I wake up with the knowledge that something is wrong. Rising from the bed, I start to look around the darkened room before realizing it’s Landon who woke me up.

He’s still asleep, but his muscles are tense and straining, his hands into curled into fists by his side. His eyes are tightly closed, and he’s moaning words in his sleep, the sounds barely comprehensible.

“No,” he says, his head moving from side to side. “No, please, let me go,” then a long strained, “Mom.”

I look up at his face, and it’s drawn into a tight mixture of desperation and despair. I have no idea what to do. My only experience of nightmares is the boogeyman my little brother Dylan struggled with for about two months when he was six.

Landon makes another tortured sound and, unsure of what to do, I put my arms around him, stroking his chest as I pray for his nightmare to end. It finally does, his body relaxing as sleep takes over. I stay awake long after, still stroking him lightly, until finally, I fall asleep again.

“WHEN are you coming back?” Laurie mock-wails on the phone. “I just managed to escape from the moms. They were driving me crazy asking-but-not-asking when me and Brett are planning to get married.”

“Hehe.” I laugh gleefully, pleased that I had a valid reason to avoid the Foster family Sunday lunch. Though I’d have liked to see my dad, Dylan, Uncle Taylor, who always proclaims that I’m his favorite niece no matter how many times I remind him that I’m his only niece, and Aunt Jacie, even though she always conspires with my mom as if they’re the twins in the family. “Did they make their signature Foster family everything salad?” I ask Laurie.

“Arghh, don’t remind me. Brett loved it though.” I hear the sound of a kiss. “He says hurry back home, and that you’re not fooling anyone into thinking you’re getting any work done over there.”

“Tell him I said boo.”

She laughs. “I miss you, but don’t hurry back just because of me.”

After we hang up, Landon looks up from whatever he’s reading on his tablet. He looks handsome and well rested, his wavy hair gleaming, making me want to run a hand through the silky strands. “Your cousin?”

“Yup,” I reply. We’re back in the city, on our way back to the hotel after spending the morning exploring the rocky beach, lying in the sun, and making love in the warmth of the patio. I haven’t mentioned his nightmare, and I’m not sure I should. I don’t know what I can do to help, or if I’m even equipped to.

“She must miss you,” he says, still talking about Laurie.

“Nah, she just misses having someone to torture with her teasing.” I chuckle at Landon’s frown. “I’m joking, I miss her too.”

He considers me for a moment. “Maybe I can cheer you up,” he suggests. “How would you like to go to a party tonight?”

“A party?”

“Well, not really a party per se. It’s the opening night gala for the San Francisco Ballet.”

A gala? “Isn’t that a big deal?”

He shrugs. “I wasn’t planning to go, but I thought you might want to. My mother used to be part of the company before she was hired away to New York. I’ve always been a sponsor.”

My first thought is that I have nothing to wear to a high society gala. “Well, thanks for telling me now,” I say, lips pursed, “instead of when I could have actually packed a dress to wear to a ball.”

He smiles at my petulance. “Don’t worry about what to wear—that’s what fairy godmothers are for.”

“If you were the fairy godmother, Cinderella would never have made it to the ball,” I tease. “She wouldn’t even want to, not with the multiple orgasms she’d be getting in the pumpkin carriage.”

“I wouldn’t ruin a children’s fairy tale just for sex,” he replies, chuckling, “but thanks for letting me know you think I’m more desirable than Prince Charming.”

I laugh softly. “I love how humble you are.”

His blue eyes hold mine. “Is that all you love?”

The question is a replay of the one I asked him in an earlier conversation, so I repeat the same words he replied the first time. “You have no idea.”

True to Landon’s promise, there are delivery boxes on my bed when we arrive back at the suite. The larger box contains a dress covered in layers of tissue, another contains underwear, and yet another contains matching shoes which are exactly my size. I pull the dress out of the box, feeling the exquisite material brush against my skin. It’s a deep purple gown made out of the softest, most luxurious silk. Holding it against my body, I walk over to the adjoining dressing room to look in the mirror. It’s gorgeous.

After hanging up the dress, I return to my room to find Landon waiting for me at the door. “I’m going to be in the library. I have a long call to make.”

On a Sunday? is my first thought, but I suppose with everything he has to take care of, he probably works every single day. “Thanks for the dress.”

“I should be thanking you. You’ll save me from drowning in socialites, I promise.”

“I can look fierce and glare at any woman who comes within two feet of you.”

“That would be ideal,” he says, his blue eyes serious. “There’re going to be a few people here later to help you get ready.

I grin. “Yay! Pampering!”

He looks amused. “I’ll just hide out in the library ’til they’re gone.”

“You’re scared of makeup brushes and hair styling tools?”

“Not scared.” He pauses. “Just wary of the whole process, although I have no doubt I’ll appreciate the results.”

“You will,” I say confidently.

“As I said, I have no doubt.” He makes no move to go, leaning on the door frame as he looks at me. There’s a strange half-smile on his face. “A week has never seemed so short,” he says finally before leaving me reeling with all the possible implications and interpretations of that simple statement.

LANDON’S few people turn out to be an army of five from the hotel spa. They arrive after I finally finish working on Mark’s comments and sending the second draft of the article to him so he can read it first thing tomorrow morning.

After I take a quick shower, they give me the hair, nail, and makeup treatment. By the time they’re done, I look and feel like a glamorous Hollywood star on the red carpet.

When I’m ready, I leave my room and find Landon waiting in the living room. At the sight of him, my breath catches in my throat.

It’s really unfair for one man to have so much, to look so perfect, to achieve all that he has and still be blessed with such incredible sex appeal. His black tuxedo is perfectly molded to his figure like it was custom made for him—which it probably was. His hair is brushed backward into sleek waves that curl at the ends, but the dark gold strands are already finding their way out of the orderly arrangement. As I enter the room, he turns to look at me, his eyes gleaming with sensual intensity as they travel over my body.

He strides toward me, his movements both sure and graceful. “You look ravishing.” His eyes make no attempt to hide the fact that he’d like to be doing the ravishing.

“I had help.”

He makes a dismissive sound. “No, this is all you.”

My stomach tingling with the compliment, I follow him out of the suite.

There’s a limo downstairs and once we’re inside, he pulls a black velvet box from his inner jacket pocket and opens it to reveal a glittering diamond choker and earrings. The colors are perfect for my gown, and they are beautiful.

“God, it’s perfect,” I whisper.

“I’m glad you think so.” He takes the choker out of the box. “May I?”

“I don’t…” I look from the obviously expensive piece of jewelry to him. “I don’t think I can take this.”

He looks surprised. “Why not? It’s just jewelry.”

“Very expensive jewelry.”

He looks at me. “You wouldn’t feel better about it if it were cheap.”

“That’s not the point.” I pause. “How many women have you given jewelry?”

There’s a short pause before he replies. “A few.”

“Well, this makes me feel like one of ‘your’ women, and I don’t want to feel like I’m being given expensive gifts for spending time with you.”

He grins, his teeth gleaming white in the dimness of the car. “Even if I had any ‘women,’ I’d never consider you as ‘one of them.’ He clasps the choker around my neck, his hands lingering at my nape before he pulls them back and gives me the earrings. “Consider it a loan then, just for tonight. They look wonderful on you.”

The limo drops us off, and we walk up a flight of steps to the entrance of the public building where the pre-performance reception and dinner is being held. There are flashing lights everywhere as cameras go off. We walk into the lobby, where cocktails are being served, and I spot a few famous faces. There are politicians and Hollywood stars liberally sprinkled among the designer-suited moguls, trophy wives dripping with diamonds, and powerful women with the aura of confidence that only comes from facing the world on their own terms. Landon navigates a politely reserved path through them all, stopping for a word here, a handshake there, and a compliment for some of the women.

I’m enjoying myself, sipping my champagne while watching Landon engage in light conversation with a couple he just introduced to me, when a man who, though handsome, looks as if he’s already drunk too much, steps directly into our path.

“I suppose now you have more reason to be in San Francisco,” he says to Landon, his expression practically dripping with hatred. He turns to look at me, his eyes traveling insolently up and down my body. “Something else you’ve bought, I presume.”

“You need to learn to control your tongue if you don’t want to get your nose broken,” Landon replies, his expression retaining the mask of politeness even though I can hear a dangerous bite in his voice. “You already lost too much to risk losing that pretty face of yours too, haven’t you, Sinclair?”

I recognize the name as the man blanches, involuntarily rubbing the nose in question before turning and walking away. He’s Evans Sinclair, the former owner of the Gold Dust Hotel.

Landon watches his retreating form with hard, uncompromising eyes, and I’m reminded of Jack’s warning about his ruthlessness in business. “Well, that’s one person who doesn’t like you,” I say lightly.

“He happens to be one person whose good opinion I can do without.”

“Hey Red,” a familiar voice says from behind me. I turn around and see Cameron McDaniel’s broad smile and friendly eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re still hanging out with this one.” He nods in Landon’s direction.

I smile back. “I hate to disappoint you, but I am indeed.”

He shakes his head in an exaggerated gesture of mournfulness. “More’s the pity,” he intones.

“Shut up and stop badmouthing me,” Landon says good-naturedly. They grin at each other and do the quick bro-hug thing before Landon turns to the person beside Cameron, a slightly built dark-haired woman whose tummy has a slight roundness that hints at early pregnancy.

“Hey Jules,” he says, kissing her on both cheeks. “How are you?”

“Knocked up.” She sighs and turns to me. “I’m Jules McDaniel, Cameron’s wife.”

“Rachel Foster. I’m here with Landon.”

“Okay.” She takes my hand and turns to her husband and Landon. “Where’s our table, or are you two planning to keep a pregnant woman standing all night?”

It’s almost comic the way her words galvanize them into action. They start off to find the table, engaging the help of an usher, who checks his chart and leads us to a table close to the raised podium, where a slideshow of dancers is showing on a huge screen.

The table is empty except for us. While Cameron is busy pulling out a seat for Jules, two additions show up to join us.

“I’m glad you could make it,” the distinguished older man with short silver hair and sparkling eyes says to Landon before his eyes skip to me. “Please introduce me to your lovely companion.”

Landon introduces us. The man is Nelson Bledsoe, a self-made cosmetics billionaire who made his fortune developing and selling a line of men’s skin and hair care products. He’s also a sponsor of the ballet company. While Landon speaks, the man’s companion, a beautiful dark-haired girl with olive skin, sloe eyes, and a striking red mermaid gown, never takes her eyes off him.

While I’m still wondering if she’s his trophy girlfriend, Nelson turns to Landon. “I’m sure you don’t remember my daughter Davina. You only met her once.”

“At my father’s funeral ten years ago,” Landon says, looking at her. “You’ve changed.”

She smiles. “So have you.”

Something about the exchange puts me on edge. Ten years ago, Landon was nineteen, and since the girl looks at least a few years younger than me, that puts her at about twelve or less, so definitely nothing could have happened between them at the time. Even so, there’s just something about the way she’s looking at him that makes me think maybe she wants a lot more from this reunion than just hello.

“Davina served on the board for the gala this year,” her father says proudly. “She’s now a swan in her own right.”

“In San Francisco at least,” Davina says in a tone that makes me think she’s more interested in conquering the rest of the world.

“Let’s sit.” Nelson pulls out a chair for his daughter while Landon does the same for me, and I can’t help but notice that Davina is on his other side. He says something to her and she smiles, and I feel a thin sliver of jealousy slice its way through my stomach.

This is ridiculous, I tell myself, ignoring the rich sound of Landon’s laughter as he discusses something with Nelson. I have absolutely no reason, no right to be jealous. I turn to Jules on my other side. She’s asking about my gown while looking longingly at the glasses of champagne being consumed around the table. I answer her questions, and while Cameron joins the conversation Landon is having with Nelson, Jules tells me about her work in restaurant management, through which she met her husband.

I hear Landon laugh again, and I turn to look at him, admiring the raw beauty in his profile. At that moment, he looks toward me and catches me staring. His piercing blue eyes hold mine, and he reaches for my hand under the table, squeezing it gently. In that moment, it’s just the two of us; nobody else exists, nobody else matters.

I turn away from his gaze, feeling confused and emotional.

“So Rachel,” Nelson says from across the table with a smile in my direction. “How would you compare the new San Francisco version to Swanson Court in New York?”

“I haven’t visited the New York hotel extensively, but from what I’ve seen, I’d say San Francisco tends more toward modern luxury, while New York is timeless elegance.”

“Well put.” Nelson nods.

“Modern luxury is the exact concept we had in mind for the refurbishment,” Landon adds. “It’s very gratifying that Rachel thinks we succeeded.”

I meet his eyes, and he’s looking at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “Your team did an excellent job bringing out the concept in their design.”

“Landon lives at the Swanson Court,” Davina says pointedly, her eyes on me. “If you haven’t spent a lot of time there, then you two are not very close.”

Oh, we’re close, I want to tell her, just to wipe the smirk from her face, but I resist the urge. “We’re as close as we need to be—I’m only writing a feature on his hotel.”

“Hmm.” She smiles. “Of course.”

“Landon here has a knack for building hotels people can’t resist,” Nelson tells me. “His father would be so proud of him. Preston had all these dreams for expanding the Swanson Court hotels, and Landon is bringing them to life.”

My interest is piqued. “You knew Landon’s father?”

“Yes, I did,” he says. “Preston and Alicia were close friends of mine, and they were spectacular, I tell you. Alicia was the pride of the New York City Ballet, and Preston, well he was Preston. I remember when Alicia danced Odette in Swan Lake. It was phenomenal. I believe Gilt Style did a feature on her, called her the ‘Swan of New York’.”

Landon is still holding my hand, and I feel his fingers stiffen. Then he releases my hand and places his on the table, turning his gaze toward the exhibition of pictures on the large screen. His face is suddenly blank, his expression inscrutable, and I remember the nightmare he had last night. All Nelson’s talk about his parents can only be awakening the painful memories from the day he lost his mother.

Feeling sad for him, I manage to change the subject, steering Nelson to conversations about his company. Food is served by solicitous waiters while the sponsors and chairs give their speeches. Later, we all move to the opera house across the street where the opening night performances will take place.

From the moment the curtain rises the first time to the end of the last performance, the audience is transfixed. I enjoy the performances, thinking how Laurie would have loved to see them. I’m also worried about Landon, seeing how he might be reminded of his mother.

After the last performances, we go back across the street for the after party. Landon leads me to the dance floor, his hand at my waist molding my body to his as he moves in time to the slow ballad a popular singer is belting out from the stage.

I rest my head on his chest, breathing in the seductive scent of his cologne, the expertise with which he moves his body making me think of how well he uses it to give pleasure.

“Enjoying yourself?” He whispers the question into my ear.

I look up at him. “I am.”

He nods and continues to lead me in the dance.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” I ask, still looking at his face.

His smile is sensual. “I have a lot to look forward to.”

The words make me shiver in anticipation. I know exactly what he’s talking about, and I feel the same way.

I take a breath, knowing I should change the subject before the lust that’s suddenly growing in my body takes over me completely.

“When Nelson was talking about your parents earlier…” I start, almost faltering when a frown creases his brow, but I soldier on. “I just…I read about you on the internet, so obviously, I found some news stories. I noticed that you were upset. I don’t know how it feels to lose someone, but I’m sorry.”

He sighs. “I wasn’t upset. I would just rather not think about it.”

I nod. “I can imagine.”

He shakes his head. “You can’t. Not really.” He’s looking straight ahead. “They were all in love with her, you know, every single man in their circle—including Nelson Bledsoe—but she was crazy about my father. The rumors made her crazy. No matter how often he told her that they were lies, if he wasn’t right in front of her, she drove herself to jealousy imagining that he was with someone else.”

I’d read the tabloid rumors about Preston Court’s affairs. It would have been so easy for someone to believe them, especially someone who loved him.

“The day we had the accident, some busy body called her about yet another rumor. My father had recently decided to expand the hotels. He was trying to acquire property in L.A. She didn’t wait to hear his side. She took off her ring and left a note then bundled us in the car with all our favorite books and toys, so I knew wherever we were going, we wouldn’t be back for a long time.” He takes a deep breath. “We never found out where she meant to take us. Car crashed. She died. End of story.”

I stare at him, unable to process how painful it must have been. “Landon…”

“Aidan didn’t utter a word for the next five years,” he continues without emotion. “My father was never the same. People like to say he became a recluse