I thought over what she had said and decided that I liked that. A do-over. It went perfectly with my sassy new personality and my new take-no-shit philosophy.

“Wait, what do you mean? Don’t guys like that? Being the first to conquer uncharted territory, and all that.”

Maggie gave me a sorrow-filled look. “No, because smart men know that women get attached to their first. Smith might be reluctant to go there with you.” While my brain buzzed with thoughts of Smith, she continued. “There are so many expectations and emotions that go along with being someone’s first. He might not be okay with that. And he might hurt you, and if I know Smith, he definitely wouldn’t be okay with that.”

That part was true. He’d always treated me with kid gloves.

“Fine. I won’t tell him about what’s-his-name, or that I need a do-over.”

I’ll just let him think I’m a sexual tigress on the prowl. That was much better than the depressing alternative, admitting that I’d never had an orgasm with a guy in all my twenty-two years.

But tomorrow night, that would all change.

And I couldn’t wait.

Chapter Two

The first thing I saw when I walked into the bar was all those damn curves.

Full, round ones.

Tall, slim ones.

And my personal favorite—short, sturdy ones. Just right for three fingers of Scotch, neat.

I eyeballed the rocks glass like I could call it to me using my mind if I tried hard enough.

Hey, beautiful.

Come over here and see Daddy.

I slid my travel-weary body onto one of the empty stools and leaned on the glossy mahogany bar top with a groan. Jet lag from hell had my head throbbing like mad, and I waved the bartender over, hoping my rudimentary high school French would at least get me a drink.

“Uh, Scotch, s’il vous plaît?” I made a gesture to the bottle and waited hopefully.

The bartender shot me a broad grin in return and nodded his ponytailed head. “Oui, monsieur.”

I gave him a clipped nod of thanks and set my briefcase on the empty chair beside me.

It had been a hell of a day. My flight was delayed more than once, but I was bound and determined to get here. My buddy Cullen was counting on me, and there was no way in hell I was about to let him down. He’d been there for me since I was six years old. We’d skinned our first knees together. Shared our first beer together. Hell, our first kisses were even with the same girl. From as far back as then, no matter how much we both thought we liked her, even Suzie Hammerschmidt couldn’t come between us.

Which meant I really needed to get my head out of my ass and stop thinking about Cullen’s little sister, Evie.

I squeezed my eyes closed and scrubbed a hand over my face in frustration.

Fucking Evie.

She was seven years younger than us, but that never stopped her from wanting to be in our way, all the time. We used to call her Evie Knievel like the stunt guy, but it was done totally tongue in cheek. As kids, she’d follow us around wearing her shiny white shoes and little lace dresses, her honey-blond ringlets bouncing. The only time she ever unplugged her thumb from her mouth was to warn us that whatever it was we were about to do, we were going to get hurt doing it. Thinking on it now, I could feel a smile tugging at my lips.

“If you guys walk on that ice, you’re gonna fall through and die.”

“If you guys light those firecrackers, you’re gonna blow your hands right off.”

“If you guys try to climb that tree, you’re gonna break your necks.”

Only it had come out like neckth because she’d had a lisp when she was little. It was almost as annoying as she was, but looking back, it all seemed pretty adorable.

Not unlike Evie herself.

Shit.

The bartender slid the glass of amber liquid before me, and I nodded my thanks and took a deep pull. The liquor blazed a path of heat down the center of my chest and settled nicely into my stomach, radiating outward. For the first time since I’d left my house more than fifteen hours ago, the tension that had been knitting my neck and shoulder muscles together began to loosen.

It was either pop some pain reliever and go to bed, or hope the alcohol would put me in a pleasant haze. It wasn’t even dinnertime, and I was meeting Cullen and his sister soon.

I needed to stop being such a chickenshit. This was no big deal. All I had to do was get through this dinner and brief visit, and Evie would be off backpacking with her friend again. Then Cullen and I could focus on the business at hand.

Simple.

I tugged out my cell phone to see if I’d gotten any messages since I arrived, but before I could scroll through, a loud voice echoed through the bar.

“Smith, you son of a bitch! It’s so good to see you.”

Cullen strode toward me, his infectious smile cranked up to an eleven. Despite that, there was no denying he looked harried. There were lines around his eyes I hadn’t seen the year before, and dark smudges beneath them. As the king of workaholics, I recognized stress when I saw it, but we’d tackle that soon enough.

I stood and returned his man-hug before gesturing toward the empty seat next to me. “Good to see you too, man. It’s been too long.”

We’d done a good job of staying in touch over the years, but the last couple had been tough. Once Cullen took over the day-to-day running of his family’s company, he worked hard to grow it enough that they could expand. And expand, they did. All the way to Paris. Now, though, they were going through some growing pains, and I was here to help him iron them out.