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I let my fingers run across the work table. Will I ever look at it the same? Maybe I should have let him have his way with me? I shake my head at myself. This isn’t the right time to get serious
or
have some random fling. Will Kane—after a week or two—even want to deal with my drama anymore? He is a successful, handsome attorney who can get any girl he wants.

But for some reason, he seemed really interested in me. I have to give this a shot. I don’t really have a choice in the matter. All I can think about is the way he ran his finger across his bottom lip. The image replaying in my mind, it makes me sew as fast as ever, my hands trying to keep up with my heart.

“Kenzie?” Tessa calls out, yanking out one of my earbuds. “Like my music selections?” I shake my head laughing. “Sorry I’m late,” she says.

I pull out the other earbud and eye my stepsister, who appears more frail than ever, like she lost ten pounds overnight. “What’s wrong? Where’s Zoe?”

“I left her with Dad. I’m just tired.”

“Then go home and rest. Why’d you come?”

“You need my help,” Tessa says, starting to package some items for shipping. “It helps to stay busy. I’m not going to sit around and wait to die.”

“You know I hate it when you talk like that.”

Tessa exhales. “Did you hear from Kane again?”

“Actually, he came by last night.”

“You got laid?”

“No,” I say, laughing. “But he was here pretty late.”

“And you didn’t get any?”

“He tried, but no.”

“I’m so jealous.”

“We talked, too,” I say. “You know those talks that last and last, and no one wants them to end?”

“I remember those,” Tessa says wistfully. “You’re falling for him. It’s all over your face.”

“I know! It’s ridiculous! I mean, I just met the man!”

“I’m happy for you. This is just what your heart needs.”

“I hope so,” I say, “but I don’t want it to get broken.”

“That’s always the risk. Either you get forever with the love of your life, or your heart gets mangled.” The phone rings, and Tessa answers then covers the receiver. “Guess who?”

He called! I grab the phone and shoo Tessa away. “Hi, Kane. I’m a little busy, but I can probably do lunch.” Tessa begins to bounce up and down, nodding her head. “Your office?” I walk to the front door and peer out. “You sent a car for me? My sense of direction isn’t that bad!”

“Yes, it is!” Tessa yells.

I look down at my cut-off jean shorts and off-the-shoulder t-shirt. I do a half spin and look at my rear end. It seems to have itself contained, for now. “Kane, I’m not really dressed for your office. I’ve been sewing all morning.” I listen a few more moments, noting the only decent thing about my outfit is my cobalt blue Tieks ballet flats. “Okay. I’m walking out the door now.” I hang up and grab my purse.

“You have to tell me what he said to convince you,” Tessa says.

“He said, ‘Every minute you spend changing clothes is one less minute I get to see you.’”

*

Fidgeting with my
purse strap, I walk into the firm’s lobby, looking around at the furniture and spiral staircase, and at all the lawyers coming and going, leather briefcases in hand, the sound of penny loafers and stilettos echoing off the marble floor.

As soon as I sit down, an older woman with blazing red hair comes around the corner. She is dressed to the nines and offers a huge smile. “Kenzie Scott?” I stand up and give a little wave. “I’m Mr. Hunter’s secretary, Mona. He said I should send you right in.”

“Is he busy?” I ask. “I mean, I can wait out here.”

“No, honey. You’re not waiting in the lobby. Mr. Hunter made it clear you’re not to be kept waiting. I’ll take you to his office. He’s finishing up a conference call.”

Mona leads me through a maze of hallways, and I sense a few raised eyebrows along the way. I frankly don’t blame anyone for it. My outfit is more appropriate for a picnic or a walk on the beach, not a law partner’s office. Five minutes to change clothes wouldn’t have killed me! The car Kane sent would’ve waited.

We come to a stop at the end of a hallway outside double wooden doors. Mona knocks and gently opens them, motioning for me to go inside. I peek in and find Kane on the phone at his desk with his back to the door, facing floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the Dallas skyline. He turns and waves me in then holds up an apologetic finger that he needs one minute.

I softly close the door. His office is as big as my apartment and impressive all around. There are hardwood floors and Oriental rugs, huge windows along two walls, bookshelves with diplomas and awards, a sofa and a coffee table. It certainly looks like the perfect place to hold client meetings and strategy sessions.

There’s a shiny new computer amongst stacks of papers and files and yellow pads spread all across his desk. It looks like a never-ending stream of work. Weirdly enough, there is not a single family photo or souvenir or keepsake anywhere in sight.

I wonder if that has anything to do with his divorce. Maybe his ex burned everything or took him to the cleaners or. . . . Shaking my head, I push his divorce out of my mind. I’d rather focus on his sexy, commanding voice.

His intensity, his directness, is startling, reminding me of my ex-boyfriend and sending a few unpleasant chills down my spine. The chills quickly turn to a pleasant tingle when Kane gives me a little wink and reaches out his hand for me to come to him. I walk over and take his hand. He gives me a quiet kiss on the cheek and quickly ends the call.

His fingers run down my neck and under my black bra strap peeking out from my t-shirt. “Is this one of your designs?”

“Of course,” I say. “I try all my designs first.”

“The corsets?” he asks. “Those handcuffs?”

“All of them,” I say, and it comes out all breathless and needy.

“Christ,” he groans.

His lips find that perfect spot on my neck, the one he found last night, the one that makes my panties soak. His hand winds in my ponytail, tugging it back slightly. All I can do is moan as his tongue works the delicate flesh of my neck. That’s all it takes to get my legs clenching together, my heart rate up. The man is barely touching me—his hands aren’t even wandering, and I’m panting. Why did I promise to leave my vibrator in the drawer?

“Mr. Hunter?” Mona comes over the speaker. “Lunch is here.”

Kane gives me a crooked smile then disappears for a moment, returning with a few bags and kicking the door closed. He sets the bags on the table. “You said you liked Chinese food, so I ordered a few different things. I hope I got something you like.”

“Unfortunately, I eat just about anything.”

“That’s a good thing,” he says and pulls out some chopsticks and a few cartons.

“Tell my ass that!” Holy crap, that did not just come out of my mouth. I’ve got to remember that I’m not talking to Tessa. Clearly, my brain is still not functioning after that kiss.

He freezes. His eyes lock on mine and his voice hardens. “You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Every girl has a ‘fat day’ occasionally.”

“You said the same thing in your interview.”

I forgot about that. I guess I did. “Well, it’s normal for a girl to feel. . . .”

“It shouldn’t be,” he says quickly.

“How would
you
know?” I tease, trying to lighten his mood.

“You wouldn’t let anyone else talk to you that way, so you shouldn’t be talking about yourself that way.”

He’s a good lawyer and has a good point. “You’re right.”

“Please tell yourself good things,” he says, stepping closer to me. “Remind yourself of that sexy little laugh of yours, your beautiful brown eyes. . . .”

“Please stop,” I beg.

“But I’m not done! I was saving the best for last!” Kane cups my ass with both hands and pulls me to him. “
This
is all I’ve been thinking about.” I lower my face to his shoulder. “And I’ll love it even more when it’s on top of me.”

“Oh my God!” I cry.

“I’m just being honest,” he says, grinning. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“This honesty thing can go too far!”

He chuckles as he takes out the rest of the cartons and finishes setting up our lunch. It’s weird to get compliments period, but accepting them from a man who is a living, breathing, walking sex god is even harder. It’s going to take some getting used to. He sits down, pulls me to his lap, and feeds me a bite. I grab a pair of chopsticks and return the favor.

“So tonight,” he says, “I was hoping I could take you out to a nice dinner or. . . .” My mouth full, I shake my head a little then see his lips turn to a frown. He’s disappointed at the thought of not seeing me! It shouldn’t, but it makes me so damn happy—happier than even a pair of new shoes. “Unless you have plans?”

Eager to explain, I quickly chew and swallow. “I’m supposed to go horseback riding after work, and I rarely get to ride anymore. So I. . . .”

“Would it be alright if I meet you out there?” Kane offers. “We can do something after.”

My heart skips a beat, and a smile covers my face. He’s interested in all of me—not just his own wants and needs. He didn’t even ask where the stable is, and I get the feeling he doesn’t care how far away it is. I think he just wants to be wherever I am. I tell him where to find the stables and that he can just show up whenever he’s finished working, which, from the stacks of files and papers on his desk, probably won’t be any time soon.

“Mr. Hunter,” Mona says over the speaker, “your one o’clock call is on the line.”

Kane looks down at his watch and lets out a sigh. He pats my hips, and we both get to our feet. Walking to his desk, he hits a button on his phone. “Mona, she’s twenty minutes early. Please tell her I’ll call back at. . . .”

I shake my head and mouth, “No, I’ll see you later.”

“Are you sure?” he mouths back, and I nod. “Mona, scratch that. I’ll take the call now. Is the car out front for Kenzie?”

“Yes, sir.”

Kane reaches for me. “I’ll walk you down.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m glad I got to see you for a little while. Take your call. I have work to do, too.”

Kane walks me to the door and gives me a playful spank on my booty. “Tonight.”

KANE

I’m late getting
out of the office, about an hour later than planned. It seems my days are getting longer and longer. It’s the exact opposite of what I’ve been wanting to happen, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why I’m doing it anymore. For so long, I did it to provide my ex-wife a certain lifestyle, and then to avoid the sadness and loss of my marriage.

But at this point, there is no good reason why I work so much. Sure, business is good, but it wouldn’t kill me to work one or two fewer billable hours a day. My clients would still be well represented, and I’m sure I’d manage to survive just fine on my five hundred dollar per hour rate. Yes, I know the rate is obscene, but it’s what all the firms like mine charge in the Dallas market. And I’m lucky that I’ve got a long list of clients ready, willing, and able to pay it.

I pull up to the stables. If I missed Kenzie, I’m going to be so pissed at myself. It was bad enough my ex-wife interrupted lunch with her today. It made me sick that Lily, my old life, was crashing into my new one, the one I’m just starting. I walk quickly to the riding ring and see in the distance a group of women riding in the usual equestrian attire, their horses tacked up in traditional English riding style.

Each woman looks ready for tea with the Queen, but there’s one who stands out. Her riding pants are so tight they appear painted on. Her loose hair under her helmet flies around as she barrels around the ring, flying over each obstacle, appearing momentarily suspended in air. Kenzie is the bad ass of horseback riding. She looks fearless and free, raw and uninhibited, like a total wild child. Those other women have got nothing on Kenzie.

After a few final jumps, Kenzie brings her horse to a slow trot, then she leans forward and pats the horse a few times before wrapping her arms around its neck in a little thank you. When she lifts her head, her eyes find me against the fence. She takes off her helmet, flashes me a smile, and gallops towards me. Ever look at a woman and know just how lucky you are?

I step up on the fence to plant a little kiss on her lips. “Put your helmet back on,” I say.

“Relax,” she says and hops down. She brings the horse out of the ring, and I follow behind, meeting them at a patch of grass. “Her name is Mystic. Fits her, I think, with her gray color. She’s an Arabian.”

Kenzie bends over and fidgets with her riding boots, continuing to talk about the horse. But I’m not listening. How could I possibly listen to a word coming out of her mouth with those pants bringing out every one of her curves? Instead, I’m imagining her wearing nothing but boots and wielding a riding crop. I’m not into the whole S & M thing—I could never hit a woman, even if one wanted me to—but we could have some fun with her in that kinky little getup. That would be a good idea for a future lingerie line. Damn, she’d look incredible.

“Kane?”

“Hmm?”

She snaps her fingers. “Are you staring at my ass?”