store and Trent hated it. When Trent struck out on his own to start a landscaping business, Troy had moved into the executive position with ease. He’d enjoyed his job, and if he sometimes felt bored, closed-in, well, he’d had other outlets to pursue in his off-hours. Mainly outlets of the female variety. As a wealthy, and, to be honest, attractive bachelor, he had never lacked for female company.
But about a year ago, his well-laid plans began to wrinkle. His brother’s marriage had been a surprise, though a pleasant one. Watching Trent go crazy over his wife, Chloe, Troy had wondered, for the first time in his life, if he might ever meet a woman who could turn him into a complete idiot, like his brother had become.
“Doubtful.”
His sister-in-law’s subsequent pregnancy had thrilled the entire family, Troy included. It was, probably, why he’d been foolish enough to get briefly involved with someone not at all his usual type. By dating a friendly, personable young woman who reminded him a little of his brother’s wife, had he been subconsciously trying to follow Trent’s lead?
Maybe.
Whatever the reason, it had ended in disaster. Because, for once, Troy had gone out with a woman who hadn’t played the dating game. She’d fallen and fallen hard. Troy hadn’t.
Oh, sure, he’d liked her. She’d been nice and attractive.
And she’d bored him beyond belief.
Their breakup had devastated her, and she’d definitely let him know about it. Troy had never meant to hurt her. He’d certainly never made any promises and they’d only gone out a few times. Hell, they’d never even slept together—which should have been his first indication something was wrong.
Looking back, he couldn’t even fathom why he’d thought he could be interested in someone who didn’t make him crazy with lust from the first time they met. Love might be the greatest thing since the invention of the wheel, but if it wasn’t accompanied by a serious case of the hots, Troy didn’t think it would ever be for him. Any woman with whom he fell in love would have to inspire some immediate thoughts of hot, sweaty bodies and long, erotic nights before she could ever inspire images of diamond rings or whispered promises.
“It will never happen,” he’d often told himself, especially after that last dating disaster.
In any case, the damage had been done. For the first time in his life, he’d hurt someone who hadn’t deserved it.
Lots of women had called him a heel over the years, but this was the first time he’d ever actually felt like one.
Worst of all, the situation had made him cautious about his relationships with women. He hadn’t so much as wanted to kiss one in a good three months! That was pretty long for a man who hadn’t gone without sex for three months since losing his virginity at fourteen to his grandmother’s housemaid.
His twin said occasional breaks from sex could be good for a man. Frankly, Troy thought he’d rather lose an arm than his sex drive. “You can teach yourself to write with your other hand,” he mused. But you couldn’t teach other body parts to have orgasms.
Still, even his suddenly barren love life couldn’t compare with the upheaval in his career. The job in which he’d felt so secure had suddenly disappeared.
I think you’re crazy, Dad.
After six years of retirement, his father had decided he wanted his job back. He had to hand it to his old man. Most fifty-eight-year-olds who’d had a minor heart “episode” would take it as a sign to slow down. His father had decided his early retirement was going to kill him, and that he’d been much healthier when working. So back to Florida he and Troy’s mother had come. Back to the store. Right into Troy’s job.
His father certainly hadn’t pushed him out. They’d be partners, he’d insisted. But when Troy had thought it over, he’d realized he was being given a chance to do something he never thought he would—go outside the store, maybe move somewhere else altogether, try another line of work.
Freedom from Langtree’s had been shocking—but also intoxicating. He’d finally understood some of the choices his twin had made. Though, God knew, he’d never fathom Trent’s delight in planting bushes or mucking around in fertilizer.
Fate had stepped in to make his decision a simple one. Max Longotti, an old friend of his late grandfather, had told Troy’s grandmother he was thinking of selling his nationally known catalog company. He wanted the Langtrees to consider buying it. To that end, he asked Troy to come work with him at his Atlanta headquarters for a few months, so the board could get to know him before Max asked them to vote on the sale.
Troy had leapt at the chance. He’d closed up his beachfront condo and driven to Georgia. Max Longotti, a crotchety old soul who reminded Troy of his grandfather, had welcomed Troy into his own home until he could find another place. He’d be moving into a furnished apartment in a few days. Until then, the Longotti estate was quite comfortable—if large and rather deserted.
One thing Troy had learned so far during his brief stay in Atlanta…Max Longotti was a lonely man. A rich, lonely man who seemed surrounded by scavengers just waiting for him to kick the bucket so they could sink their claws into his money. Troy shook his head in disgust.
Remembering Max had mentioned he’d be in late in the afternoon due to a doctor’s appointment, Troy glanced at his watch, noting it was nearly four. He should have just enough time to read over the marketing projections for the latest sales circular before meeting with Max at the end of the day.
He reached for it, but froze when something else—a bright flash of red outside—caught his eye.
A woman. “Who the devil…” He stood, walking toward the sliding glass door which lead out to the small balcony. A nice touch, the balcony. Troy had become accustomed to sitting outdoors when he had reading to do or reports to peruse.
Obviously no one had come through his office, so the intruder had to have come out the other door, which exited off Max’s. Knowing Max hadn’t yet arrived, he wondered why the older man’s efficient secretary had left the woman alone. And, more importantly, why was she here to begin with? Watching her out the glass, he doubted she was here on business.
The woman had to be tall. She sat in one of the two tasteful, wrought-iron chairs, her long legs crossed and her feet resting on the waist-high balcony railing. She seemed completely unconcerned about losing her slip-on sandal, as she tapped her toe against the air in some unheard rhythm. The heel of the shoe swung against her bare foot as it dangled ten stories above Peachtree Street.
Troy followed every swing of her foot, nearly spotlighted in the sunlight. Her open sandals revealed bright red-polished toenails and a splotch of color—a tattoo—just above her right ankle. Definitely not here on business.
He continued to stare. Her legs, completely bare, went on forever. And ever. Troy swallowed hard as he studied the smooth skin of her calf, the slimness of her pale thighs. Her tiny jean shorts interrupted his visual assessment of her legs. His gaze skimmed past them to the clingy white tank top she wore, which hugged a generously curved chest.
His heart skipped a beat.
Then he saw her face, complete with full lips and a pert nose. Long lashes rested on her cheeks since her eyes were closed. And her thick mass of auburn hair caught the sunlight and shone like red-hot flames.
Seeing her lips
