“Yes, I’m the bar manager at First. We’re interested in Libby’s business, so she was kind enough to talk me through how she makes her product.”

“Oh.” Nina nodded, some of the suspicion seeping out of her features. “That’s great.”

“Nina is the one responsible for all the artwork I showed you.” Libby looked up at Paul, hoping to hell her features didn’t betray her.

Cool as a cucumber, you can do it!

“You make a great team.” He looked at his phone and shoved it into his back pocket. “I should be heading off.”

“Meet me in the office, Neens. I just need to finish up with Paul.” Libby swallowed the giggle that bubbled up in her throat.

Maybe it was the fact that she’d had her first orgasm in months—one that didn’t come from her own hand—or perhaps it was just that she was doing something naughty for once, but Libby felt giddy with the danger of it all. She never lied to her friends, and it had been an age since she got involved with a guy for anything more than scratching an itch.

But she had to remember that’s all it was, a silly mistake. Paul was just the kind of guy to have a girl melting at his feet, that’s why he was so damn good at it! She had to stay away; getting involved with a ladies’ man was not on her agenda.

“Nice to meet you, Paul.” Nina nodded and retreated into the depths of the house.

“Outside. Now.” Paul’s breath tickled her ear as the whispered command sent a shiver down her spine.

“Did you even set the timer?” she asked as they walked out onto the front of the house. She closed the door behind her.

“You seemed so certain that you’d be able to say no, I didn’t think you needed it.” He looked so smug she wanted to kick him in the shins and wipe that self-satisfied grin off his face.

“I’ll get you back, you know that, right?”

“I look forward to it, Tiger.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek. “See you later.”

He made it halfway down the driveway before Libby found her voice. “Why did you come by today, anyway?”

“I wanted to tell you about the mixology idea…and Gracie and Des are coming for dinner tomorrow night. Bring some of your product around and we’ll give them a chance to try it firsthand. I’ll text you the details.”

“You could have just called.” She planted her hands on her hips.

“Aren’t you glad I didn’t?”

Without waiting for her to respond, he headed toward his car with the kind of hip-rolling gait that was hot enough to singe a girl’s panties. Speaking of panties, hers were…irreparable.

Libby waited until Paul had driven off before she headed back into the house, undoubtedly to face an inquisition from Nina. Paul had covered when words failed her, but her best friend wasn’t so easily fooled.

She found Nina sitting on her desk, twirling a strand of her bright blue hair around one finger.

“Spill,” she demanded.

“Spill what?” Libby shrugged innocently and went to her stock cabinet to select a few bottles to present to Des and Gracie.

“You don’t expect me to believe that gorgeous hunk of a man was here purely for business.” She raised a brow. “Or did you get that JBF look all by yourself?”

“JBF?”

“Just been fucked.”

Libby held up a hand in surrender. “So we kissed, no big deal.”

“You did more than kiss.”

Libby sighed and plucked out a bottle of lemon myrtle vodka. “Why would you think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Nina shrugged. “Maybe because you’ve got that puppy-dog look on your face. Or maybe because his jeans were more revealing than he probably wanted them to be.”

Heat surged through Libby, the memory of Paul’s hands on her fresh and raw. It was lucky that Nina had interrupted them—she would have given him anything at that point. At least now she had a minor indiscretion on her record rather than a full-blown fake relationship violation.

“Lucky you, by the way, and you’re a terrible liar.” Nina winked in her usual lewd manner and burst out laughing when Libby looked at her guiltily. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No,” she sighed. “But I was damn close.”

“You should have put a bloody sock on the door or something. I don’t want to be the source of your continued sexual frustration.”

“I’m not the one who’s frustrated.” She couldn’t stifle her grin.

“You dirty birdy!” Nina slapped her palm down on the surface of the table. “I love it.”

“So did I, unfortunately,” Libby muttered.

Tomorrow night she’d have to keep her cool. She may have slipped up, but that wasn’t a reason to throw it all in. Paul was dangerous, and she’d already opened up to him more about her past than any other person with the exception of Nina. She didn’t want a relationship, and talking about personal stuff before sex was definitely relationship territory.

She had to put a stop to it now, no matter how much she wanted to return the favor.

Since meeting Libby, Paul found himself uninterested in other women. Temptation hadn’t once caught his eye at the bar or anywhere else. All he could think of was the plucky redhead who’d burst into his life and not only given him a permanent hard-on, but had made him feel things that had been locked away for a long time.

Like possessiveness. The need to protect. A desire to listen and learn.

These were all things he hadn’t experienced since Sadie, but the comparison terrified him. They were very different people, but some of the traits that had pulled him and Sadie apart were the things that attracted him to Libby, like her ambition. That wonderful competitive streak. Her relentless pursuit of what she wanted. Those similarities were so clear, in fact, that he could see the way their future would unfold…right down to the exact scene where she was packing her bags and leaving him.

He couldn’t let her get under his skin.

Focusing on the fact that Libby drove him crazy with her passion, despite trying her hardest to hide it, would be the best thing he could do. After leaving her house yesterday he’d had the mother of all cold showers, but the memory of her splayed out on that couch would not abate.

Now he was trying to cook something that didn’t resemble prison food, all so they could have another opportunity to pitch her product and the mixology school to Des.

He raked a hand through his hair. At least it had distracted him from the black cloud that was Des and Gracie’s wedding. Although if he was being honest with himself, being needed by someone like Libby made him feel alive…not that any amount of water torture would force him to admit those words aloud.

It’s just pent-up sexual frustration; you don’t really feel anything for her. Remember what she said, it’s just business.

Or had they crossed that line when she told him about her family? Was that her way of leaving things open enough for him to want more?

The doorbell buzzed, pulling Paul away from his thoughts.

“Hey,” he said, holding the door open for Libby. “Give me that box, it looks heavy.”

“I can manage.” She offered a stiff smile and tried to shuffle past, but he held out an arm, and she begrudgingly placed the box there.

“What the hell did you pack in here? Bricks?” He balanced it on one side and shut the door with his free hand.

“Lots and lots and lots of vodka.”

“Perfect.” He grinned.

Libby dropped her bag and a folder onto his couch, her eyes darting around the room. Her hands fidgeted with her hair, which had been piled on top of her head. Agitation marred her normally graceful movement.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, setting the box down on top of the coffee table so he could unpack it.

“A little,” she admitted, without meeting his gaze. “I think it’s because I know he’s rejected me once already.”

“So?”

“I’m manipulating him. We’re manipulating him.” She dropped down on the couch and knotted her hands in her lap. “Don’t you feel bad about that?”