Driving home after work in insane traffic, I kept thinking about how disappointed I was that Jack hadn’t texted me all afternoon. Many times, I wanted to text, but if I interrupted him in a meeting or something, I’d feel like a huge ass.

It also baffled me why I missed the man so much when I just saw him last night. Not even twenty-four hours ago.

I was barely into my apartment before a fist banged on my door so hard it bounced the frame.

“Harper, you have five minutes to change!” Roza yelled at me, then she clomped down the hall and slammed her door. Good grief. Guess she didn’t forget.

Hurrying as fast as I could, I changed into a pair of old jean shorts and a ratty workout shirt. If they didn’t survive perogie making, no big loss. I doubted that the perogie making process as a whole was all that difficult. However, me being involved in that process was another matter completely. If something could go wrong, it would. Guaranteed.

Riley stood outside Roza’s door. “Ready?” She pushed off the wall and held my hands. “We can do this if we stick together, okay?” she said dramatically to get a laugh out of me. God, I loved this woman.

“My sister wants to make sure there’s a fire extinguisher handy if I’m going to be using a kitchen appliance of any kind.” I smiled up at her. Hair tied back, she was wearing similar clothes to mine—cut-off shorts but with a plain light pink T-shirt. The whole look was so different from what she normally wore. She appeared to be about seventeen years old.

“Mmhmm. How about you let me work all the large appliances?” We both laughed as she knocked on Roza’s door.

“Finally, hurry up,” Roza said and ripped open the door and yanked us into her apartment.

“Where’s the fire?” Riley asked.

I grabbed her arm and loudly whispered, “Don’t say ‘fire.’” We both cracked up like two deviant teenagers in math class.

“Ah, I see. I have two misbehaving little brats here today. You both need to learn this lesson. Let’s go. Potato time.” Her yellow brunch coat swung as she stormed into the kitchen.

“I don’t like the sound of that, do you?” Riley said, still being cheeky.

I gave her an exaggerated, “Shh,” and tossed my ponytail at her.

“Brown-noser,” she mocked and poked me in the back.

“Roza, Riley pushed me,” I whined and faked a frown at her. Riley giggled.

“Yeah, such funny girls,” Roza said in a rather insincere tone. “Funny girls get to peel potatoes. Grab knife.” She boldly directed us, and so began our perogie tutorial.

Partway in, my phone beeped.

Jack: What are you doing?

I wiped my hands off and answered him.

Me: Just starting to peel eighty lbs of potatoes. You?

Jack: ????

Me: Roza is teaching us how to make perogies.

Jack: LOL. This I need to see. Want help?

A warmth settled over me like the midday sun, and I grinned thinking about his offer.

“Tell lover boy you’re busy. These potatoes aren’t going to peel themselves,” Roza barked.

“Umm, he wants to know if we need any help.” I glanced at the girls over the top of my phone.

“Do we want a professional chef to help us? Damn right. Tell him to get his tight behind over here.” Riley nodded.

“Yeah, sure. Why not? He should learn to make perogies, too,” Roza agreed.

Me: Of course! Apt. #227

Peeling potatoes pretty much sucked. I didn’t know how many times I got in trouble for cutting off too much of the potato with the skin. Then I got in trouble for leaving too much of the skin behind. My hands and fingers were already red and sore and my manicure now looked like shit. We still had half a bag to go. A knock on the door saved me. I practically ran to answer it. “Hi,” I said and smiled at the handsome man before me. He leaned down and gave me a quick peck on the lips.

“Hi, I see you ladies have been busy,” he said, removing his suit jacket and throwing it over the back of the couch. “What can I do?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves and walking to the sink.

“Hi, Jack,” Riley said, making big eyes at me while Jack washed his hands.

“Just peeling potatoes. I’m sure with all your expensive degrees and certificates, you know how to do this quite well,” Roza mouthed off to him.

Jack took her attitude in stride and chuckled. “I know my way around a potato.”

With Jack’s help, we got through the bag of potatoes pretty quickly. I was just proud not to have broken through skin any of the thirty times I stabbed myself with the knife. Lucky me.

Oddly enough, Riley also knew her way around peeling a potato. The woman cut through a spud like a hot knife through butter, a real pro. Hmm, odd.

“Yay, all done,” I exclaimed and waved my hands around like we had just won the Super Bowl.

Before I knew what was happening, Riley gripped my wrist firmly and disarmed me like I’d seen on cop shows. What the heck?

“Ow, you party pooper,” I said and fake poked her in the side.

“Harper, you of all people can’t just wave a knife around like that. Sheesh!” She stared at me like a crazy person.

“I was just excited. I’ve never peeled potatoes before, let alone an entire bag. That calls for a celebration, my friend. Where the heck did you learn to disarm someone like that? You moved like a ninja.”

A flash of oh shit moved over her face, but just for a second. “Pfft, that was nothing. That’s the first thing they teach you in self-defense class. What’s next, Roza?”

Change the subject much?

“What’s next? I thought we were done?” Now an oh shit look moved over my face.

“Done? Harper, the potatoes are for filling. We still need to make dough.” Roza glared at me like I was an idiot.

“Baby, think mini calzones, but different,” Jack said as he scooped up the hoards of potato peelings and dumped them into the trash.

Roza showed us the ingredients and made us take turns stirring the dough. Despite the chronic ache in my hands, it was actually kind of fun. Cooking was hard, physical labor. Everyone else managed to stay fairly clean, but I seemed to collect bits of dough and flour all over myself.

“I think there’s more dough on you than in the bowl,” Jack joked as another poof of flour erupted from the bowl.

“Cooking is hard work,” I said, scowling at him and using my arm to wipe the hair out of my face.

He laughed. “Is it now? I didn’t realize.”

I’d had enough of his teasing, so I threw a handful of flour at him. His eyes snapped to mine, and his body went on alert.

“Don’t piss off the chef. Geez. Without him we’ll be here all night,” Riley whined. I’d had enough of her perfect potato peeling and her perfect dough stirring. She wasn’t covered in flour like I was. No. Not Little Miss Perfect. I picked up another handful of flour and threw it on her.

She jumped up with her hair and face full of flour. “You did not just do that,” she said in a low, calculated, scary voice. Then before I knew what was going on, she chucked a handful right back at me. This continued until Roza removed the bag of flour from the table.

“You two are like children,” she admonished us, and we both burst out laughing. We were covered in flour and Roza got caught in the crossfire. Oops.

“We can’t leave them alone for a minute, Roza,” Jack said and took over kneading the dough. We all stared as his big, strong hands manipulated the giant ball of dough and forced it to submit to his demands. He leaned in, pulled and prodded, turned and flipped it until satisfied.

“Good enough?” Jack asked Roza. Her mouth gaped open, but she quickly recovered.

“That’ll do,” she responded and body-checked Jack to the side. He smiled and walked back to the sink.

“Now we need to let the dough rest. Harper, put this small chunk in the fridge, and I’ll keep this bigger one out here.” Roza gave me a small handful of dough in a bowl, and I did as told.

She fed us some kind of beet soup with cream while we waited. It was so good I got seconds and more of her homemade buns. Yum.

After half an hour, she gathered us back to the kitchen for round two. Yay. I was already so tired from peeling and stirring, and my feet hurt.

“Harper, get the fridge dough.”

I handed her the cold dough, but she pushed the bowl back. “No. No, you will roll out this one, and Riley will roll out the other one.” Okay, bossy pants. I held the cool bowl and peeled off the plastic wrap. The cold soothed my abused fingers.

With a practiced hand, Roza threw wisps of flour all over the table, and Riley set her dough down and rolled it out with great success. I, on the other hand, was getting nowhere fast. My dough kept snapping back, but Riley’s stretched out, covering the table beautifully.

“Now, you see how Riley’s dough rolls out so nice?” Her pointy fingernail jabbed me in the shoulder.

“Yeah, her dough just lays it all right out there. Spread wide open.” I snorted, feeling exhausted and sore.

“And Harper’s is tight and frigid and inflexible,” Riley added, and we both doubled over laughing ourselves silly. Flour flew out of Riley’s hair, and it made me laugh even more.

“Oh, you girls are terrible. No, that’s not my lesson. Riley’s dough is ready—Harper’s isn’t. Sometimes we need to wait. Have patience for things. Not rush, rush, rush into things we aren’t ready for,” Roza said, turning a glass upside down onto Riley’s lovely dough and making circle after circle while mine sat in a cold lump.

“Harper’s dough just needs a bit of warming up,” Jack said as he sidled up next to me. He removed the cold lump from my hand and gave me a sexy as hell grin. Again, we all stood captivated by his movements. The way his arm muscles flexed and how he had his complete concentration on that simple combination of flour and water was a total turn-on. Eventually, his dough was just as malleable as Riley’s easy dough.

“See? It just took a little patience and elbow grease,” he said, nudging me with his elbow. Then he dropped the ball onto the table. “Now, I need to get back to the restaurant. Thanks for the lesson, Roza,” he said. “That’s something we should all learn.” He winked at her, and I swear I saw her blush.

Picking up his coat, he said, “Walk me out?” I followed the hot dough master out the door, and he quickly shut it behind me. “I wish I could stay longer,” he whispered as he took me into his arms.

I rose up on my toes and kissed him. “Me, too. Thanks for your help.”

“Uh-uh,” he murmured against my lips. “If I have to leave your sweet body and go work in a hot, stifling kitchen for hours on end, I’m going to need more than that to go on.”

Not exactly understanding his meaning, I kissed him again. This time I searched for his tongue. He gladly cooperated. “Definitely an improvement. But I’ll show you what I mean,” he said, then continued to back me up against the wall and took my mouth in a deep, delicious kiss. His hands went straight to my ass and squeezed my body against his. I dug my hands into his shirt and held on for the ride.

When he finally pulled away, we were both breathless and gasping for air. “You get what I mean now?” he asked, his hot breath puffing on my face.

“I think so,” I said and looked up at him with swollen lips and wonder in my eyes. Nobody had ever kissed me like that before.

“You’ll learn,” he said and kissed me again on my nose before striding away into the sunset.

Once in my apartment, I collapsed onto the couch and reached for my book. Only thing missing was my new reading partner. Bravely, I threw caution to the wind and texted Jack.

Me: Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Just sitting on my couch reading, wishing you were here to snuggle with. Hope you had a good day and your meetings went well.

I chucked my phone beside me and decided to shower instead.

A couple of hours later, I was in bed reading and almost asleep when my phone pinged. It was a text from Jack.

Jack: Are you still awake?

I texted back that I was and then my phone rang.

“Hi, gorgeous, I got your text. How are you?” he said in his lazy, sexy voice that made me clench my thighs together.

“Good. Tired but good. We finished the perogies, and I’m sore all over. Cooking is hard work, you know.” I informed him of a fact he was well acquainted with.

He chuckled into the phone. “Is it? Hmm, do you need a massage? I could work out those tight cooking muscles for you.” Another thigh squeeze.

“That would be nice.” I stretched my arms up and yawned. “Too bad you aren’t here.” I sighed into the phone, and then there were a few moments of silence before he replied.

“Let’s say I’m downstairs in the parking lot staring up at your window. Would you think that’s stalkerish? Or cute?” he asked warily.

“Umm, stalkerish,” I said and tried my best to tease him. There was another awkward silence, so I decided to give in. “Jack? Come up, okay?”

He exhaled loudly into the phone. “You had me there, you know that?”

I giggled and couldn’t believe he was here. “Come up. I’ll go open the door. Hurry,” I said, then hung up and bolted to the front door. All I had on was his stupid stolen T-shirt.

My heart beat faster and I felt breathless as his steps got closer. He turned the corner with a gray suit jacket slung over his arm, his shirt unbuttoned, and a savage look on his face that stopped my heart.

His eyes pinned me to the floor, and he muttered, “Inside, Harper,” as he pushed me gently backward. I acquiesced, unable to take my eyes off him even for a moment. As soon as the door shut, he threw his coat onto the couch, crushed his mouth to mine, and pulled me hard into his body. There was no place I would rather be than in this beautiful man’s arms.

Finally, he stopped and held me tight, running his fingers up and down my back. “Fuck, I missed you tonight. You’re all I could think about.”

Did he just say that? Holy cow.

“I missed you, too. I wanted to text you all day, but I was scared to bother you,” I confessed and squeezed him tighter, so happy to be in his arms again.

He pushed away and glared down at me. “Harper, your texts and calls would have been a welcome distraction. Trust me, you can always text me, and if I’m busy I’ll answer back when I can.” My insides got all tingly at that knowledge.

“Are you hungry? Roza gave me some food to take home. I can reheat it.” I wondered if he had time to eat during his busy evening.

He exhaled and closed his eyes. “I’m fucking starved, honey. Do me a favor, though? I need a shower in a big way, then I’ll eat whatever you have,” he said, and the last part made certain girlie parts quiver.

“Yeah, I’ll go find your shorts,” I said.

“My shorts?” he asked.

“I sort of borrowed a pair when I was at your place.” I glanced to the floor, hoping he would let me off the hook.

“And my shirt, I see,” he said with an eyebrow raised. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Flip flops, maybe?”

His body started shaking. “What I wouldn’t give to see you sneaking out of my place wearing that ensemble.”

“Whatever,” I said, then led him down the hall.

When we got to the bathroom door, he pulled me to him and whispered into my ear, “I wish you were coming in here with me, sweetheart.” Then he kissed my cheek and closed the door. His words ignited a fire inside of me, the likes of which I’d never known.

Onward and upward. I located his shorts and quickly threw them into the bathroom, trying not to think of his hot, wet, naked, soapy body in my shower. Oh my God. Naked Jack. In my shower.

I assembled the leftovers from Roza’s and reheated them—I could be trusted with a microwave. When Jack swaggered down the hall, I nearly swallowed my tongue. He was only wearing shorts, his muscular chest on display.

“You only gave me my shorts,” he said, hands on his hips, looking down at me with a straight face.

“Umm, yeah? Do you want your flip flops?” I asked, confused at his line of questioning.

“I want my shirt,” he said, his eyes aimed at my chest. I backed up until I hit the cupboard.

“But I’m wearing your shirt.”

“I see that. How about you give it back? You’re technically wearing stolen property,” he said, then nodded to my shirt. His shirt. Whatever.

“Not stolen, just borrowed. There’s a difference,” I said, pulling the hem of my kidnapped shirt down to cover my legs, suddenly feeling exposed with nowhere to go.

He stepped closer. “I’m done with you borrowing it. So give it back.”

“You’ll have to catch me first.” I dared.

His responding smile and naked torso already had my panties wet. And he hadn’t even touched me.

As soon as he was almost within arm’s reach, I ducked around him and into the living room, giggling like a teenager.

“Oh, it’s going to be like that, is it?” he said and pivoted around the island. He chased me into a corner, which wasn’t all that difficult considering my place was the size of a glorified postage stamp.

“Give it up.” He laughed, arms stretched out, ready to grab me.

Out of breath, I answered, “But I like this shirt. It’s comfy and soft.” I pulled the neck up and sniffed it. “And best of all, it smells like you.”

“You can sweet talk all you want, but it’s not going to save your ass,” he said and chuckled. He had me blocked, and he knew it. We both knew it. We both also knew I had no desire whatsoever in saving my ass.

I tried my best to dodge past him, but I was no contest for his long, powerful arms. He scooped me up over his shoulder and I screamed so loud I worried I was going to wake the neighbors.

“Hush.” He laughed and lightly smacked my almost bare behind. My shirt had fallen forward in the kerfuffle. He plunked me down onto the couch as gently as he could, then lowered himself on me, still shaking with laughter. “Baby, that’s the most I’ve laughed in a very long time. Thank you, I needed that,” he said with happy-sad eyes. Happy because it felt good to laugh and sad because he hadn’t done it in so long.

“Me, too. But you’re still not getting the shirt back.” I giggled again as he tried to wrestle me for it.

“I disagree. I’m fairly confident you’ll return it. Soon.” The wrestling turned into another make-out session to beat all make-out sessions. His lips were bruising, and his manhood felt glorious, grinding against my nearly naked core.

I couldn’t stand the ache anymore, so I began pulling up my shirt, getting tangled in the process. Jack leaned back, his body shaking with laughter. “A little help here?” I mumbled, still caught up in the material.

“Gladly,” he said and tugged me free. “You are so fucking beautiful.” His eyes roamed over my naked chest. Then he lowered himself back down and kissed me again. Slowly, he licked down my neck to the hollow on my throat and finally down to my breasts. Warmth spread through me, and heat pooled between my legs.

“Ah, oh yeah,” I whispered as he took one of my nipples into his mouth and ran his thumb over my other breast. Heaven. His hand traveled down my stomach and inside my panties where he stroked me into oblivion.

“You’re so wet for me. Fuck.” Gently, he glided a finger through my wetness, driving me even more to the brink. My hips ground down on his hand, searching for any relief possible.

When his finger entered me, I sighed deeply, spread my legs even further, and continued to move with his hand. “I want you,” I murmured as he persisted in his punishing tease. “Now, I need you. Please.” I rolled my head from side to side, unable to control my movements. Moving my hand down his stomach, his muscles contracted as I slid my hand into his shorts in search of his cock. I inhaled deeply when I found it. Brazenly, I held onto his hard cock and stroked its velvety smoothness. “I want you. Please, Jack.” My words begged him and urged him to finish what he started.

He groaned loudly and sat up, roughly dragging my panties down my legs before removing his shorts. Next, he fumbled with his wallet from his coat, which was conveniently on the couch, and took out a condom. I could not believe this was actually happening. I was so ready for him. I widened my legs even more. Not sure why I said it, but I did. “I thought sex was off the table?” My lips curved up into a seductive grin.

Jack glared down at me and said in a gruff, strained voice, “I’m putting it back on the table.” Then he covered me again with his body.

Jack tensed for a minute but kissed my neck again like he was doing before and placed his big, warm hand on my breast. He aimed his other hand back to my core and began rubbing again, his finger dipping inside.

I gasped at the unexpected intrusion while he quickly added a second finger. “Oh, that’s good. Yeah, Jack.” Next, he started moving his fingers in and out of me, and that felt even better.

“I can’t wait anymore. You’re driving me fucking crazy. I need to be inside you,” he said and positioned at my core. This was it. Tightly, I held my eyes shut and waited.

“Harper, open your beautiful eyes, sweetheart. I need to see you,” he said in a rough voice. I opened my eyes and saw the most handsome man I’d ever met. His gorgeous deep brown eyes smiled down at me. He leaned down and whispered against my lips, “I’ll go slow. And gentle. I promise. Stay with me and tell me if you don’t like something and I’ll stop. I want to make love to you so much, baby. Will you let me do that?” he asked and reached over to grasp my hand and entwine our fingers.

That gesture alone was so sweet, it melted any cold that was left in me. “I want that, too, Jack. So much,” I said, then lifted my head to kiss him.

He slid inside.

I moaned as he filled me completely. “You okay? Are you fine with this?” the sweetest, most caring man alive asked me. He held his body so taut, I could feel the potential power he held. My heart knew this man would never hurt me. In fact, he would maul anyone who tried.

Eyes filled with tears—but the good kind, I said, “I’m so fucking far from fine, it’s not even funny.” I blinked away the wetness and started moving my hips, encouraging him. He slid out, then back in slowly. “Faster,” I said into his ear. Lovingly, he bit my shoulder, then kissed it. Without notice, he reared back and thrust into me at a quicker pace.

My hands explored his heated flesh. I could tell it encouraged his efforts, and that was fine by me. This man took control of me—body, mind, and soul.

After a few minutes, he rolled so I was on top, but we didn’t lose our connection. “You good?” he asked again, using his hands to move the hair back from my face.

I smiled and rubbed my hands on his chest, feeling the wiry hairs and hard grooves. “Yeah, I’m good.” Then I started to move because I had to. There was no choice. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a lot of experience being on top, but Jack grasped my hips and moved me up and down on his hard shaft, building something wonderful. It was clear from everything he did, every movement he made, each breath he took that he wasn’t in this for himself. Everywhere Jack went, he made damn sure I followed.

My breasts grazed his chest as I leaned forward, providing just the right amount of friction to push me over the edge. Oh God, it was actually going to happen. Heat curled down my spine, and my heart stopped. “Oh God, I’m going to come,” I said, no one more surprised than me. Instinctively, my fingernails dug into his chest. “Jack, oh, Jack,” I repeated his name over and over again in awe of what he just accomplished. I clenched hard around his manhood and threw my head back as I rode out the most magnificent orgasm I’d ever had.

Without warning, he flipped us again and took my mouth with his. “Harper, that was by far the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said as he held my face in his hands. Then he started thrusting and gazed deep into my eyes. I wrapped my legs around his waist to get closer. I just couldn’t get near enough to this man.

That forced him up farther on his knees for better traction. “You’re so deep inside me,” I said, loving how full I felt. I think he liked it, too, because he brought his hand down between us and gently rubbed my sensitive bud. Immediately, I started feeling it build again, but it felt like it was too much, like I was going to burst. “No, I can’t, not again...I can’t,” I mumbled incoherently. My head dug into the pillow. I’d never orgasmed with a man before, and now he wanted me to come twice for him?

That’s when Jack grabbed both of my wrists and held them with his hands above my head. He fucked me harder and said, “Yes, baby, give it to me again.” And that did it. I gave in because hearing Jack talk dirty was incredible, and he made me feel safe enough to let go. A few minutes later, he thrust into me one last time and groaned loudly, still holding both of my hands. “Harper, oh fuck, baby.”

Slowly, he glided in and out of me for a while before leaving me to dispose of the condom. When he came back, I was just lying there in the dark, wondering what was going to happen next. Would he leave now that he got what he wanted? Was he finished with me?

When Jack came back, he lifted my lifeless body into his arms and carried me to my bedroom. He slid into bed and arranged me so my head was on his chest. I slung my thigh over his and played with his chest hair. “What are you thinking? I can’t tell if you’re happy we did that or not,” he said, rubbing his fingers up and down my back and into my hair. It was so relaxing.

“I feel like this place right here should have my name on it.” I squeezed him and ran my finger down the side of his chest, outlining where I lay on him. “It’s like it was made for me. I fit perfectly. And I loved what we just did, Jack.” I lifted my head so he could see the truth on my face. “Very much. Thank you for persisting. It was incredible. You were incredible,” I said and leaned over to kiss his chest.

He sighed and hugged me tighter. “Oh, thank God. Watching you come was life-changing. You are so beautiful,” he said and kissed the top of my head. “You surprised me in more ways than one. I had no idea you’d be such a dirty talker,” he said, and I could feel his body shake against mine.

“Me? I don’t think so, Jack McCallister. You are the dirty talker, sir,” I told him, my eyes narrowing on his.

“Sir? That’ll work. You’ve got quite the mouth on you.” He chuckled again and ran his fingers through my hair. It was making me sleepy. Well, that and the back-to-back orgasms. I yawned, and he squeezed me. “Let’s try to get some sleep.”

Being held. Feeling safe. I couldn’t argue with that, and soon I drifted off.

Well, the whole, “Let’s go slow,” “I’m taking sex off the table” thing worked out well. For twenty-seven and a half hours. Good God, I couldn’t even keep it in my pants for two days.

In my defense, seeing that leggy blonde in my shirt did things to my head. And my cock. Fuck. The hottest part about that woman was the fact she had no clue how gorgeous she was. That stupid ass of an ex-husband probably played a part in that somehow.

My mind raced, but my body barely had the energy to circulate blood. I was dead tired, yet wide-awake. The reasons for waiting to begin a physical relationship with Harper were still there, even though it was too late now. Too late to do the right thing. Too late to be honest with her so she didn’t bolt when she found out the truth.

Far too late to show her that all men weren’t lying bastards.

I really screwed this up. Royally.