A few days later, my article about the Insomnia lounge is up on the site. I refresh the page for like the fifth time, reading the new comments. Most of the people commenting have been there, and have nothing but praise. The people who haven’t been leave comments about making sure to visit next time they’re in the city.

Not bad.

There’re a few pictures of the lounge published with the article, shots of the VIP area among them. Just looking at the pictures, I can’t help thinking about Landon, the way he held my hand, and how intoxicated I was by his presence.

God! I have to stop thinking about him. He’s just a crutch. He’s just something I’m subconsciously using to occupy my mind while I deal with getting over Jack, the person who has occupied it for the past two years.

The person I haven’t thought of for days.

Right now, it’s Landon who’s occupying the prime place in my thoughts. Landon who didn’t even bother to ask to see me again, because in his mind, I was just a hooker on her day off.

The words on my screen start to look blurry, and I turn toward the window, a tiny slice of glass that provides me a limited view of other office buildings and a little sky. He wanted me—I’d felt it, in his touch, in his voice, in the heat from his body that found its way into mine, making my whole body thrum with need for him.

He wanted me, and yet he chose to do nothing about it. Now, I feel silly for allowing myself to toy with the idea that somehow, he’d found out who I was and was there to see me.

Even Laurie had been thinking along the same lines.

“I thought you said you didn’t leave him your number,” she asked me on our way home in the car the club had provided.

“I didn’t.”

“So…he just appeared at the same Lounge you had to go to for a work assignment? It was a coincidence?”

“What else could it be? He doesn’t even know my last name.”

“That seems very unlikely,” she pronounced before transferring her attention back to Brett.

But it was a coincidence, and he hadn’t even been interested enough to use the opportunity afforded by that coincidence. I was so desperate for him, I’d have followed him back to his apartment, his car, or any dark corner without a thought.

My door opens, jerking me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see Jack standing at the entrance to my office.

I haven’t thought about him in a while, but now that he’s standing right in front of me, it hits me that all the romantic hopes and dreams I’ve centered on him for the past two years have resulted in nothing, and there’s a small ache that comes with that realization.

“Hi.” There’s an uncertain frown on his face as he looks at me. His shirt is tucked into jeans, and he has a deep blue jacket slung over one shoulder. As much as I would prefer not to admit it, he does look good.

“Hi Jack.”

“You busy?”

That has always been his standard question. Usually, I say no, and then he comes in and sits on my desk. We talk, and he makes me laugh so hard my stomach hurts. Now I can’t even imagine laughing at anything he says.

I give him a humorless smile. “I am, actually.”

“Rachel.” He draws out my name as he walks into my office. “Don’t be mad.”

Don’t be mad. That’s all he has to say. I snort. “I’m actually not mad, Jack, but I’m really kinda busy at the moment.”

He stares at me then comes around the desk, leaning on it as he smiles down at me. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

“Yeah, the way you always do. You missed me when you were dating that flamenco dancer in Spain, that Italian swimmer you spent a month sailing with, the Brazilian model… You always miss me, but never enough to—” I stop, annoyed with myself for even allowing the outburst. “How’s your fiancée?”

“She’s great.”

“Good.”

He suddenly reaches for my hand, taking it in his. The touch is intimate, but not strange. I realize how often he’s touched me like this over the past two years, gestures of intimacy that keep me hoping, yet make no promises.

I stare at my hand in his, and I find myself thinking of Landon, about how different it feels to be touched by him. There’s something potent about Landon’s touch, something that sets me on fire and makes me want to toss away all my inhibitions.

“Rachel,” Jack is saying, “I know we have a history, but it was a long time ago. What I need now is for you to be happy for me. I need to know we can still be friends.” His eyes are imploring as they hold mine. I know the look well; it’s one he has used successfully to break down my resistance over the years. Usually, it would make me succumb to whatever he was suggesting. Right now, though, it just makes me think of Laurie’s words. “He knows you’re in love with him, and he wants to keep you that way, so you’ll always be there.”

My desk phone rings, freeing me from having to respond to Jack. I pull my hand from his and pick up the phone, holding the receiver to my ear. “Hello.”

“Jessica wants you.” It’s the brusque and efficient voice of Carol Mendez, secretary to Jessica Layner, editor-in-chief of Gilt Traveler.

In all my time at Gilt, Jessica has never requested me specifically. In fact, I don’t think she’s ever said more than two words to me. “What for?”

“You can ask her when you get here,” Carol snaps, and I hear a click to signify that the conversation is over.

I get up from my chair. “I have to go,” I tell Jack.

He looks disappointed. “All right, but we should talk later, Rachel. I can’t stand this…distance.”

I watch him leave, frowning as I pick up a tiny notepad and a pen. He’s going to have to get used to the distance, I decide resolutely. There’s no way I’m letting our relationship go back to the old dynamic, where I wait on the sidelines hoping for little crumbs of his attention.

AS the editor-in-chief, Jessica has the largest corner office on the floor. It’s actually a suite, with a large closet/dressing room, a private seating room for when she doesn’t want to be disturbed, and the main office, from where she commands us foot soldiers. I arrive at Carol Mendez’s office first. “Jessica’s in,” she tells me, barely looking up from her computer.

“Thank you,” I reply, wondering what Jessica Layner could want with me. To be honest, she’s rather intimidating. I spent my first year at Gilt terrified of her. She’s very fashionable, tall, and slender, with sharp eyes that don’t miss a thing, an attractive face, and a body any woman would be proud of at any age. She’s in her late fifties, according to Wikipedia, but Mark Willis once confided that she’s a few years older than her official age.

From Carol’s office, I enter the short hallway that leads to Jessica’s. The walls are lined with pictures of Jessica with various politicians, Hollywood stars, and world leaders. Further intimidated, I smooth my sleeveless cream silk blouse and black knee-length pencil skirt then run a hand over my hair before opening the door to Jessica’s spacious office. I see her as soon as I enter the room. She’s sitting at her desk, facing the door with her back to the windows, her signature mane of back-length, expertly colored blonde hair framing her face like a halo.

There’s a man sitting opposite her on the other side of her desk, wearing what looks like a very expensive suit. Something about his profile, even from behind, makes my stomach tighten. Even so, I’m so concerned about what Jessica has to say to me, that I don’t spare more than a quick glance at the thick waves of dark gold hair and the obviously good-looking body in the suit.

I take two more steps inside the room, my eyes on Jessica, but something makes me turn back toward the man. At the same time, he raises his gaze to meet mine, and for a moment—longer than a moment—my heart actually stops beating.

Landon.

I forget about Jessica as my eyes drink him in. I forget everything but him. I feel elated and confused at the same time. Blood surges under my skin, making me weak, and still he keeps on looking at me, his deep blue eyes holding me like a prisoner.

What is he doing here?

There is a small smile on his face. It looks harmless, friendly even, but beneath the surface, I can sense the danger.

He knows. There’s no surprise in his face at seeing me, only that smile that tells me he knows exactly who I am and that I work here.

“Rachel.” Jessica’s voice sounds far away, and it takes a concerted effort to force my eyes to break away from Landon’s gaze and go to her. “I’m glad you’re here,” she’s saying, as if she has forgotten she sent for me. “This is Landon Court.”

He gets up and faces me. I suck in a breath, feeling as if I’ve been kicked in the stomach. There’s just something so raw and feral in his beauty. In the light of Jessica’s office, all the burnished gold in his hair gleams brightly, contrasting with the darker parts. Captivated by the sexy smirk curling his lips, I stand frozen as he extends a hand toward me. “It’s nice to meet you Rachel,” he says in that deep raspy voice.

I let him take my hand, as if I’m not already confused enough without having to deal with the jolt I feel when his skin touches mine. “It’s…It’s nice to meet you too,” I stammer, turning a confused glance toward Jessica.

“Landon was in the building for a meeting, and he stopped by to say hello to an old friend—”

“Definitely not old, Jessica,” he says to her without letting go of my hand.

She smiles indulgently in a way I’ve never seen before, and I look from one to the other, wondering what the hell is going on. “Thank you, Landon.” She turns back to me. “He wanted to thank you for that lovely article on the Insomnia Lounge.”

I turn from Jessica—who has never noticed anything I’ve ever written, much less described it as lovely—to Landon. I’m finding it difficult to comprehend what’s going on.

“I don’t understand…” I say, feeling stupid. “Why…?”

Jessica smiles. “Landon owns the place. We had a little discussion earlier in the week and decided an article about it would be the right fit for our website…”

I can hardly hear what she’s saying; I’m staring at Landon.

He owns the place.

“…and Landon requested that you write it. Luckily he’d read a couple of similar articles you’ve written…”

He requested for me to write it. He arranged for me to be there, and then he appeared. That meant he’d known who I was, had known since early in the week, and he’d had the nerve to ask me if I was working the joint!

Jessica keeps talking, but it’s almost as if she’s not in the room. I can only see Landon, the contrast between the polite smile curling his lips and the steeliness in his blue eyes. You lied to me, he seems to be saying. What are you going to do now that I’ve found you?

I jerk my hand back from his, annoyed. I may have lied to him—no, I may have omitted that he was mistaking me for someone else, but no way did that mean he had the right to use my work to get me to his club under false pretenses, to practically seduce me again, all the while pretending he didn’t know who I was.

I don’t need this. After Jack, I don’t need to even be in the same room with a man who wants to play games with me. I take a deep breath, doing my best to calm the emotions raging inside me, and then I school my face into a polite smile. “I’m glad you liked the article, Mr. Court—”

“Landon,” he interrupts smoothly, cocking his head slightly as he gives me another small smile. “Of course I liked it. You’re obviously very good at what you do.”

I pause, momentarily distracted by the pure suggestiveness of his statement. “Mr. Court,” I say deliberately, “I had a great time at your club, and the article reflected that. If that is all, I have to get back to work.” I smile politely at Jessica before turning around and heading for the door.

Outside Jessica’s office, I pause for a moment, breathing deeply and trying to compose myself before I cross the short hallway to the door leading to Carol’s office.

I’m about to open the door when I hear Landon’s voice behind me.

“Wait.”

It’s a terse command, and if I had any self-respect, I would ignore it, but I stop, my hand on the door knob. I don’t want to turn around, but almost as if I have no control over my own actions, I find myself turning to look at him.

He takes a step toward me, and my breath quickens. “Why the rush, Rachel?”

I lick my lips. “I have work to do.”

“You said.” He gives me a look. “Although this is a strange workplace for a hooker.”

I pull in a sharp breath. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew?”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie to you,” I say evenly. “You made an assumption.”

“And you didn’t think that maybe you should have corrected my mistake?” he asks, his voice edged with annoyance. “I spent the weekend wondering why you didn’t leave your number, but I thought it didn’t matter, since I could always get it from my brother. Try to imagine how surprised I was when I called him and he had no idea what I was talking about.”

When he assumed I was a hooker, he also assumed that I was a birthday present from his brother. I didn’t even want to start thinking about how strange that was. “Look,” I start, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but you had no right to get me to your lounge under false pretenses just so you could… How did you even find out who I was?”

He shrugs, not bothering to reply. Of course, with the depths of his pockets, he probably has access to resources I can’t even imagine. “You had every chance to tell me you weren’t who I thought you were,” he continues. “Why didn’t you?”

I stay quiet. There’s no way I’m going to admit that I wanted him so much, I was willing to pretend to be a hooker. “Why are you here, Landon?”

He moves toward me, and in a few steps, he’s right in front of me. I try to step back, shaken by the surge of desire I feel, but my back is against the door. He closes in on me, enveloping me with his body and his presence, making me feel as if I’m losing control of myself.

His voice is hard. “I’m here because you owe me an explanation. That night at the hotel, why did you stay? Did you know who I was?”

I shake my head, trying to dispel the effect of his body being so close to mine. “I didn’t, and I don’t owe you anything. I wanted a one-night stand, and you wanted a hooker. We both got what we wanted. Why can’t you leave it at that?”

He leans downward, one hand resting on the door beside my head as he brings his face close to mine. I lose my train of thought, my eyes locking on his sensual lips. They are so close. I wet my lips, nervous and aroused, and as if he knows, he smiles. “I didn’t get what I thought I was getting,” he murmurs, “and in any case, my hooker didn’t get paid, did she? That’s unacceptable to me Rachel. I always pay my debts.”

“Maybe your ‘hooker’ decided to make it a charity case,” I snap.

He laughs. The sound is rich, sexy, and it warms me to my toes. “I’m sure I don’t strike you as someone who needs charity.”

No, he does not. I take a shaky breath. “Well then,” I say with a calmness I don’t feel. “Back to my original question. Why are you here?”

“Maybe…” he says slowly, moving his body closer still, so that between the door at my back and him so close to me in front, I can hardly breathe. “Maybe I want to fuck you again.”

Raw heat floods between my thighs, making my knees go weak. My lips part as I drag in a ragged breath. He’s not even touching me, and yet, I feel as turned on as if he was. Desperate, I turn my face to the side so I can’t see his perfect face, his mesmerizing eyes, the perfect curve of his lower lip. His breath fans against my ear and I close my eyes, trying to find the words to tell him to leave me alone when all I want is for him to fulfill the wild desire coursing through me.

“If that’s why you’re here,” I say slowly, “you’re wasting your time.” I swallow. My even tone belies the fact that my body is already his, from my straining nipples to my aching sex. “Jessica could walk into this hallway any moment, so if you don’t want her to come in and find us like this, I think you’d better let me go.”

He smiles, his eyes communicating exactly what he thinks of my dismissal. He knows I want him—how could he not, when my whole body is straining toward him as if drawn by a magnet. His eyes hold mine for a long moment, until I’m sure I’m going to lose the ability to breathe.

“I couldn’t care less about Jessica finding us,” he says, “and I never waste my time.” He places a hand on my waist, and at the contact, I let out a gasp. But he only lifts me from the door, molding me to his hard body just for a second before he sets me back on my shaky legs. “I always get what I want, Rachel,” he says softly. Then he reaches behind me and opens the door, walks past me, and leaves me standing there with my heart racing and blood pounding in my ears as I try to get my traitorous body under control again.