She didn't want to work with him anymore, but he wanted to be with her. What was the one thing absolutely guaranteed to bring Julie running to his side? And, if all went really well, keep her there?

He grinned with sudden certainty. He knew exactly what he needed to do. Oh yes, he'd be seeing Julie again very soon.

Julie walked into Amy's office, closed the blinds, and threw herself down on the overstuffed chair in the corner.

Amy stopped typing. "Uh-oh. What's wrong?"

"I just did a very bad thing."

"How bad?"

Julie bit her lip. She was the boss. She was supposed to set an example of professional behavior. And what had she done?

"I slept with a client."

Amy was out of her seat and sitting on the coffee table in front of Julie within seconds. "You didn't." Julie nodded, miserable and yet still energized and tingly from the amazing orgasm Ty had bestowed upon her just minutes ago.

"Oh yes, I most certainly did." Amy's face was a picture of disbelief. "Who could you have possibly slept with? Honestly, I can't think of a single one of our clients without their clothes on." She paused.

"Thank God."

Her voice barely above a whisper, Julie admitted, We got a new client this morning. Remember?"

"This morning? The only people who called today were from that football team. The Outlaws." Amy's eyes grew big with sudden comprehension. Julie didn't say anything, just waited for her friend to do some quick math over which Outlaw player was most likely to need an image consultant.

"Ty Calhoun?" Amy's voice notched up a note. "No freakin' way. You couldn't have. You hate football. You hate sports stars. Even incredibly hot ones like him." She fanned herself. "Damn, that man is hot."

Amy didn't know about Julie's past with Ty; no one did. She'd never wanted to admit even to her closest friend that she'd been so naive, so pathetically in love with someone who would never ever love her back. The time had come for confessing.

"Promise you won't hate me for not telling you about this before. I'm not good at telling secrets. Especially ones that make me look stupid." She paused for a long moment. "The thing is, I used to know Ty Calhoun. A long time ago."

"When? I've known you since college, met practically every guy you ever dated. And I definitely would have remembered if he'd taken you out."

"We went to high school together."

"Oh."

Julie was amazed how many meanings one short word could have.

"We didn't hang out. Not until the graduation party."

Amy put her hand over her heart in empathy. "Please tell me he wasn't the guy you chose to lose your virginity to."

Julie had never felt more stupid. "Everything seemed so different that night. He was different. Needless to say, things didn't work out between us."

"So that explains why we never take the athletic contracts." Amy went into problem-solving mode.

"What do you need me to do for you?"

Julie had never appreciated her best friend and right-hand woman more. "I can't see him again."

"I guessed. And I'm also guessing that you don't want to hook the Outlaws up with a new company, right?"

"Of course not. I need the money, for the building."

"Okay then, consider Ty my problem from now on." Amy grinned. "And you can be absolutely certain that I will exact painful revenge upon him for hurting you."

Finally, Julie found a smile. "Good. And thank you."

Amy fiddled with her wedding ring for a few seconds, and Julie knew what she wanted to ask.

"Since I know you're wondering," she told her friend, "it was great." Amy laughed, helping Julie finally break out of her self-pity. "Thank you for telling me. I've been married for so long, I need to live vicariously through you."

The rest of the day, as Julie threw herself into her work, she waited for relief to wash over her. Ty was Amy's problem now. They'd conduct all of their meetings outside the office; Amy would accompany him to charity events; she'd be the one teaching him how to give his fans a chaste peck on the cheek in 11 out of the cameras, or better yet, a handshake.

But relief never came. Instead, during her South Beach Diet meal for one that evening, she found herself worrying about Ty's effect on her best friend. Could any woman really withstand that charm, the sensual power he wielded? What if Amy fell for him? Ty was the ultimate woman magnet—even an intelligent, married woman like Amy wouldn't be able to help herself. What if Ty came between Amy and her husband, Jon? Julie would never forgive herself for pawning him off on her friend if that happened. If she'd had a male employee, she would have passed Ty off to him in an instant. Julie hated how inadequate everything about her life and her business seemed a mere twelve hours after Ty had swaggered back into her life. She'd been happy, damn it. She'd enjoyed quiet nights at home, pleasant dates, occasional affairs that quickly fizzled out. How boring it now seemed in comparison to him. His house was an all-day party, and even his private underground room outdid her sleek, unfussy home across from Golden Gate Park.

Unable to sleep that night, she didn't know why she'd even bothered going to bed. She tried to convince herself that her excess energy was nothing more than anger at the way Ty had manipulated her into being with him again, but every cell in her body called her a liar.

She had taken the job, gone to his house, let him take her clothes off all because she wanted to be with him again. She'd been so desperate for more sex with him that she'd been perfectly willing to give up all of the principles by which she lived her life. Just like the first time. How was it that five seconds with Ty made her lose hold of everything she was? Everything she'd worked so hard to build?

And worse, why did she want nothing more than to have him here with her, in her bed, making her call out his name? Especially when she'd vowed never to be in the same room with him ever again?

Ty was bored. Strip clubs had been a lot of fun when he was twenty-one, but as the years went by, he felt more and more like a dirty old man watching young dancers shimmy in their G-strings and tassels. He'd had more than his fair share of groupies, stuffed twenties into countless G-strings. The women's faces all started to blur together after a while.

Still, he tried to look like he was having a good time. After all, that was the whole point of tonight. He'd called his friends and told them to meet him at the Hustler Club. It was imperative that he be surrounded by a party and plenty of naked women, that people got drunk enough to whip out their cell phones and take pictures of him.