It was Friday afternoon. Kate hadn’t seen or heard from Michael since he dropped her off at her room, and she also hadn’t received any other messages or deliveries from her mystery stalker. Of course, her father had called her numerous times—she assumed to push the topic of her return home—but she always put him to voicemail. She felt guilty, but she needed to focus. Besides, she would be going home soon.

She had spent the last day and a half working nonstop on the Maddox Gala. And everything for the ball was about as perfect as it could be for such a last-minute event.

Kate walked around the ballroom, making sure everything was decorated as spectacularly as she had imagined. And it was. The designer had done a fantastic job. The room looked sleek and sophisticated. The ballroom had a baby grand piano, large crystal chandelier, two stages (one for the orchestra and another for the auction), and plenty of room for dancing. Thirty tables surrounded the dance floor. The ice blue linens with metallic overlays and silver chairs would be enhanced by the vases of fresh, cream-colored roses that would be placed tomorrow as centerpieces. Kate’s favorite part of the ballroom were the two terraces. On each, French doors opened out onto a romantic and cozy overlook: one of the city, the other of the hotels massive rose garden. Kate could picture the band playing with the doors open, the fresh September air ventilating the room. It would be perfect . . . she hoped.

She smiled and took a seat at one of the tables. She was waiting for her friend Joseph, the caterer. He’d arrived early that morning but had been busy shopping for his menu. She tapped her short, pink nails on the table in front of her and reached for her phone. With it, she began to research Michael on the internet.

Kate scrolled down the page of web hits until she found an article that had been published in GQ a few years earlier. Next to the article was a photo of Michael in his marine’s uniform. He looked like a man not to be reckoned with in a business suit, but in his military uniform, he looked downright dangerous.

She averted her eyes from the photo, needing to still her pulse, and began reading the article.

Michael Maddox is a real-life superhero. He is a man whom men dream of becoming and women fantasize about. He is an American military hero.

But today? Today he is dressed in a custom-fitted Ralph Lauren three-piece suit and sitting across from the board of directors for a company he just sold for three-hundred million dollars. Today, Michael Maddox is a multi-millionaire.

But before the brawny man became a superhero, before he received the Purple Heart and Silver Star, before he became a superrich entrepreneur—who was he?

He grew up in a small town on the outskirts of Raleigh, North Carolina; his parents were both teachers. According to his parents, Michael was a gifted child. A prodigy. He enrolled at Duke when he was only sixteen and completed his Bachelor’s in Engineering by his eighteenth birthday. Then he went on to earn Master’s degrees in computer science and business at Yale, graduating at the top of both classes in 2001.

But when the tragic event of 9/11 occurred, Michael found himself pursued by government agencies and both the Army and Marines. They wanted him for his genius and his athleticism. So, Michael decided to serve his country and place his entrepreneurial desires on hold for the greater good.

He enlisted in the military as an officer and quickly worked his way up to First Lieutenant. He served in both Iraq and Afghanistan, completing several tours of duty for his country.

In 2005, a pre-unified command plan to fight against global terror networks was proposed, and in February 2006, in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, the Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command (MARSOC) was activated. Michael became a member of the elite Special Forces after completing seven months of training at Camp Lejeune. In addition to the rigorous military training he’d already received, he trained in reconnaissance, maritime navigation, foreign internal defense, survival evasion, asymmetric warfare, close quarter combat . . . and the list goes on. After his training, he was deployed to Afghanistan on several reconnaissance missions, which was when Michael began working on building and refining his intelligence software and technology. He improved the tactical remote sensor system to better monitor enemy activity and helped develop more advanced SATCOMS.

But it was his experience before Operation Knife—

“Kate!”

Kate stopped reading the article and looked up to find Joseph approaching her. She pressed against the table and stood up, feeling like she had one too many to drink. As soon as she was standing, she found herself lifted into the air as Joseph spun her around.

He planted a kiss on both her cheeks when her heels found the ground again. “Nice to see you, too,” she said. Laughter filled her voice as she looked up at the bright-eyed chef. She’d forgotten how attractive he was. “How’s everything going?” she asked as they began walking toward the hotel’s industrial kitchen.

“Fantastic,” he remarked. “I procured all of the fresh food we need for tomorrow, and we’re good to go. My team is practicing the menu as we speak. The hotel servers seem competent and professional. Everything is going smoothly.”

“That’s great news. Anything I can do for you? Anything else you need?”

“We’re good. I’m just looking forward to seeing you in an evening gown tomorrow. You will dress for the occasion?” His green eyes widened with his smile.

“Yes, of course. I’m torn between red and navy. You know . . . I want to dress in our countries’ colors since the fundraiser is for veterans.” Navy would match Michael’s eyes, though.

“Red,” Joseph said. “Definitely red. With your long, golden locks, you absolutely must wear red.”

She gave Joseph a genuine smile and looked around as they entered the busy kitchen. “Smells fabulous,” she commented.

“Then my staff is doing an excellent job,” he replied. “I was wondering, instead of waiting until tomorrow to see you, maybe we could catch up over a drink tonight? I would love to take you to dinner, or even make you dinner, but I know I’ll be working in the kitchen all day.” He reached for her hands and held them in his own, keeping his eyes on her.

His touch suggested he had yet to give up on dating her, even though she’d lost count of how many times she had told him she wanted to keep their relationship professional. “One drink won’t hurt, I guess.” She squinted one eye at him, and her lips puckered, giving a playful warning that she suspected his intentions.

“I’ll be on my best behavior. Chef’s promise,” he said before leaning forward and kissing her hand.

* * *

“I should get back to the hotel.” Kate looked at her watch. It was close to ten, and she wanted to get an early start on the day tomorrow. Plus, she didn’t want to traipse around the city at night if someone really was keeping tabs on her.

God, she was eager to leave Charlotte on Sunday and carry on with her normal life.

Her father would be pleased when she told him she wasn’t going to consider Charlotte for a third location for the company. She had no intention of telling him why, but he wouldn’t care, as long as the topic had been shelved.

“One more drink.”

Kate looked up from her empty wine glass, feeling a little lightheaded from the alcohol. She had nursed only two glasses of Chardonnay in the last two hours, but the pours here were absurdly deep. “I need to get some sleep. I’m beat,” she said before faking a half yawn.

Joseph shifted on his barstool and motioned for the bartender. They were in the Epicenter, at a restaurant that turned into a nightclub around eleven. “Come on, Kate. I rarely see you. And one more glass will help you fall asleep that much easier.”

His Italian accent sounded thicker than normal. Perhaps it was the whiskey he was drinking. “Fine,” she agreed, wrinkling her nose. “You win.”

He clapped his hands together before tapping her on the shoulder like a sister. Good. She hoped he would start treating her like one more often.

“Another round,” he said, waving his hand in the air. He adjusted his seat so he could better face Kate. His dark brows lifted as his attention shifted to something or someone behind her. “Did you invite Maddox?”

Kate’s hand rushed to her throat as if she was going to choke, and she shifted in her seat to check if Michael was, in fact, on approach.

“Isn’t that the supermodel, Jamie Landon?” Joseph arched his shoulders back in obvious excitement.

“Yes, it is,” Kate said under her breath. The sight of Jamie with her arm wrapped around Michael’s as they walked toward the bar like a power couple had her stomach flipping, which was ridiculous, she knew. How many times did she have to remind herself that she was the one who turned him down? It was her fault that she’d never experience his hands on her body, or discover the way his mouth would feel on her skin.

She needed to keep her heart guarded, to keep her plans intact.

Business first.

Boyfriend later.

And preferably fall for a man who actually wanted a relationship.

She shut her eyes for a second, hoping she could blink the two of them away. When her eyes opened, Michael was staring back at her, shy of her by a couple feet.

“Kate,” Michael said her name while giving her a curt nod.

She stood up and closed the short gap between them. “Hi, Michael. This is Joseph, the caterer for the gala. I didn’t expect to see you here.” Are you following me? I already have someone doing that, her inner voice surprised her with a joke. She looked over at Jamie, who began to touch her bottom lip with a bright red fingernail as she tilted her head slightly.

“So, you’re the one who managed to get Michael to throw a party. Thank you.” Kate detected a slight Brooklyn accent beneath Jamie’s polished tones.

“And thank you for participating in the auction.” Kate glanced over her shoulder at the bar and became a little pissed that there happened to be two empty seats next to where she and Joseph were sitting. It’s a Friday night. Seriously? This place should be packed.

Hiding her annoyance, Kate motioned her hand, inviting Michael and Jamie to sit. When she looked over at Joseph, she found him staring at Jamie with his mouth ajar.

Michael glanced at the empty bar stools before his gaze swept back to Kate. “We have reservations. Late dinner. Jamie’s flight arrived an hour ago. But thank you for the offer.”

Kate shot him an awkward smile, hating the stir of jealous inside of her. She wished for one night she could let go of her principles—her plans . . . and be with Michael. But it was the morning after that had her entirely too fearful of being so daring.

“Well, you two have a good night. We’ll see you at the ball tomorrow.” Michael shook Joseph’s hand and looked back at Kate. His body appeared rigid, and his eyes gave no indication of what he was thinking.

“Bye.” Bye? Really?

“Wow, she’s gorgeous.” Joseph sat back down at the bar.

“Sure, if you like long legs, big boobs, flowing brown hair—” Kate stopped herself and took in a deep breath.

“Do you have a thing for Maddox?”

Kate’s eyes widened. “What? No way.”

Joseph smiled as he reached for his whiskey. “Sure. And I don’t want to see you naked.”

Kate slapped his arm as she sat down and shook her head. “Joke around with me one more time, and I’ll deck you.” Her lips quirked up. She could always count on Joseph to lighten her mood. She started to reach for her drink, but she could still feel his eyes on her.

She looked over and saw Michael standing near the entrance to the hall that led to the restrooms. He cocked his head to the side, beckoning her. She looked back down at her drink, feeling confused. “I need to use the ladies room. Be right back,” she told Joseph before rising to her feet and heading toward the ever-so-dangerous tiger of a man.

She stopped in front of Michael. “What?” she hissed, not meaning to sound so angry, or so jealous.

He folded his arms and leaned against the wall. She hated how casually sexy he looked in black slacks and a polo shirt. “Something going on with you and the chef?” he asked as his eyes focused on Kate’s lips.

She took a step back and threw her hand to her cheek. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I thought you didn’t date at work—”

“And why do you care? You’re here with a supermodel.” She took another step back, but there was no room in the narrow hallway. She couldn’t breathe.

He angled his head and moved toward her, placing his hand against the wall above her shoulder. “You know that you’re the one I want.”

The sexy sound of his voice almost caused her to lose balance. “And you know how I feel,” she said through gritted teeth, feeling angry with herself more so than with him.

“You want to be with me as much as I want to be with you. That much is obvious.” He moved away from her, giving her some breathing room, but the look in his eyes was dark. “So, are you into the chef?”

“Are you into Jamie?” she challenged, folding her arms.

His eyes shot down to the curve of her breasts. She was exposing more flesh than she wanted to at the moment. “I want you, Kate.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but you can’t have me.” She turned to exit the hallway, her hair swishing over one shoulder. The sound of her name from his lips caused her to stop. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

“I need to go,” she insisted. She wondered if he could tell how weak she felt—that if he pressed a little more, she would succumb.

She sucked in a breath as his body brushed against hers, and he walked past her, never turning back.