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close to me. “You handled yourself pretty well too. If it weren’t for you, I might have settled on five million.”
    “No you wouldn’t have,” she jeers, her eyes shooting back open. “I know you, ‘Mr. Hartz’. You always planned to fuck him in the ass.”
    I laugh at her unfiltered mouth. It’s kind of what I’ve always liked about Anna. She’s like two women in one. She can be sweet, sensitive and very caring. Yet also sassy, conceited and so blunt that you end up damn well respecting her for it.
    Not enough women are like Anna. Not enough have that perfect balance of soft and hard.
    I know she’ll make one hell of a great mom one day. Strict at times, but highly affectionate too. Like I said, she’s a perfect equilibrium.
    Once I regain my composure, I clear my throat and say the next thing on my mind. “Anna… I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but… perhaps, just when meeting clients, suit pants might be more appropriate.” The moment I finish saying it, I know it was a mistake.
    A big mistake.
    Anan stops mid-sip of her champagne, her eyes sharpening on me, smoldering. And by smoldering, I don’t mean in a sexy way.
    “I beg your pardon?” The venom practically hisses off her teeth.
    I down the rest of my Don Perignon and prepare myself for the onslaught. What the hell did I say that for anyway? Sure her pencil skirts are tight, but it’s not like they’re too short for company standards.
    Yet every guy walking down the street can’t help but stare at her, including me.
    I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone else looking at her.
    I want her for myself .
    Shit… I did not just think that.
    “What I mean is, you have a smoking hot body… which tends to turn the heads of… well, most guys. All I’m suggesting is that you tone it down a little on the skirts.”
    Oh, man. I may as well just ask her to slap me again and be done with it. What the hell is wrong with me?
    When the champagne hits my face, I’m not in the least bit surprised.
    “Fuck you, Lucas,” she shouts, standing up in the tub. Her slim, wet thighs tower over me, tempting me to slide my hand in-between them. “And I thought Gerard Winston was a bigot!”
    Making sure to give me a decent splash before she gets out, Anna storms off in the direction of her bedroom. “This situation is clearly not going to work out,” she adds over her shoulder before she disappears and I hear her door slam shut.
    Scowling at myself, I refill my glass, neck it, and then top it up again. My cock aches in my swimming trunks. It needs a release. So fucking badly.
    I think this whole “seducing Anna again” ship just sailed. After that idiotic comment, there’s no way she’ll be swayed by me. I’ve disrespected her and her right to be a woman. But I swear that wasn’t my intention. I guess this thing I have for her is only getting worse.
    Face it, Lucas. You like her. Like really like her.
    Thinking back to my eighteen-year-old horndog self, I know how to get rid of it – those lovey-dovey feelings for Anna Fitzgerald.
    Now, it’s just a question of who I want to cure me.
    Holly?
    Kelsey?
    Or that vixen redhead who gives the best BJs on the strip?
    Yes… Monique.

Chapter 11

Anna
     
    Scrunching my fingers into the pillow, I bash it against the bed head. And repeat for a few minutes.
    After about ten full-throttled grunts, my anger over what Lucas just said in the hot tub diminishes somewhat.
    What an asshole!
    What a prick!
    Who the hell does he think he is telling me how I should dress?!
    I wear knee-length pencil skirts for crying out loud! And yes, they might be tight, but it’s a pencil skirt. That’s the design.
    Honestly, I thought he had potential. I thought perhaps he did have a soul underneath that suave, Armani suit. But no, not Lucas Hartz. He just has to play the same dickhead card over and over, like he always has.
    When I realize that sitting on my bed and overthinking it won’t help, I jump in the