped he wouldn’t hit on her again. “I’ll have one of my secretaries in New York arrange you and your team’s flight.”

“I look forward to seeing you soon. I hope to steal a dance with you, as well. I assume there will be dancing?”

“If I can get a band or orchestra in time.” She only wished she was joking. “See you soon. Thank you again. Ciao.”

Thank God for something. She immediately texted Julia the good news. A few minutes later, her phone rang with the number from the Maddox office. Kate was impressed—Julia at work, even on a Sunday.

“Hey, Julia. I’m so relieved we were able to get such a fantastic chef on such short notice.”

“Looks like you’re pulling this party off. I guess I’ll have to wear a monkey suit after all,” Michael responded, his voice light and friendly. The opposite of how he’d left her last night.

“Oh. Hi, Michael. Sorry, I assumed it was Julia.”

“I was just checking in on you. Wondered how you were doing.”

Kate flushed with embarrassment. Why had she told Michael about her mom? “I’m sorry for diving into my issues with you. I don’t normally share my personal life with people.” She ran a hand through her long hair and shook her head, wishing she could erase last night’s conversation.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yes, I do. I don’t mix business with . . .” Pleasure?

“Let me take you to lunch. We can talk about the fundraiser.”

Was he serious? For someone who professed to hate such events, he was certainly showing a lot of interest. “I have a lot of work to do, unfortunately. Maybe I can email you an update tonight?” She didn’t want to come face to face with Michael again, not until she had to.

“Kate.”

The way he said her name made her groin ache.

“Dinner.” His voice was resolute.

He didn’t sound like he was giving her an option, and Kate was beginning to think Michael wasn’t used to hearing the word no. “Where do you want to meet?”

“I’ll meet you at your room at seven.”

“Okay. See you then.” She ended the call and stared down at her phone. What was she getting herself into?

* * *

Michael stood outside Kate’s room but found himself hesitating. If his sister found out about his intentions with Kate, she’d sock him square in the jaw with her killer left hook. It was the first time in his life he had ever stepped out of bounds in regards to his rules of professional conduct. But he needed to make an exception for Kate. He had wanted her from the moment she’d spilled her drink on him at the club; ever since, he couldn’t stop envisioning what she would look like naked, with her long, tan legs wrapped around him.

His fist tapped the door, and he waited with a strange feeling of guilt in his stomach.

“Hi,” she said, opening the door. She radiated sensuality no matter what she wore, but tonight, dressed in black pants and a white top that clung to her breasts, she made him feel a little weak. And weakness wasn’t a feeling to which Michael was accustomed.

“I wasn’t sure where we were going.” She hesitated as her eyes raked over his jeans and T-shirt. “If you give me a minute, I can throw on some jeans.”

“You look perfect,” he said, stepping into her suite. He forced his eyes to remain on hers, instead of dipping lower to her cleavage. “I’m taking you to a little Italian place around the corner. Do you mind walking?”

“Sure.” She reached for her bag and followed him to the elevator.

“How was your day? Productive?”

“Yes, actually. I got a lot done.”

As they stepped into the empty elevator, he took a deep breath and focused his attention on the silver doors. He didn’t usually have such a problem keeping composed around women, but for some reason, he could barely control his desire to behold every inch of her body. “I’m glad you agreed to dinner.”

She smiled at him as the elevator chimed. “Thanks again for the offer.”

He opened the door to the street and touched the small of her back, which triggered a small twitch from her body. “It’s just a block away,” he said before removing his hand.

They walked in silence to a drab brownstone building on the next street. “It’s quaint,” she said when they entered the dimly lit restaurant.

“Mr. Maddox, so good of you to join us.”

Michael looked over at the restaurant owner and smiled. “Frankie, Kate here is from out of town. I wanted her to have the best Italian food Charlotte has to offer.” He looked at Kate, who was smiling at the older man.

“Nice to meet you.” She reached out to shake his hand.

“What a beautiful woman.” Frankie eyed Kate for a moment before he directed his attention back to Michael and winked.

Kate’s skin reddened at his compliment, which Michael found endearing. She was modest. “Thanks for fitting us in,” he said while patting Frankie on his back.

“Anything for you.” Frankie looked back at Kate. “Hang on to this one. He’s a good man. He helped me start my business. I began my restaurant at sixty-eight—two years ago. Can you believe it? All because this man believed in my vision.”

“Oh—we’re not dating,” Kate responded, her cheeks blushing again. “But that’s great about the restaurant,” she added.

Michael studied Kate and then looked at his friend. “How’s Billy?”

“Pretty good. Coming home to visit soon.” He must’ve realized he was still holding Kate’s hand because he released it while speaking. “He’s a Navy Seal.”

“Wow. Impressive.” Kate smiled at Frankie and nodded. “Is he your son?”

“Yes,” he answered while directing them to a small table near an exposed brick wall.

“You must be so proud,” she replied.

“I am. And I look forward to running the restaurant with him someday.” He gave one last look to Michael and Kate and grinned. “I have to say that you would make one great couple. Well, enjoy your dinner.” He nodded at Michael and retreated to the kitchen area.

Michael pulled Kate’s chair out and waited for her to sit before he took his own seat across from her.

“You help a lot of people, huh?” She reached for her black linen napkin and let it fall open and rested it on her lap.

He shrugged off her comment and slid into his chair. He remained silent, studying her face. Her glossy lips were parted, and her blue-green eyes were staring into his. He couldn’t wait to taste her lips. “I highly recommend the eggplant parm.” He broke their gaze and cleared his throat. His body was reacting to her way too fast.

“Sounds great,” she said. “I trust you.”

God, that’s the last thing you should do.

“So, tell me about your business. Do you like being an event planner?”

Before she could respond, a waiter appeared at their table and began to chat with them. “Anything particular you’d like to drink, or is there an appetizer you want?” Michael asked.

“You can pick,” she said.

“Can we have a bottle of Barolo and an order of calamari, then?” Michael thanked the waiter and looked back at Kate. “So—your business . . .?”

“It’s not what I originally planned on doing with my life, but my stepmom needed me. And since I’m a planner at heart, it works for me.”

“Is she still involved with the business?”

“She helps out now and then, but she stopped focusing on the business when Alex, my brother, joined the military.”

“I can understand that. My parents didn’t handle my time in the service very well. It can be hard on family.” The topic was darkening his mood, and he didn’t want to face that side of him again. He didn’t want to repeat the previous night’s cold goodbye. “When you told me last night that I don’t know you—well, it’s true. But I’d like to get to know you.”

Her eyes narrowed on him, and she leaned back in her chair. “Know me how?” she asked, raising a brow.

In bed, for starters. “I just want to know more about you.” He tilted his head and mimicked her body language, moving back and concentrating his eyes on hers.

“Michael, I—I don’t get involved with clients.”

He noticed the tremble in her voice. “I’m not exactly suggesting a relationship.” He’d already admitted to her that he didn’t do relationships—clearly, she wasn’t referring to that. “I don’t get involved with people I work with, either.”

Kate’s eyes shifted from his face to his chest, as if noticing the steady increase in his breathing. “So, what are you saying?” Her gaze returned to his eyes.

“I want you, Kate.” He could see the shock flash in her eyes, and he worried that he’d been a little too candid. But that was who he was—he liked to cut straight to the point. He never wanted to send women the wrong signal.

Kate stared at him for a moment. “Like I said, I don’t get involved with clients. And I would never entertain the idea of being with you, regardless.”

He didn’t believe her. He could feel the way her body responded when she was around him. Had their conversation not turned so heavy last night, he would’ve made a move. But, as much of a dick as he could be at times, he wasn’t about to come onto her right after he’d learned that she’d lost her mother.

Still, he couldn’t get the woman out of his head and damned if he didn’t need to know how she’d feel against him.

“Unlike you, I only do relationships.” She released a breath. “Not that I’m even looking for one now.”

He nodded with understanding. “I guess that settles it, then.” He paused and quirked his eyebrows. “Friends?”

“Sure,” she replied after a minute. She looked up at the waiter, who was standing by their table, uncorking the wine. “I could definitely use a drink.”

Michael waited for the waiter to leave before looking back at Kate. She returned his gaze beneath long eyelashes, and his pulse jumped a notch. “So, why don’t you want a relationship?” he asked, curiosity swelling inside him. She’d brought it up—the topic was fair game, right? Of course, he hoped to hell she didn’t ask him the same question.

She tilted her head to the side and brought the wine to her lips. She took a sip, licked her lips, and set the glass down. “Why does it matter?” She edged back in her chair, but her posture remained upright.

“I just can’t believe you’re available.” He took a swig of his drink.

“Most of the men I meet are either clients or guys from bars . . . guys who only want one thing.”

He almost choked on his wine. Guys like me. “And I fit into both those categories, huh?”

She nodded and tucked her blonde hair behind her ear, exposing a small pearl earring. “Yes, Michael, you do.”

“Good thing we’re just friends.” He studied her reaction. She was unraveling at the seams, just like him. He could feel the sexual energy radiating from her body, matching his own. But he knew it would be wrong for him to pursue her if he couldn’t give her what she needed. That hadn’t necessarily stopped him before, but there was something about this woman . . . she was already fragile. He didn’t want to break her.

“You still haven’t answered my question, though. Why don’t you want a relationship?” He had his reasons, but what were hers?

“It’s just not in my plans right now. I need to focus on the business.”

“Hm.” He squinted at her a little, calling her bluff.

“What?” She smiled.

“Nothing,” he said as the waiter delivered their calamari.

“So, why’d you join the military? Was it because of September 11^th?” He flinched at the question and put down the fork he had picked up. He tried to think about how he wanted to respond, and when he didn’t answer, she added, “I’m always wondering what my life would be like if I had chosen a different path, if I hadn’t taken over for my stepmom. I guess I was kind of thinking you might feel the same?”

He exhaled a deep breath and considered her question. “The military and the CIA pursued me when I was finishing my last year in college. They told me I could help them win the war on terror.” He took a quick drink. “To be told at twenty-one that my designs could help locate terrorists and save lives was a little overwhelming.”

“But you did it.”

“I chose the military. I didn’t want to be in the CIA.” He stared down into his wine glass. To his eye, the glass appeared to rattle with the sounds of war. He shut his eyes and tried to silence the memories, but they were too loud.

His erect posture waned for a moment as his shoulders arched forward a little.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softening a touch.

He blinked his eyes open. “Yeah, sorry.” He swallowed. “But yeah—yeah, I know what you mean about wondering if life would be different if I didn’t join the Marines.” He didn’t regret his decision, but he knew he would never be the same.

“How about them Yankees?”

He looked up at Kate and smiled, her words surprising him.

“I always say that whenever things get a little too much.”

He nodded. “I’m more of a Red Sox fan.”

“Really? So am I.”

“I guess we have more in common than we realize,” he said. God, you’re sexy. He forced his attention away from her as the waiter delivered the rest of their meal.

They chatted on and off as they ate, and he loved simply hearing the soft sound of her voice as she spoke. And he also enjoyed seeing a woman finish her entire meal—he was so sick of watching his dates only eat salad—with no damn dressing even.

“I’m going out of town tomorrow. Just for a night. But I assume I will see you in the office Tuesday?” He finished his last bite of eggplant parmesan and set his fork on the table.

“Business meeting?” she asked.

“I usually spend every other week in New York, but I didn’t want to be away all week.” I want to get to know you more, he thought as he looked up.

She cleared her throat and touched her lips. Her eyes remained frozen on his as her bottom lip slipped down at the touch of her fingers. “Must be tough to bounce back and forth each week.”

He gulped, relieved that she’d spoken and moved her fingers away from her mouth. Was she trying to kill him? “Not really,” he said once he realized her statement was still hanging in the air. “How did you like dinner?”

She smiled and looked down at her empty plate. “It was delicious. And the wine was amazing. Nice choice.”

“Glad you liked it.”

“Thanks again for tonight. Sorry about—um—turning you down.” She peered at him from the corner of her eyes. The dilation of her pupils and the slight tremble of her lips seemed to belie her words.

He had to look away. He would lose his control. He would kiss her soft, full lips right then and there if she didn’t stop looking at him like that. “Let’s get going,” he grumbled.

He paid the check and said goodbye to the owner. They walked back to her hotel without speaking. “I should say goodbye here,” he said once outside the entrance of her hotel. He didn’t trust himself to be anywhere near her room. And he knew she felt the same way. He could feel it.

“Thank you again.”

His eyes drifted over the curves of her body before returning to her pouty lips. Goddamn it. He blew out a small but unnoticeable breath and leaned forward. He rested his hand on her arm and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Kate,” he said gruffly.

“’Night.”

He turned and left.

Two nights in a row he found himself walking away from this gorgeous woman—what in the hell was wrong with him?

* * *

Kate entered her hotel room and slipped off her heels. She couldn’t believe Michael’s arrogance. How could he be so bold as to mention sex at dinner? But then again, the man was used to getting whatever he wanted. To think that she had almost fallen victim to his gorgeousness.

She tossed her bag on the floor and sank onto her couch. She couldn’t get him out of her head, though. She wanted him, that much was obvious.

But they both had their reasons for keeping away from each other, didn’t they?

Why is this happening?

Frustrated, she pushed to her feet and walked to the bar to pour herself a drink.

She watched as the red liquid sloshed into the wine glass, and then she raised the glass to her lips, berating herself for agreeing to have dinner with Michael in the first place.

A knock at the door had her pulse racing. Oh, God. Michael? Would she be able to keep up her thin veneer of restraint?

She set her wine glass down on the coffee table and approached the door. She rested her hand over the safety lock and shut one eye as she looked out the peephole with the other.

No one was there. Had Michael changed his mind and left so soon? She unlocked the door and stepped out into the hall, looking left and right.

No sign of anyone, but she did hear the sound of the elevator doors closing down the hall.

He must have left. Maybe he realized his mistake and took off. Thank God. She turned to go back in but noticed a red envelope beneath her feet.

She took a step back and stared down at it. Her lip tucked between her teeth.

She realized that it wasn’t Michael who had knocked on the door—in her heart, she knew that whoever had been stalking her had just taken things up a notch.

She knelt down and picked up the envelope before returning to her room. She dead bolted the door behind her, then walked into the living area and tapped the crimson red envelope against her leg, not sure if she should open it.