Page 10 of Sizzling Desire

We chat for a few minutes about dresses and venues, her enthusiasm contagious. But when we hang up, reality settles back over me.

Hudson’s best man.

It’s going to be Kane. Of course, it’s going to be Kane. He and Hudson have been best friends forever, and there’s no way Hudson would pick anyone else. Which means I’ll be spending the next however-many-weeks standing across from him at rehearsals, dinners, and—oh, joy—the wedding itself.

Fuck me. Oh wait. He already has. Shit.

My stomach twists as the realization sinks in. I’ll have to see him. Talk to him. Pretend like nothing happened. Like I didn’t let him see parts of me no one else has ever seen. Like I didn’t completely lose myself in him for one reckless, unforgettable night.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, sinking back into my chair.

This is about Kate, I remind myself. It’s her moment, her happiness. I can’t let whatever this is with Kane ruin that. I’ll deal with him. I’ll plaster on a smile, say all the right things, and make it through the wedding madness without anyone suspecting a thing.

But as I sit there, staring at the computer screen in front of me, one thought keeps circling back, refusing to be ignored.

Why does it have to be him?

The hallway is eerily quiet as I grab my bag, shut down my computer, and head toward the exit, my heels clicking softly against the tile floor. Today’s been a disaster from start to finish, and the cherry on top is Kate’s call from earlier. I should be excited—my best friend is over the moon about her wedding plans. But the idea of spending the evening in close proximity to Kane Mitchell has turned my mood sour.

I tell myself it’ll be fine, that I’ll get through the night unscathed. But I know better. Kane has a talent for needling me in ways no one else can. Worse, I’m not just irritated—I’m affected, and that’s what really pisses me off.

As I approach the reception desk, I notice someone standing there—a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair that looks perfectly messy in that effortlessly casual way. He leans slightly against the desk, exuding confidence, his back to me as he chats with Yolanda, the receptionist. Even from this angle, I can tell he’s handsome. The kind of handsome that gets a second look.

I try to keep walking, but as I pass, he glances over his shoulder, and his profile stops me in my tracks. Strong jawline, piercing blue eyes, and a smile so effortless it probably wins people over before they even realize what’s happening. My steps falter, and I have to remind myself to keep moving.

He’s new. Definitely new. Maybe a client? My curiosity is piqued, but I don’t let it show as I continue toward the exit.

Normally, a guy like him wouldn’t faze me. Sure, he’s gorgeous, but I’m not the type to get swept up over a nice face. At least, I wasn’t before Kane. Now, my entire compass feels off-kilter. My instincts scream at me to prove something—tomyself, to Kane, hell, maybe to the universe. Prove that one night with Kane hasn’t left me completely derailed.

What if I just asked him out? The thought is absurd, but it clings to me, whispering promises of distraction and vindication. If I could go out with someone like this guy—charming, polished, completely not Kane—it might remind me that Kane Mitchell isn’t the sun my world revolves around.

I slow at the door, glancing back at the reception desk. The stranger’s still there, his confidence apparent in the way he leans in to talk to Yolanda. This could be simple, easy. A clean slate. But as I hover there, my fingers brushing the handle of the door, the idea starts to sour. It feels wrong. Forced. Like I’m trying too hard to run from something that isn’t going to let me go.

“Grace!” Yolanda’s voice jolts me from my thoughts.

I turn back reluctantly, plastering on a polite smile. “Yes?”

“This is Jason Marino,” Yolanda says, waving me over. “He just signed on as our newest client.”

Jason turns fully now, his eyes meeting mine as he steps forward, hand extended. Up close, he’s even better-looking than I thought—clean-shaven with a sharp suit that fits like it was made for him.

“Grace,” he says warmly, his handshake firm. “It’s great to meet you. Yolanda tells me you’ll be leading my account?”

“That’s right,” I reply, schooling my features into professional neutrality. “Welcome to the firm, Jason. I’m looking forward to diving into your financials.”

He chuckles, brushing a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that somehow works. “Thanks. My last accounting team really left a mess. I’m glad to have someone who knows what they’re doing.”

His easy charm makes me smile, but it’s a distant warmth—nothing like the fire Kane ignites with a single look. It’sdisappointing, honestly, because Jason checks every box a guy should.

“I’ll get up to speed on everything and be in touch soon,” I say, glancing at my watch. “I’ve got an appointment to get to, but it was nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” Jason says, flashing another one of those effortless smiles.

I wave at Yolanda, offer Jason a polite nod, and head out the door. Once I’m in the car, I let out a sigh, the encounter already fading from my mind. Nice as Jason is, he’s no match for the storm brewing inside me thanks to a certain firefighter.

By six-thirty, I’m standing in front of my closet, staring at the rows of clothes like they hold the answers to all life’s questions. I shouldn’t care what I wear tonight—it’s just Kate’s shop, just a wedding meeting. Kane isn’t even worth a second thought. And yet, here I am, debating between casual and polished, because some part of me wants to feel... what? Confident? In control? Like Kane hasn’t completely scrambled my brain?

“Pull it together,” I mutter, grabbing a blouse and jeans and slipping them on. I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror, then grab my keys, stealing myself for the night ahead.

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