We reach Eddie’s door at the same time.

“Good morning.” He smiles broadly.

“Morning,” I respond with a cheerful smile of my own.

Our smiles are exaggerated, like we’re trying to prove just how “okay” we are with the thing that never happened last night. Then our eyes meet in brief a clash of lust, and tension fills the air.

Daren is the first to break it. “So. You ready to do this?”

“I am,” I say.

The tension returns, but this time it’s laced with nervousness. We’re about to lock ourselves together. For money. The morning after we dry humped each other against a bar. It’s nothing less than weird and desperate. Which begs the question, why is Daren doing this?

I know why I’m subjecting myself to this craziness but I’m still not sure why Daren has agreed—especially without knowing how much money is at stake. Is he in it for the thrill? Is he just bored?

Whatever his reasons are, I’m grateful.

We enter the office and Eddie looks up from his messy desk, his glasses perched on his shiny head. Today he’s wearing a yellow button-up shirt with a plaid bow tie to match his plaid pants. The look suits him.

“You’ve returned,” he says brightly, standing to greet us. “I guess this means you’ve come to a decision about Mr. Turner’s letter?”

“We have,” I say.

Daren nods. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” Eddie clasps his hands together. “What have you decided?”

Daren and I exchange an anxious look. My stomach does a flip-flop, afraid he’s going to change his mind, but then he gives me a subtle nod and I nod back.

We turn to face Eddie, hold out our wrists, and at the same time say, “Cuff us.”

When I fantasize about being handcuffed to a hot blonde, there’s usually not a balding lawyer and a last will and testament involved. But standing in Eddie’s cluttered office with Kayla at my side, I realize that perhaps I haven’t been dreaming big enough. Because unlike my other fantasies this one might end with a few dollars in my pocket—if I can handle being handcuffed to Kayla all day without touching her.

I shouldn’t have kissed her last night. I don’t regret it—not in the slightest—but I still shouldn’t have done it. I knew the moment she pulled away what a mistake it was. Because I cared.

I cared that she changed her mind and no longer wanted my hands on her. I cared that she politely rejected me. I took it personally, and I never take anything girl-related personally.

My first instinct was to do better, for Christ’s sake. To do better and earn her approval; win her affections.

I’ve made a point in life not to seek out the admiration of any one woman. Women in general, sure. I want females as a whole to like me and enjoy my company—and I strive to achieve just that. But I don’t work for the approval of any one specific girl. Not ever.

I’ve learned the hard way that wanting, or working, for such a thing is useless, and will leave me burned.

I really hope my gut reaction to Kayla pulling out of my arms last night was a momentary weakness and nothing more.

Looking at her now, as we stand in Eddie’s office, I can’t help but think back to how she felt in my arms, all supple and needy. God, she was hot. And she was honestly into it too, like a hungry wolf with a slab of meat as she moaned and wriggled against me.

There’s a difference between the whimper of a woman who’s just having fun and the sound of a woman starving for pleasure. And Kayla Turner needs to be pleased. Badly.

But not by me, apparently. She probably thinks she’s too good for me. And in reality, she is. But the truth still stings.

Eddie looks down at our outstretched wrists and chuckles. “Well I’m pleased to hear that.” He waves our hands down. “You can relax, though. First I need you to sign some documents.” Slipping on his glasses, he moves around his desk and starts fumbling through papers. “Now where… did I put… those documents from yesterday…?”

I eye the familiar pile of papers stacked behind his desk. “On the filing cabinet.”

Eddie shuffles over to the cabinet and scoops up the folder. “Aha.”

As he silently reads through it, I slide my eyes to Kayla. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a sleek knot at the base of her neck, with little wisps falling around her face. She nervously bites her lip as she watches Eddie, and the sting of rejection returns to my veins.

Oh, she’s good. Playing up the neglected-daughter act for Eddie just like she tried to play me last night. I still can’t believe she wanted to take the entire inheritance for herself. I’m broke, she said with those pouty blue eyes of hers. Yeah right. “Broke” probably means she can’t afford to summer in Europe or buy herself a new yacht. That trust fund of hers must be running low.

Well that’s just too bad. I don’t care how attractive—or how hot a kisser—Kayla is. She’s not keeping half of the inheritance Turner left to me. She didn’t even try to be a part of his life while he was alive, for Christ’s sake. Why the hell should she get to benefit from his wealth now?

From what I hear, she and her mother are used to living the high life with all of Turner’s money so Kayla would probably just blow the inheritance on something stupid, like a bedazzled Jet Ski or a pony. I, on the other hand, actually need the money. So when we find it, I’m keeping every last penny.

I look at her and try to solidify my resolve. I deserve that money. I do.

“There are a few stipulations in Mr. Turner’s will,” Eddie says when he’s done scanning the page. “The biggest being that I cannot unlock the handcuffs until you find the inheritance.” He clears his throat and reads, “ ‘Arrangements have been made with a handful of local townspeople to help Kayla and Daren complete their quest. If any of these helpers catch Kayla and Daren without the handcuffs on, they have been instructed to report to Eddie immediately.’ ”

“Seriously?” Kayla says.

“Seriously,” he says.

“Local townie spies.” I purse my lips. “Fantastic.”

“ ‘If Daren and Kayla are caught without the handcuffs on and reported, they automatically forfeit their inheritance and the money will then be donated to the charities listed on page seven of this form… ’ ” Eddie skims the remainder of the page then pushes his glasses farther up his nose as he eyes us. “Are you two sure about this?”

I look at Kayla. She’d better be sure. I try to flash her one of my killer smiles—the kind that says you can trust me with your hopes and dreams and body—but I’m too anxious to pull it off. Partly because I’m still not over the fact that she doesn’t trust me with her body, but mostly because the possibility of having money in my pocket by the end of the day is just too important. My future, or lack thereof, is riding on Kayla’s cooperation.

Fortunately, her gold-digging roots have bred her to be just greedy enough to agree to this plan because she nods at Eddie without glancing at me.

“Absolutely,” she says with complete confidence.

“Well all right then.” Eddie rummages through the papers on his desk and comes up with a large, flat manila envelope. Opening the envelope, he pulls out a set of handcuffs. Not the fuzzy kind used in the bedroom, but honest-to-God police-grade handcuffs made of steel. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t hard-core manacles.

Kayla’s eyes widen. “Those look… real.”

Eddie nods. “They are.”

She shakes her head. “Of course my father couldn’t pick out a set of cushiony handcuffs. He had to choose the same kind of handcuffs that felons get marched to prison in.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose at the cuffs. “It does seem a bit harsh, doesn’t it?”

I sigh. “Well at least we won’t have to wear them for very long.”

Kayla nods. “Yeah. Thank God it will only be a few hours.” She glances at me and adds, “Tops.”