Jerome’s kind smile seemed perfectly at home on his face. “You can call him Lucas, my dear. And there’s no need. Who knows how long he’ll be?”

Before I lifted the first bite to my mouth, I stopped. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

He looked marginally surprised, but smiled. “Thank you, but I’ve had my steel-cut oats and coffee already.”

It was awkward to dig in while he stood and watched, and I hesitated. As if he felt my discomfort, he turned, poured two cups of coffee, and joined me at the kitchen island.

“So, tell me more about this Dirty Dog of yours.”

I DROVE AWAY FROM THE repair shop and told myself not to look in the rearview mirror at the woman I couldn’t think about without getting hard. Yve was sexy, headstrong, and had a body that could stop traffic.

Sure, I’d been attracted in an academic sense to Vanessa Frost, even though it made me sound like a dick to admit it. She’d been the perfect Southern belle, all blond and curvy with a perfect pedigree.

The upper crust of New Orleans society was a closed group I hadn’t been able to break into on my own. I’d needed a leg up, and blackmailing Vanessa to get me into events that would help me solidify my contacts had been an effective but assholish move. A few more events and maybe I would have been prepared for the open-ended favor that Johnson Haines wanted. As it was, his request pissed me off. I wasn’t the kind of man who would ever willingly let someone else have the upper hand.

I needed to narrow down my list of pedigreed former debutantes to continue my push to the heart of NOLA’s moneyed and influential families. There was one who had floated to the top, Valentina Noble, daughter of Judge Harold Noble. But I couldn’t find the necessary enthusiasm to make the approach. Valentina was the kind of woman you courted and married, and I had absolutely no desire to go down that path.

And now my dick was on a hair trigger for Yve Santos. Her last name must have come from the Spanish influence around New Orleans, because she was clearly of Creole descent.

What the hell was it that made Yve so intriguing? I’d figure it out the next time I had her under me. But for now, I needed to get my head back into business.

I needed a new plan, and one had already started to form. The lobbyist had left his list of targeted senators, so I had other names to consider. I’d build my own coalition of support for my bill. After all, if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.

Plan firmly in place, I headed to the office, determined to forget about Yve for now . . . and how I’d never be able to look at my kitchen island without picturing her bent over, taking my cock.

I would have her again. No other alternative was acceptable.

GIVEN THAT LEVI WOULD BE gone for two weeks, I’d had to resort to a temp agency to send me some help for Dirty Dog. When I arrived at the shop, I automatically assumed the petite woman waiting out front was my temporary employee.

I smiled in greeting. “Hi, I’m Yve. Are you Jennifer?”

Her brow furrowed and her head jerked back. “How did you know my name?”

Oh Lord, they better not have sent me an idiot. “The temp agency gave it to me.”

Her frown deepened. “What temp agency?”

Okay, this is getting strange. “The one sending me someone to help out for the next two weeks.”

She shook her head. “I’m Jennifer, but I’m not that Jennifer.”

I pressed my fingers to my temples. Today was going to be a long, rough day. I just had a feeling.

“I’m sorry for the confusion. The shop isn’t quite open yet. If you’ll give me half an hour, I’ll be ready for you.”

I needed a few moments to compose myself, along with some time to change into fresh clothes. The royal blue-and-black striped A-line dress I had in mind needed a quick steam before it would be wearable. The black platforms I was wearing would go just fine, and I could borrow jewelry from the display.

The woman, Jennifer, nodded and said, “I guess that’s fine,” and she walked away.

I unlocked the door, muttering to myself, “I guess that’s fine.” Yeah, honey, it would be fine because that was when the damn store opened.

I slipped inside and flipped the lock behind me. Forgetting about her, I switched on the lights and made my way to start on the dress. The monotonous process of steaming allowed my mind to wander back to last night.

Lucas Titan had seen me naked. We’d had sex on his kitchen counter. He’d left me hanging on the edge of orgasm in the bedroom. And then this morning he’d fingered me in his front yard.

What the hell had I been thinking? Oh, that’s right, I hadn’t been thinking at all, I’d just been reacting. To his orders. His commands. His arrogance.

None of those things should turn me on. In fact, given my history, I should have been cringing away and retreating into myself, but—except for the one move that took me by surprise—I’d responded to his advances like a cat in heat.

There was clearly something wrong with me. I hated that he could get to me like that, make me want like that.

Stop, Yve. I resolved not to think about him anymore. I had a shop to run, one I needed to figure out how to buy. That was my only priority.

Finally dressed and ready to kick off the day, I unlocked the door and propped it open invitingly. The woman from earlier was nowhere to be seen, but she’d seemed strangely determined—if showing up a half hour before we opened was any indication—so I expected that she’d be back.

And within a half hour she was.

The morning was slow, and having at least one customer poking around kept my mind off him.

Mostly.

“So, where do you find all of this stuff?” Jennifer asked from the front corner of the store.

She was practically drooling over the vintage Dior cocktail dress on the dress form, and easily the most expensive piece of clothing in the place. It was ice-blue satin with a ruched bodice and a sweetheart neckline. The crystals studding the dress matched the Swarovski crystal belt wrapped around the waist.

Secretly, I thought of it as the Cinderella dress, and every time someone approached it, I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, worrying they might buy it. That was the problem with being a shopkeeper in such a kick-ass store—I wanted to save so many things for myself, and Lord knew, I did that already. Too much. But it just so happened that the Cinderella dress was in my size. It would undoubtedly make the woman who wore it feel like a princess.