It had been a long time since Carter had been tempted like this.

He was a professional, he reminded himself as he checked his watch. He was most definitely not counting down the minutes until Madeline Craine arrived for her first day of work.

You’re technically her boss, he told himself firmly. Even though Maddy would report to Nat, like the rest of the managers, he was the CEO and owner. He was everyone’s boss.

When Nat had mentioned her friend’s qualifications, he had been pleased and relieved. It had seemed like an easy solution to a big problem. If Nat vouched for her, it meant she was gold. And when Maddy’s resume was faxed over, it had just affirmed all of Nat’s praise.

But then she’d walked into his office.

God, he hoped she hadn’t noticed how unmoored he’d felt as their eyes had met for the first time. It was like being on the deck of a boat in a sudden storm: What had once been steady and calm suddenly was rocking and tilting.

She was beautiful, the kind of beauty that hit the heart of you, knocking you free of whatever grip you had on the world. Tall like a runway model but with the curves of a pinup, she was all legs and tan skin glowing against the ivory of her dress; the fabric clinging to her body in the most distracting way. It had been next to impossible not to glance down at her electric-blue suede heels and think about unbuckling the straps, slipping the stilettos off, kissing his way up her legs, licking his way into her sweetness until those strong, glorious thighs were locked around his head and she was screaming his name.

And he was a damn fool who needed to stop thinking like this.

He prided himself on creating a work environment that was comfortable for women, who made up a majority of the workforce at Purely Pleasure. He never wanted to be that lecherous maker of sex toys, office rife with innuendo and simmering discomfort. He wanted Purely Pleasure to be a place of growth, ideas, and innovation. Talk about sex was inevitable in a place that designed and sold sex toys, but he prioritized making the company a place where if someone felt uncomfortable, they felt able to voice it.

So far, his methodology was working. But he worried that the change moving the offices from New York to Portland was going to cause disruption. His board of directors was still furious he’d pulled his weight—and his company shares—and insisted on the move.

He had sold 15 percent of the company last year, something he wished he hadn’t done, although at the time, he had to. But the choice had put a new member on the board: Charles Palmer, who was practically attached to the hip to his sycophantic son, Dillon. They were the ringleaders of the group of board members who wanted to take Carter’s company in a different direction, with cheaper manufacturers, and shoddy production values and parts. So far, he’d kept them all at bay since he still had controlling shares of the company, but he knew that moving the company to Portland hadn’t made him any more friends on the board—and it might have even cost him a few.

But he knew it was better for the company—cheaper office space, they would be close to their warehouses and the new distribution center that was being built—and it was better for Carter.

He had personal reasons for needing to move to Oregon. The board didn’t know it, but nothing they could have said or done would’ve stopped him after Olivia, his little sister, got sick. He needed to be near his family, and he’d made it happen.

He should feel settled. Relieved.

He had. He truly had. He was worried as hell about his family, but at least he was home to help out.

Everything that could be under control was under control.

And then Madeline Craine had walked into his office, and he’d gotten so hard, so fast that he’d been half afraid of popping a button on his pants.

He saw a blur of black hair through his office windows and called out Nat’s name. She stuck her head inside.

“Yeah?”

“Is Madeline in yet?” he asked.

“Not yet; soon, though,” Nat said, but the look on her face was anything but good. “Um, Carter? Dillon Palmer is in the lobby.”

Carter frowned. “What?”

“He’s asking to speak with you. Zoe was trying to handle him, but…” Nat shot him a meaningful look.

“I’ll go deal with it,” he assured her. “You’ll give Madeline a tour?”

“No worries, I’ll get her all set up. Apparently the computers finally arrived. So I’ve got IT unboxing them.”

“Great,” Carter said. That was one thing off his plate. But the arrival of Dillon Palmer was worrisome. As he made his way through the hall to the lobby, he felt apprehension snaking inside his chest.

“Dillon!” He pasted a smile on his face, striding across the room and grasping Dillon’s hand. Dillon, as was his MO, tried to outshake him, like it was some sort of pissing contest.

Dillon was used to being the biggest guy in the room. The richest. The most educated. The best-looking.

He was none of these things in Carter’s world, and it pissed him the hell off. Every time they were face to face, Dillon’s eyes shone with a dislike he thought he was hiding, but Carter saw through him. He’d been intimidating guys like this since he grew 6 inches at age twelve. Suddenly, he’d had brains and brawn, and the boys who had mercilessly teased him for being a geek were suddenly singing another tune.

That had taught Carter a valuable lesson: Keep your true friends close and never trust someone who changes only after you become something useful to them. It was a lesson had served him well through the years as his company—and his toy designs—shot him to stardom. He’d still rather be in lab, working on his latest invention, than being the public face of Purely Pleasure, but someone had to run things—and keep the vultures on the board off his back.

“Sorry to drop in like this,” Dillon said to Carter, as the man finally stopped trying to squeeze his hand off.

“I didn’t realize you were on the West Coast,” Carter said blandly. “Come, we’ll talk in my office.”

Zoe had managed to locate a desk and get it set up before he got in this morning—that woman was a wonder, he needed to give her another raise, and a bonus—so his office wasn’t in as much disarray as it had been the past week. He was glad for it as Dillon sat himself down, spending a little too long adjusting the labels of his gray suit after he was seated.

“I’m sure you can guess why I’m here,” Dillon said.

“Well, it can’t be the weather,” Carter said, unwilling to play Dillon’s little game.

“My father’s asked me to come oversee the transition,” Dillon said. “He’s quite concerned.”

Carter barely resisted rolling his eyes. “You’re always welcome,” he said coolly. “But there’s no need for any alarm.”

Dillon raised an eyebrow, looking around the office. “This place is a little emptier than your last office.”

“I’m divesting myself of things that don’t incite joy,” Carter said. “It’s this whole method of streamlining your life. I’ll get you the book on it.”

Dillon’s eyes narrowed, like he couldn’t figure out if Carter was messing with him or not.

“Anyway,” Carter rose to his feet, clapping his hands together. “It’s great to see you. I’ve got work to do, and I’m sure you’ll want to wander around, doing your observing for your dad.” He couldn’t help but notice the way Dillon’s shoulders stiffened at the mention of his father. The guy hated the fact that Daddy was the real one with all the power and money and the source of everything Dillon had. Carter was pretty sure one of the reasons Charles had invested in the company was to give Dillon something to do—and Dillon was the type of dudebro who would think that working at a sex toy company would be a wild and fun time. He’d probably expected sex in the office and one-night-stands with employees.

But he’d had a rude awakening when he’d got a dose of what a regular day at Purely Pleasure was really like. Carter and his employees worked hard—and they were passionate about their work—but not in the sleazy way Dillon had obviously expected, and he’d been taking out his frustration at not having his own personal sex-toy playhouse on Carter ever since.

It would’ve been one thing if any of Dillon’s ideas were remotely good, but they weren’t. They were, in two words: crass and misogynistic. Morally, Carter would never go there because he respected women, and financially, it would be a disaster. PR-wise, it would alienate their customers. Maddy had been right in her interview: their customer base was mainly women. And Dillon seemed to think that women were blow-up dolls without desires or thoughts of their own.

I guess Daddy didn’t go for the porn company idea, Carter thought with disgust as he crossed his office and opened his door, giving Dillon a clear dismissal.

“Oh, by the way, Carter,” Dillon said as he made his way out. “If you keep bleeding employees in this transition, it might be time to go to the board and discuss new leadership. If you screw this up, we’ll have the votes.”

Carter didn’t even flinch. Dillon wanted him cowed and nervous, scrambling, and he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “I don’t screw up,” he said, his voice still pleasant, but with a distinct edge that made Dillon shift from foot to foot. “Let Rhea, the office manager, know if you need anything.”

He shut the door in Dillon’s face, closing his eyes and leaning against it. For a moment, he let all the stress pounding down on him flood his body. And then, with a deep breath, he pushed it down and straightened up, adjusting his tie.

He had two hundred warehouse employees, thirty people working in the office, two parents and a six-year-old sister relying on him.

He wasn’t going to let anyone down.