Prologue

New York City

Six months ago

Jay Bohannon wasn’t one to listen to other people’s private conversations, but tonight he was wedged into a tucked-away, half-moon shaped booth at a cozy, rather quiet restaurant, waiting for a business associate who was running fifteen minutes late.

The women talking in the booth behind him had arrived only minutes after him and were probably not even aware that anybody was sitting in the booth adjacent to theirs. He wasn’t sure how many there were, since he was sitting with his back to them and the backrests were too high, but he heard at least two female voices.

“Okay, so let’s go over this again,” one of the women started, speaking in a thick New York accent. Being from the South, Jay had never gotten used to the harsh tones that colored the speech of many native New Yorkers. “You have four guys left on your list—”

“And I totally know who I’d go for,” a second woman interrupted. Her voice was less grating, and it was obvious that she wasn’t from New York. Either that, or she’d worked on losing her accent.

“Cassie,” the first woman growled softly. “When it’s your turn, don’t worry, the two of us will help you choose the right husband. Just like we promised. Now let’s go over what I found out.”

Judging by the conversation there had to be at least three women in the booth behind him. Discussing possible husbands. Jay rolled his eyes and looked at his watch, hoping Milton would show up soon.

“What do you mean?” Cassie asked.

“Assets, dummy! Let’s go over their net worth.”

Jay cringed. Clearly this wasn’t a girl’s night out to discuss who the bride-to-be liked more, rather whose bank account she preferred.

Poor sucker!

Forcing himself to ignore the conversation, he scrolled through the emails on his cell phone. His girlfriend Deborah, who he’d been seeing exclusively for over four months now, had sent him an email an hour earlier. He reread it.

Something came up at the office. Will text you later if I can manage to stop by tonight.

Kisses, Deborah.

God, he got hard just thinking of her. She was sexy as hell, adventurous in bed, and looked stunning in anything she wore. He was head over heels for her, so much so that he considered taking the next step in their relationship.

After all, he didn’t care if he emerged as the winner of the Eternal Bachelors Club one day—claiming the sizable monetary prize associated with the win, once all the other bachelors had gotten married. He didn’t need the money. After inventing and patenting a nifty security device for boats, which had made him wealthy, he’d started building mega-yachts for the ultra-rich. It had turned him into one of the most eligible bachelors in New York.

“…apparently up to his eyeballs in debt. And get this: the penthouse he lives in is rented!” The New Yorker’s voice carried an air of outrage with it.

A gasp came from another woman. “B—”

“I know what you wanna say, but hear me out,” the first woman interrupted. “He’s hot and all, but I’m sorry, friends don’t let friends marry a loser.”

“What about him then?” a third woman, who hadn’t spoken before, asked.

Jay’s heart stopped. He recognized her voice. In fact, he knew it all too well.

“Whelan?” the woman with the heavy New York accent asked.

“Yes,” Deborah replied. “From your notes here it looks like he’s richer than Bohannon.”

Jay held his breath, annoyance and disappointment settling in his gut. Deborah’s voice sounded detached, as if she were talking about a fancy car rather than her current boyfriend.

“He’s a cutie, too,” Cassie chimed in now. “Hot. And didn’t you say he’s quite a stud in bed?”

“Sure,” Deborah said nonchalantly. “But I’m not gonna settle for second best if there’s somebody out there who’s more to my liking, no matter how hot the sex. Right, Sharon?”

“Right. Though I think Bohannon might be your best choice after all,” the first woman—apparently Sharon—replied.

“Why? I thought Whelan was richer than Bohannon.”

Jay could firmly imagine the skin between Deborah’s eyebrows furrowing, something he’d always considered cute, but which now made him want to kick somebody or something. He knew he should get up and show himself, but he was frozen in his seat, his hands trembling with rage.

“Actually, Whelan’s family is richer than Bohannon. Theoretically, it still all belongs to his parents, and though he’s an only son, you don’t want to have to wait for his parents to kick the bucket, do you? I mean, he probably has to do whatever his parents say to get at the money while they’re alive. Trust me on this. You don’t want to deal with that. I’d vote for Bohannon. Reel him in and get a ring on your finger asap.”