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wines, great books and good cigars, beautiful, intelligent women … and other such masculine acquisitions— Man's Life had become everything he had envisioned. And in his role of publisher as well as editor-in-chief, Adam was exactly where he wanted to be.
    "I have a great idea for a story," Lucas said as he folded himself onto a neighboring bar stool. Without giving Adam a chance to reply, he hastily continued, "Three times yesterday, I encountered the same thing. Three times. To me, that means it's newsworthy." He lifted his hand toward Mack, who nodded an acknowledgment that she would be right there.
    "Three times, huh?" Adam asked, his curiosity reluctantly piqued. "I suppose that counts for something."
    "It's a sign," Lucas assured him. "On three separate occasions yesterday, in three separate places, I saw women reading that new book How to Trap a Tycoon ."
    "Oh, no," Adam said, rolling his eyes. "Not again. Not that."
    "So what could I do but go out and buy myself a copy, too?" Lucas asked.
    Adam eyed him with much disgust. "How could you? You've betrayed your entire gender."
    Lucas shrugged off the charge. "Hey, the book is topical. It's a current event. I'm a journalist. Sue me."
    "Don't tell me you actually read the thing."
    "Of course I read it. And it really fired me up, too."
    "To do what? Go out and trap yourself a tycoon?"
    Lucas grinned in a very wicked way that Adam found more than a little intriguing. "Nope," he said simply. "It made me want to go out and trap Lauren Grable-Monroe."
    Well, that sounded promising. "And do what with her?" Adam spurred.
    Lucas's grin turned positively malicious. Adam was liking this more and more. "My intention is to go out and trap myself Lauren Grable-Monroe and then completely expose her for the fraud I'm certain she is."
    His announcement was punctuated by the sound of shattering glass, something that gave it a rather ominous implication. When Adam glanced up, it was to find Mack gazing at Lucas with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open, her face drained of all color—except for her cheeks, which were faintly stained with the hint of a blush. Strangely, she was holding her hand out before her, but her fingers, though curved, held nothing. Pushing himself up from his stool, Adam glanced over the top of the bar to find that, yep, just as he'd suspected, Mack was the one who had broken the glass. It lay in about a million pieces on the tile floor behind the bar.
    As he sat back down, he tried to imagine what would have caused such a reaction in her. Not only did Mack never lose her composure over anything, but she never broke anything, either. She was amazing when it came to tending bar. Ultimately, all he could figure—and it was a lame deduction at best—was that maybe she had been overcome by Lucas's boyish good looks. In which case Adam would have no choice but to transfer the kid to the Spongemop,
South Dakota
, beat, thereby reducing the competition. Bad enough Adam had to sit around waiting for Mack's husband to go to his final reward. Man .
    Then Adam remembered that he couldn't transfer Lucas to Spongemop ,
South Dakota
. Because Lucas had single-handedly upped Man's Life subscriptions by six percent with that Wall Street exposé he'd written for the June issue. So if the kid wanted to turn his journalistic attentions—and intentions—to Lauren Grable-Monroe now, Adam sure as hell wasn't going to stop him. Then again, a story on Ms. Grable-Monroe meant Man's Life would be giving that damned book of hers free publicity. Did he really want to do that?
    And why was Mack still staring at Lucas that way, her green eyes lambent—he could safely say he now knew what that word meant—her mouth full and ripe and luscious-looking, her face glowing with a mixture of caution and something he was hard-pressed to identify, and … and … and…
    And, man, it was getting hot in here. What did Lindy have the thermostat set on? Jeez .
    He reached up to loosen his already