Taking a long sip, I surveyed the room. Lots of lawyers, most of them men all suited up with their ties loosened around their necks after presumably a long week, and a few women all stylish in wrap dresses.

I stared down at my pale pink sweater and brown slacks. Yeah, my outfit was stylish and fit well, but it wasn’t worthy of the other women in the room. Mine was from the sale rack at Macy’s, and their clothes were from Bergdorf Goodman in New York. How did I know? From years of perusing piles of hand-me-downs thrown at my mom. The ladies she worked for thought she’d wear them. Instead, she sold their castoffs at consignment shops and put the money away for my college.

“You good?” the cute bartender asked.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

“Not your crowd?” He tilted his head toward the room full of stuck-up lawyers.

“Well, I’m one of them, but I’m not. I guess that doesn’t make any sense, but that’s the truth.”

“I got you. I can tell just by looking at you, you’re better than all of them.”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant.” Embarrassed, I stared back at his knowing gaze.

“I know, but look at them. All fake and phony, laughing and gaggling and gossiping while you sit here classy and calm, Red.”

“Please, I’m anything but calm. My boss made me come to this, but I’m not feeling it. How much for the drink?”

“On the house.”

After tossing a ten-dollar bill on the bar and mumbling my thanks, I grabbed my bag and left. Of course, I’d forgotten all about Jake being in the main bar as I headed toward the exit, struggling to wrestle on my tight leather jacket while I juggled my bag. I’d almost cleared the doorway when I heard my name.

“Alyson? Hey, Alyson!”

As I stopped short and turned around, Jake Wrigley ran straight into me. Colliding with a wall of solid muscle, I teetered a little and braced my hand on his chest to steady myself, surprised at the heat radiating from him.

“Um, sorry for grabbing you,” I murmured as he wrapped a calloused hand over mine, stilling my frantic movements. His hand was so large, so rough, that my hand felt almost dainty in his.

“No worries. This is getting pretty silly, running into each other in the strangest of places. Do you come here a lot?” His brow furrowed and he looked at me as if I were a five-hundred-piece jigsaw puzzle and he was trying to put the pieces together.

Digging for composure, I cleared my throat, pretending I was in an interrogation room. “Not really.”

“Me either. It’s a bit stuffy.”

“I was here for a legal event. In fact, I should be going.”

One corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided smile. “I could see how that would be the case. Not much but suits and secretaries here.” He tilted his head toward the bar and some of his black hair flopped over his forehead, definitely longer than when he was in jail. “I was having a drink with my brother. My twin brother,” he said, correcting himself.

“Oh, wow! That’s cool.” I wasn’t sure how I played off my surprise, but I did. Must be all those years of playing dumb at work.

Like I did with Jake when I knew they were going to release him, but questioned him anyway. It wasn’t really my job to make certain he wasn’t a threat, but I’d have kept him locked up if he were. As we talked that night, I could see through his armor, that heavy metal casing made of bravado and flippant flirting. The truth was that Jake Wrigley was a little boy deep down inside. Problem was, he was a strong, gorgeous man on the outside.

“Well, I guess . . . good seeing you. I don’t want to keep you.” I pointed toward his brother, who was busy pounding away on his smartphone.

“Nah, I’m leaving. One drink with Lane is enough for me. He’s the more serious brother,” he said with a smirk and a wink. “Where you going? Somewhere more exciting?”

“Actually, home. This is about as exciting as I get.”

“You were pretty serious that night in jail. You ever let loose?” Jake took my bag from my hands and said, “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

“I don’t need you to carry that for me, Mr. Wrigley.” Definitely needed to get control of the situation. One minute, I was leaving with my reading, looking forward to a mug of hot tea and a throw blanket waiting for me at home. The next, Jake Wrigley was walking me out and carrying my briefcase.

“It’s just a bag, not a marriage proposal, Ms. Road. Let’s go.” He slipped his hand over the soft leather of my jacket, guiding me by my elbow toward the door.

“Where are you parked? Here in the garage?” he asked, wrestling through his pockets to pull out a valet ticket once we were outside.

“I take the bus downtown, so if you’ll just hand me my stuff . . .” I gave him a small smile as I forced down the lump of regret stuck in my throat.

Why couldn’t I be exciting, especially with Jake Wrigley? Because I was boring, for starters, serious rather than flirty and fun, and for one defining moment, Jake Wrigley had been in jail where I’d served as the public defender. According to the rules, that moment had to set the tone for any ensuing contact between us, and it infuriated me.

I didn’t want to go home, and I definitely didn’t want to go back to the bar to all the “Ricks” drinking their Scotch on the rocks. More than anything, I wanted to go with Jake to wherever he might be having more fun; although whatever that was, I didn’t have a clue. If Hilary were here, maybe she could have been my wing woman, or whatever it’s called.

“Well then, I guess it’s good that we ran into each other again. Now I know why—so I could give you a ride home.” He handed his ticket to the attendant while I tried to manage an excuse, but all my words were stuck in my chest, shaken and scrambled. For someone who talked for a living, my tongue had never been so tied.

“It’s just a ride, you know.”

His hair lifted in the wind, but his solid frame withstood the stiff breeze whipping through the city. All the while, my heart plunged to my feet and my hair got stuck in my lip gloss, my fingers shaking like the leaves overhead while trying to pull the strands free.

“I don’t know. We don’t really know each other, other than—”

“Please don’t say other than me being in jail, okay?” he said, interrupting me. “It wasn’t a shining moment for me, and I was protecting someone else, as you know. I’m not all bad.”

His eyes pleaded with me, the moonlight reflecting off the big pools of blue. “I can’t put you on a bus in good conscience. It’s dark, and it’s not safe,” he explained, pleading his case.

“Okay,” I said just as a black BMW pulled up front. As I watched Jake tip the valet, I glanced at the expensive car and began to second-guess myself all over again. I didn’t take Jake for the show-off type. Of course, he was all man complete with flirtatious one-liners, but he wasn’t a status-obsessed type one like Drew. At least, that was what I had imagined.

“Miss?” The valet’s question knocked me out of my thoughts. I refocused to find Jake standing there, holding the passenger door open for me.

With an apologetic smile to Jake, I slid into the already heated seat and folded my long legs beneath the dash. The red leather was a tone or two deeper than my hair, the dash all lit up and perfectly cleaned. Some type of hard rock filtered through the speakers on the lowest volume.

Jake jumped into the car with ease and shifted into first. “Where to?”

“Oakland. You know the area?”

“Yeah, I own Fizzle Fitness. You know it?”

We whipped out of the drive and into the alley. At the red light, I tried hard not to stare at Jake’s profile, at his firm jaw, mussed hair, and five o’clock shadow. Or his larger-than-life biceps.

“I know it,” I said, forcing myself to look out the windshield. “I don’t go there, but I know of it, I should say.”

“It’s a living. Been doing it for over a decade, since I graduated from Pitt with a degree in sports management. My brother is helping me expand. He’s really the brains; I’m just the brawn.”