You have got to be fucking kidding me. Jack McCallister? Of all the clients at Brentford Organics, of course I had to meet with the one who just saw me naked not five hours ago. How was I supposed to face him after sneaking out?

I stepped out my door and nearly ran right into…who? My fucking ex-husband. “Hi, sweetheart. I thought I’d bring you some breakfast.” What the hell? He carried a to-go tray with two large coffees in one hand and a crinkled brown bag.

If looks could kill, he’d be vaporized right now. “What are you doing here?” I asked my idiot of an ex while I locked my apartment door and turned back around.

“What? Can’t a guy do something nice for a lady?”

Oh, you mean like sleep with her cousin? Sure, why not.

“I don’t know what’s going through your mind right now, but I don’t want you to bring me coffee. Ever. You didn’t do it when we were married, and I certainly don’t want you to do it now.” I strode past him and rushed to the stairwell. “And after last night’s display at the bar, what would make you think I’d ever want to speak to you again?” Eighteen months of radio silence and now he was going to start dropping by?

“I just figured you might want some caffeine after being out so late,” he said in a weird tone.

My stomach sank, and I came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the stairs. “How do you know what time I got home?” I asked breathlessly. A shiver ran down my spine, in a bad way. Not the kind of nice shivers Jack gave me last night.

He shrugged and said, “Honey, look. I’m a little down on my luck. Could you spot me a few bucks until payday?” The smile that used to work wonders on me now had no effect other than nausea. And if I had a nickel for every time he asked me for a few bucks.

“Stay away from the track, Gabe. You and your debts aren’t my problem anymore.” Thank God for that. My hair swept over my back as I powered the rest of the way to my car.

“Come on, just a few bucks? Your new boyfriend looks loaded,” he called from behind me.

Instead of answering, I jumped into my car and got the hell out of there.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Where interacting with Gabe was annoying, Jack was going to be humiliating. How exactly was I going to deal with him?

I had about ten minutes to figure it out. The ancient folder full of order forms that Dean gave me when I first started at Brentford probably wouldn’t be much help. For one thing, I’d never used them. And for another, dealing with sales wasn’t my job.

My heart was going a mile a minute, and I was pretty sure my breakfast was going to make a reappearance on the I-45 relatively soon. Good God, was this some cruel joke?

I concentrated on my breathing and ran through what I could possibly say at the meeting. Clearing my throat, I spoke to myself, “Sorry for running out on you and stealing your clothes and food.” Perhaps blunt wasn’t the way to go. Maybe complimenting him might work? “You looked hot last night, and your bedroom skills are top-notch. Well done. Too bad you picked a screwed-up chick like me to hit on. Better luck next time?”

Five minutes. Maybe I could fake a flat tire and cancel? Yeah, and maybe I could cancel my employment as well. Dean was counting on me to come through for him. No way was I the type who buckled under pressure and gave up. I loved my job, and if keeping it meant I had to confront the last man on Earth I wanted to see right now, I’d do it.

Almost eight-thirty. It was not like Vivienne to be late. She knew that order had to be in this morning or I’d be shit out of luck for food next week. What was taking her so long? I massaged the back of my neck, trying to dig the ever-present kink out.

When I looked up, I experienced déjà vu. Harper was standing at the door, looking around aimlessly. The moment she spotted me, her body froze. Our eyes met, and my cock—the traitor—jumped, remembering how she looked underneath me, naked and ready.

I gave my head a shake and adjusted myself to avoid embarrassment before standing up. She squared her shoulders and traipsed over to me like she owned the place. What the fuck was she doing here?

“Harper, this is a bad time. I’ve got a meeting any minute. I’ll call you...” Never. So strut that sweet ass of yours out of my restaurant.

Instead of getting mad, she sneered, like she knew I was lying. “I’m your meeting, Jack. Vivienne is ill, so I’m filling in for her.”

She was taking over for Vivienne? After quickly getting over the shock of seeing the woman who deserted me, I decided to have some fun with the situation.

“I see.” In fact, I saw no laptop bag, but she reached into her large purse and pulled out a file folder about an inch thick. Paper? Was this 1995? All orders were done online now and had been for years.

“I’ve got a pen in here somewhere.” As she searched for a writing implement, her grasp on the stack loosened and poof, the entire folder ended up scattered under the tables and chairs. It took not a small amount of effort to remain silent and not burst out laughing at the sight of her throwing her body on the papers to pick them up. After my initial merriment at her catastrophe, my internal laughter soon turned to desire as I viewed her on her knees with her ass up in the air. Jesus. Was she trying to turn me on?

“Let me help,” I said and began gathering papers to distract myself. That worked for about thirty seconds until she inadvertently bumped my head with her hip.

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t see you,” she said. But I saw you. The slit in her black skirt went close to the danger zone with her doubled over like that. What I wouldn’t give to slide that material up to her hips and... “Are you feeling okay? Your face looks funny.”

I blinked myself out of that fantasy. “Fine.” Then I grabbed the papers with more vigor, attempting to shake this temptress out of my mind. “I think that’s all of them,” I said, handing her my pile. She straightened up on her knees and snatched them from my hand, but that also put her directly in line with the zipper of my pants. Seeing her looking up at me, doe-eyed, from that position did wicked things to my imagination again. I think it affected her as well because the papers in her hand once again scattered to the floor.

This time I couldn’t control my amusement. The color she turned was priceless and the embarrassment on her face was hysterical. I leaned over and gathered the rogue documents in one fell swoop.

I stood and said, “Shall we go into my office? Or perhaps it would save time to just sit on the floor and go over these?”

Harper turned an even darker shade of red but got up on her own as gracefully as possible. Her hands brushed off her skirt and straightened her blouse, obviously not appreciating my humor.

“Your office will be fine.” Then she stalked off through the kitchen doors in a huff.

A wicked grin overtook my face. This was going to be fun.