“Lunch,” she replies, giving my hand a final squeeze before she dances out of the room, calling over her shoulder, “See ya later, Rogue.”

I grin when Rogan’s head whips around toward the door. “Did she just call me ‘Rogue’?”

“She did. She must’ve decided she likes you. She only gives nicknames to people she likes.”

I take a sip of my coffee, letting it warm what little bit of my insides aren’t already toasty, as I make my way to my station.

“And what do you do once you decide you like somebody?”

I turn to look at Rogan over my shoulder. He raises guilty eyes to mine, eyes that I caught staring at my butt. My prim reply dies on my lips and another bubbles up in response, a response that’s reminiscent of the old me. Because, for some reason, for just a heartbeat, I feel like my old self again. The self who had confidence and hope for a bright future. The self who was able to hold her own with guys no matter what they looked like. The self who was worth so much more than what I’ve become.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I taunt pluckily, letting a touch of a grin play with the corners of my mouth. It’s both liberating and terrifying to get a glimpse of Kat, the old me, rising through the ash that people know as Katie.

“Hell yeah, I would,” Rogan returns with unadulterated enthusiasm.

I turn away with my grin, but just as soon as my attention is back on my wide array of cosmetics, Kat disappears, leaving only Katie behind.

I feel the pinch of sadness grip my heart. My smile suffers a slow death when I realize that little glimpses are all I’ll ever get of the old me. Kat is dead. She died in a fire a long time ago and she’s never coming back.

TEN

Rogan

This woman . . . Holy shit!

What was that? I don’t know how the hell I got lucky enough to see her drop her carefully maintained exterior for a few seconds, but I’m damn sure glad that I did! Seeing her come out of her shell for that one comment, for that one quick flash of flirtatious fun was so unexpected it was like hearing a wildcat roar come from a fluffy little kitten.

Katie . . . Jesus, she’s fascinating! Even though I’ve only spent what amounts to probably a couple of hours with her, I’m dying to know everything there is to know about her, about why she hides such a wild and sexy woman behind that shy smile and those haunted eyes.

On the outside, she’s like many of the other women I’ve dated—beautiful face, great body—only she doesn’t have to try like they do. Not at all. She just is beautiful. But on the inside, I can already tell that she’s more. She’s obviously not superficial or stupid or easy, all of which are so common in this business. I’m getting all the opposite vibes from her. Just interacting with her the little that I have makes me think that I’ve never met anyone like her. I kinda like that she’s a little shy and a little hot. It’s a great mixture. It implies depth, and depth has been in short supply in my life. But now that I see it, that I sense it, I want it. I want it all. It’s like seeing the ocean after only playing in puddles, or tasting rich cream after only ever having candy.

“What’s your favorite kind of candy?” I ask out of the blue just as Katie starts to swirl a brush over my cheekbone. Her hand stills and her deep blue eyes fly to mine.

“Pardon?”

“Candy. What’s your favorite kind?”

“Why?”

“I was just thinking about it and wondered.”

“You were just thinking about candy?” she questions dubiously.

“Yep,” I reply with a grin. She shakes her head and resumes her swirling. When she doesn’t answer, I prompt, “Well?”

“Snickers,” she admits after a long pause. “My favorite candy is Snickers.”

“Snickers satisfies,” I mutter, loving how blood pours into her cheeks, turning the porcelain of her skin to a pale pink. “But it’s not candy.”

She slides her gaze to mine again, her finely arched brows tucking together. “Of course it is.”

“No, it’s chocolate.”

“Chocolate is candy.”

“Chocolate is not candy.”

“Then why is chocolate in the candy aisle at the store?”

“Because the world is deluded. I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you that, but it’s true.”

She drops her hand and tips her head to the side, giving me a withering look that makes her even more adorable. I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so much in my whole damn life. “You are right and the rest of the whole world is wrong?”

“Precisely. You’re one smart cookie, Beautiful Katie,” I declare, adding, “Also not a candy, by the way.”

Her lips twitch, but she refuses to smile. I have no idea why. Five minutes ago, she was playful, and now she’s . . . guarded. Maybe that’s what makes her so intriguing to me—the inconsistencies, the contrasts. They fill me with the desire to see how deep the ocean really goes, to taste how rich the cream actually is. I want to know what makes this woman tick and then I want to touch every cog, stroke every wheel. I want to be inside her head when I’m inside her body.

Christ Almighty! I really am starting to sound like a woman!

“Were you disappointed a lot as a child?” she asks.

“More than you know,” I reply too honestly, immediately regretting it when her eyes get all puzzled. I recover quickly, though. Something else I’ve learned over the course of a life spent blocking fists. “But never about candy. I was an authority then and I’m an authority now.”

“Is that right?” Her expression is comically doubtful. “Well do tell, Mr. Authority. What, in your infinite wisdom, qualifies as candy?”

“Anything that has an ingredient list consisting mainly of sugar and has an assortment of additives that I can’t pronounce that are numbered or include the word ‘lake.’”

“So anything that contains words you can’t pronounce is considered candy?”

“Precisely,” I repeat.

Her eyes go all wide and innocent, belying the sarcasm to come. “Wow! The dictionary must be the mother lode of candy.”

Katie’s expression doesn’t change, her face straight and serious, which makes me want to kiss her again. Kiss her until all I see is a reflection of my desire for her. If she ever lets me get that far, I’ll close the door and keep kissing her until I’m all she can see or think about or feel. All over. Inside and out.

“See? You learned something new today. Impressed yet?”

“You’re certainly making an impression,” she says dryly, still not giving in to her urge to smile.

“Since you are otherwise engaged today, how about lunch tomorrow? I feel like if I’m gonna impress you, I’m going to need more than a few minutes in the mornings.”

“As . . . interesting as that sounds, I think I’ll pass, but thank you.”

“You leave me no choice then,” I tell her vaguely.

“No choice but to what?”

I pause for effect and then let it drag on for a little longer, just to crank up her curiosity. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I ask, throwing her own words back at her.

I laugh when she narrows her eyes threateningly. I’m going to do much more than kiss her before this is over.

ELEVEN

Katie

On the fourth morning, I don’t even expect to see Mona until I reach my office. I think she’s as taken with Rogan as everyone else seems to be. I’m trying desperately not to fall into that trap, but it’s getting a little harder each day. Especially when I walk in to find him sitting in my makeup chair, early as always, patiently holding a cup of coffee that I know will be mine.