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talking her into, well, anything. Oh, damn, he was either good or dangerous, or both.
    “Yes, I suppose I do.” Maybe the smartest thing for her to do was get away from the testosterone he was throwing out like a force field, so she could think more clearly. Besides, like it or not, it was getting late and she needed to go home and get to bed. She hesitated, then opened her purse and extracted her gold card case. “My card,” she said needlessly, placing the cream-colored business card—with Premier , along with her name and numbers, in gold foil—on the table and sliding it toward him. “My office and cell numbers are both here.”
    He glanced at the card, holding it up to catch the light so he could see it clearly. “Not Wilde Weddings?”
    Jaclyn smiled. “That’s not the image we’re trying to project.”
    He studied the card. “Classy.” His gaze flicked back to her. “Like you.”
    Before she could respond, he reached into his inside jacket pocket and whipped out his own business card. It was black and white, a plain font, all business. It said as much about him as her card said about her. He turned it over, took a pen from his pocket, and scribbled on the back. “My cell number. Call me any time.”
    She dropped the card into her purse, stood, and said good night. “You’ll be hearing from me,” he said, and she didn’t doubt it. As she walked toward the exit, she could feel him watching her, just as she had that morning. This time she looked back and smiled … and sure enough, his gaze was locked on her. The way he looked at her was enough to make her bones go to butter.
    Damn .

Chapter Three
    THE STREETS WERE ALL BUT EMPTY AT THIS TIME OF the evening on a weeknight, so driving didn’t require nearly enough of Jaclyn’s attention as she headed for home. Maybe if there’d been a line of traffic to maneuver through, or maybe some careless pedestrians, she could have kept her mind on mundane matters, but no one was obligingly suicidal enough to step in front of her. Not that she wanted to actually hit anyone, but the evasive maneuvers would at least have transferred her interest away from a certain cop.
    No matter what she did to push him aside, Eric Wilder remained lodged front and center in her thoughts. It was everything about him: his voice, his eyes, and, she might as well be honest with herself, his body. She liked his height, the breadth of his shoulders, and, well, everything. He was the kind of man who’d stand out in a crowd no matter where he went; he would draw her eye in any courthouse, in any bar … anywhere at all. The problem was, the very last thing she needed to complicate her life right now was a relationship of any kind, whether it was sexual, romantic, friendly, unfriendly, whatever—even if the man in question occupied her thoughts as she drove home. She didn’t need to be thinking about men, not about him in particular or about men in general. She needed to mentally run through the next day’s work plan, because she and Madelyn were about to enter the insane portion of the week’s schedule, not the least of which was the meeting with Carrie Edwards and the poor, abused vendors she’d selected. After Carrie’s wedding was over, Jaclyn figured she owed each and every vendor an abject, and heartfelt, apology.
    Current insane schedule aside, Jaclyn wasn’t against the idea of having a man in her life. In fact, she wanted one. She didn’t want to live her life alone; getting married and having kids someday were definitely in her long-range plans. Someday she’d find a man she loved, and who loved her, and they’d make it work, have one or two kids, and grow old together. Her first marriage had failed, but that didn’t mean she’d given up on men; she was just more cautious. Okay, maybe too cautious. Someday, though …
    But this wasn’t “someday,” this was now , and she had her hands full. A man like Eric Wilder was a time-suck; she instinctively knew it,