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walked out of his door. She was a woman, a good-looking woman, a very hot and enticing woman.
    A woman he wanted.
    He had decided the moment he’d stared down into her open eyes that he wanted her. Sexual chemistry between them had been thick, the air surrounding them charged. Dangerously so. He would go so far and admit he didn’t particularly understand that part of the equation, but he would accept it now and dwell on it later. He knew what he wanted and would act on it. In a way, he already had. She would be in his home at least once a week for the next six weeks. A strategic move that he was pretty damn proud of.
    “So what do you know about her?”
    Donovan didn’t say anything for a moment, thinking about Bronson’s question. And then he said, “In addition to having a nice-looking body and a beautiful face, she’s twenty-six. Her aunt, my regular housekeeper, hurt her ankle and will be laid up for at least six weeks, and she’s filling in to help out.”
    He then fell silent for a moment as he remembered her in his home. The most prominent memory was how she’d folded her arms beneath her breasts and stared at him with defiance in her eyes. But still, there had been something about her that certainly had his insides simmering in heated longing. He rarely gave any woman a lasting consideration, definitely never thought of plotting the sexual downfall of one, but all afternoon he’d been doing that very thing.
    “And I know, by her own admission,” Donovan spoke up to add, “that she is currently not seeing anyone. In fact she says she’s taking a break from dating.”
    Bronson lifted his brow. “Why?”
    “We didn’t cover the details, not that it matters since she will start dating me.”
    “Good luck.”
    Donovan took another pull from the bottle and then asked, “Good luck?”
    “Yes, I’ve never known you to get so interested in any woman. The next six weeks should be rather interesting.”
    Donovan held back the urge to laugh out loud. Instead he said in an amused voice, “And I assume you think that you can talk?”
    It was a known fact between the two of them that Bronson had fallen hard for a woman named Sunnie, the oldest of the St. Claire triplets from Florida and sister to the wife of Myles Joseph. Sunnie, unfortunately, was playing hard to get, but Bronson was determined to get her anyway.
    Just like Donovan planned to get Natalie Ford.
    The difference was that Bronson, by a decision of his own, which still had Donovan utterly confused, had allowed himself to get snarled without even putting up a fight. That was a predicament Donovan didn’t intend to ever find himself in. He enjoyed female companionship like the next guy—hell, probably a lot more than the next guy—but he knew when and where to draw the line. No woman, no matter how gorgeous her legs were, would get the best of him. In his mind she was a body to be had, pleasured and enjoyed.
    “I’m thinking about going to Florida this weekend,” Bronson said, breaking into his thoughts.
    Donovan was unaffected by Bronson’s words. His friend was determined to pursue a woman who didn’t want to be pursued.
    “I propose a toast,” Bronson said, picking up his beer bottle. “To women. The ones we want for whatever reason we want them. May we both be successful in achieving our goals.”
    Their bottles clinked, and then they both took a huge gulp. The main thought on Donovan’s mind as he felt the bitter-tasting liquid flow down his throat was that he would indeed be successful with Natalie Ford.
     
    The next morning Donovan arrived at the office and discovered his calendar was full and that there was an important meeting with his brothers in Chance’s office at nine.
    He enjoyed arriving at work early, usually coming straight from the gym where he gave his body an intense workout for an hour before showering and dressing to arrive at the office by six.
    His secretary usually got in around eight, which meant he had a