“Not here,” I whispered against her neck.

She pulled back, her eyes wide. “You . . . you want to stop?”

I looked at my studio and shook my head as I released her hands. “I just don’t want to do this with you here. Let me take you back to my place.”

I’d had meaningless sex in my studio too many times over the years, and the thought of being with Reagan on the same furniture seemed wrong. Like it would cheapen everything about us. Not that there was technically an us yet, but she didn’t deserve that, and I didn’t want that. I wanted somewhere that didn’t have drunken one-­night memories attached to it.

Grabbing her hand, I shut off the lights in my studio as we walked through it, and locked the door behind us once we were outside. I noticed Reagan grabbing her keys out of her purse and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I just figured I’d follow you,” she said, and her cheeks turned red. “You know, so I could leave, um, after or . . . or in the morning.”

Biting back a smile, I nodded and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. “So you plan on staying the night, huh?”

“No, I—­”

“I never said that was a bad thing, Duchess.”

Reagan’s tense body instantly relaxed, and when I pulled away from her she was biting down on the inside of her cheek and her face was red. Fuck, she was adorable.

I walked her to her SUV and waited until she was inside before going to my car and getting in, and as soon as we were on our way to my condo, the direction of my thoughts changed.

Now that I could think clearly without Reagan’s body pressed against mine, I knew that taking her back to my place was the wrong move. I’d just told her I was different. I’d just told her I didn’t want to see what I could get from her on nights when her son wasn’t with her. And yet, the first two nights we were alone—­the first two nights we even spent time together—­things progressed quickly, and only stopped because of a phone ringing, and the fact that I didn’t want to be with her on a couch where I’d f**ked random women.

The fact that I could still feel her body against me, the fact that the way she’d softly moaned was still replaying in my mind, and the fact that I was still hard as shit had me wanting to continue the drive to my condo. But I couldn’t do this to her.

Pulling over into an Italian restaurant’s parking lot, I got out of my car and waited for her to do the same.

“Uh . . . this isn’t your place,” she said, her confused tone making it sound more like a question.

“I know.” I nodded and pulled her into my arms. “But I just told you I wanted to surprise you, and the path we were on was the opposite of that. So I’m going to take you to dinner, and at the end of dinner I’m going to walk you back out here, kiss you good night, and go back to my condo alone.”

I held my breath as I waited for her reaction, and told myself again that this was the right thing to do. And as soon as her face lit up in the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen, I knew it had been. Brushing a soft kiss across her lips, I slid my arm around her waist and walked us toward the restaurant.

Reagan—­August 31, 2010

MY PHONE RANG as I pulled into my parents’ driveway, and I couldn’t have contained my smile no matter how hard I tried when I saw his name on my screen.

“Hey!”

He laughed quietly. “I love that you don’t try to hide the fact that you’re excited to talk to me.”

I made a face and looked around as I turned off my car. “Uh, that’s not a good thing, actually, I’m pretty sure that’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. Do you know how annoying that whole mysterious, playing hard-­to-­get voice is? You can never tell if the girl is ready to cry, yell at you, or tear off your clothes. With you, I always know exactly what I’m getting.”

I rubbed at my forehead and laughed uneasily. “Okay . . . ? I guess?”

“And I just made this conversation awkward. We’re starting this over.”

“No! No, we’re—­Coen? Hello?” I looked at my screen and scoffed. “You really just hung up on me?” I asked when he called back.

“Ooh, pissed off, Duchess.”

“I’m not—­”

“Hi, Reagan,” he said, cutting me off. His deep voice somehow calming and warming every part of my body.

“Hey,” I said softly, and smiled as I played with the ends of my hair. “I didn’t think I was going to talk to you until later.”

“Is that why you were so excited?”

I laughed and covered my face, groaning into my hand. “Yes, that’s why I was excited. I’m going to be a robot every time we talk from now on. You’ll never have any idea.”

“That would be depressing for me.”

“And probably impossible for me.”

“Uh, yeah. I’d say so. Hey . . . have you gotten Parker yet?”

I went back to playing with the ends of my hair and glanced at my parents’ house. “I’m just about to, I’d just pulled in to pick him up when you called.”

Coen was silent for a few seconds.

“Why?” I asked, drawing out the word.

“I know you’re scared of him getting to know me . . . but I’d really like to take you and Parker out tonight.” When I didn’t respond, his voice filtered through the phone again, his tone now borderline worried. “Reagan?”