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  Not that I had been holding my breath for him for the past twenty-three years.

  I hadn’t.

  I just needed to find a way to forget how being around Jason Somers made me feel. I needed to put some space between us.

  Serious space.

  Miles of space.

  I took a long swig of my beer and pretended the Cubs game was captivating. What was I thinking? How could I ask if it would be okay to pay him to fuck me like crazy?

  Without a word between us, he sat down on the barstool next to mine. His thick, muscular thigh brushed against mine, and the heat his body radiated penetrated and drove me crazy.

  Maybe I could ask?

  “You asked me to meet you.” he reminded me, and I shut my eyes.

  “Yeah.” I shrugged, opening my eyes, not bothering to look at him, trying to figure out my next step.

  “So we could watch the game?” He leaned toward me, playfully bumping his shoulder against mine.

  “No.” I wanted to see if I could pay you for sex. My eyes narrowed at how ridiculous that sounded. Never mind the fact he was the man in charge of what used to be our town’s dirty secret escort service, dubbed The Meat Market, which had women all over in a tizzy.

  And I was about to place my own order?

  “Then?” he pressed, and I shook my head.

  “Forget it.” There was no way I could ask. Would he laugh or simply feel disgusted at the idea of taking me to bed?

  “So, you asked me to meet you here for no reason?” he pushed.

  “Look.” I turned to stare at him, and my breath caught in my throat. God, he was handsome.

  Closing my eyes, I shook my head. I couldn’t do it. He had never seen me as more than one of the guys, permanently benched in the friend-zone, and it was time to let it go. A man like Jason would probably end up with a twenty-something perky, bubble of energy who would be his arm candy and give him a family. At almost forty, that was probably a door that was closed for me. My eyes stung with how stupid I had been.

  Pining away for the impossible.

  Why didn’t I take a risk with someone else years ago?

  I could have made a life with my ex, Brad. It wouldn’t have been with the man of my dreams, but I would have had something more than a small, empty house waiting for me at the end of a long workday. I shook the thoughts away because I knew myself. At the end of the day, I would have known I had settled. I was a lot of things. Stubborn and pushy. But settling had never been my thing, especially not in matters of the heart.

  I needed to get the hell out of there. If I didn’t, I would make a crying spectacle of myself.

  “I gotta go,” I blurted, hopping off the stool and grabbing my purse. “What was I thinking?” I muttered to myself, searching for my wallet, then placing a couple of bills on the bar top to cover our beers and tip.

  “What?” He frowned, obviously confused by my behavior, and I couldn’t blame him. I was acting like a bipolar maniac.

  “I have to go,” I repeated, not looking at him, feeling like a complete moron.

  “Row, row, row your boat, what’s going on?” I scowled, my eyes pinned on the man of my dreams.

  My poor, pathetic dreams.

  God, I was an idiot. Pinning my heart to a man who after all this time still had a stupid, silly little nursery rhyme nickname for me.

  His words were like an ice-cold pail of water being dumped over my head.

  “You’re forty,” I pointed out, poking his hard, muscular chest, trying to ignore the images of him shirtless that flashed in my head. His eyes widened in surprise. “Can you knock it off with the teasing?”

  “Babe—“

  “I gotta go. I’m sorry I wasted your time, Somers,” I clipped, knowing he hated it when I called him by his last name. I turned around and walked right to the exit.

  “Rocio!” he called out, but I ignored him.

  It was past time to move on.

  I had let myself believe something was changing between us. That maybe, just maybe, things would take a turn toward the fairy-tale ending every woman, young and old, dreamt of. But it wasn’t. Not even close. I was just the stupid one who had let myself think his hugs lasted a little longer than usual and that his sweet endearments of baby meant more than they did.

  Why had I held on to hope for so long when it came to Jason Somers?

  For all I knew, it was his own personal exercise for how to be with strange women when he wined and dined them for work. Not that I was even sure he offered himself up as a “special,” but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

  Hell, he was probably his own bestseller. Though the way he had been talking, his guys retiring, I had wondered if that side of his business was over. Obviously, he didn’t think it was any of my business, or else he would have shared like he shared everything else.

  I reached my car and searched for my keys when two strong hands gently grabbed my shoulders.

  “Rocio,” he whispered in my ear. I hated how much I liked his hands on me. How much my name on his lips awakened not only my body but my soul.

  “Honey, talk to me,” he gently pushed, and my shoulders slumped forward.

  “Nothing—“ Except I have to move my ass across the country, so I’m not pining away for you like some crazy schoolgirl instead of being the grown, confident woman I am.

  “I know you, Row. Talk to me, baby.” Baby. One stupid, four-letter word took my breath away and made me cling to hope. Stupid hope.

  “I’m tired,” I lied.

  “Row, look at me,” he pleaded, his scent surrounding me. Woodsy and slightly citrusy from the soap he constantly used to wash his hands at work. Being close to him made me feel safe, a small torturous glimpse of what I had wanted from him for way too long.

  I turned in his arms and stared up at him under the moonlight. While pressed so close to his body, it was hard to ignore the way he made me weak at the knees. “You’re sad,” he pointed out, and I laughed. I was sad. Sad and pathetic, not that I would admit that to him.

  “I’m not. I’m just—“

  “Don’t lie to me. What’s going on?” His hands stroked up and down my shoulders.

  “I…”

  “You look like you’re going to cry.” His eyes filled with worry. “Jesus, babe, is it your mom?” I smiled weakly at how sweet he could be without realizing it. My mom had suffered a heart attack last year and had been having a hard time recovering.

  “No, Jay, she’s fine,” I put his mind at rest.

  “Then talk to me. What is it?” he pressed, leaning closer, and my heart went from beating fast into overdrive.

  “What are you doing?” I asked a little too harshly.

  “Asking my best friend what’s making her upset.”

  “Is that what I am to you?” I asked, searching his eyes, trying to find any indication that maybe, just maybe, he cared a little more.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” I sighed and took a deep breath.

  Fuck it, it’s now or never.

  “Is it true that The Meat Market is closed?” Not the smoothest way to bring up the subject, but then again, graceful had never been my middle name.

  “What?” he frowned and released my shoulders, making me instantly yearn for his touch.

  “You know, the after-hours meat shop,” I asked again. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  “Why?” His arms crossed over his delicious chest, only defining the muscles tugging his shirt, and I shook my head so I could focus.

  Screw his meaty choices. For me, only the butcher would do.

  CHAPTER TWO

  JASON

  “I WAS CURIOUS,” SHE REPLIED, and he fought to tamper down the anger he felt at the images of her with any of his guys.

  “Curious?” he repeated, trying to stay calm, though he knew he was failing. “Why would you need a meat special?” he asked her, and she scowled with a flippant shoulder shrug that drove him crazy.

  “Never mind, Somers
,” she scoffed, only adding fuel to the anger by calling him by his last name like one of his guys. She was as far from one of the guys as she could get. “I didn’t know an interrogation was part of hiring—”

  “Don’t do that. What are you really asking here, Row?” he pushed, and he could have sworn her cheeks tinged with pink.

  “I’m not doing anything. I was just… curious.”

  “Curious,” he repeated. The idea of her being curious about his guys, what they did and what they would do for her, made him see red. His skin prickled and tightened with unbridled jealousy.

  “Simple curiosity,” she stated, her chin set stubbornly. He closed the small space he had placed between them, not missing the way her dark brown, almost black eyes widened.

  “Ask me anything you wanna know,” he ordered through his teeth. His voice sounded too deep in his own ears. He watched her lick her lips and swallow, and, fuck him, it made his cock come to life. “Cat got your tongue, Row your boat?” he teased gently.

  “Don’t call me Row your boat. I’m not some stupid teenager anymore,” she whispered. Her eyes stared into his, and if he wasn’t wrong, they moved down to his lips and back up. Fuck, it was hot. He was dying to feel her mouth on his.

  “You were never a stupid teenager, Row,” he reminded her. “You are still the smartest person I know.” Her cheeks flushed at his compliment. Fuck, he was dying to kiss her.

  “Did you really, umm, close up shop?” she asked again, and it irked him.

  “The Meat Market is open from 9-6, Monday through Saturday, babe, like it has been from the day my family opened its doors.”

  “You know what I mean.” She stomped, the apples of her cheeks flushed a deeper pink under the moonlight, and it made him want to know if her entire body would react the same way.

  “Why? You looking to place a special order?” he asked, hating the fact she was even curious.

  “I…”

  “Why would a pretty thing like you need to make a meat order from a place like mine, baby?” he asked, stroking the side of her face. Her cheeks passed pink and moved into crimson. When Jason’s eye met hers, he could see he had somehow said the wrong thing.

  “Pretty thing?” Her eyes narrowed. “Baby?”

  “Row—“

  “You are a piece of work, Jason Somers.” She stood stiffly in his arms, pinned against her car, obviously wanting to get the hell away from him.

  “I didn’t—“

  “You don’t have to make fun of me,” her voice cracked, and it was his turn to hold still, confused by what she might have meant.

  “What?”

  “We both know you don’t, nor have you ever, thought I was pretty, so you don’t have to be a condescending ass.” She pulled away from him, and he didn’t know what to say. How the hell could she think that? If she only knew the truth.

  “What? I—“

  “I’m turning forty in a couple days.”

  “I know that.”

  “And I want to have a little fun,” she spited out, shocking the hell out of him.

  “Fun,” he rasped. His eyes twitched.

  “Fun before I move away,” she ended her sentence as if she didn’t just shift his entire world with four fucking words.

  “Move?” he asked on a growl.

  “Forty and fabulous, not to mention single, I’m ready for an adventure.”

  “Like a vacation?” he asked, blown away when she shook her head.

  ”Do you remember Trish?” she asked, and he searched every corner of his mind. It took a minute before a petite redhead with a great sense of humor popped up.

  “Yeah, you went to college together,” he voiced as the idea of not having her close killed him slowly.

  “Right.” Rocio nodded, and he didn’t miss the way her eye twitched, right before she stood taller and straighter; an obvious tell when she wasn’t being honest. “Well… she’s been begging me to go and check out Scottsdale.”

  “Arizona?”

  “Yes.”

  “What would you do there?” he questioned, knowing there was no way in hell she would leave without a plan. His girl wasn’t the type to fly by the seat of her pants.

  “She has a custom jewelry shop, and it’s been doing really well. She’s about to open a second location and wants me to be her office manager,” she shared and bit her goddamn lip. Jason fought from getting harder.

  “And you were thinking of doing what? A last Chicago hurrah before you leave me?” he asked her, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him. She was leaving. His Row was leaving him.

  “Jason—” she started to say before shaking her head. Jason watched her inky black tresses shift back and forth, and his hands ached to get tangled in them… to pull them as she screamed his name. “I’m not leaving you. I mean, look, it’s just a matter of time ‘til you get busy with your next flavor of the month. We would still text and—“

  “Are you shitting me right now?” he growled. What the fuck was she even talking about? Flavor of the month? He hadn’t gone on a date in over a year with anyone because she was the only one he wanted.

  “I’m not.” Her eyes filled with tears again, and whatever anger he was drowning in vanished. The need to make her smile flooded through him.

  “Babe—“

  “Dammit! Stop calling me babe!” she bit and stepped back. “You never used to call me that, and you sure as hell never pinned me against stuff!” she huffed, and he took a step closer to her and did just that.

  Her beautiful body was caught between her car door and his body. They were so damn close, the only way to get closer would be to taking their clothes off.

  Not yet, but soon.

  “What? Jason—“

  “I have the perfect guy for you,” he breathed out. It wasn’t an outright lie. It just wasn’t the complete truth. He was going to keep the fact he was the man for her to himself.

  “You do?” Her eyes widened with surprise, but when he stroked the side of her face, she leaned into his touch.

  “I do.”

  “Jason—“

  “What do you want?” he asked roughly, his imagination running wild. He knew there was no way she could miss the way his body wanted her.

  “What?”

  “What do you want from him tomorrow?”

  “What can I… umm… well, uh… get?”

  “Anything,” he gritted through his teeth. His hard dick pressed against her hip.

  “How much would it be… Don’t they all cost—“

  “Call it a birthday gift from me.” Not that she would be with any of his guys. The shop was closed. This was the perfect opportunity to show her how good things could be between them if she gave him a chance.

  “You’re going to pay for me to get laid?”

  “What do you want?” he ignored her question.

  “I thought they didn’t, umm…”

  “He will.” And fuck, would he ever. He would do anything, so by the end of tomorrow night, she could finally realize she was his. “Tell me what’s your fantasy?”

  “Jason, I—“

  “Please, tell me,” he asked a little softer, leaning his face closer to hers, his lips a whisper away. Rocio had been in the picture for over half his life, yet he had never had a taste of her lips. How was that possible?

  Timing.

  Their timing had always been off.

  First with him fucking around in college, not realizing the amazing woman right in front of him. God, the time he had lost being a blind idiot. When he had woken up from his stupidity, he’d had to sit on the sidelines as she’d dated guys who didn’t appreciate her. Who would never deserve her. Not that Jason deserved her. Hell no. But he would worship and cherish her every moment until his last breath.

  About two years ago, he had thought their paths had finally aligned. He had been about to take a chance, but time had once again not been his friend. With the economy tanking, his grandfather’s loans had been called in,
and he’d had to make a decision.

  Not that he had ever been one of the guys who went on the dates. Though technically, he did have a standing appointment to accompany Mrs. Baxter every Monday for dinner, but he did that because the lady was sweet, and he never took money from the almost ninety-year-old spitfire who had no one to visit with.

  But he was officially done waiting. There was no way he was going to let her leave.

  She had just handed him the perfect opportunity to show her how good things could be between them, and he was not going to lose it. Not again.

  “Jay,” she moaned in a husky whisper, and he licked his lips at how hungry that little fucking sound instantly made him.

  “Fantasy.”

  “I don’t want to make decisions,” she blurted, her face now crimson. His cock strained to get closer. She wouldn’t have to choose anything with him. In bed, he would dominate her. Own every gram of her pleasure.

  Over and over.

  “You want him in charge?” he swallowed hard, his throat desert dry, and sweat formed at the back of his neck.

  “Yes.”

  “His dirty little plaything kinda gig or—“ He didn’t have to say another word with how her eyes flashed brightly. His sweet little Rocio was a dirty girl. His dirty girl. Just like that, she was even more perfect than he could have ever imagined.

  “Tomorrow,” Jason told her, and her eyes widened.

  “What?”

  “A car will pick you up at five.”

  “Five?”

  “He likes purple,” he shared, thinking about her golden skin in that color. Would it be lace or satin? Did it really matter? As long as it ended up on the floor at the end of their night together. “Wear something special for him. Listen to the driver’s instructions. Trust him,” he ordered. “Your man will be waiting for you.”

  “My man,” she repeated, a cute look of confusion settling over her face. He couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that if this worked out how he was thinking, she would finally be his by tomorrow night. He leaned forward, closing the space between them, turning his mouth at the last moment to kiss her cheek. He let his lips linger longer than they should have. Tempted beyond belief to steal a taste of her. Not yet, he reminded himself. Instead, he took in the softness of her warm skin and breathed in her familiar scent.