Women stared at him as they walked by, their heads turning to keep their eyes on him even as their feet moved. Men glanced his way and altered course some, instinctively recognizing an alpha male at rest. Jax always had that effect on people. When he entered a space, he immediately took it over.

Squaring my shoulders, I pushed through the revolving doors and walked straight up to him. I wore a black Nina Ricci sheath. It was an elegant, classic piece that I’d paired with the nude peep-toe Louboutins my brothers had collectively given me for my last birthday.

I looked like the kind of woman who would be seen with Jackson Rutledge. Better yet, I felt like it.

Keeping my stride, I marched up to him, fisted his tie in one hand, and stretched up to kiss him. Hard.

A low rumbling sound was my reward, followed by the rapid unfolding of his big body. He got me before I could pull away, catching me by the nape and hip, holding me to him as he deepened the kiss into a full-blown melding of our open mouths.

Standing on the street, with cars and people streaming by, we kissed as if we were alone.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he said gruffly when I broke away to pull air into my tightened lungs. He nuzzled his cheek against mine.

I broke free with a quick twist and slapped him across the face.

His head turned with the blow, his breath hissing out between his teeth. Rubbing his jaw, he looked at me with hot eyes. “I’m guessing you’re not looking to play rough.”

“You fucked me over, Jax. Right after you fucked me literally. Did you take a shower first? Or were you still smelling like me when you made the call?”

“Get in the car, Gia.”

“You’re an asshole.” I tamped down my simmering anger at him. At me. At the entire situation. But mostly at him.

“Always have been,” he agreed grimly. He straightened and opened the passenger door, which involved pulling the door out then pushing it upward. “Took you a long time to figure that out.”

I stood there a moment, staring at him. He stared back, his eyes hidden behind the damned sunglasses, his mouth an unyielding line.

“Don’t lose your confidence now,” he taunted softly.

My mind spun as it had all day. Why did he want me to go with him? Why the flowers and the invitation to dinner? “You angling for a kiss-off screw?”

“I’m not ending things. I want you. That’s not news.”

His brusque, unapologetic attitude made my teeth grind. It was like he was daring me to be the one to walk away.

I slid into the seat and clicked my seat belt into place.

Jax ducked his head down. He looked at me over the rim of his shades. “For future reference, the slap was overkill. You had me down for the count with the kiss.”

He straightened and shut the door.

I smiled grimly. In the boardroom and the bedroom, Jackson Rutledge was going to learn a thing or two about playing with me.

* * *

JAX PULLED INTO the subterranean parking garage of his apartment building and two valets greeted us. As one of the bow-tied guys helped me out of the car, I was struck again by the financial gulf between Jax and me. I wasn’t intimidated by his wealth, but it was possible the disparity was a bigger problem for him.

It didn’t improve my mood to think of it.

Reaching for my hand, Jax linked our fingers and led me to an elevator. I’d half expected him to fly us out to Virginia or D.C., and realized abruptly that I had never allowed myself to consider the likelihood of him living at least part-time in New York, too. But of course it made sense that he would have a place in the city, which was the financial center of the country.

The elevator doors closed behind us, and he immediately pulled me into him. I let him. He leaned back against the brass handrail, spread his legs, and urged me to stand between them, his hands running up and down the length of my spine.

It’d been so long since I’d been held with such intimacy and tenderness.

He’d been in New York the whole time....

I closed my eyes and absorbed the warmth of his body, the smell of his skin, the soft caress of his breath against my temple. I’d denied myself the comfort of a man’s touch for too long.

“How was your day?” he murmured.

“Busy. How was yours?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

I closed my eyes, holding fiercely to my wrath. It was a harder task than it should’ve been.

He laid his cheek against my temple. “I’m sorry, Gia.”

“For what? Helping Pembry screw the deal I was working on?”

Jax sighed. “You knew the score. We talked about this.”

“That doesn’t excuse you. I don’t accept your apology.”

“I don’t blame you, but you’ll find a way to handle it. This is a minor setback you’ll have no problem overcoming.”

I met his gaze. “You’re damned right.”

The elevator dinged, announcing our arrival on his floor. When I turned around and saw a small foyer and double doors, I realized Jax lived in a penthouse apartment. Which explained why the elevator hadn’t stopped in between the parking garage and what I now knew to be the top floor.

Grabbing my hand again, Jax led me across gold-veined marble tiles and unlocked the door by placing his palm against a wall-mounted security pad.

“I bet your dates love this James Bond stuff,” I said as the thick walnut door swung open automatically. I managed to say the words casually, but envy ate at me as I imagined him with other women.

“What do you think of it?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at me.

“Ah, well, I’m a simple girl at heart.” My gaze raked over the sunken living room with its snow-white carpet, black-leather-and-chrome chairs and sapphire-blue area rug. A sterile, bluntly masculine bachelor pad.

I frowned. “This isn’t you.”

The door shut behind us. “No?”

I’d expected warm colors, varied textiles, colorful modern art—decor that reflected the vibrant, slightly rough-around-the-edges, occasionally quirky man I loved.

Stepping deeper into the room, I struggled with a profound sense of disappointment. Had I really been so wrong about him?

“Would you like a drink?” he asked quietly, coming up behind me. He stood so close I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Definitely.”

His dimple winked at me. “You won’t throw it in my face, will you?”

“I’m tempted, I admit,” I said dryly.

His hands came to rest on my shoulders. “Remember that night at the Palms?”

My hands fisted. “Low blow, Jackson.”

I would never forget standing on the fifty-fifth floor’s outdoor sky deck with Jax wrapped around my back and a glass of white wine that we shared in my hand. The city and desert stretched for miles, the glow of the neon lights fading into inky darkness.

What a view, I’d said, leaning into him, feeling happier than I ever had. I was dating the perfect guy, a man who made my toes curl at night and my days bright. He’s going to change my life, I’d thought. He’s going to change me, for the better.

It seemed ridiculous now. Making changes was my responsibility. Having a great guy was just a bonus.

I started to pull away, but he held me in place.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

I tugged a little and he let me go, freeing me to face him. “Then why did you do it?”

“Why do I do anything?” he said gruffly, his eyes dark and hard. “Because I’m a Rutledge. We fuck people over, Gia. That’s just who we are.”

“That’s a cop-out,” I snapped.

“That’s the truth.”

I walked away, my gaze roaming.

“If you want to walk out,” he said quietly, “I won’t stop you. But I’d like you to stay.”

I paused. Turning, I confronted him, hating how his features gave nothing away. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want me to end things. Piss me off, get me to storm out. It wouldn’t be a quiet breakup and it’d certainly be a little messy, but quick and final nevertheless. Just the way you like it.”