One
London-born Reid Singleton didn’t know a damn thing about women’s shoes. So when he became transfixed by a pair on the dance floor, fashion wasn’t his dominating thought.
They were pink, but somehow also metallic, with long Grecian-style straps crisscrossing delicate, gorgeous ankles. He curled his scotch to his chest and backed into the shadows, content to watch the woman who owned those ankles for a bit.
Reid might not know women’s brands or styles, but he knew women. He’d seen quite a lot of women in high heels and short skirts, but he couldn’t recall one who’d snagged his attention this thoroughly.
From those pinkish metallic spikes, the picture only improved. He followed the straps to perfectly rounded calves and the outline of tantalizing thighs lost in a skirt that moved when she did. The cream-colored skirt led to a sparkling gold top. Her shoulders were slight, the swells of her breasts snagging his attention for a beat, and her hair fell in curls over those small shoulders. Dark hair with a touch of mahogany, or maybe rich cherry. Not quite red, but with a notable amount of warmth, the way a tree ended its journey from burnished gold to deep russet in the fall.
He sipped from his glass, again taking in the skirt, both flirty and fun in equal measures. A guy could get lost in there. Get lost in her.
An inviting thought, indeed.
When the opportunity to attend a technology trade show in San Diego, California, arose, Reid leaped at the chance. He’d been on high alert for the past two years, ever since his best friend, Flynn, survived a divorce, his dad’s death and elevation to president of his company all within a relatively short period of time. Reid worked at said company, liked his job, respected the hell out of Flynn and wasn’t willing to step away until the situation was sorted.
This trip to California was looked upon as a break by Reid and a necessity by Flynn. They’d implemented a lot of changes in the past twelve months, and Reid was intent on making the tech side of the company shine. He was the self-appointed King of Information. Data made sense to him.
So did women.
The brunette spun around, her skirt swirling, her smile a seemingly permanent feature. She was lively and vivid, and even in her muted gold-and-cream ensemble, somehow the brightest color in the room. A man approached her, and Reid promptly lost his smile, a strange feeling of propriety rolling over him and causing him to bristle.
The suited man was average height with a receding hairline. He was on the skinny side, but the vision in gold simply smiled up at him, dazzling the man like he’d cast a spell. When she shook her head in dismissal and the man ducked his head and moved on, relief swamped Reid, but he still didn’t approach her.
Careful was the only way to proceed, or so instinct told him. She was open but somehow skittish, in an outfit he couldn’t take his eyes from. And he wasn’t the only one looking. Upon a second glance around, he saw that there were, in fact, many men looking at her.
Most were in clusters with one another, clinging to their own. The company Reid worked for had sent him alone, atypical since he worked closely with his best friends from college, but he didn’t mind flying solo. He was a Singleton, after all.
At Monarch Consulting, they shared the goal of helping other businesses grow and perform better. Flynn Parker—the aforementioned inheritor of the firm—was in charge and, while a bit straight-edged, definitely the
