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and I didn't have on an ounce of makeup. Not even lip balm. I was shocked that Holden recognized me.
    "Excuse me?" Darren said, startling me out of my shock. Holden had come to a stop directly in front of us, and I was staring up at him, jaw dropped, eyes wide. "Who are you?" Darren demanded, moving as if to shield me from Holden. Holden blocked him easily, sliding between us and curling his arm around me.
    "Is this guy bothering you, Jo?" Darren asked, sounding like he was ready to start something with Holden.
    I shook off my daze and said, "No, I'm good. I'll meet you inside." Darren made as if to lay a hand on Holden, and I said, "Really, Darren, I'm good. I'll see you in the lab in a minute."
    Darren scowled at Holden for a moment, then left. At a loss for anything meaningful to say, I asked, "How did you find me?"
    Holden reached into his back pocket and produced a familiar wrinkled note. I remembered my purse, open and on its side beneath the bench. I took the note from his fingers and glanced at it. "Good detective work," I said. Holden plucked the note from my fingers and put it back in his pocket.
    "Why did you leave this morning?" he asked.
    "I thought you'd want me to," I said.
    "Really?" he asked, his eyes studying mine, demanding honesty.
    "I was afraid you'd want me to leave," I admitted. Holden lifted his hands to cup my face, tilting my chin up to him.
    "I didn't. I wanted you to stay."
    "Oh," I whispered.
    "Did you want to stay?" Holden asked quietly.
    "Yes," I whispered again.
    "Good." His lips brushed mine in a feather-light kiss that sent electric tingles straight to my nipples. Another brush, and I thought he had a direct line to my clit. When he slanted his mouth down on mine, claiming me in our second, very public kiss, I fell into him, kissing him back with everything I had. I'd been a fool to walk out on him, but now that I had a second chance, I wasn't going to blow it.
    I have no idea how long we kissed. When we finally broke apart, Holden slid his thumb over my lower lip and ordered, "Have dinner with me tonight."
    "Okay," I said.
    "Seven? I'll pick you up."
    "Okay." I gave him my address and my number, my head still spinning from that kiss. I turned to go into the building, then stopped. "Wait! What's your name? I mean, your whole name?"
    "Winters. Holden Winters."

    * * *
    " H olden Winters ?" Emily shrieked. I stared at her in amazement. Emily was not a shrieker.
    "What? Do you know him?" I asked, confused.
    "Not personally, no," she said, shaking her head. "Sometimes, I forget you're not from here." She opened her laptop and started typing. A search results page popped up with pictures of Holden and a long list of web pages mentioning him. I saw the club, Mana, something about WGC, and lower down, headlines with the words murder, tragedy, and suicide. All of a sudden, I realized I was way over my head.
    "I'm not spying on him," I said, looking away from the screen. "Just tell me what I need to know."
    "Okay. First, you have to tell me—is he really that gorgeous in real life?"
    "Yeah," I said.
    "Damn," Emily sighed. "Okay, this is a sad story, and if it wasn't mostly common knowledge, I wouldn't tell you. But he may assume you know anyway now that he told you his name . . ." She trailed off.
    "Just tell me, Em!"
    "Okay, so the Winters family are old Atlanta. In our parents’ generation, there were two brothers. I can't remember their names. They all lived in this huge estate in Buckhead. Big money."
    I didn't need her to add the last part. I'd only been in Atlanta a few years, but I knew an estate in Buckhead meant big money.
    "When I was a baby, so your Holden was probably a little kid, one of the brothers and his wife died in a murder/suicide. It was a huge scandal, really ugly. The kids—I think they had three or four boys—went to live with the other brother and his wife. Then, like ten years ago, the other brother and his wife were both killed in a break-in. But there were rumors that