I haven’t seen it because porn isn’t really my thing, but whenever they run a story about him, TMZ always refers to him as the writer with the biggest package, so I know he’s got to be working with something impressive.

It took about a year for the sex tape hubbub to die down even a little bit, and Exton refuses to comment on it in the press to this day. Once the settlement was reached, he moved on and just kept on working. Now he’s known for having what they call the Midas touch with movie scripts and he hasn’t written a movie that’s pulled in less than one hundred million dollars in years.

You’d assume that getting caught with his pants down would’ve slowed his roll, but it didn’t. When he’s not writing blockbuster movies, Triple X is busy picking up women like he’s an industrial scoop.

I normally roll my eyes when I see the gossip about him, but right now, he’s pissing me off. This asshole obviously assumes that he can have anyone, anywhere, at any time.

He’s wrong. He might be able to have anyone else—but he can’t have me.

Without saying a word I shove him out of my way—not gently—and make my way over to where Sabrina is standing with Dante and a group of their family members. Her radar must be flawless because she looks up and spots me when I’m halfway to her. Leaning into Dante she whispers something into his ear before turning and walking to me. I ignore the small twinge of jealousy I feel when her husband runs his hand possessively down her back and palms her ass before she walks away.

The second she gets next to me, she pounces. “Arden, what’s wrong? You look like you’re about to light someone or something on fire.”

With a flip of my hair, I shake it off. “Nothing,” I say with a too-bright smile. “Everything is fine.”

Eyebrow raised, she gives me a look that clearly states that she isn’t buying what I’m trying to sell. I’m tempted to tell her about Exton but it’s now dawning on me that he’s in this VIP area with us because he must know someone here. Since Dante and Sabrina are the ones that assembled this group, chances are good that he knows one of them and I don’t want to say anything that’s going to bite me in the ass.

“Really,” I say with a little laugh. “I guess I was just deep in thought.”

“Well, then there’s only one thing to do,” she says with a smile.

“What’s that?”

Grabbing my hand, she starts pulling me out of the VIP area with a laugh, giving me just enough time to set my chocolate martini down. Still laughing she says, “Dance!”

It takes less than two minutes for Dante to join us and within five minutes the entire Hart clan—including the extended family—is on the dance floor. They’re fun and safe so being with them helps me relax. Ten minutes later I’m dancing my ass off in an attempt to forget all about Exton Alexander.

The bass thumps and the lights flash as we all dance to the beat and pretty soon my smile is as big as it gets. This. This is where I was meant to be. Far away from Small Towne, living a normal life in a town where people don’t judge me. I might not know exactly what I want to do about going back to school, but I do know that moving to Los Angeles is the best decision I’ve ever made.

An adrenalin buzz has kicked in and my smile is wide as I dance. Suddenly, I feel heat at my back. Not normal warmth—this sizzles and sends a ripple of awareness up my spine. Without a doubt I know that if I turn around, Exton is going to be behind me. His sexual charge sends a jolt of desire, hot and heady, through my system, and I am struggling to shake it off.

It’s been five years since Ricky ruined the course of my life, and in that time I’ve had sex one more time—with a nice guy named Jonas that was in my economics class. I’d slept with him about six months after arriving in LA and that was just so that I could say that I’d had sex with someone other than Ricky. The experience was really no better than being with Ricky and I’d quickly written sex off. All that toe-curling, back arching screaming orgasm shit? Lies. All lies. For me it was more eye-rolling, uncomfortable and borderline gross.

I’m beyond relieved that I haven’t turned around and told Exton to fuck off when I see Sabrina smile and wave at him like he’s one of her favorite people, immediately followed by Dante acknowledging him with a big smile. Damn, I was right—he’s here at their invitation. I need to get rid of him, but I have to do it nicely.

Spinning around on my heel, I come face to face with him again, ready to meet the situation head on and tell him, in no uncertain terms, that I am not interested. The words forming in my head quickly disappear the second I see the predatory look in his eyes as he looks me over. I shouldn’t be having any kind of a reaction, I know this, but I can’t help myself.

It’s damned near impossible not to gasp when he grips my waist firmly—but not painfully—between his hands and maneuvers me forward before leaning in close. “Dance with me,” he says huskily.

When he raises his head, I see it—a look in his eyes that makes me think that he expects me to say yes. He’s obviously the type that’s sure of his effect on women and that makes me a little sick.

Shaking my head firmly, I smile tightly as I slowly mouth, “No thank you.”

Surprise quickly flits across his face, followed by what looks like frustration. Not angry, just not happy that I’m giving him the brush off. That makes me think that I am right to assume that he isn’t used to being turned down. Mentally patting myself on the back, I struggle to keep a shit-eating grin from spreading across my face. I can’t lie—I’m taking some pleasure about the fact that I’ve surprised him.

The nod of understanding he gives me is forced, but I have to give him credit for being a gentleman and walking away. For the rest of the night I feel his eyes on me at certain points, but luckily he never says anything else.

Only later when I’m at home in the darkness of my bedroom do I admit to myself that I really did want to dance with him. I wanted to—but I am proud of myself for fighting against that desire. A man like Exton Alexander is the very last thing I need.

“ALRIGHT, I WAITED YOU out but you’re being stubborn and keeping the deets to yourself. You’ve got to tell me. What happened between you and Exton on Friday night?”

So much for getting one over on her. I should’ve known that Sabrina didn’t take my response to the text she sent Saturday morning asking this very same question at face value.

“Not a thing,” I say with what I hope is an air of indifference. “He asked me to dance, I said no thank you. That was it.”

“I call bullshit,” she answers immediately.

We’re eating lunch alone together in Dante’s office, something we do each week. Sabrina works Monday through Thursday and Dante works Tuesday through Friday. Unless there’s a ridiculously crazy deadline or something is going on, they each work the four-day week to spend individual time with their kids. It’s sickeningly adorable, to be honest, and it’s only made worse by the fact that the rest of the family that works here at Hart does the same thing.

Since my own father bailed the second he heard the word pregnant, it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact that the Hart men take being fathers so seriously. In my heart of hearts, that’s what I always wanted—the fantasy man who loves his wife, makes her feel sexy, desired and loved, and also devotes himself to being a dad. Since all of the Harts are taken, I think it’s safe to say that’s a wrap on the good guys in Los Angeles. Honestly, I think I just have shit luck. Even if Mr. Incredible were around, he wouldn’t be interested in me.

“There’s no bullshit about it,” I say with a forced laugh. “I had no desire to be one of the many, many notches on Exton Alexander’s bedpost and I’m sure that’s what he was looking for. I said no thanks and that was that. I didn’t even see him again for the rest of the night.”