"Maybe a bachelor auction… no, the guys are all taken. Okay, some kind of tournament. Like golf? Ugh, boring. Um…"

"Faith?"

I started as a voice interrupted me muttering to myself. I was staring at a whiteboard in my office, trying to brainstorm ideas I could take to Damon for his charity event. None of my previous fundraisers were appropriate for an event thrown by Damon Drake, guitarist, playboy, and party animal.

My senior intern Katherine, the one who hadn’t been at the dinner Damon crashed, stood in the doorway with the stack of papers I'd thrown into her lap the week before.

"I've compiled all the feedback into a spreadsheet and wrote up some notes on the few trends I caught," she said.

"Great, thanks Kat. You can take those papers to the copy room and shred them, we don't need them anymore."

"Got it." Before turning to leave, Katherine nodded her head at the whiteboard where I'd written down dozens of useless ideas. "Are we doing another non profit event? I thought Martha wanted to move away from those."

"It's a celebrity charity event. Martha wants an 'in' with the entertainment industry."

Katherine's eyes lit up as she shifted the weight of the papers from one arm to another. "Celebrity? Would I know them?"

"Have you heard of the rock band Darkest Days?"

Katherine let out a squeak, eyes growing wide. "Ohmigod what? Really? Darkest Days?" Her speech rapidly sped up. "Please tell me we're working with Noah Hart. Please tell me Noah Hart is our new client."

"He's your favorite, I take it?"

Katherine nodded wildly.

Her enthusiasm was a match for my sister's when it came to this band. "Sorry to disappoint, but we're working with Damon Drake."

"Ooh, the twins," she said. "They're my second favorite."

"We're only working with one twin. Well. Hopefully we'll be working with him." I brought my fist to my head and bumped it against my forehead twice. "I'm supposed to come up with some ideas to bring to our next meeting but I can't think of anything. All our other events were more corporate. More formal. I'm not going to throw a golf tournament for a rock star."

Katherine tilted her head. "What's the cause?"

"Homeless teens."

Instead of being taken aback like I had been, she nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense."

I frowned. "How?"

"Everyone knows the twins were living on the street before they joined the band," Katherine said matter of factly.

My heart squeezed in my chest, remembering Damon's words.

This is an issue close to my heart.

Ian is my family.

I regretted not asking Damon more about his family that night. He and Ian had lived on the street. How young had they been? Young enough, I supposed, if Damon's altruism for homeless and at-risk teens was anything to go by. What had happened to their parents? Hope had never said. Maybe it was too personal. Too painful.

I understood that all too well.

"You're right about a golf tournament being the complete opposite of a rock star event," Katherine said. "Don't suppose you can just throw a charity concert?"

"Damon wants to involve the fans in a more intimate way," I replied. "He also wants to do something for the kids directly. Invite them to the event, give them VIP treatment."

Katherine's mouth twisted in thought. "What about a sleep out?"

"Sleep out?"

"It's when people sleep outside for a night to experience homelessness. Sometimes it's CEOs and mayors and other people in positions of power who do it. Sometimes it's just students doing a fundraiser. My own high school did something like that. It was always the most popular event of the year."

I was about to retort that Damon Drake would never want to sleep outside in a cardboard box, then stopped. If he'd been homeless, he might have done just that.

I kept having to rethink everything I knew about the man.

"So Damon would sleep outside to raise money?" I wondered out loud.

"Not just him," Katherine said, beginning to get excited. "The whole band. Maybe their celebrity friends could join in. It could be the biggest fundraising event of the year. Fans could donate to enter a lottery for a chance to take part. Like one big sleepover. Each band could play a song or two. It would be partly a fan event, and partly a fundraiser. And those at-risk kids you invite, maybe they get the rock star treatment. Maybe they get to party in the Darkest Days tour bus for a night, live like rock stars."

"That's…" I was at a loss for words. Katherine looked at me with uncertainty, waiting for my reaction to her idea. "That's brilliant," I finished saying.

Her face lit up. "Yeah?"

I nodded emphatically. "Yes. You just solved my entire problem."

"Does that mean I get a raise?" she grinned. "Oh wait, you'd have to be paying me in the first place for that."

My own sister had done a string of unpaid internships. I was aware of how much it sucked. "How about this. You help me plan this event, and I'll see about promoting you to a full time position as an event coordinator."

Katherine nearly dropped the papers she was holding. "Seriously?"

"You've got a good head on your shoulders. You're reliable. If we can pull this off, I'm sure Martha will be open to the idea."

If we pulled this off, I was sure Martha would give me a promotion of my own. I'd been itching to go from events specialist to events manager. I already managed interns, albeit they were unpaid.

This event might end up being good for everyone involved.

Katherine let out a high-pitched squeak, then cleared her throat, looking vaguely abashed at her reaction. "That would be wonderful, thank you," she said steadily. She couldn't hide her ear-to-ear smile. Katherine reminded me a lot of myself when I'd first started out.

"I need you to put together a report on these sleep out things," I told her. "How they work, other famous sleep outs that have made the news, and anything else you can think of. I'll need that before the end of the week."

"I'm on it!" Katherine practically bounced out of my office.

I turned back to my whiteboard, erased it clean, then wrote the words sleep out in big block letters, already thinking through the logistics. I'd need an outdoor space large enough for a group of dozens. Possibly hundreds. I'd cap it at a couple hundred, max. I didn't want this getting too out of hand.

A large field or stadium could work. A stadium would provide covering in case of bad weather. On the other hand, experiencing true homelessness was the point. Getting rained on would just add to the authenticity. But subjecting a bunch of fans to a rainy, water-logged sleep wasn't a good idea. Imagine if someone caught pneumonia.

I stared sightlessly at the whiteboard, my mind already working through the million and one details that would need sorting out. I wanted to have a firm proposal in hand before I brought the idea to Damon.

"Um. Faith?" Katherine had returned, standing in my office doorway, face white and eyes round.

"You ran into some trouble with the research already?" I asked.

"You have a visitor," she squeaked out before quickly shuffling away.

I frowned, tapping my pen against my palm. I disliked unannounced visits.

When Damon came strolling into my office, smirk on his face, I understood Katherine's reaction. I struggled to keep my own face blank. That tight, black t-shirt showed off every muscle of his inked arms.

"Were you flirting with my intern again?" was all I said.

"And what makes you think I would do that sort of thing?" he teased.

"Have you ever met a girl you haven't flirted with?"

He opened his mouth to speak, before closing it, a thoughtful look on his face. "Now that you mention it…"

My heart gave a small flutter as those full lips spread into a grin. "Why are you here, Damon?"

"Just checking in on your progress."

"We have a meeting scheduled for next week."

"Remember our conversation about me being impatient? Besides," he continued, "I didn't want to go another week without seeing you in those sexy little skirts of yours."

"Pencil skirts aren't sexy," I insisted. "They're professional."

"Professional can still be sexy. Especially the way they hug that delicious ass."

"Shh!" My face flushed even as I gritted my teeth. I went to close the door, not wanting the entire office to hear Damon taking about my ass. "You're a pig."

"I'm just appreciating your natural assets."

"You can go appreciate someone else's assets elsewhere. Away from me and my place of work."

"I didn't come here to piss you off."

"Good job on that."

"I really do want to talk about our project. Like I said. I'm impatient. I can't wait to get started. This is really important to me."

My mouth twisted into a frown. Damon swung between asshole and earnest so quickly. It was hard to tell which one was the act. Maybe neither. Maybe both.

"I did come up with a few ideas," I said grudgingly.

He rubbed his hands together. "Awesome. Let's hear it."

"Most aren't worth discussing. They sucked," I said honestly. "But there's one idea with merit." I pointed my pen at the white board.

Damon tilted his head. "What's a sleep out?"

I outlined the concept briefly. His face went from confused to intrigued to delighted the longer I spoke.

"I love it," he declared.

"I don't have any of the details yet," I warned. "This is just the very beginnings of a plan."

"Still. It's great," he said with sincerity. "You're a genius."

"It was my intern Kat who came up with it." I wasn't one to take the credit for someone else's idea. "She's a fan of Darkest Days."

"And here I thought you just wanted to excuse to hold a sleepover with me." He gave me a cheeky grin.

"Since when does anyone need an excuse?" I raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't your bed have an open invitation?"

"Ouch," he faked a wince. "You really do think I'm a slut, don't you?"

"If the shoe fits," I said, using the same words he'd used the previous night.

"Just because I enjoy sex doesn't mean I don't have discriminating tastes," he said.

"What might those tastes be? Breathing, with two legs?"

He grinned. "That, and a fantastic set of tits."

"Then I don't see why you're always bothering me," I said, referring to my modest cleavage.

"Size has nothing to do with it," he said.

"So what does?" I knew I shouldn't have gone there. But the way he stared at me, those green eyes searing into mine, that teasing glint…

"It's not the size," he repeated. "It's how they respond."

My breathing went shallow.

"I love that shade of pink that flushes on a women's chest when she's turned on." He slowly dragged his eyes down to my chest. "I love it when her nipples turn hard and stiff."

Again, as if his words were magic, my body reacted. His nostrils flared as my own nipples tightened and peaked beneath my blouse. I folded my arms over my chest, as if to protect myself from his gaze. The pressure against my nipples only made them that much stiffer.

Damon took a step closer. I stepped back. He followed me, until my ass was pressed against my desk. He crowded me, putting both palms flat on the desk's surface, trapping me. My pulse point beat wildly in my throat. Even with my heels, my eyes only came up to his neck. I caught a hint of ink creeping out from the collar of his t-shirt.

"So you see," he continued casually, as if his hips weren't mere inches from mine, "you've got nothing to worry about."

I forced myself to meet his eyes. They glinted with heat.

"And what exactly do you think I'm worrying about?" I asked, trying not to sound breathless.

Damon encircled my ribcage with two large palms, his thumbs just grazing the underside of my breasts. I inhaled a sharp gasp of air, caught up in his gaze. The pads of those two thumbs slowly creeped up to brush against my nipples. I bit my lip to stifle a moan.

He dipped his head to place his lips next to my ear.

"I fucking love seeing you like this," he murmured. "All flushed and hot for me, nipples hard as a rock, just begging to be sucked."

My legs went weak. Only Damon's grip kept me from falling to the floor.

"You ever made out in this office before?" he continued. His lips trailed down my cheek, until they were a hairsbreadth from mine. "Cause I'd love to pin you to the desk and—"

"Stop."

My voice wasn't resolute. It was faint, thready. Still, Damon paused. He pulled back an inch, eyes meeting mine.

"We're not doing this," I said, more firmly this time.

"Not into public make-outs, hm?" He ran his hands up and down my sides. "No worries. I'm not really an exhibitionist either. I just can't seem to keep my hands off you. It's those fucking skirts, I swear to god. Drive me crazy."

I ducked out from under his arms, putting space between us. I smoothed down my hair with shaky hands.

"I mean, we're not doing… this." I gestured wildly between the two of us.

His lips quirked into a smile. "Sweetness, you can't tell me you don't feel this thing between us. It's hot."

"It is," I agreed reluctantly. I couldn't very well deny how much I wanted this man. Not when it was so obvious how my body responded to him.

"So what's the problem?" he said.

"I don't do this," I continued. "I don't do public make-outs. I don't do random hookups. I don't go around kissing guys I barely know."

Damon looked almost confused. "You've never randomly made out at a club? Or fucked some guy at a party?"

"No."

"You…" His eyes almost bugged out. "You're not a… virgin, are you?" He said the word in a hushed voice, as if it was someone worse than saying the words tits and ass out loud.

"No! For the love of… There's a middle ground between virgin and slut, Damon. It's called dating. You ever heard of that? Two people getting to know each other before hopping into bed?"

"I may have heard of the term once or twice," he said breezily.

"I'm not joking."

"Are you seriously suggesting…?" Damon's expression was almost a cringe, his brow furrowing. "You want to date me?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "You're kind of an ass and I hate your guts half the time, but—" I paused, gauging his reaction before continuing, "—I do think there's more to you than that, and yes, I'm attracted to you. So if you're into me, then ask me out."

The look on Damon's face was befuddled, as if he honestly couldn't believe what he was hearing. "The closest to a date I've had is taking models to movie premieres and fucking them in the back of a limo afterward."

"Because that's exactly what a girl wants to hear from the guy who's always trying to kiss her." I snorted. "Either ask me out or leave my office."

"But I don't date," he said automatically.

"Then I guess we're at an impasse," I replied.

"I—" Damon was at a loss for words.

"How about this," I said. "I'll give you three days. Either you ask me out and we see where this thing takes us, or you keep your hands to yourself from now on and we continue with this professional relationship as colleagues only."

"You really don't sleep with guys you're not dating?" he asked again, as if for clarification. "Those are my only two options?"

"Yes. Now leave and think about it."

Throwing me a look of disbelief the entire time, Damon left, slowly and without a word.

His expression would have been comical, if it wasn't my sex life we were talking about.