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  The quick note from Cori gave Eva her first real smile of the day. She’d found all sorts of emojis to attach to the text that had Eva laughing out loud. There was a bed, a horse, and cowboy, and for reasons she couldn’t get her head around, what appeared to be roller skates. Cori would have to explain that one. But she was still thinking of how happy she’d be when she heard about the under and the whom. Well, Eva knew she’d have to survive on that for a while.

  Thinking of surviving brought her thoughts back to Aidan and how she was going to survive without another taste of him. She’d specifically told herself she would not care if he called her. That it was better if he didn’t, and now here she was practically losing it, awaiting his call, and for what? All because he’d given her the best orgasm in well, forever, and then repeated the deal two more times. Eva put her head in her hands and once again cursed herself for making up those stupid rules.

  There they were in a lovely post-coital haze, with him laying his beautiful head on her breast and her running her fingers through his soft and totally finger-runnable hair, and of course her being her, she couldn’t just leave well enough alone. No, she had to go and ruin it by letting her overthinking mind slip in and snatch away their moment of bliss. It was quiet. He was relaxed, she was satisfied. Why couldn’t that have been good enough?

  “You know, I meant what I said.” The words came out quicker and gruffer than she intended.

  “Why is it I know where you’re going with this, Miss Ward?”

  She took a deep breath. “So we’re back to Miss Ward. No Eva?”

  “Isn’t that where you’re about to take me? Back to business? I can tell by your tone.”

  She thought for a moment. Really, it was for the best. “Well, you’re nothing if not perceptive, I’ll give you that. I’m sorry, but this can’t be more than this. It has to be this one night. No more. Besides, I’d say we’ve both, to our mutual satisfaction, taken care of what we needed to here.”

  She thought he may have laughed at that, but he went no further, so maybe she’d heard wrong, so Eva continued, because if she stopped she’d lose her nerve. “There are rules, and we can’t break them. The stakes are too high. At least for me they are, and I’m sure you’d like to focus on your job at hand. So what’s done is done and can’t be repeated.”

  She was finished. She’d said her peace and for the most part was proud of herself for getting it done without unnecessary, messy emotion. But he was quiet, too quiet, and for a while she didn’t know if he had fallen asleep. Until he leaned forward and ran his tongue along her neck in a long stroke, at the same time bringing his fingers between her already damp, swollen folds. His voice was a close whisper in her ear. “Fine, kitten. This is your show. You call the shots. But nothing starts until the night is over, and we still have hours left before the sun rises . . .”

  Eva’s phone buzzed again, letting her know a message had come through. She looked down and was instantly annoyed that her betraying heart was speeding up. It was from him: She swiped at the phone. And frowned. It was a group text:

  Call update: Base Team to meet @ Talent’s @ 5:00 sharp.

  Team B will meet @ 6:00 @ Bachelor 2-A,

  AW

  Eva felt her nostrils flare as she re-read the little text for a third time. So now she was “the talent”? She slammed the phone down and ran a hand across her forehead as she tried to look at the figures on the spreadsheet in front of her, but the numbers blurred. Like she said, it was a win/win for him. Fine. If she was the talent, she’d show him just how talented she could be.

  * * *

  Aidan put his phone down and ran his hand through his hair, rubbing irritably at his scalp. Fine, let her take that, and see if it was good enough for her damned professional rules. He’d just gotten out of his third boring meeting of the day and was about ready to snap someone’s head off if he didn’t get out of this damned office soon. But no, his father had him scheduled for yet another glad-handing session before he could escape.

  He leaned back in his chair and turned toward the window. Normally he enjoyed the view that spanned from Midtown all the way to Lower Manhattan and One World Trade. The view used to bolster him, make him think of the city—the excitement of it and all the stories to be told in it, but not today. Today all he could think of was one woman, one story. And how she was so close but still maddeningly out of his reach. He wondered if she was even fazed by the group text he’d sent. Probably not. Why should she be? It perfectly followed her set rules. For all he knew, she might not have even seen it; maybe her assistant was monitoring her phone.

  She’d made it clear after they’d made love, though he was sure she wouldn’t call it that. Had sex? Gotten busy? Hooked up? Aidan shuddered at all the sayings that paled in comparison to the night they’d shared. No matter, though. Either way, she’d made it clear after they’d handled their mutual, multiple sexual transactions that she was through with him. Aidan shook his head and laughed, though he didn’t feel like laughing at all. God, he was really wimping out on this one. What was he doing getting so wrapped up in a woman who couldn’t care less about him beyond what would be considered a one-night hookup?

  He felt his frown deepen. But really, why was he mad? Was he mad because he wanted her, or was he pissed because he wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her. Again and again. The woman was good in so many more ways than what she was showing on the small screen.

  It was days later, and all it took was a thought to bring her taste, her smell, her feel to the forefront of his senses, and he was supposed to let all that go without a backward glance? Aidan shook his head. He could say one thing: That Kevin was a damned idiot, because if given the choice, there would be no way he would have walked away from her.

  Too bad he didn’t have a choice.

  Eva had made her feelings perfectly clear. They were just temporary. A modern-day scheduled booty call with an expiration date on top of that—that is, if he ever even got another chance with her. Aidan felt his jaw tighten. Shit, if he told his boys about his so-called mess, they’d probably tell him to stop his whining—that this was reason to celebrate. Vin would buy him a round of drinks to his success, while Carter would tell him to get ready to saddle up to go out on the hunt for the next conquest. But he didn’t feel like going on the hunt or celebrating or any of it. The fact was women, like Eva were a rare find indeed.

  There was a quick succession of knocks on Aidan’s open office door, and when he turned, he came face-to-face with Carter, as though he had mentally summoned him. He gave his friend a quick nod. “What’s up, C?”

  Carter walked in with an easy smile, looking cool and polished as always. “Just passing through. Wanted to check in and say the first date was eaten up by the viewers. This is going to be a huge win for us.” He made a small fist and pumped the air.

  Aidan thought he should smile too, but at the mention of the date and the reminder of the one to come, smiling was the last thing on his mind. Of course, Carter was quick on the uptake and noticed it. “What’s up? Please don’t tell me there’s a problem with filming or the next date. Our ratings are booming, and if we keep up this pace and level of interest, I’m hopeful we can take over that top morning spot by the wedding.”

  The wedding. It was scheduled for only two months away. Eva married to some stranger. Keeping his expression impassive was a true challenge at the moment. But he had to do it. There was no way he was letting any of his true feelings show to Carter and no way he was ruining this opportunity for him or the show. He smiled what he hoped was a convincing smile. “Nah, there are no problems. The dates are set, though I hope they go a little better than the last meathead and we can find her someone to actually connect with.”

  Carter raised a brow and snorted. “Not likely in the time frame we have, and come on, with her tightly wrung disposition, I don’t see us finding someone up to the task of getting her to loosen up without the incentive of liberal booze and/or cash.”

&nbs
p; At that Aidan couldn’t hold onto his temper. “Now that’s going too far. We’re playing this as by the book as we can. We’ve already upended her life enough; the least we can do is be on the up-and-up with the guys.”

  Carter put up a hand. “Okay, sir knight. Cool your heels. No need to get testy. You’re in charge, and I’m staying out of things.” He shook his head. “Listen, I’ve got to run. You keep playing the Boy Scout though. It looks good on you. Drinks later this week?”

  By way of reply, Aidan answered him with a low grunt and gave him his back. Freaking Carter. If he wasn’t his friend and, he knew, loyal to him through and through, he’d definitely want to punch him out. At that moment, Aidan didn’t feel like much of anything—not drinking with annoying friends, not sleeping, and definitely not grinning and bearing it through another board meeting and being the perfect face of the next generation at the network. The only thing he wanted to do was the thing he couldn’t, and that was to hightail it as quickly as possible back to her apartment and that overly decorated sweet bedroom that he had no business feeling way too comfortable in, and burrowing deep between those satiny thighs of hers, where he had no business feeling way too at home. He had to think of the network and what was best for the show. The fact that they were inching up in the ratings and closing in on their competitors was something even he couldn’t ignore, satiny thighs be damned.

  Aidan let out a groan as he shifted in his seat. The thought of her thighs had made him instantly, uncontrollably hard. But, dammit, if she wasn’t delicious as hell. Just the thought of her thighs, lips, ass—hell, any part of her, even her voice when she was pissed at him—made him hard. It was just her. Not to mention that she shocked him to his core with the way she had laid out on her countertop, offering herself to him in a way that no one else ever had, in a way that he knew was all her, not just giving but taking too. And he wanted that. Wanted to give her a part of him he never had given anyone before.

  But it was a mistake, just like it was a mistake trusting that informant, and Aidan should have picked up on it. He should have seen it in the informant’s eyes, just as he should have seen in Eva’s that he was getting into dangerous waters with the first exquisite dip between her thighs. That was when he should have run while he still had maybe half his senses still intact. But being the fool he was, he didn’t. No, he took it all the way. Acting like he had it together. Taking it on as a challenge. Wanting to see how far he could take the ice princess. Well, the joke was on him.

  Pearls on or off, she was no ice princess. The woman was as hot as they came, taking him to unimaginable heights with her uninhibited lovemaking. The way she molded and fit to his body made him think ridiculous thoughts, like she could possibly have been made just for him, as if there were any such thing. Yes, she took him all the way, but when it was over she sent him packing. He had gathered his discarded clothes and made his way out of her apartment and into the dawning New York morning, walking on uneasy legs that were not accustomed to a walk of shame. She had used him as a placeholder for all the men who’d pissed her off, and he knew it. He knew it and went with it, and knew that, if given the chance, he probably would do it again. Without hesitation. That’s probably what gnawed at him the most, what really pricked at his soul.

  Yeah, he’d been screwed and was being screwed in every possible way. But he had to work his way around it. He had to find a way to make this work to his advantage somehow, and maybe the answer was in the rules that Eva had so ingeniously set up from the start.

  With a deep breath and a newfound resolution to handle Eva as he would any other assignment—if he was handling it smartly—Aidan stood up to get ready for his next meeting. She was right. Sticking to a plan was the best way. And appropriate distance was the safest choice for both of them. On the way out the door, Aidan reached back and grabbed his almost-forgotten phone, telling himself that checking for incoming messages was only being professional and had nothing at all to do with one Eva Ward.

  Chapter 13

  And still he had nothing to say. Well, almost next to nothing.

  Okay, well, that is freaking wonderful. Just terrific, Eva thought, as she smoothed her expression into one of serene elegance and tried her hardest to focus all her attention on tonight’s date, a charming financier named Quinton Prescott.

  Quinton was everything the gym rat Trey Stone wasn’t. And as a bonus, he was also light years toward tilting over into the “just right for her” column, away from brooding Mr. Aidan Walker, who had said all of maybe five words to her since he’d arrived late to meet her and the rest of the crew at their current location. Not that she was paying any attention to him, mind you.

  The station had sent a car to pick Eva up at her office and take her to her apartment at four o’clock. With the airing of her first segment, it seemed her popularity had doubled, maybe tripled. She’d expected a bit of an uptick, but nothing like what she’d seen since Tuesday. Her Facebook requests had gone off the charts, Twitter wanted to give her one of those official little checks they gave real celebrities, like movie stars or maybe Kardashians—it was all quite overwhelming. Doing something simple like taking the bus or the subway to work or doing a quick Starbucks run was now a mission to be carefully planned out with tactical precision if she didn’t want to be gawked over or mobbed with a thousand catcalls or supposedly innocent questions. She now knew for certain that she had to keep her outward profile low at least until the show was over and she had faded from recent memory. The upside was that with the way the media cycle went, she suspected it would take about three weeks tops after the airing of the wedding.

  Upon her arrival home, she’d only had time for a hot shower before Mitzi arrived with a hair and makeup artist to make her look put together, but of course not too put together. She tried to hide her disappointment when Louisa arrived with Stan and only one other guy, with no hint or word of or from Aidan, just a skeleton crew to prep her for her evening at the opera with Quinton.

  Still, she refused to ask about Aidan. She wouldn’t do it. She guessed he’d taken her at her word and was keeping his distance. And that was fine. Their fabulous one-night stand was obviously enough to put him off her, forever.

  Finally, he turned up on the set. Eva frowned as she spied him huddled with a crew member next to the equipment van parked on the corner of Sixty-third and Amsterdam. “Is everything all right?”

  Quinton’s voice pulled her back his way, and she blinked, coming out of her reverie. Whoops, she’d better focus on her date and the actual task at hand. Besides, it wasn’t like focusing on a man like Quinton was a hardship. He gave her a kind smile, and she felt her chest tighten a bit. She wasn’t being fair, thinking about Aidan at a time like this. Quinton was a perfectly pleasant man—tall, with a perfectly pleasant face, broad shoulders, and a pleasant smile. Eva could feel her discomfort churn up from deep in her lower belly. What was that? Pleasant three times to describe one man? That couldn’t be a good sign. Come on and focus, Eva! You’re in PR. You can come up with something better than pleasant. She moved from his pleasant smile to check out his attire. Well, his suit was sharp. Eva cut herself bonus points for not going for the mental pleasant, and she added two more for conveniently disregarding the fact that she was sure a stylist had probably picked out the suit for him, just as her dress had been picked out for her. Better to just go with the fantasy at this point. Either way, Quinton’s style was on point, and his well-cut suit set off her red cocktail dress perfectly. What more could a woman ask for on a normally boring Thursday night? Also he was a better choice than the guy with the kid. Eva suspected that Aidan had something to do with Quinton being here in lieu of that guy.

  “Excuse me?”

  “At first, I asked if you enjoy opera, and then when you didn’t respond, I asked if everything was all right.”

  Eva smiled, smoothing down her dress and giving him her full attention, or at least making an attempt at full attention with a cordless mic attached to her back and a
small film army surrounding her. Not to mention the distraction of a certain nonchalant playboy, who was doing his best to ignore her. It was a good thing she was in the middle of New York. At least it seemed she was the only one who thought this situation was in any way out of the ordinary.

  Eva slid her arm into the crook of Quinton’s. “I’m fine, thanks. Still not quite used to being the center of attention. Normally, I like to leave that up to my clients, and as for the opera, honestly, I haven’t been since I was a teenager on a school trip. But I’ve always wanted to come back. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

  She let her eyes glance briefly Aidan’s way once more. This time she caught him as his eyes slid her way and he took in her every movement. She tried to but couldn’t ignore the instant heat she felt as she purposefully led Quinton away toward the tall, sweeping arches of the opera house, putting Aidan and their night both literally and figuratively behind her.

  * * *

  Aidan felt his body involuntarily tense as he watched Eva entwine her arm with Quinton Prescott’s and look up at him, flashing that smile of hers. Her full lips were painted a glossy red to match her dress, which was the color of a new fire engine. On anyone else the tight elastic bands that were subbing for fabric would probably look cheap, but no, not on her. There was nothing about her that was cheap. The woman was class all the way, from this evening’s slightly messy updo to the delicate black satin sandals on her feet and back to those damned pearls.

  All that tight, understated reserve of hers had him dying to grab her, flip her over his shoulder like some type of caveman, run off with her somewhere, and have her calling out his name in ecstasy, as she’d done the other night. But at that thought he frowned. Of course, those types of things just weren’t done, not by anyone with a lick of sense or propriety, and he liked to think he had both, despite what the gossip tabloids had to say about him to keep their circulation up.