Chapter 1 (KISS ME CRAZY)

CHAPTER 1

“I quit! Now kiss me and beg me to stay.”

Kara Michaels glared at the white envelope on her table. Saying her wishes out loud wouldn’t make them a reality. She still had to leave the safety of her basement workroom, invade her boss’ inner sanctum upstairs, and hand over the letter with a cordial smile. No marching band. No slapping it on his massive cherry desk or throwing it at his gorgeous face. It wasn’t his fault she had lusted after him for five years, and he only saw her as his trusted, loyal employee. That burden was hers, fair and square.

The thought of looking into Baron Fitzgerald’s starry night blue eyes and telling him she was quitting left her edgy. He would hit the roof, and once he calmed down, turn on the charm. She’d been at the receiving end of that calendar pin-up male’s flirtatious charm once too many times. It was potent, dangerous, and darn near impossible to resist.

Sighing, Kara pushed her nagging thoughts aside, adjusted the glasses on the ridge of her nose, and leaned forward in her chair to contemplate the painting in front of her. Could the scrape near the bottom left corner be fixed without devaluing the piece? She sighed again. Of course it could. The damage was minimal, less than ten percent, just like she preferred. The problem was the enthusiasm she usually felt restoring such a masterpiece was gone. Thoughts of Baron and her resignation letter were screwing with her head.            

A knock at her workroom door interrupted her musing, then her best friend peeked inside her workroom. Kara waved.

“Renee. What brings you to my humble studio?”

 “Don’t you mean dungeon.” Renee closed the door and surveyed the room from the top of the stairs. She grinned when her gaze connected with Kara’s narrowed eyes. “Don’t mean to disrespect your space, Kara, but the covered canvases give it a gloomy look, if you know what I mean.” She started down the stairs, her shoulder-length flipped-up-at-the-tips auburn hair bouncing with each step she took. “Anyway, I thought I’d stop by and see if you want to do lunch.”

Kara stole a glance at her watch. Lunch at ten in the morning? She knew exactly why Ms. Assistant District Attorney was in her office. Kara leaned forward and tried to grab the resignation letter on the sly before Renee saw it. “You didn’t have to come all this way. You could’ve called and—”

“You wouldn’t have answered, just like you didn’t yesterday and the day before.” Renee wrapped the strap of her designer bag on the coat rack stand at the foot of the staircase and strolled toward Kara. Renee looked stunning, as always, the chic suit hugging her willowy body, her makeup flawless. She made Kara more aware of her own plain Jane appearance—apron over tan pants and simple black top, pale blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and no makeup.          

Renee stopped beside Kara’s desk and propped a fist on her hip. “When your best friend starts to screen your calls, something’s up.”

“Oh, please. You know how I hate to be interrupted when I’m in the middle of a project. I’ve been working late.”

Renee laughed, her eyes going to the letter in Kara’s hand. “Is that what you call it now? I’d say you’ve been procrastinating, stressing, and thinking about all possible scenarios that go with offering your resignation to the hunk upstairs.”

Kara gave up the pretense of trying to hide the letter. “Don’t tell me your case load is so small you had to come downtown to poke fun at me.”

“No, I didn’t, but it’s been three days, Kara. What’s going on?”

Kara tried not to squirm under her friend’s quizzical gaze. Call it an insight, sixth sense, or whatever, but Renee could always read her. She claimed Kara wore her feelings in her eyes and would suck as a juror, but this juror reject refused to be analyzed or have her motives questioned.

“Nothing’s going on,” she said. “I just needed to prepare.”

“For what?”

“A de-roofing hurricane,” Kara answered without thinking and realized her mistake right away when Renee lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“Excuse me? A hurricane in L.A.?”

Kara laughed to cover the gaffe, jumped to her feet, and picked up the Hallè painting. “You know what I mean.”

She propped it on the easel she used when cleaning or restoring a painting. For a moment, she stood with her back to Renee. She hadn’t meant to openly refer to her boss as a hurricane, yet there was no fitting way to describe antique dealer Baron Fitzgerald when he went after something. He was unstoppable. About the time she started working for him, he’d let slip his five-year plan to expand the gallery by featuring furniture classics of the twentieth century, mid-career artists across the state, and two separate one-man shows every month. It took him three years to accomplish that. He even started an online gallery to introduce younger, emerging, and affordable artist to collectors. La Baron Galleria now occupied the first and second floors of the building. The building itself, he acquired after outbidding a real estate developer. Now he was opening a branch in San Francisco, a partnership between him and Mercedes Benz of San Francisco.

A year ago she’d made the mistake of going to see him on an impulse and learned just how relentless he could be. Her plan at the time was to offer her resignation, just like today. As soon as he’d learned the reason why she wanted to quit, he was on the phone facilitating everything so she got exactly what she wanted, which was to restore older paintings. Turned out he’d been rejecting restoration works involving historic pieces because he thought she wasn’t ready. His assumption had ticked her off. After she read him the riot act, he kissed her.

A zing of excitement shot through Kara, her lips tingling in remembrance. A year later, and she still remembered every detail of that kiss. She needed to get a life quick. Baron was a total shark when it came to business and to deal with him, one must anticipate his response and have a countermove. She was ready this time. All she needed was to get her butt upstairs.  

“Kara?”

She turned to face Renee. Her friend had taken the only available chair, so Kara propped her butt on the edge of the desk. “Baron won’t like it.”

Renee shrugged. “Too bad. People quit jobs all the time.”

“Not at La Baron Galleria. He’s an amazing boss and pays too well for anyone to want to quit.”   

“Yet you’re quitting.” Renee’s smile was sympathetic, as though she could see through Kara’s BS to the real reason she wanted to quit.  

Kara bristled.

“You know why,” she said and wrinkled her nose. “I promised myself I’d go solo by my twenty-eighth birthday. I just turned twenty-nine.” In the last five years, she’d amassed the contacts she’d need once she started her company. She loved restoring works of art, but wanted the added advantage of being her own boss, free to pick and choose projects. She also planned to custom-frame paintings. “It’s time to move on.”

“Are you sure?”

 “Of course I’m sure.” Kara scowled down at her. “What other reason could I have for leaving?”

“Why don’t you tell me? From my position, you seem to be dragging your feet.”

Renee had a nasty way of treating people like they were on the witness stand. Kara wasn’t in the mood to play her games.

“Don’t try your courtroom tactics on me, Renee Gunter,” Kara said with a bite. “Come out and ask me whatever it is you want to ask, and then hightail it back to your Beverly Hills office with a view, so I can get back to work in my dungeon. And no ten o’clock power lunch excuse either. You aren’t fooling anybody.”

“Ouch. Bitchy today, aren’t you?” Renee leaned closer and placed her elbows on the desk, her eyes becoming serious. “I know you’re nervous about this resignation thing, sweetie, but don’t you think you’re lobbing those salvos at the wrong person? Baron’s the one you should be targeting, not me.”

Kara cocked her head. “Now why would I want to do that?”

“The very reason you didn’t quit last year. You’re attracted to him. Worse, you’re about to leave without doing something about it. The question is whom are you really pissed off at? You? Him? Or both of you?”

Heat rushed to Kara’s face. She was angry with herself. Angry she was attracted to a man who’d never viewed her as anything other than his employee. Even if through some bizarre twist of fate he started panting after her, she was a one man woman while he liked variety.

“Sweetie, if you want him, do something about it already. Get him out of your system and move on.”

Easy for Renee to say that. She was stunning. Men stood taller and puffed their chests whenever she entered a room. Kara, on the other hand, tended to bring out their protective instincts.

“You know you’re crazy,” she mumbled.

“But right. You’ve thought about it.” Renee grinned and wagged a finger at Kara. “Yes, you have. I can see it in your eyes. I remember the first year you worked for him. I’d walk in here and the two of you would be in the middle of a heated discussion about some artwork or artist. It was like watching two halves of a whole.”

Kara took her previous conclusions back. It was Baron’s fault she’d fallen for him. He didn’t have to be so charming when she started working for him. Or bring her coffee, visit with her, and discuss her work. Now she only saw him on Fridays for their weekly conference, or when she caught a glimpse of him on the gallery floor.

“So?” she said with an indifference she didn’t feel. “We’ve always worked well together. No matter what his faults are, Baron has an amazing ability to discover talented artists and market them. And I,” she gave Renee a smug smile, “not to toot my horn, can fix any painting, no matter how old.”

“You know I’m not making this up. You two were close. In fact, I was sure something was going on until I read about his engagement to Valerie what’s-her-face. You took it in stride as usual.”

“Because he’s just a friend and a wonderful boss,” Kara retorted, starting to get tired of defending her relationship with her boss. She hadn’t taken anything in stride. It had hurt like someone took a stake to her chest. She was just good at keeping her feelings to herself.

“Is that why when Valerie dumped him, you rushed to his side?”

Kara got up and picked up the tray of cleaning liquids and brushes. She really didn’t want to discuss Valerie or Baron, but Renee was like a dog with a bone when she latched on a subject.

Kara narrowed her eyes. “That’s what friends do for each other, Renee. Just like I’ve come to your place when a case is not going well. Quit with the psychoanalysis and go back to work. I know I need to.” She went to place the tray by the Hallè painting.

“Kara, you would tell me if you more than like him, wouldn’t you?”

Seriously, when Renee was on her lawyer mode, there was no switching her off. Kara let out a deep sigh and turned around. The teasing grin was gone from her friend’s face. She actually thought Kara was in love with Baron? That would be foolish, and she didn’t do foolish. In lust with him, yes. He was gorgeous, sexy, and a maverick—an unbeatable combination. Throw in his wealth, not just from his gallery, he came from one of L.A.’s old money families, and you had a man every woman would die to own.

“Would you?” Renee asked again, interrupting her thoughts.

“Yes, I would confess all to you. I admit I liked him a lot in the beginning. He was charming, cocky, and playful. I think every woman who worked for him was a little in love with him. But my interest in him waned. I grew up.” Painfully and fast, the thought sneaked in on her, but she clammed on it. From the knowing look on her face, Renee wasn’t buying her explanation either. It was true that she had a crush on Baron, but then Valerie came into the picture. Soon after the woman left him, he became distant and driven, changed women often. It was as though he had something to prove, in the boardroom and the bedroom. Occasionally she caught glimpses of the old Baron when his guard was down; twinkling eyes here, a naughty grin there. Not that it mattered. “He isn’t my type.”

She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Renee chuckled. “Sweetie, that man with his sculptured body, brooding blue eyes, and sinfully silky voice is every woman’s type.”          

He’d starred in way too many of her hot, juicy fantasies for Kara to disagree with her friend. “Okay, you win. Yes, I’ve been procrastinating, but you’ve shown me exactly why I’m doing the right thing by quitting. Now go,” she pointed at the door, “scram…beat it. I’ll see you later in the week. We’ll have dinner or something.”

“We’re having lunch at Chloe’s. Today.” Renee got up, but she still had that look in her eyes, the suspicious D.A. expression. “After you give him the letter.”

“I swear I’ll make you pay for this. Read my lips. It will be handed to him today.” She spaced out her words to drive her message home, namely that she was tired of Renee’s interference.

“I don’t mean to be pushy, but my realtor has the papers for the office space you were interested in. I promised to let her know by the end of the day whether you want it or not.”

“Why didn’t you say so? Sure, I want it. Tell her to start processing the paperwork.” It was a prime property not far from L.A. County Museum of Art, George C. Page Museum, and La Brea Tar Pits. Her goal was to offer her services, once her offices opened its doors, to galleries like La Baron but also to the big guys in Museum Row.

“That’s the way to do it.” Renee retrieved her bag from the coat rack and paused to add, “Now if only you could apply that go-getter attitude to your personal life—”

“Goodbye, Buttinski.”

She laughed and patted her perfectly shaped butt. “I hope you’re referring to my very, very fine behind.”

No, she wasn’t. “Then stay out of my business.”

Renee laughed. “Will do, as soon as you stop letting people walk all over you. You’re too nice. Most of the time anyway. See you at lunch.”

“Not today. I have to work on that piece.” Kara pointed at the Hallè painting.

“Call me if you change your mind, or,” she paused for effect, “if you decided to jump his bones. I might give you some pointers.”

Kara growled as she watched Renee giggle up the stairs and out of her workroom. It was pathetic how easily the woman read her. It started when the two of them shared a room at Berkeley. Renee with her privileged background, designer clothes, and vacations in exotic islands could easily have treated her and her working class parents with disdain. Yet she hadn’t. She always looked forward to Kara’s parents’ visits. They’d stayed friends to the present. In fact, she couldn’t have found out about the job at La Baron Galleria if it weren’t for Renee. Renee grew up in the same neighborhood as the Fitzgeralds and heard through a mutual friend that Baron was looking for an art restorer.

As for her suggestion to seduce Baron, it wasn’t going to happen. Lusting after him and seducing him were two very different things. Still, the idea was tantalizing. Kara removed her apron, retrieved the letter from her desk, and shoved it in her purse. Better to give him the letter now and get it over with than continue to agonize over her decision. She started upstairs, each step more determined than the last one.

I can do this…

At the top of the stairs was a seven-shaped hallway with doors leading to various rooms—several storage rooms and restrooms, a conference room and a little kitchenette, Baron’s assistant Rick Ben Jacob’s office, then a left turn to a private elevator, which went to Baron’s offices upstairs. Kara ducked in the bathroom to freshen up.

She washed her hands, took lip gloss from her purse, and applied a trace amount on her lips then leaned back to take inventory of her appearance. Her hair was in its usual ponytail in the back and pinned back by one of her vintage clips, a perfect hairdo for her kind of work. She pulled off the clip and quickly ran a comb through it. A little bit more makeup wouldn’t hurt, but all she had was lip gloss. She sighed at her tan pants and black top. Getting dressed up and putting on war paints would have bolstered her confidence but it wouldn’t change anything. She still had to face the beefcake upstairs.

She pulled off her glasses, stared at her blurry image, and sighed. She should have worn her contacts instead of the glasses, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Besides, she’d rather not trip and fall across Baron’s desk because she couldn’t see the tip of her nose. That was how he ended up kissing her the last time.

Kara pushed her glasses in place, stepped out of the bathroom, and hurried past Rick’s office. Upstairs, Gena Ray, Baron’s secretary, sat behind her desk, her irritated gaze on two young women waiting in the visitor’s corner—two plush couches with an antique coffee table to the right of her desk. Baron must still be interviewing showroom attendants for his San Francisco gallery.

One of the girls wore a skimpy top that clearly indicated she wasn’t wearing a bra, which explained Gena’s annoyed expression. Kara covered a smile. Gena, a leggy and stunning brunette with a kick-ass wardrobe, ran Baron’s office like her private fiefdom. No one was allowed to see him without an appointment. Except me, which ticked her off to no end. But despite her territorial attitude toward Baron, she always acted and dressed professionally. Anyone who didn’t know her might think she had a thing for the boss. Kara knew she was just a perfectionist when it came to office behavior and protocol. She was also happily married.

As usual, the secretary scowled when she saw her. “Kara.”

“Gena.” Kara gave her a brief smile.

“You want to see Mr. Fitzgerald?”

Why else would I be here? She didn’t understand why the woman insisted on using ‘Mr. Fitzgerald’ when both of them addressed him as Baron. Only the sales clerks were that formal with him. “Is he busy?”

“As always.” She flipped through his appointment book. “But I can squeeze you in for a few minutes. He has an important conference call in exactly five minutes.”

In other words, don’t waste his time. Kara understood. “Thanks, Gena.”

She stepped toward Baron’s door just as one of the girls from the couch spoke up. “Excuse me? We’ve been waiting to see him for almost an hour now and you’re letting her—”

“I told you he’ll see you when he’s ready. If you can’t wait, come tomorrow.”

The conversation receded to the background as Kara knocked and waited for a response. When it came, she took a calming breath then another before pushing the door open.

The large room was the seat of power, from the grey carpeting and the expensive knick-knacks around the room to the dark cherry desk. But the electrifying surge of energy came from the man behind the desk. He’d removed his jacket and his light blue shirt clung to his broad shoulders with careless elegance. His black hair, cropped short, suited him just like the longer style he’d sported years ago. It really didn’t matter what he wore or how he styled his hair, Baron exuded raw sexuality.

He looked up and locked his bottomless blue eyes on her. His gaze was like a physical touch. The hairs on her arms lifted in response, and gentle wash of warmth made her stomach curl.

Baron had known Kara was his visitor long before he looked up. Her scent, woodsy with a hint of wild flowers had a way of making the back of his neck tingle. His eyes skimmed over her slender, yet curvy, figure. Even in simple slacks and shirt, she managed to look elegant and graceful, and the effect on him was headier than a perfectly aged cognac.

He watched her walk toward him, her hip-swaying stride confident and mesmerizing. A walk that proclaimed to the world, “I’m a sexy woman, deal with it.”

He’d resisted dealing with it for years, partly because of bad timing and a company policy he’d drafted himself. He would have broken it in a heartbeat had she given him any hint that she was interested. There was something between them, something subtle but constant. Encouragement or not, he was making his move the day after the doors of his San Francisco gallery opened. The one thing he’d learned these past years was how to outline a good strategy and follow it systematically until he achieved his goal. The courting of Kara Michaels was part of this year’s plan, to be commenced in exactly one month.

Baron rose to his feet, his gaze moving over her heart-shaped face, intelligent hazel eyes behind narrow, frameless glasses, and the luscious lips a man could get lost in for hours, days even. She rarely came to his office. He, on the other hand, went to the basement once a week in the guise of checking on the progress of the piece she was working on. Always hoping she’d do or say something to give her feelings away.

“Kara, what a surprise,” he said.

 “I hope I’m not bothering you.” She stopped before his desk and gave him one of her sweet smiles.

The nerves on the surface of his skin responded to her husky soft voice. Maybe he was a fool for waiting. “You bother me? Never. Come on, have a seat.”

He waited until she sat down then settled back in his seat. For a moment, she didn’t speak, just sucked her bottom luscious lip between her teeth and chewed on the pink flesh, eyes vulnerable behind her glasses. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but the silence was driving him nuts.

She reached up and touched the temple of her glasses, something she did when nervous. His gut tightened. “What is it, Kara?”

“I want you to know that it’s been a pleasure working here these past five years, Baron. You took a chance on me when I was fresh out of grad school and taught me so much. I’ll always be grateful for that. I’ve thought hard about this, it’s nothing personal, I just think the time is right for me to leave. I’m here to offer you my resignation.”

Baron’s chest had tightened before she finished her first sentence, every word after that a needle prickling his skin. She was leaving him, walking out. His brain short-circuited and the past rushed back with the force of a tsunami.

It was the situation with Valerie all over again. He knew it was irrational to feel betrayed, to compare the two women. They were nothing alike, the situations not remotely the same. Kara wasn’t pregnant with his child. His ring wasn’t on her finger. And she wasn’t about to take off with someone he’d thought was a friend. Baron clenched his teeth and forced himself to think and act rationally.

He looked at Kara’s hand and saw the letter she was holding. He glared at it until he saw her hand shake. That sign of weakness made him feel better. She wasn’t as calm as she appeared to be. His gaze moved to her face. Her eyes, hazel with specks of green on the edges, met his squarely and without guile.

“Why?” His made sure his voice was calm, with just the right amount of curiosity.

Surprise flashed in her eyes. What had she expected? For him to lose it? Sure, he wanted to take the damn letter from her hand and ram it in the shredder. The problem was she’d just bring him another one. From the stubborn angle of her chin and the determination gleaming in her eyes, the gorgeous woman thought she was doing the right thing by leaving. The sooner he disabused her of the idea the better they’d both be. They were perfect together as business partners, and if he had his way, he’d show her just how perfect they could be as a couple.

“I need to follow my dreams, Baron. It’s something I’d promised myself I’d do before I reached a certain age, and I’m not growing any younger.”

He understood dreams, but he couldn’t bring himself to applaud her decision. Valerie had said the same thing about following her dreams, though worded it differently, before shattering his life with, ‘I can’t do it married to you.’

Pain blindsided him, piercing and relentless. He thought he’d reconciled with his past and moved on. The echoes of it sneaked up on him when least expected, but never this vividly. He clenched his teeth to stop the ache, to contain the anger and the disappointment.

But Kara wasn’t Valerie. Kara was smart, gifted and tenacious, an amazing art conservator he couldn’t afford to lose. They once had a relationship that worked, one he’d missed these past years. He could have it all again—the meals in the basement, stimulating discussions, watching her eyes light up with laughter when he told his lame jokes. Only his time it would at work and at his home.

“Is it the money?” He made sure his voice stayed calm, belying the turmoil churning his insides into goo.

“No.” She shook her head so hard a lock of her pale hair moved to the front of her face. She brushed it behind her ear impatiently. “Of course not.”

“You know I could double it if that’s what you need.”

Anger flashed so fast in her eyes he might have imagined it. He ignored the letter in her hand and concentrated on her expression, her body language. Her gorgeous eyes watched him, calm but serious, her hand resting on top of her purse. With her love for vintage accessories and graceful mannerisms, she was a throwback to a time when women walked around with pink parasols and lackeys waited on them hand and foot. He wanted to be the one to pamper her, love her. There must be something he could do, offer her to stay while he planned his next move.

“Do you need a new studio? I can refurbish the offices next door to your specifications.”

A baffled frown settled between her curved eyebrows. “Fab Fashions just leased it.”

“Leases can be terminated at the landlord’s discretion.”

“And you think that would be fair?”

The censure in her voice made him feel like a heel, for about a second. There was a lot more at stake here than some tenant’s ruffled feathers. “I’m just trying to make it worth your while to stay, Kara. I’ll get a designer to start working on the—”

“No, Baron.” She jumped to her feet and pressed the tips of her fingers against her temple. “This is not about money or an office.”

“What is it then? Last year you said your work wasn’t challenging enough. You couldn’t reach your fullest potentials as a restorer of fine art when the bulk of your work was on antique furniture, busts, and vases. You needed to clean more paintings, the older the better. I made it happen.”

Her work was exceptional and word spread fast. People lined up to use her services, from private collectors to antique dealers. The demand for her services was only going to grow. Why couldn’t she see that? They were a team, damn it. A great team.

“Once again you’ve come up with a reason to leave. What exactly do you need, Kara?” His tone had gotten colder and curter as he progressed, and her eyes narrower.  

She nearly slammed the letter in front of him then braced herself on his desk with the palms of her hands, her eyes flashing. “You obviously haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said. I need to fulfill a dream. Something I thought you, of all people, would understand. Obviously I was wrong. You are...,” she growled deep in her chest, “never mind.”

Good gracious, she was glorious in anger. Her close proximity sent a dose of her feminine scent straight to his gut, piercing his defenses. Not that he’d ever had any when it came to her. His eyes shifted from her eyes, passed the kissable lips and chin imbued with steel stubbornness to the enticing cleavage, its size accentuated by the simple top she wore. He couldn’t stop the desire that surged through him or the thought that followed.

She’s mine.

“I’ve given you a month’s notice. If you need help finding my replacement, you know where to find me.” Her words killed his amorous thoughts and assertion.

“That won’t be necessary.” His tone came out dismissive, causing her eyes to darken further.

She straightened and gave him a sad smile. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. I don’t want us to part as enemies, Baron.”

He ignored the begging quality of her tone. What had she expected? Marching bands and fireworks? Courtesy demanded that he say something but he couldn’t think of anything that would be remotely polite. Last time she came into his office, talking about quitting, he’d shown her he was willing to go the extra mile to keep her. He’d called his contacts and let them know the gallery would, from that day, restore paintings from any period. He still didn’t know what he’d said to tick her off, women were unfathomable that way, but she’d read him the riot act, threatened to leave despite his efforts.

He’d swiftly moved around his desk to her side, ready to do anything to make her stay. In her haste to get up from the chair, she’d tripped and he did what came naturally to him—wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her. But it had presented an opportunity he would have been remiss not to exploit. Kissing her turned out to be a mistake. He hadn’t factored in his response, the roar of blood in his ears, the overwhelming urge to claim and possess. After Valerie, he’d sworn to never let a woman get under his skin. Kara did that evening, not with threats and broken promises but with a kiss. He set out to prove he would not be dictated to by his emotions, especially when it came to a woman, and had succeeded.

“I’ll let you continue with your work,” she mumbled, interrupting his thoughts, and turned to leave.        

Watching her step away from his desk sent panic straight to Baron’s gut. He hated the feeling, yet was helpless to control it. The intercom on his phone chose that moment to light up, too, demanding his attention. His focus stayed on Kara. He wanted to tell her to stay, beg her not to leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to beg. A man had his pride. If she couldn’t see how great they were together then maybe she needed to go.

Why then did the thought fill him with sadness?

At the door, Kara gave him one last look as though hoping he would say something. He couldn’t, that was how pissed off he was. He was more likely to haul her in his arms and kiss her crazy, a repeat of what happened a year ago. Only this time he was sure she would knee him. As the door closed behind her, his well-laid plans crumbled and dissolved into nothing.

Buy it on Amazon