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  I’d point out that gold is a soft and malleable metal, but Pippa knows this. I have a hunch I’m missing her point. I lost her somewhere between gold and cupcakes, so I don’t answer.

  “What I mean,” she insists, oblivious to my predicament, “is I think you have lots in common.”

  I scoff. “And you noticed that in the fifteen minutes we were downstairs?”

  “You know I can read people.”

  Yeah, except that asshole you married. I swallow my words though because I know Pippa is still hurting, no matter what she says. The truth is she does have an extraordinary talent for reading people—most of the time. She got that from Mom. It’s a dangerous talent, especially when both of them decide to use it against me.

  “Okay, let’s wrap up this conversation.” Pippa pushes herself to her feet, smoothing her skirt.

  I shoot her a suspicious look. “You’re not one to give up until you get what you want.”

  Putting a hand on her hip, she leans slightly forward. “But I already got what I wanted.”

  “And that was?”

  “To make you admit you’re not indifferent to Ava’s fabulousness. Now you’ll be thinking about her all day.”

  “No, I won’t. I hate to break it to you, but I’m the CEO of this company. I have more important things to do than that.”

  She waves her hand, as if saying, That’s nothing. “You won’t be able to concentrate.”

  “You’re crazy,” I mutter, rising from my desk to walk Pippa to the door.

  “Of course, I am. But I channel my crazy into creativity, making beautiful jewels that will bring happiness to high-maintenance women and clueless men worldwide.”

  We stand midway between the desk and the door, but Pippa doesn’t budge any further, just looks at me expectantly.

  “You’re not going to leave until I tell you I love you despite your craziness, right?” I ask.

  “Well, the men in our family are the only ones who do love me. A girl has to make the most of what she has.” Pippa says this with a smile, like it’s a big joke, but I know it’s not. I know my sister. She masks everything with a smile and a joke. Much like Ava, I realize, remembering that fleeting moment of vulnerability she let slip today.

  “Did Terence contact you again?”

  Pippa flinches, hunching her shoulders. In a matter of seconds, my sister seems to have shrunk a few inches.

  “He tried. How do you know?” she whispers.

  “Wild guess. What did he want?”

  “I didn’t pick up,” she answers a little too quickly.

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “I haven’t spoken to him.” She smiles, pulling herself straight again, setting her jaw. “I’m throwing away all the things he didn’t bother to take with him when he left. I swear I keep finding his shit everywhere.” I read between the lines. Terence moved out a month ago. If she still hasn’t thrown away all of his things, it means she’s still holding on to them.

  “You know I’m here if you need to talk, right?” I ask gently.

  “Brother, I just talked your ear off.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “It’s not worth talking about him. It’s a waste of breath and words.”

  Pippa married Terence three years ago. I never liked him much. Something about him seemed off. I made him sign a prenup stating that if he and Pippa separated before their tenth anniversary, he wouldn’t get jack shit. He played his cards right—for one whole year. In their second year of marriage, things took a turn for the worse. They fought continuously and spent more time apart than together. One night, his mask fell completely. He and Pippa were fighting, and he told her he couldn’t wait for ten years to pass. Then he’d divorce her and get his share of the money. He crushed my sister’s heart. Now they’re in the process of getting divorced. That asshole won’t get one cent from my sister, but no matter what, I can’t undo the hurt he caused.

  “He shouldn’t be calling you.”

  “I don’t want you to get in a fight with him,” she warns.

  “I’m not making any promises.”

  Logan already gave the moron the beating of his life. None of this will make Pippa feel better though.

  “Logan told me about the present for Mom and Dad’s anniversary. They’ll be very happy.”

  I smile at Pippa. Yes, my parents will be very happy indeed. They gave it up for me. It’s only fair that I give it back to them. They had my back when I needed it the most and risked everything for me. That’s one of the reasons my parents, along with every single sibling of mine, own shares in Bennett enterprises, no matter if they are actually involved with the company or not. I remember what it was like to have nothing and the permanent insecurity that brought. My family won’t have to endure that again. Ever.

  Tilting Pippa’s chin up, I kiss her forehead. “I love you, crazy pants. Now go create beautiful things I can sell.”

  She smiles before heading out the door. “I will. Now go tear Ava’s panties—err, I meant shield of steel—down.”

  Shaking my head, I sit behind my desk, picking up the report again. As Pippa predicted, I have a hard time concentrating on the report, wondering instead if Ava wears lace or silk.

  Chapter Six

  Ava

  I barely sleep during my first night in San Francisco. It’s not unusual; it takes some time to adjust to new beds. Tonight, my bed isn’t at fault for my lack of sleep.

  Sebastian Bennett is.

  There is something about this man. He can make my knees go weak and my heart somersault at the same time. It’s not just his good looks that have me thinking about him, though he’s delicious. He’s different from what I expected, and from other powerful men I’ve met. He shows respect to everyone, even waiters and valets. I almost melted when he spoke about his family today.

  I twist in my bed, burying my head in the pillow. I can’t obsess over him; I need to drill this into my head. It would help if he’d acted indifferent, but his thinly disguised flirting made me simmer. An ache forms between my legs as I remember his stirring presence.

  Unable to sleep, I text my best friend, Nadine.

  Ava: Arrived at the new job today, wanted to let you know I’m okay.

  Nadine: Is Sebastian Bennett as good-looking as in pictures?

  Ava: Don’t get me started. He’s too hot for his own good.

  Nadine: Too bad about your work clause. But nothing’s sweeter than the forbidden fruit, right?

  Ava: You know I won’t do anything.

  Smiling, I shake my head. I fall asleep with Sebastian on my mind. Dreaming is not forbidden, after all.

  ***

  I arrive early at the office the next morning. Except for the security guard downstairs, I don’t bump into anyone. Perfect. I like starting my days before anyone else. I can get work done without interruptions. As I sink in my chair, I notice a small envelope on my desk, with my name on it.

  Frowning, I open it and find a gift certificate for a spa and a handwritten card.

  You deserve to relax. Enjoy your time at the spa.

  Sebastian

  Warmth billows inside me. Slowly, unexplainable emotions overcome me. No man I’ve dated has done something so thoughtful for me, and here comes this man I’ve known for one day, offering me something I need very badly. I’m sure he’s busy, yet he took time to buy this and even write to me. I have no proof, but I’m certain this is his handwriting.

  Sighing, I push the card and the voucher back in the envelope. I can’t possibly accept it, though I could use a few hours of pampering. I walk to his office, intending to leave the envelope on his desk, but find Sebastian inside, bent over some papers. Like yesterday, he takes my breath away when he looks up at me.

  “You’re here early.”

  “I like to start my day early, when there’s no one around,” I say. “That way, I don’t get interrupted.”

  “Clever. That’s why I like to come in early, too.” He sizes me up, his eyes
resting on my hips and then my chest. The intensity in his gaze sets me ablaze. Wow. Okay, this must stop. It’s going to be a long four months if I daydream about jumping him every time I see him.

  “What can I do for you?” he inquires. Why, thanks for asking, Mr. Bennett. How about showing me all the things you can do with your tongue and fingers and. . . “Ava?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek, holding up the envelope. “I found this on my desk. It’s very thoughtful, but I can’t accept it.”

  “Why?” His eyebrows shoot up. “You said you didn’t have time to relax after your last project.”

  “Yes, but. . .” All the reasons I had in mind become a muddled chaos as he fixes me with his eyes, piercing me. Goose bumps cover my skin as I try to pull myself together. No chance. The man sets me alight with only his eyes. I shudder, imagining what he could do with his hands, or lips. Damn it. This needs to stop.

  “Take pity on me and accept the gift to relieve me of my guilt,” he says.

  “What are you guilty about?”

  “I terrorized your boss to send someone as early as possible or I would give the job to another consultancy.”

  “You terrorized my boss?” A giggle tumbles from my lips.

  “I did.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his delicious lips curling upward. “Am I wrong in thinking you find that a little amusing?”

  “I find it very amusing. He usually does all the terrorizing. The thought that someone has done the same to him is very satisfying.”

  “There’s a naughty girl hidden down there underneath your business suits, isn’t there?” he asks. Is my mind playing tricks on me, or did his voice become throatier? I wet my lips, averting my gaze.

  “Take the card, Sebastian. Give it to someone else.”

  “I’m not expecting you to fall all over me because of a spa visit.” His bluntness sends tendrils of heat low in my body.

  “You’re cocky.”

  “You like it.” When I don’t say anything, he continues. “Look, I want you to have a good time. Let me do this for you.”

  “You’re doing this. . . why?”

  He smiles mischievously. “You were practically glowing at the restaurant yesterday. I loved that look on your face, and I’d love even more to be the reason you smile.”

  I am speechless, and swooning. How can he do that to me? Why do I want even more? Sebastian closes the distance between us, pointing to the envelope.

  “Take the gift card.”

  “Sebastian.”

  “Ava.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You will. End of discussion.” His tone is so final, so full of authority, that I actually take a step back. He advances toward me, as if determined to dominate me. “I want you to relax.” He bends his head to my cheek, whispering in my ear, “Think about me while you’re there.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ava

  The rest of the day passes in a haze. I sit through multiple meetings with the marketing department. Sebastian joins me in a few. I try to keep my distance from him and fail. The man is relentless. He always sits next to me, touching my hand or my leg—by accident, of course. He’s smart enough to make it look that way.

  The meetings go well. During the first one, I discover his team is pleased with my presence here, which is refreshing. Marketing departments are usually hostile toward me, considering the outside agency an intrusion. This one seems open and eager to collaborate. Good. This means I can concentrate on my job. By the third meeting, I realize it’s not that they are pleased with me; they just don’t like the new marketing manager, Martha, much. She was hired a week ago.

  “Why did you hire the marketing manager from outside instead of promoting someone from within the department?” I ask Sebastian after that meeting is over. “Your team doesn’t look very happy.”

  “I know, but bringing in new blood can be good. That’s why we decided to work with your consultancy as well. She’s on probation for four months anyway. If it doesn’t work out, she’ll go.”

  At six o’clock, I’m utterly exhausted, sitting in my office and going through my notes from today’s meetings. My neck is even stiffer than yesterday. I eye the voucher still lying on my desk, tugging at my lips with my teeth. On a whim, I call the spa. A woman greets me.

  “Hello. I have a gift card and I’d like to use it as soon as possible.”

  “Why don’t you come by tonight, and we’ll see where we can book you in?”

  “This sounds wonderful,” I tell her honestly. I was expecting to wait at least a week. “Can you give me the address?”

  As I scribble down her instructions, I realize it’s on the same street as my apartment. Did Sebastian take the time to look up a spa nearby? I can’t believe he gave this so much thought, but it can’t be a coincidence.

  “See you in an hour,” I tell her.

  Since it rained the entire afternoon, clouds populate the graying silk tarp of sky. I step outside the building, drained of energy. Inhaling deeply, I find the air doesn’t bring the burst of freshness I was hoping for. Heaviness languishes in the air from the earlier rain. Arrows of light descend through the clouds, but it looks like the sky won’t clear today.

  ***

  I make myself a promise as I walk into the spa. I will relax and enjoy this without any remorse for having accepted Sebastian’s gift.

  “Hi,” I tell the receptionist. “We spoke on the phone earlier.”

  She smiles politely, taking the gift card I hand her. “Yes, we did. What would you like to do while you’re here, Ms. . .?”

  “Lindt. I have a really stiff neck. Something to relax my muscles would be great.”

  “May I suggest a massage?”

  “Sounds like just what I need.”

  “I’ll send you to Andrew. He’s the best.” She frowns at her computer screen, clicking around a few times. “He’s free in one hour. What would you like to do in that time? I can fit in a mani-pedi or a facial. Or I can book both and move Andrew an hour later. Your gift card certainly covers the expenses for all those.”

  “It does?” How much did Sebastian spend on me? There’s no amount on the card.

  “Yes. Shall I book everything?”

  I tap my fingers on the counter, pondering my answer for a few seconds. “Okay.”

  I avoid thinking about Sebastian in the mani-pedi and the facial, but my will dissolves when I walk inside the massage room. I am naked except for a tiny thong beneath the towel I wrapped tightly around me. Andrew asks me to drop my towel and lie on my stomach on the massage table. He turns his back while I do as he says, and then he covers my butt with the towel. Well, I don’t feel less naked. He pours warm oil on my skin and begins to knead my flesh between his expert hands, and I forget all about shame.

  “The neck area keeps giving me problems,” I tell him.

  “I’ll concentrate on that.”

  As I feel Andrew’s fingers on me, my mind flies to Sebastian’s strong hands. They’d make my entire body burn. His memory alone lights every nerve. His vivid, dark eyes haunt me, and soon I fantasize he’s with me in my hotel room, doing what Andrew does, only moving his hands much lower. I’d let that man do anything to me, and that’s a scary thought. Breathing hard against the towel, I curse aloud, making Andrew jump.

  “Sorry, Andrew. I remembered I forgot something at the office,” I lie.

  I cannot fantasize about Sebastian Bennett. At any rate, I don’t know much about him. He could be the ultimate playboy. He certainly has the looks for it. I learned early on not to trust men. Dad left Mom before I was even born, leaving her to fend for us both.

  A dull ache hovers in my chest. It’s been nine years since she died, and I still miss her every day. While I grew up, it seemed so often that it was the two of us against the world. She never—to my knowledge at least—dated again. It’s not that she instilled in me to mistrust men, it’s that the men I’ve dated gave me reason not to trust them. I’ve always longed to h
ave a large family, but my two long-term relationships ended because the guys cheated on me, and blamed me and my job for it. Finding a decent man and counting on him seems like an impossibility, akin to comfortable high heels or sexy period panties. At thirty-one, I threw in the towel and only count on myself.

  Sebastian seems to be every woman’s dream. He’s kind, thoughtful, and intense. Just remembering his piercing stare sends tendrils of heat low in my body. I need to get laid. Badly. It’s been an embarrassing number of months since I last had sex, and I know Sebastian’s proximity will be much easier to bear if I don’t have so much sexual tension bottled up inside me. It’d also be easier if the attraction was one-sided, but I saw how he looks at me. I take a deep breath. Four months. I have to resist for four months; then I’ll be gone.

  I leave the massage room, take a wrong turn, and end up in an unfamiliar corridor.

  “Excuse me,” I ask a cleaning lady who passes by. “Where is reception? I got lost.”

  The woman, petite and in her forties, opens her mouth, but instead of answering, coughs. Furrowing my brow, I study her appearance. Her nose and eyes are puffy—signs of a cold or an allergy. Either way, she’s sick. She gives me directions in a low voice.

  “Thank you. Are you okay? You’re very sick. You should take the day off.”

  She shakes her head, her eyes widening. “Can’t afford it. I have two little kids back home. I’m much better now, though. I thought I’d collapse a few hours ago when I was waitressing. At least here it’s quiet.”

  Gulping, I say, “Take care of yourself. What’s your name?”

  “Nora.”

  “Have a good day, Nora.” My voice is shaky, and the hair at the back of my neck stands on end as I make my way to the reception. Nora’s determination to give her kids the best and moonlight between jobs hits home too hard.