Trina was surprised and rendered speechless when a woman answered the phone, but she looked back down at the slip of paper again to confirm.

"Bachelor Looking for Temporary Wife," it said. "Call to inquire…" She scanned the number displayed on her phone again. It was a little early in the morning. Maybe she should have called after nine a.m.

"Hello," the woman said once again on the other end. "Anyone there?"

"Yes." Trina cleared her throat. "I'm responding to an ad I saw."

"Can you be more specific?"

"There's a guy looking for a temporary wife. I need more information."

"That's about all the information I can lend. If you're not serious, I suggest you hang up now," the woman spoke in a chastising manner.

Or at least Trina found it off-putting.

"When I called, I expected to get the man who placed the ad. I'd like to speak with him directly to get more information."

"I'm his corporate secretary and I'm the one doing the screening," the woman replied, curtly.

"Screening?"

"Yes…if you are serious, I just have a few questions for you."

"I'm serious."

"Good. Like I said, I'll just need to ask you a few questions. I'll be taking some notes that I'll share with him. If he picks you for a second interview, I'll call you back and we'll go from there."

"Okay."

"Are you a shifter?"

Trina wondered why that would matter. The ad didn't say anything about her needing to have shifter blood. "No."

"Bachelor is a shifter. Do you have any problems with that?"

Trina swallowed. The ad hadn't said anything about the man being a shifter either. She had friends and did business dealings with shifters and she'd even had a few shifters on her team when she worked as the lead marketing executive at the New York firm. But…she'd never dated one. Her only problem was whether she could relate. For six weeks…

Yet, anything was better than walking around uncomfortably in a nightclub. After what happened to her, she doubted that she'd ever visit another nightclub again. Although, she had thought of returning to search for the anonymous stranger who had saved her life and saved her ass from being one step closer to dead broke with the medical bills. The investigator who'd questioned her about the shooting had warned her to stay away from LIVE nightclub and she had assured him that she would.

“He’s a shifter. Any problems with that?" the woman repeated.

"I don't have any problems with that at all," she replied.

"Do you have children?"

"No."

"Pets?"

"No."

"How old are you?"

Everyone she'd never met personally took her seriously until they found out what her real age was. For some crazy reason, she'd met a few hiring managers back in New York who measured abilities, smarts, and business-savvy expertise based on age. She supposed they were right half of the time, but her accomplishments to date had always proved them wrong. She thought maybe she should fib about her age but then decided against it.

"Twenty-eight."

"Ever been married?"

This was a tricky question. She'd almost been married. It took a tragedy to reveal her fiancé's true side.

"No."

"Would you mind giving us your name? This will be kept confidential, but your chances of nailing this opportunity are greatly increased if he knew a tad bit about your background."

Trina swallowed. "Sure, as long as it's not broadcasted around town. I lead a very private lifestyle."

"That's even better," she said. "Don't worry. We won't be broadcasting anything. After all, my boss is a shifter and he'll be requesting confidentiality as well—if you're chosen. Now, what's your name?"

Trina gave the secretary what she needed. Even after that, she seemed to have dozens of other questions, not just a few, but Trina needed cash fast—if at all possible, and the other opportunity had almost put her in a wooden box six feet under.

"Well, that's all for now," the secretary said when she was done with her prying questions. "I have your contact information and if he wishes to move forward with the next steps, I'll give you a call. If you don't hear from us in two days, you can assume that you weren't chosen. Thank you for your time, Trina Daniels."

After Trina hung up the phone, she laid back on the sofa and closed her eyes.

The memories from that dreadful night just five days ago still haunted her. Maybe it was too early to be looking for extra work again. She'd need more than a few days to get over the attack. Never in a hundred years would she have anticipated a gun being held to her back and her life threatened. On the other hand, she'd never thought her desperation to help a parent would lead her out of her comfort zone.

But if she hadn't been lead out of her comfort zone, she never would have realized that it was possible to experience attraction so hot that she could hardly control herself. How could she have wanted to offer her body and slap the sexy stranger across the face at the same time? Had she made the right choice by slapping him and running?

She sighed.

In the days after being released from the hospital, she had tried to find her shifting savior, but it seemed that he was a mystery. Something told Trina that she'd have to return to the shifter community if she ever wanted to reunite with him again.

But first, she had serious matters to resolve. If she ever wanted to be happy with anyone again, she wanted to have a clean, emotional slate.