The smooth “Gideon Hawke” that glides across the phone line to my ear is all it takes to make me tighten my grip on the handset and suck in my breath. He sounds as sexy as he did on Saturday night. I haven't been imagining that he has the most resonant voice I've ever heard, the sound curling sensually down my spine. For a heartbeat, hearing the sound of his voice turns my brain to mush.

Why the hell am I calling him?

One glance at the enormous and elaborate bouquet of flowers on my desk brings me back to reality.

“I don't have a huge desk,” I blurt out, bringing my free hand up to slap my forehead. Maybe I was a bit of a reckless goddess on Saturday night at the club, all done up in that dress from Leah and painted in darker makeup than I'd ever choose for myself, but in the light of day, I'm Kennedy Carlisle, awkward human-in-chief.

Gideon laughs, the sound low and liquid, like wax dripping from a molten candle. “How can that be? The Kennedy Carlisle I met at the club is probably the CEO of her own company.”

It's my turn to laugh, though it comes out more like a nervous giggle than the sexy, flirty sound I envisioned. “Not quite. I have my own office, but my desk isn't nearly large enough for this—this—” I don't know how to describe the creation sitting in front of me. It's gorgeous and must have cost him a fortune, a mix of wildflowers and roses that looks like it belongs in the center of the table at a celebrity wedding.

“Lovely gift?” Gideon offers the suggestion in that same sensual tone. It's not mocking, it's not teasing—he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“It is lovely. But what I can't understand is why you would send it to me.”

“Did I get the wrong office?”

“No, this is my office.”

“Is there another Kennedy Carlisle with unbelievable...” The pause is long enough for me to take a breath. “...red hair and intoxicating dance moves that I haven't been able to stop thinking about for over twenty-four hours?”

My entire chest floods warmly, and between my legs there's a growing heat and slickness that has me pressing my legs together tightly underneath the desk. “I'm sure there's another Kennedy Carlisle in the city.”

“But not one who was at Lavo on Saturday night, dancing with me and telling me about the things she dreams of doing?”

I can hardly breathe. My thoughts coil around themselves, my arms tingling with goosebumps at the memory of draping them over Gideon's shoulders, every single one of my nerves on fire thinking of the electricity charging rabidly between us, of his glittering green eyes tracing a path over the curves of my body, and of his gaze locking on mine so powerfully that I never wanted to look away.

I straighten my back, trying to think of him as another client, but that goes absolutely nowhere. When I can bring myself to speak, my voice is breathy and high and not at all what I want to sound like. “That was me.”

“Good. I wouldn't want to waste my efforts on the wrong woman.”

Efforts. Right. Somehow, Gideon Hawke’s found out where I worked between Saturday night—truly, the wee hours of Sunday morning—and now. “It must have been some effort. I don't remember telling you where I worked.” Although that earth-shattering connection between us was intense enough that I wouldn't be surprised if it had slipped my mind.

No. I remember every word Gideon said. I was only drunk on him that night.

“You didn't. I had to ask your friend.”

“Is that a thing among the wealthy? Asking for a person's workplace instead of her number?” I'd caught a fleeting glance of him standing outside the car, talking to Leah, but I was trapped between bridal party members who were busily trying to convince me that at the suite I could really cut loose, and by the time I managed to shut them down, Leah was climbing into the car, he was gone, and I'd resigned myself to having missed my chance to—

To what? Date a billionaire whose top priority is jet-setting across the globe and taking stupid risks with his life? That wouldn't work out.

Forgetting him was my best option.

Until these flowers showed up.

He laughs again, and my nipples harden at the sound. “Hardly. She wouldn't give me your number. She insisted that you were very private with your personal details. I got the impression she thought you wouldn't be happy with her if she gave out your phone number to the stranger you'd been dancing with all night.”

It brings a smile to my face. “That's Leah.” She's always trying to draw me out of my shell, always trying to tell me that relaxing a little won't end in a tragedy, but in the end she's also there to protect me. Even if I'm more than capable of avoiding potential danger all by myself.

“She gave me a single clue, which was 'Ruby Reservations.'“

I roll my eyes. “So she didn't have a problem telling you where I work.”

“A lesser man would have forgotten it by the end of the night. But there was no way I could forget you.” He breathes in deeply, and I desperately want to know where he is right now. His office, clearly, judging by the secretary who answered the call to what has to be his private line. But is he standing near the window, sunlight streaming over his dark hair, lighting up those deep green eyes? Or is he sitting behind a heavy mahogany desk, tapping his fingers against the surface?

I need control of this situation. Marina could walk in the door any second with a new client, and I can't linger on the line with this man, getting more wrapped up in his voice and the effect it’s having on me by the second. “Why did you send me flowers, Gideon? I know that Saturday night was as far as things are going to go. Don’t be sorry about it.”

Even as I say the words, a certain wild hope flames in my chest. My heart pounds rapidly. The silence seems to stretch on forever.

Then he breaks it, and I can hear a smile in his voice. “I think you’re wrong about that, Kennedy. I think we could go much farther.”