“My fragile ego will be irrevocably wounded.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “I doubt that’s even remotely possible.”

“Maybe not. But it doesn’t matter.” He stepped closer and, with one hand, brushed Brooke’s hair aside. He lowered his head and whispered in her ear. “You’re going to say yes.”

His eyes held hers as he pulled back. “Have a good afternoon, Ms. Parker.”

* * *

THE REST OF the afternoon flew by with a steady stream of conference calls and e-mails. It was after six o’clock when Brooke finally came up for air again, having a few free minutes to scarf down an energy bar before jumping on yet another call. This time, she would be speaking with a partner in the Los Angeles office of the firm they used for employment matters, to discuss some modifications they needed to make, per California law, to the contracts they had with two current managers they planned to move over to the Staples Center. Probably not the most fun way to spend a Friday evening, but Brooke planned to make up for it tomorrow at the Cubs/Sox game.

Sterling’s offices were quiet, everyone else having gone home for the weekend. She liked the office when it was calm like this—it gave her an opportunity to think without the usual interruptions.

And right now . . . she was thinking about Cade.

You’re going to say yes.

The man was too confident. Part of her found this irritating, but another part of her found it admittedly intriguing. In her daily life, as general counsel for Sterling, she was often the one making the decisions. So it was refreshing to be around someone who challenged her the way Cade did.

But.

Before she even considered accepting his invitation, she needed to figure out the ground rules. She hadn’t done the casual-dating thing since college, and from what she’d gathered, it was a whole different world out there now that she was in her thirties.

With that in mind, she quickly dialed up Ford, the expert, thinking he was just the person she needed to talk to. Unfortunately, he didn’t answer his cell phone. Brooke left him a message, then sat at her desk, staring distractedly at her computer. Her gaze sharpened, coming into focus as she realized what she had before her, literally at her fingertips.

The power of the Internet.

Quickly, she checked the clock on her desk and saw that she had ten minutes until her conference call. Plenty of time to do a little “research.” She swung around in the desk chair and pulled her trusty iPad out of her briefcase—no way was she doing this on her work computer—then fired up the browser and quickly Googled “rules of casual dating.”

3,730,000 results in 1.8 seconds.

Bingo.

She scrolled through the links until she found one that sounded like it got right to the point, from a popular women’s magazine. “Ten Rules of Casual Sex.” Brooke tapped on the link and began reading.

1. Be candid about your intentions from the start. Make sure he knows you aren’t looking for a serious relationship.

Fair enough, she agreed. Be honest. No problem.

2. Never go into a casual relationship with expectations. Remember that both of you are free to walk out at any time.

3. Keep it simple and stress-free. And have fun!

Brooke rolled her eyes, beginning to think that this was really basic stuff, when the remaining rules caught her eye.

4. In a casual relationship, all arrangements should be made only via text message. And the dirtier the message, the better!

5. Be sure to alternate text messages with him so that mutual interest is continually reestablished.

6. No personal gifts except for sex toys and massage oils.

7. A minimum of eighty percent of your time together should be spent naked or partially naked.

8. Don’t call him just to say hi.

9. Never take a bath together.

10. Under no circumstances should you continue to hook up if one of you—and only one of you—wants something more.

Brooke scrolled through the rules, not sure if she should laugh or be very, very afraid. Eighty percent of her time in a casual relationship should be spent naked? Did that include sleeping? Showering? But no baths, no sir-ee, because those were distinctly off-limits.

This had to be a joke. No personal gifts except for sex toys? Sure, because nothing said “I like but don’t love you” like a “just because” vibrator.

Ridiculous. She’d save her questions for Ford—frankly, this advice seemed a little shady.

Brooke’s phone started ringing. Time for her conference call.

Seeing that there was a three-page article following “Ten Rules of Casual Sex”—oh, now she had to read the rest, just for kicks—she decided to e-mail the link to her personal account, thinking she’d finish the article with a nice glass of wine when she got home. Not wanting to keep the guys in L.A. waiting, and a pro at multitasking, she answered the phone with an efficient “Brooke Parker,” and—

Shit!—accidentally tapped the button to “like” the article on Facebook instead of sharing the link via e-mail.

Oh, no, no, no.

This was not good.

“Uh . . . hi. Hang on for a moment, guys,” she stammered. So much for being a pro at multitasking.

A box popped up with her Facebook picture, prompting her to add a comment to the link for the “Ten Rules of Casual Sex.”

She instantly hit “cancel.”

And just like that, the whole thing went away.

Whew.

Now that had been a near disaster. No more multitasking at work, she vowed. Like texting while driving, trying to do a conference call while researching the rules of casual sex could only lead to big-time trouble.