My mind betrayed me by replaying the disastrous dinner like a movie. The worst was the kiss, not because it was bad. It wasn't as good as the first one at the festival, but it was much shorter and less of a lot of things. Still, it was better than every other kiss I've had.

Oliver said he liked me, but he couldn't mean like-like. Oliver Sumner was completely out of my league. Never had I been popular, not in high school or college. I wasn't even popular in Kindergarten. Kurt held hands with every girl in class except me. I watched as the little player picked a different pigtailed girl to chase each week at recess. By Friday they were holding hands behind the tree. I waited for my week, but it never came.

When it became obvious he had left me out, I climbed off the bus crying and told my mother all about it. She told me what she always said, I was beautiful inside and out, and I was too good for a boy who liked all the girls, and when I was older, I'd find one who only liked me. "Don't tell your Dad. You're his girl until you turn sixteen." She always talked about sixteen like it was a magical age. A tear crept down my cheek. She missed my sixteenth birthday, and so many others. What advice would she have for me about Oliver? What if she had picked me up from the festival instead of my stepmother, Tricia?

Tricia had squeezed my hand and asked if I wanted to talk girl-to-girl. I shook my head, but then I ratted on Allison.

"Her friends are drinking and kissing guys, and I'm too young to kiss a twenty-year-old."

"Of course you are. Allie is just having fun. In a few years it'll be your turn."

She never told Allie or my Dad. Looking back, it could have been the day our friendship started. I thought of calling her or my sister to talk about Oliver, but even after thirteen years, I wanted my mother.

The weekend passed, and Rex and Ashton failed in their attempts to cheer me up. I worked at the office on Monday, avoiding an end of the day trip to Oliver's. The problem was, I missed him. He didn't really like me. He wanted me to feel better about being a blundering fool. I hate when people felt sorry for me. It happened when my mother died. Popular kids were suddenly nice, but they were fake and forgot a month later.

I planned to check in with Mick every morning instead of the afternoon. Because Tuesday morning was our monthly staff meeting, my alternative plan would start on Wednesday. Mick had my number, after all.

Tuesday afternoon, I received a call on my office phone. Meanwhile I was waiting to hear about the tub, which was delayed.

I answered without checking the caller. "Emma Joslin."

"Ms. Joslin." A very official voice said, "I'm calling for Mr. Sumner. He would like to meet with you and Mr. O'Donnell at four-thirty this afternoon."

She disconnected and left me holding the phone. Was there a problem? Mick didn't mention one. At least I put flats in my car after Mick chastised me. When I couldn't concentrate, I packed some work for later and drove to Oliver's house.

The place was buzzing with workers. The first thing I noticed was the carpet on the stairs. Could that be Oliver's problem?

I found Mick giving orders to the guys putting down the tile in the downstairs bathroom. He turned to me and looked at my shoes and gave me a thumbs up.

"The tub arrived about an hour ago."

That was good news. "Did you fit it through the door?".

"Why wouldn't we?"

The size of the tub had worried me, not as much as Oliver made me nervous.

"I got a message. Was Oliver unhappy yesterday?"

Mick shrugged. "He didn't say anything."

"The carpet is still on the stairs."

Mick hit the side of his head. "I was going to have guys pull carpet tomorrow after the dumpster's emptied. I'll get 'em on it now."

Mick disappeared, and I walked around. Plasterers were working on fixing walls and ceilings. No wonder Carol loved Mick, the guy could move a job along.

By the time the house quieted down, the staircase was bare. I had been sitting in the dining room working and jumped when Oliver appeared. I looked up at him and forgot how to breathe. He leaned over and his scent swirled around. His voice was low and sultry.

"I missed you yesterday."

As he pulled back his lips brushed on my cheek turning them pink. His cocky grin almost made me smile.

"You requested this meeting. Mick's somewhere."

He shook his head. "Did Iris say meeting?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Iris?"

"My executive assistant."

"Too busy to make your own calls?"

He smirked. "Let's do a walkthrough."

He nodded when he saw the stairs. I was silent because as he guided me, his hand rested on my back. His proximity and touch made me stupid. When we reached the upstairs, Mick emerged from Oliver's bedroom.

He murmured. "Maybe I should move out."

My heart jumped. I went from wanting to avoid him to worrying I wouldn't see him again.

"It's a war zone. I see you followed orders." He looked at my big feet as he leaned towards me again. His breath tickled my ear, sending waves straight to my core. "I miss the high heels."

Mick cleared his throat. "Did you see a problem?"

Oliver's cocky grin was back. "Nope. I've decided to move out. You can demolish whatever you want."

Mick nodded. "It will make it easier."

"We can store your things in the basement. What about Oreo?"

He slumped. "My brother's allergic. She'll have to stay here."

"Maybe. No, I don't know."

"What?" He looked at me with wide eyes.

I had to focus as I felt myself being sucked into the endless blue irises. I shook my head. "I don't know if my duh dumpling would like a houseguest."

His look of approval made me want to do anything for him. "You have a cat?"

I nodded. "I can introduce them, but if they don't get along, it's off to the dungeon for poor Oreo."

He grabbed me and hugged me so tight he lifted my feet off the ground.

"Thank you!"

When he abruptly let go, having been leaning against his hard body and not being a cat, I didn't land on my feet. As I fell forward into him, he caught me and himself before he fell backwards.

He looked down at me with his grin, taking up a third of his face. My heart raced as his grin narrowed and his eyes darkened.

"Did I drop you?"

I nodded. My voice sounded weird to my own ears. "You're trying to kill me."

He shook his head in protest as his eyes focused on my lips. My tongue darted out to lick them and his gaze grew darker. In the distance, I heard Mick leave, but neither of us lost eye contact or returned his 'see you tomorrow'.

Oliver's voice sounded strange, almost distant. "Definitely not trying to kill you."

His lips captured mine and as I ignored the voice of reason in my head, my lips danced with his. He was a mixture of sweet and musky. His faint aftershave had become familiar to me. If my body wasn't already against his, I would have crumbled to the ground. I was a goner and couldn't think about how the only path was a broken heart. My body was alive in places I didn't know existed.

As I silently begged for the kiss to never end, Oliver tightened his hold, before dragging his face from mine. He had a sly smile that crinkled the corner of his darkened eyes. His voice sounded as sexy as his words.

"That should end your arguments and prove I like you, Emma Joslin."

I pushed off him and stepped back on wobbly legs. "How can you?"

"Darling, how can I not? Let's feed Oreo. You'll have dinner with me." As I shook my head, he glared. "It was a statement, not a question." He smiled. "I'll kiss you again if you do."

How could a girl say no to that offer?