I was in a coma.

That was the only explanation for why I reached for the phone without checking who it was the next morning.

“Charlotte. It’s Jimmy.”

“Jimmy?”

“Your brother.”

I winced, glancing at the alarm clock. “It’s so early.”

“I’m your brother, even at seven thirty in the morning.”

“I’m not sure that’s true…”

“Did you get the invitation? Can you make it?”

No. No.

My brain was moving even slower than my body. Jimmy spoke again before I could. “You haven’t been home for a while. You could bring Grams with you. Rent a car.”

I stared at the silent alarm clock on my side table. Glanced at the hot pink wall lined with racks of shoes. The pile of clothes on every surface. Nothing gave me an answer. “I’ll think about it, OK?”

“Elise really wants to meet you. She’s never had a sister.”

“I’m not a great sister to have.”

“You are too. Remember when you gave me that alibi after I streaked at the football game?”

“Yeah, well. I owed you for covering for me when I skipped class to make out with Elton whatzisname under the bleachers.”

He hesitated. “I know you had it rough. I got off easy, which was only because you protected me. Matt never cared.”

I blew out a breath. “It’s fine. Every family has its favorites.”

“It’s not fine. And I still wish every day you hadn’t left.”

Emotion swelled up inside me, catching me off guard. “I miss you, Jimmy.”

“I miss you too. We all do. Even Mom, though she won’t say anything.”

My head dropped back. “I’ll try, OK?”

“I’m going to put you down as a yes. We’ll set a place for you. You’ve got a few weeks to figure out how.” I felt my lips curve without permission.

“Thanks. Do you need anything done for the wedding? I’m not sure if I can come, but I could help you out. From a distance…”

“You can help by coming.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

I dropped the phone on the duvet and pushed out of bed. My muscles complained before my feet hit the floor.

You know that old song, “Love Hurts”? I get it now. They don’t mean emotional love. They mean physical love.

I had wounds. Scars. Bruises. From fucking Avery Banks.

Last night had left me sore. And weak. Which was why I hadn’t told my brother no.

I got up and showered, cleaning the last of Avery from my body. Then I threw on some casual clothes and stumbled down to my favorite coffee shop to line up details for my trip with Grams. When our flights and hotel were sorted out, I worked on BBB.

Once I’d set up posts for the next week, I shifted back in my seat and watched people pass the big window.

I’m not the kind to go clingy and text “how are you?”s and “was it good for you?”s. But damn, I wanted to how he was.

If he’d woken up wanting more.

Still, two bites into my second cookie, I was surprised to see my phone light up with a text.

I couldn’t help the smile the pulled at my mouth.

I burst out laughing. A woman at the next table looked over, but I ignored her.

Instead of thinking about Avery, I hung out with Payton and updated my Grams on the trip we’d take together. I also considered my brother’s request to go home for the wedding.

There was a wave of self-congratulatory emails circulated amongst the gala team, starting with one from Redpath saying it was “everything he’d expected.”

Even Mallory had a smile on her face in the eight am debrief meeting Monday morning.

Toward the end of our meeting, I felt tingling down my spine. My head jerked up like I’d heard a sound no one else could.

It was the sound of my boss getting off the elevator.

I watched him come down the hall, fingers working his phone like they’d worked me Friday night. He glanced up toward the cubicles like he was looking for me. Frowned when I wasn’t there.

He glanced around, stilling when his gaze found mine.

Not in the office.

No feelings.

When it’s over, it’s over.

Looking back, the rules had seemed stupid. Now, I realized just how important they were.

It was eleven when he appeared over the wall of my cubicle. “Charlotte? Would you grab me something at the deli down the street?”

I glanced up from my work. “It’s early for lunch. Can I get it in an hour?”

Avery’s jaw tightened, and the expression on his face made my whole body tingle.

“Fine. I can get it in ten minutes.”

It was fifteen when he walked into the deli. I abandoned the line, glancing around before following him to the bathroom.

I locked the door.

He backed me against it, dragging up my skirt with impatient hands. “How was your weekend.”

“Nice, thanks for asking.” I jerked down the zipper and opened his belt. “You?”

“Long.” His voice was tight, and urgent like his fingers when they found their way between my thighs. “My weekend was long.”

Avery rocked into me until we both came, groaning.

It would be totally normal for people at work to be suspicious, to catch on, given the different way Avery and I were acting this week. But Avery and I’d never been normal.

“Charlotte, get me those files.”

“Avery, do it yourself.”

“Brat.”

“Dick.”

Later in his car…

“Shift over. I need in deeper.”

“Oh fuck, I want your cock.”

“Brat.”

“Dick.”

Followed by a chorus of moans the parking garage barely contained.

It didn’t feel like sex. It felt like bouts of orgasmic gymnastics.

Bridging those moments together were others. The kind you could only have when you were scrambling out of, or into, your clothes. When I’d make a joke, and he’d shoot me that wry grin he seemed to reserve for me. Or he’d zip me back into my dress, taking care with the zipper like he was afraid it would break.

When he breezed into work Thursday morning, he called me into a conference room.

“Good morning, Avery.”

“Charlotte.”

He sat at the end of the table, and I took a chair on one side. The glass wall that divided us from the hallway wouldn’t hide anything, and I raised a brow. “Interesting venue choice.”

“I thought it might help keep us focused.” He opened his notebook computer and pulled open a window. “Check this out.”

I peered at the screen that included a bunch of blank lines. “This is your program? How does it work?”

“Type something in. Like an industry. Say biotech.”

I did. Up came Ivan Litchfield’s name. “Oh! That’s great.” I clicked on it, and it pulled up reams of information. An encyclopedia of the guy’s life and work. “But why is there only one record? I mean, we must have more clients in biotech.”

Avery frowned. “Because Redpath’s still gunshy when it comes to sharing client data. He’s worried something like Hollister’s going to happen again. The problem is, we need this if we want to grow our business.”

“So what if Redpath won’t let you use it?”

“Then we’re basically screwed.”

I shifted back in my seat. “So Redpath won’t let you test your program because he’s worried about access to client data.”

“Correct. Sales teams are taking a hit, and it’s not just about getting new business. The stunt with the comedian might’ve worked last week, but today, we’re all business. It’s about covering our ass.”

I chewed a pen. “Hollister would’ve loved what you were selling. Redpath wants to protect current clients before we get new ones.” My eyes glazed over as I scanned the output screen of the program. Until my eyes landed on the top left corner where it said “date updated.”

“Wait a second. Your program pulls data from different sources. Does it capture when and how that happens? When people access it?”

“I think so. Everything that goes into and out of this should leave a digital fingerprint. Why?”

“Well, if it tracks who accessed it and displays the history for anyone who needs to know—wouldn’t that prevent unauthorized use? I mean, you could even set it up to flag deviations, right? Like with the expense system—” I remembered what I’d shown Rose last week “—it automatically flags things that are out of the ordinary. You could do that with this, send up a flag for weird usage.”

Avery snapped his fingers. “Yes.” He shifted forward in the chair, his eyes lighting up. “That’s fucking brilliant, if it works.”

Pride washed over me, even as his face fell.

“But there’s no way to test it in time. I’m already over my IT hours allocation. I’d budgeted just enough time to import some real client data—a few thousand records instead of the hundred we have—to demo it for Redpath next week.”

I considered. “I might be able to help with that too. But I’d need to call someone outside the company.”

He looked suspicious. “Charlotte…”

“He’s legit. I swear. I trust him. And it’s not like he needs to access client data to do it, right? He just needs to write the code.”

He studied me a long time. “OK.”

I picked up the phone and hit an entry in my contacts. “Hey, Riley.”

“Hi to you too. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You know about computers, right?”

Avery rubbed a hand over his face, then reached for the phone. I ducked him, shifting out of my seat and crossing to stand by the window.

“Yes. I snap my fingers and nerds come running.”

“We’re building something over here that’s top secret. A way to pull all of our client data into one master file, like a giant stack of virtual Post-its. What we want to do is know who accessed the files and when. Do you have someone who could look at that?”

“Muppet has a background in database work.”

I paused. “Translation?”

“It means we can take a look. Send it over.”

I clicked off, and Avery blew out a breath. “If this works, I owe you.”

“You owe me no matter what.” I reached for the hem of my skirt, tugging it up like I was scratching an itch. But I flashed the top of my thigh-high.

“Are you forgetting our rules?” he muttered.

“No.” I nodded my head yes and his stern expression dissolved into wanting.

“Let’s skip Tilt tonight,” he murmured.

“And do what?”

“You know what. But we can go somewhere else. Change of scenery.”

I fought the disappointment.

He meant to hookup. Because that’s what we were doing.

Still, I had a secret.

I lived for this time with him. Not just naked. Everything in between.

But it didn’t matter that he was fun to talk to. That I liked how seriously he took things. How intent he was on demolishing any problems that stood in his way.

Because he doesn’t need, or want, anyone.

“I can’t tonight,” I heard myself say. “I have plans later.”

Avery opened his briefcase on the table, replacing the sheaf of papers. “With who?”

“Bunch of men.” The case closed with a bang. “Three of them, actually.”

Now I had his attention.

“You know, I’d love to introduce you to them.”