Blake swirled his pen along one of the documents. “She barely spoke the entire evening.”

“You did ask for quiet.” There was significant amount of snark in her tone, even for Andy.

“I didn’t think quiet was synonymous with brain-dead.”

Andy fought her instinct to say something even snarkier and instead tried to evaluate the bit of information that Blake had given. “Maybe she was nervous. I’m sure she’ll loosen up with time.”

“It doesn’t matter because I don’t want to see her again.” His declaration was final. “Try again.”

Andy growled. It really wasn’t fair. Almost all of the candidates had requested a second date and time and time again Blake said they were wrong. What was she missing? If Andy hadn’t so expertly picked his dates, she’d understand. But she had, and they’d been exactly what he’d asked for. Why would a woman think that an evening had gone well when the man did not?

He must be an excellent kisser. Well, she knew he was an excellent kisser. But she hadn’t wanted to go out with him afterward. What she was missing had to be subtle. Unless it wasn’t.

They’d all been attractive—Blake had approved of their pictures beforehand. And all the women had been more than pleased with Blake’s appearance. So if the women were interested, and Blake was attracted, they were all kissing—the only reason she could think that he wouldn’t want to see them again was that he’d already … wait.

Oh, no.

Please, God, no. The kissing must have led to more. More that she knew he was capable of. He’d told her himself, hadn’t he, when he said in her interview that he had sex anytime he wanted.

Pure fury swept through Andy, driving her from her chair and over to Blake’s desk. She pointed an angry, shaking finger at him. “You did, didn’t you?”

He looked up at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I did what?”

“You slept with them.” Her words were a harsh accusation, but she knew in her bones they were accurate. “All of them. You had to have. Why else would they be so smitten with you? I know you, Blake. You don’t easily smit women. Not once you open your mouth, that is. And yet, one after another has said they’ve clicked with you. Clicked? That’s a euphemism for ‘screwed,’ isn’t it?”

He frowned with apparent indignation. “That’s insane. Why would you assume—?”

She swept past his denial, the puzzle pieces slipping completely into place. “And you! Like a typical man, once you’ve slept with them, you’ve gotten what you wanted. No wonder you don’t want to see them again. God, how could I be so foolish? I’m a glorified pimp!”

Blake stood and reached a tentative hand toward her across his desk. “Drea. Calm down, would you?”

She stepped out of his grasp. Balling her fists at her side, she stomped a foot—a little childish, perhaps, but she was pissed. “I will not! How could you do this to me? You’re purposefully undermining my work. Were you finding cruising too time-consuming?”

“What? No. I’m sincerely looking for a bride.”

“You expect me to believe that you didn’t sleep with them?” Did he think she was a moron?

Blake straightened and with what sounded an awful lot like sincerity said, “Yes, I do expect you to believe that. Because I didn’t.”

God, he was good. If she weren’t so entirely convinced otherwise, she may even have believed him.

Her nostrils flared as she drew in an angry breath, deliberating her next move. If he’d just admit what he’d done and promise not to do it again, she felt certain she could redeem the situation. She’d have to start with a new pool of women—the secretaries surely talked with one another and no one wanted to marry a player—but she had some ideas of where to look. Except if he was going to repeat his actions, a new pool was pointless. Her entire job was pointless.

Swallowing past the strange lump in her throat, she made her declaration. “If you aren’t going to be honest with me, then this isn’t going to work, Blake. I quit.” Did she really say that? She did. “I’ll collect my things. I’m sure your secretary can mail me a final check.”

She spun back to her desk, keeping her face down as she grabbed her purse from the bottom drawer where she kept it so that he couldn’t see the tears forming in her eyes. If she were crying because of the loss of employment, that would be one thing. But the sadness she felt was tied to something else entirely—something she couldn’t quite name. She knew that he’d slept with the women, was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt, and the images that brought to her mind stung with a bitterness that raged through her entire body.

The name of the emotion hit her with sudden force—it was jealousy.

Well, shit.

*   *   *

Blake stood with gaping horror as he watched his personal concierge gathering her belongings. What had just happened? He’d come in that morning with a spring in his step, not because of his date the night before, but because he hoped he’d be spending the day with Drea. Then when his hope had been realized, well, he was pleased to say the least. Though he hadn’t figured out all the intricacies of his emotions regarding the woman, he’d realized that he had some sort of attraction to her. While this strange pull was a roadblock on the path to securing a bride, he felt sure it wasn’t insurmountable. He’d planned to devise some way to deal with the situation that day, but before he’d even had time to settle in at his desk, here she was accusing him of things he hadn’t done and stomping out of his office. Out of his life.

That certainly wasn’t the answer to his problems.

“Andrea, wait.”

She stood from her crouched position, her eyes glistening. “What? Are you going to admit you slept with them? Are you going to tell me the truth?”

“I am.” He took a deep breath, planning to tell her the real reason he didn’t want to see any of the women again—the reason he hadn’t slept with any of them—was because he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

But before he could figure out how to phrase it, Drea seemed to make her own assumptions as to what his statement was affirming. “I knew you slept with them! Thank you for at least admitting it. Why would you do that, Blake? Screwing them on the first date sabotages a potential future. I know you know this. I mean, I get that they’d be interested in you—you’re quite an attractive man, what with your solid chest and that sharp-angled jaw. And those eyes—God, those eyes—” She ran her tongue along her bottom lip as she stared at him hazily.

Was that lust he saw clouded there? And the way she’d described him physically, did that show interest on her part? Was it possible that Drea was as attracted to him as he was to her?

The thought stunned and gladdened him.

Then, with a shake of her head, Drea’s eyes cleared. “But couldn’t you control yourself? Leave a little something for next time?”

Again, he opened his mouth to protest, to explain the true nature of the situation, when all of a sudden he saw a door open. Perhaps he could get what he wanted—what he needed—from Andrea without having to admit an actual interest. If he could just get this thing out of his system, he could regain some semblance of control over his life.

Before he could second-guess himself, he went with it. “Maybe that’s exactly it—I can’t control myself.”

“What?” Andrea seemed taken aback. “You’re the most disciplined person I know.”

“Well, but, as you said, they threw themselves at me.” It was easier than he thought to pursue this angle, the words coming to him quite easily. Surprisingly, and happily, considering what a bad liar he was. “How could I resist? Especially when I’m used to getting it so often.”

“So often.” She repeated the phrase as if it were distasteful in her mouth.

He circled his desk, crossing to her with sure steps, his eyes glued to hers. “I told you in your interview that I…” He paused to consider how to put it. “Well, that I engaged in physical activity on a regular basis. How am I supposed to suddenly go cold turkey?”