Yeah. I sure did. What a mistake.

The realization hits me like a swift kick in the ribs. Yet again, I did it. I went after a man who has no intentions to do right by me. Heck, I have no intention of doing right by him. To do so would be utter foolishness. The man is a mess. He’s a complete and utter mess and I have no one to blame but myself for getting involved with him.

I almost want to laugh at my mental choice of words. Involved. As if what we shared contains any sort of involvement beyond the quick and dirty sexual kind.

Archer Bancroft is my ultimate failure. That Humpty Dumpty of a man can never, ever be put back together again. I won’t even bother trying.

Archer

“HEY, WHAT’S UP? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy.” So damn busy I can hardly breathe. Not so busy that I haven’t been thinking of a certain someone constantly. Hence my reason for calling her brother—I’m digging for information. “You make that deal you told me about?”

“I sure did. Purchased the property for an absolute song. Already have a buyer lined up, and my end of the deal isn’t even closed yet.” Gage chuckles, sounding pleased with himself. “It all came together way too easy.”

“That sort of thing usually makes me nervous.” Struggles and roadblocks actually make me feel better when it comes to business. And life. When it’s too easy, there’s always a catch.

Always.

“I’ve been working this guy for over a year. This was definitely not an easy deal. I finally got him to cave. I’m a persistent motherfucker when I need to be.” Gage full blown laughs.

Wasn’t that the truth? One of the many traits Gage and I share. “Congrats man.”

“Thanks.” He pauses. “There must be another reason you called. You’re not one for chitchat.”

I blow out a harsh breath, working up my nerve. “Listen, I need Ivy’s work number,” I say as nonchalantly as I can, leaning back in my chair so I can stare out the window.

“Why? Call her cell.” Gage sounds distracted. “Or are you afraid she won’t answer you.”

Damn Gage for being too perceptive. “I need to talk to her about a business proposition.” Not a lie. The new location is going into fast-forward mode and the interior designer I hired to transform Hush is unavailable. I need someone quick.

I need Ivy.

“Are you serious? She’s just a junior associate, you know. I have no idea if she’s up to snuff with what you might need.” Gage mutters something under his breath, and I hear a female’s soft laugh.

“Way to bag on your sister.” I shake my head, irritated with him. “And where the hell are you anyway?”

“Work. Where the hell are you?”

Doesn’t sound like he’s at work. And he’s awfully quick on the defense. “Come on, just give me her number.”

“Hold on, I need to scroll through my contacts. Give me a minute.”

Tapping my fingers impatiently against the edge of my desk, I wait. I can hear Gage say something, hear the light tones of a woman answering him, and I wonder who he’s with on a Monday afternoon. Can’t help but feel a little jealous too.

Jealousy is an emotion I’m not used to and definitely not comfortable with. There’s no need to get jealous if I’m never with a woman beyond a night or two, right? I move through life with no entanglements, no relationships beyond my friendships, and even then I don’t let many into my inner circle. Hell, I don’t even stay in regular contact with my mom, not that she cares. She’s too busy hitting the bottle or fighting with my father. And I deal with him only because I have to.

More than one woman has described me as a loner. Fairly accurate. I surround myself with plenty of people but it’s meaningless. A good time for a few hours before I go home alone. Socially I’ve withdrawn as I become more consumed with work. This latest project has kept me constantly going these last few weeks.

I miss Ivy. I regret calling what happened between us a mistake. It wasn’t. Screw the bet, forget my friends, forget everything. I want to see her. It’s been over three weeks. Three long weeks without seeing her pretty face, that gorgeous smile. Hell, I miss hearing her all exasperated with me, insulting me, telling me to leave her alone.

I miss the way her body felt beneath mine. How she tugged on my hair tight, the hot little words she panted against my lips just before I made her come.

“All right, here you go,” Gage says, interrupting my thoughts as he rattles off a number. I scribble it across a notepad, my mind still foggy with images of Ivy, and I blink hard, banishing her as best I can. She is the last thing I need to think of while I’m talking to her brother.

“Thanks,” I mutter, dropping the pen on my desk and scrubbing my hand over my face. I need to get a grip.

“You’re serious about wanting to hire her?”

“I am. The new Hush location’s completion is ahead of schedule and I’m pushing it forward. Our previous designer is heavily involved with another project, so she’s unable to get on board. I thought I’d ask Ivy if she’s available,” I say this as casually as possible, not wanting him to figure out my other motive for contacting her.

“I know her boss would probably like a chance at it,” Gage says.

Sharon Paxton probably would. But I know for a fact she’s beyond busy with her own clients. She has a waiting list, for the love of God. This probably doesn’t bode well with getting Ivy’s help, but I’m willing to pay whatever it takes to have her work with me on this project.

I want to see her that badly. This is the perfect excuse. That I have to use my business as a way to get her back into my life is probably underhanded, but I don’t care. I’m to the point that I’ll do anything to see her again.

Prove to her that maybe I am worth being put back together again.

“I’m sure she would,” I say. “I’d rather have Ivy.”

Gage is quiet for a moment before he finally asks, “Do you have a thing for my sister?”

“Not at all,” I say easily. “Hell, we argue most of the time when we see each other.”

“Then why would you want to work with her if all you do is argue?”

Valid question. Shit. “I trust her. I’ve known her for years. She’s your sister. She’ll do a good job and not try and screw me over.”

“Huh.” Gage doesn’t sound like he believes me so I push forward.

“This project, this location, it has to be handled delicately. Discreetly. I can’t hire any designer off the street. I need someone I can trust to keep their mouth closed and not leak what I have planned.”

“You haven’t even told me what you have planned,” Gage points out.

“Exactly, and I’m not going to either. That’s why I think Ivy is the perfect fit.” This part is true. I do want her to work for me. I trust that she won’t blab what I have planned for the remote location. An even sexier, more intimate resort than Hush, it will cater to wealthy couples that want an indulgent getaway with their significant other.

Private gourmet meals, couples massages, the small hotel will be exclusive to only eight couples at any given time. The location will be the ultimate in intimate, quiet luxury.

“Well, good luck. Give her a call. I’m betting she’ll say no.”

“Why does everything circle back to a bet?” I ask irritably, not needing the reminder. “And how do you know she’ll say no?”

But she doesn’t count toward the bet, right? Didn’t Gage and Matt count her out? After all, she’s just Ivy.

“She doesn’t particularly like you, Archer. You know this.” Gage makes it sound like common knowledge. “And besides, I’m going to guess her boss won’t let her take on the project. Sounds like it’ll be over Ivy’s head.”

“I want her. Only her.” I clear my throat, realizing how that sounds. “For the project,” I add weakly.

“Good luck. I doubt you’ll get her, but more power to you.”

Gage’s words are just the challenge I need to hear.

Chapter Nine

Ivy

“CHICKEN, I NEED your help.”

Icy shock moves through my veins at the first sound of Archer’s familiar, deep and sexy-as-hell voice. The very last person I expected to call me at my office on an early Wednesday afternoon—and just how did he get my work number anyway?

Duh, your brother.

Freaking Gage.

“No, ‘Hello, Ivy, how’s it going?’ And I really, really wish you wouldn’t call me chicken.” I’m trying to joke. Or more like trying to figure out if he really does need my help. I mean, come on. Like hearing from him out of nowhere nearly a month later, after what happened between us, is no big deal.

It’s such a big deal.

“So nice to hear from you, Archer. What’s it been, a couple days?” Almost twenty-five days, not that I’m keeping count.

“Very f**king funny, Ivy. I’m not kidding,” he growls irritably. “I need your help, and I needed it yesterday.”

“And you’re calling me? Why? How exactly can I help you?” Wow, I sound remarkably cool and calm, but deep within my insides are trembling. And for whatever crazy reason, my ni**les are hard. All from his gruff, commanding tone. So ridiculous, but it’s like the second I hear his voice, my body reacts. I haven’t been able to get that night out of my mind. Images of a na**d Archer above me, kissing me, buried deep inside me are burned on my brain.

“You’re still single, right?” he asks, knocking me from my thoughts.

“How is that any of your business?” My heart lodges in my throat. As if he would care. “And who told you that?” Fine. I so am. I haven’t talked to Marc, the jerk, since I broke it off with him. And I haven’t talked to any other guy either, let alone gone out on a date since my night with Archer.

Has he somehow ruined me forever? God, I hope not. I’m only twenty-four. I don’t want to die a shriveled up old lady pining for a man who had sex with me once and then walked away.

“Gage told me.”

I’m going to kill my brother. “Why do you care if I’m single or not?”

“I have a proposition for you.” He pauses and my heart falls into my stomach with hope. “A business proposition.”

Of course. Not that I expected a sexual one. Hello, been down that road once before and look where it got me? A lot of lonely, achy nights waking up after sweaty, too-graphic dreams involving me and him na**d. “What sort of business proposition could you possibly have for me?”

“We’re getting ready to open a new set of suites at Hush. There’s only a handful, but they’re bigger, much more exclusive—and expensive—and I need someone to design the interior.” He pauses and my heart squeezes. “I want you.”

Hearing his familiar, deep voice say he wants me in that commanding way of his sets my legs shaking. And I’m sitting down. Ridiculous. “Maybe I’m busy,” I say haughtily, which is true.

“Come on, Ivy. You’re not too busy for me, are you?” He’s teasing me, but there’s a sexual edge to his voice. One I want to ignore.

“Actually, I am. I have a lot of projects I’m working on currently for clients.” I sound like a prim schoolteacher, but damn it, I know I have an appointment I need to get to soon. I really don’t have time to listen to him go on and on about how much he needs me. Getting my hopes up only for them to come crashing down when he never contacts me again.

He’s real good at that.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” His voice lowers, deceptively soft yet edged with smoky, sensual heat.

Tingles sweep over my skin. “I’m sure you will,” I say sarcastically. I refuse to let him know how much he still affects me, especially after he so callously ignored me this past month.

We got na**d together. We had sex. And he acts like it never happened. I do too, because how else should I handle it? Confront him?

Hey, what the hell was that night all about anyway? I felt the earth move and thought maybe . . . you felt the same?

Can’t go there. No matter how badly I want to. And wasn’t he the one who called it a mistake?

Yeah, so not going to bring any of that up to him. He’d rather forget. Just like I would.

Liar.

I wish he hadn’t called. Just hearing his voice works me up. Archer Bancroft is dangerous for my well-being and I know it. Delicious. Wicked. Appealing. Wrong. At least, he’s wrong for me.

“I have to go, Archer.” I keep my tone brusque as my gaze lands on my computer screen. My to-do list mocks me, it’s so long. And my calendar app dings, reminding me I have an appointment with a client in thirty minutes.

Which means I need to leave now if I want to make it on time.

“Listen, I’m in town and I want to see you,” he says, shocking me. I didn’t expect him to say that. “Let me take you to dinner tonight and I’ll explain everything. How about we go to Spruce?” He refers to an ultrapopular restaurant not too far from my office. I’ve been there before and it’s amazing. Amazingly intimate too—the perfect restaurant for a date. Not that we’re going on a date.

Yeah, right.

“I’ll pick you up at your office, we can have a few drinks first, then dinner,” he continues.

“No,” I say vehemently, rendering him completely silent. I’d bet a million dollars not many women utter that word in his presence, but the very last thing I want is Archer invading my private workspace, spreading his devastating charm all over it.