https://youtu.be/xbiv2QHcGYU

Isobel felt him before she saw him. Intangible and visceral all at once.

He'd arrived only moments after she and Priya had secured their booth seating. Handsome and refined, but casually put together. The sleeves of his blazer rolled up over forearms corded with muscle and decorated with dark curving lines of tattoos that were somehow natural instead of forced, but oh did they make him look sexy.

And dangerous.

Dark hair winged down over his brow and brushed the black frames of his glasses. His sculpted face, cool and aristocratic in its shape, and skin golden from both sun and lineage.

His presence was a shock of electricity across her skin. A buzz in the air primed only for her. As direct as a bolt of lightning that struck in places she never expected to feel again. Straight through the center of her chest.

And somewhere...lower. Reviving a broken heart and forgotten urges...

"You alright?" Priya asked, the straw from her cranberry vodka poised between her lips.

"Yeah. Fine." Isobel squirmed where she sat and crossed her legs. Thighs clenching against the needy ache. And as Priya launched back into the details of the daily drama at her firm, Isobel's eyes drifted away from her best friend—her sister, not by blood but by choice—and once again scanned the crowded nightclub for the source. For the man who touched her without a single stroke of his finger to her skin. For the presence that even now was coiling deep inside her body and filling her with heat.

So much heat.

He'd transitioned from the bar to a table and sat the cornered edge with his friends, blazer undone and forearms planted in front of him, all dark washed jeans—the neckline of his shirt plunged to reveal hard caps of his muscular chest. Smooth. Strong.

It surprised her to discover his eyes seemed to be searching for hers, too. As if whatever this sensation she was experiencing tugged on him too—equally shocking and new. The second he found her, a jolt snapped through Isobel, fast and bright.

His dark eyes captivated—not even the framed glasses could detract from the intensity of his gaze, though she saw gentleness there to temper and soften their dizzying power.

"Hey." Priya's fingers snapped in front of her face. Breaking the connection. The spell. God, that single, searing second had felt like an hour had stretched between them. Strong and tenuous. Every inch of her tingled and hummed, begging for more. A junkie craving another hit.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"You totally spaced out on me."

"No I didn't."

"What was I talking about?"

Crap. Isobel reached for her martini, stalling for a few precious seconds. "You're concerned Mrs. Marlow will push to go to trial," she said, the gears of her memory churning with fierce effort to rewind the last minute. "And something about a tiger..."

Smirking devilishly, Priya swirled the straw in her drink, rattling cubes of ice. "Which one is he?"

"Who?"

"The guy who's got you all hot and bothered. Which one? Is it the Asian in Tom Ford checking you out—hard?" Isobel didn't need to flick her gaze across the room to know who Priya was speaking about. She could feel him watching her. And her mouth went dry with anticipation. The exhilarating rush of knowing sent little licks of excitement to twine with the nerves, leaving her giddy and a little breathless.

"Oooooh, you're blushing. Jackpot. And bravo, Sister. Bra-effing-vo. He's delicious."

He was. He so was. Like warm caramel on a spoon. And apparently she wasn't the only woman in the room who'd felt whatever it was he so effortlessly exuded. One after another, they rolled in, almost forming a line. He was charming and attentive, but quickly cast each one off, much to their dismay. A momentary surge of triumph gave way to a single, rational thought: maybe he was married. Or in a relationship. No guy that attractive could possibly be single.

"You're so lusting for him. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were in the mood for a random hookup."

Isobel took a leisurely sip. Cool, sweet and crisp but with sharp warmth of alcohol to join the still swirling heat in her belly that had nothing to do with booze and everything to do with the stranger near the bar. Part of her marveled at the surge of awareness inside of her. She'd heard her Sisters speak of it often—Shayne and Priya especially—but had never experienced anything like it herself.

This jolt of instant attraction and lust and something all together unnameable. A kind of knowing. All primitive and instinctual. As sudden as the spark of a flame that burned away the lingering vestiges of pain and hurt of her broken heart. Giving her courage. Clarity.

"Maybe I am."

Priya laughed. But that laughter quickly dimmed. "You're not joking."

"It's been a while. A long while." Isobel picked at the chipping black nail polish on her left hand. "Eight months, to be exact."

Her empty glass clattered to the table as Priya choked. "What the—how?"

"Kyle and I were taking a hiatus...for the wedding." Isobel clenched her legs tighter, the admission was like adding fresh wood to an already roaring blaze. "And believe me, self-imposed celibacy was brutally hard. But there's no reason I should continue to suffer now, right?"

"No wonder you're spacing out," she said as a shudder rippled through her. "Are you sure you're ready for this? Emotionally, I mean. It's only been a month since the breakup..."

Setting down her drink, but her hand remained around the stem, twirling it between her fingers and she watched the spinning dance of liquid in the fluted glass. "I can't continue to view what happened with Kyle as a loss; I can't lose someone who didn't want to be a part of my life," she finally said. "And you know what? Not everyone deserves to be. He didn't deserve to be." Dragging her eyes up to Priya's, Isobel set her shoulders. Resolute. "I know what I want. And I think I am actually ready. Not for anything complicated but...I'm ready to start putting myself out there. For intimacy. Sex." Oh god, I actually said it. "Which kind of scares me, but I am."

Pleased and more than little proud, Priya sank her teeth into her bottom lip. "Alright, let's get his attention." Stealthily, she gave a toss of her long dark hair and cast an assessing glance over her shoulder. "You're going to buy him a drink."

"What? Now?"

"No time like the present."

"But we just got here and this is our girl's night, I don't want to spoil it..."

"Are you kidding me?" Priya's hands closed over hers atop the table, squeezed. I can't tell you how happy I am to know you're recognizing your needs as a woman and owning them. Babe, tonight I am happy to be the dragons to your Khalessi. And no more booze," she added, confiscating what remained of Isobel's martini. "If you're potentially getting your groove on I want you sober, babe. Sober and sure."

"Won't it be weird if he's the only one drinking?" she asked as Priya polished off her drink.

"Order a Perrier on ice; pretend it's a G&T or something. I do it all the time. When they come over I'll take care of his friends so you can talk in private. Feel him out."

"But...he's got two with him." Isobel leaned in with a whisper, "Can you handle two?"

Priya tipped a bemused gaze, and smiled. "Oh, my sweet summer child."

It took twenty minute and three attempts before they succeeded in attracting one of the servers; a busty brunette wearing a fitted black dress and with a face countered to Kim Kardashian perfection. Isobel ordered another cranberry vodka for Priya and the sparkling water for herself, as suggested, and added a requested round of whatever her mystery man and his friends were drinking to their tab. As the server walked away, a sliver of hesitancy and self-doubt wormed through the rush of adrenaline.

What the hell was she doing?

She'd seen her Sisters—Priya and Shayne especially—in action many times, but this would be her first conquest. Her first foray into unchartered waters of the casual one nightstand. Could she actually do this? Isobel already knew she wanted to, but flirting—seduction—was so far beyond her scope of know how. A vital set of skills she'd never really had to learn after spending eight years in a relationship with one man...what little she knew was tangled up in him. In Kyle. And she'd just watched this gorgeous specimen of a man swat down a flock of stunning women. What if she made a complete idiot of herself?

"Oooooh, good they're getting their drinks," Priya squealed, bouncing in her seat. "And the waitress pointed you out. Nice."

Trapped. She was trapped. Between Priya on her right and a dense cluster of bodies wedging past her on her left, a large party claiming the neighbouring booth, their numbers spilling out into the aisle. She could probably try and worm her way through but fight or flight mode pushed her to take the path of least resistance: through her best friend. "Move," she squeaked. "Move. Move."

"What? Why?"

"What the hell was I thinking? I have to get out of here."

"Isobel—"

"I can't do this, Priya. I don't know how. What do I do? What do I say?"

Brown eyes softened, warmed, as she covered Isobel's trembling hand with a reassuring grip of hers. "Start with a drink, lead into conversation and if the connection is there the rest will fall into place, trust me. Chemistry can't be forced. You'll know as soon as he sits down, and if he's not the one—excuse yourself to the ladies' room; I'll make sure he's gone before you get back."

Isobel's heart kicked down a notch from sheer panic to mild terror. "Sounds...efficient."

"The Sisters always have our exit strategy." Her arms snaked around Isobel for a quick hug. "If everything goes well, remember the code: don't leave without telling me exactly where you're going, and if you're not back at my place by sunrise I will hunt him down with my baseball bat, swing first and ask questions later. Got it?"

A smile tugged across her lips. "Ok."

"Take a deep breath." Priya smiled, and added with a hushed whisper, "He's almost here."

Isobel opened her mouth and had barely croaked out a single panicked syllable when a voice, deep and sooty as smoked velvet robbed her of breath.

"I hope we're not disturbing you both, but I understand I have you to thank for these."

Slow and lightheaded, Isobel slid around in the booth seating. There he was. Standing over her, tall and broad shouldered. God, those eyes were more powerful up close. His smile flashed, warm and full. Everything inside of her burned hotter.

Brighter.

He raised his glass of scotch in greeting, shared with his two friends, a stocky Latino and slender African American both of whom were riveted by Priya.

"No disruption whatsoever. I was just telling my girl how I love this song but she doesn't seem to want to dance." She turned dark, glittering eyes on her targets. "How about you boys escort a lady to the dance floor and show me your moves?" Sliding out of the booth, Priya flashed a smile that could bring a man to his knees—and often did—as she lured them out to join the swelling crowd.

He watched them for a moment, amusement flashing across his face before pinning his intense gaze on her again and gestured to the now open seating of the booth. "May I?"

A thousand words clamoured within her and Isobel struggled to pick through the possibilities of what to say—from simple to witty to eloquently aloof—and almost tumbled headfirst into a state of analysis paralysis. No, tonight she was going to be fearless. Daring, for once. A woman who went for what she wanted.

She swallowed. Nodded. "Yes. Please." Her voice came through sure and steady. A good start.

Setting his drink down on the table he slid in behind the table and came close enough for the solid weight of his thigh to bump against her knee. Rough denim against her warm skin. "I'm sorry for staring. I was hoping for an excuse to come over and introduce myself. So I'm thankful you gave me one." A blush warmed his cheeks, a boyish glimmer lit his eyes, and seeing it relaxed her. She wasn't the only one who was nervous and out of her depth. "My name is Hideo."

"I'm Isobel," she said running damp palms along her thighs causing the material of her skirt to move and shift around her legs. "That's a wonderful name. Japanese?"

He nodded. "After my great-grandfather."

"You also have a faint accent...it's not Spanish, though. Portuguese maybe?"

"My mother is from Brazil. I was born and raised there until we moved when I was twelve." His head titled at a slight angle and when he smiled Hideo dragged his frames from his face, Superman slipping out of the guise of Clark Kent, and tucked them into the inner breast pocket of his jacket. "I never believed in miracles but tonight you proved me wrong. An intriguing young woman who is both beautiful, generous and intelligent. Please tell me you're not married or else you'll break my heart."

Isobel's cheeks burned as she smiled, laughed. Her head dipped and a wing of brown hair swept forward; she tucked it away behind her ear. "No. Not married. I was supposed to be, though. This August, in fact." Soon as she'd said the words aloud pain lanced her still mending heart. Each syllable plucked at stitches like fingers on guitar strings. She barely resisted the urge to press a hand there, to rub the heel of her palm against the ache between her breasts.

"What happened?" Concern mingled with interest. He wasn't asking only to be polite, he genuinely wanted to know, and that calmed her. Anchored her.

"I guess you're not big on main stream gossip or social media."

"No. Not so much." Hideo lifted his shoulders, let them fall. "As an engineering consultant I travel often and work long hours. The last thing I want to do is spend a second of my free time killing brain cells."

Relief cooled the burn of humiliation. "Well then, I won't bore you with the tedium. We were together for eight years, and now we're not."

"What went wrong?"

What had gone wrong? She'd asked herself the question a thousand times over the last three weeks. But the answer came to her now, clear as the blast of a foghorn rolling across the Harbourfront where she'd fed ducks and swans with her dad as a kid.

"I wasn't enough for him because he wouldn't let me be." There it was. Simply put but no less impactful than the knife of Kyle's betrayal she'd had lodged between the delicate bones of her ribs. Stuck there, she now felt it slip free and each breath was lighter. Easier. After a lingering moment of silence, she looked up and into his quiet and careful gaze. One long finger pressed against his lips.

"Aren't you going to say the perfunctory 'I'm sorry'?"

Hideo shifted in the booth, dragging his knee up on the leather seat so he could face her more directly. "Do you want me to?"

Isobel pursed her lips. Sighed. "Not really, no."

"Good. Experiences, even the horrible ones, are necessary. Important. Each obstacle we face presents a series of choices and it's our choices that determine who we are. Who we will become. What you endured held the power to either break you or strengthen you; you chose strength. That's something that should be celebrated, Isobel. Not apologized for."

However poignant, she sensed a more painful truth buried underneath the statement. Instinct was to pry for the answer, a reaction she had to clamp down hard on to repress. There was no point wrenching up painful truths with a guy she was never going to see beyond tonight. Isobel sipped her water, soothing the urge to appease her curiosity. "Where I come from we apologize for everything. Even if we're not at fault."

"Where's that?"

"Toronto."

His smile returned, bright and swift. "Ah, so you're Canadian."

"Born and raised. I'm here for work and staying with my best friend, Priya." She nodded in the direction of the dance floor where she caught the sway of Priya's arms in the throbbing crowd. Music swelled and lights spun, forcing them closer if they wanted to be heard. It was a little intoxicating, being this close to him and yet not quite touching. "And where's home for you after leaving Brazil?"

"Vancouver," he said with a lift of his glass. "But I've been away for almost three years. Back to back contracts have me bouncing between here, London, Germany and Hong Kong. Sometimes Spain."

"Sounds exhausting." And exhilarating.

"It can be." His smiled dimmed a fraction. "I'm in and out for a few weeks at a time. A few of my clients set me up in furnished apartments for longer stays, but it's otherwise a lot of airports and living out of suitcases. I enjoyed it once. The kind of rootless, nomadic existence, the freedom of not being tethered so I could travel and explore, but I have to admit it's challenging after a while."

"I have the exact opposite problem. I never travel anywhere."

"What's holding you back?"

"My father had an on-the-job accident three years ago. I've been tied to home ever since. Not that I'm complaining, I love my Da. He's all I have in the way of family, aside from my best friends—my Sisters. But it's been impossible to get away. To leave him behind. Even now as I sit here my instinct is to jump on a plane and go home. To take care of him. So I never go anywhere." Or do much of anything. A single, depressing realization. And one more reason that tonight was about a departure as much as it was about escape.

From herself. From her fears.

Isobel flicked the edge of her tongue across her bottom lip. "I'm going to tell you something."

He slid closer, his hand bracing along the curved back of the booth. "Okay."

"It's crazy. And I'm going to make a complete idiot out of myself because I don't know how to do this. How to say this any other way but as directly as possible."

"You have my complete attention." He came closer still and the very air between them sizzled. The room around them bled away.

All sound. All movement and time.

The words tumbled out of her before she'd lost her nerve but the second they were out Isobel wanted to suck them back in, to swallow them and make them disappear.

Six small and unassuming words that when strung together, held the power to change everything.

"I'd like to sleep with you." The words tumbled out of her before she'd lost her nerve but the second they were out Isobel wanted to suck them back in, to swallow them and make them disappear. Embarrassment kicked her hard in the teeth and Isobel's hands shot to her mouth with a stunned gasp as his humour-filled eyes widened in shock. "Oh my god. Oh my god—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I shouldn't...oh my god!"

Shame washed through her and she buried her face behind her hands until his tugged hers down and an elegant finger crooked under her chin, angling her gaze up to his. Those eyes weren't shocked anymore. They burned with arousal.

"Please don't. I admire honesty. I respect courage. You have both." His hand lowered from her face linked with hers in her lap, the strong sweep of his thumb across her skin made her quiver as she imagined the stroke of his fingers in other areas. Hideo's gaze skimmed over her face, searching and mysterious. "Why me?"

Isobel held in a single bracing breath. Released it. She'd promised herself she'd be brave; she wouldn't break that promise now that she'd come this far. "Because for weeks I've been a ghost. Hollowed out and emotionless, dragging around chains of grief I shouldn't have to carry. I'm tired of being in pain. I want to feel good again. Desirable again."

And god she was. Isobel wanted to touch and be touched. To taste. Feel. His mouth was right there. Easy and offered, within reach. All she had to do was lean in that final breath and take. But as much as she ached to taste, to know, reason and rationality cautioned against falling straight into temptation.

There's something else," he said. Concern etching his features. "What is it?"

"I told you I recently ended an engagement. He was my only relationship. There hasn't been anyone else...since."

Concern gave way to understanding. "Then you honour me."

She felt the press of heat from the wall of his body and his sharp, clean scent filled her lungs with each shallow breath. Priya was right. Chemistry couldn't be forced. A connection couldn't be faked. And there was something there. Definitely something. "How can I feel like this when I don't even know you?"

"We know what we need to know. The rest are just facts and facts are irrelevant to chemistry. I'm talking about instinct. I'm talking about that inexplicable sensation that shot through my body the second I saw you. I'm a passionate guy and am not easily affected. But you affect me, Isobel." Holding up a hand, Hideo brought it a kiss away from her shoulder. Held it there. And just the weight it in the air, hovering a fraction away from skin to skin contact and the rush of need spun thicker in her blood.

Touch me. Every fine hair on her arms begged for the weight of that hand to settle. To claim.

"That's just biology."

"Yes." He smiled, amused by her answer and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. "But there's so much about the biological that extends beyond the binary. It's...essence and endless. It's magic." As if to prove his point, he let his hand glide up towards her neck, still not quite touching and when his fingers circled around, the pads connecting along the delicate points of her spine—wow!—a rush of thrill, bright and fast as electricity racing through a live wire.

Bright. So bright.

"I find you fascinating. Shy, but receptive. Eager but uncertain. So let's make you certain." A whisper of his thumb over the curve of her cheek, her lips parted and his lowered. First it was a gentle press, an easy glide and when her tongue slipped out to meet him, Hideo sank in deep, his kiss long, slow and thorough. Until a quiver seized her belly, skidded up the notches of her spine and snapped back down, creating waves of pleasure. Endless ripples that stole her breath. Eyes were on them and she didn't care. The room was packed with bodies and nothing mattered. Nothing registered beyond that staggering connection of mouths.

His hands closed on her thigh, his fingers squeezed, and nothing could stop her soft moan that escaped when their lips parted.

"That was only a hint," he whispered. "There's more. There's so much more. Let me show you..." He let the statement hang, open-ended. A door left ajar, waiting for her to decide. The choice to act on her desires, or to turn away from them.

Whatever her doubts, her worries and hesitations, one thing was definite—she'd never felt anything like this before. The wild and reckless pull of lust. She wanted this man. Needed him. On top of being attractive and attentive, he was temporary and temporary was what she needed most of all. Someone who would respect her body, her feelings without getting lost in emotional attachment.

Someone who would be gone from her life and wouldn't leave the stain of regret in his wake.

"Okay," Isobel whispered. "Show me." 

https://youtu.be/TFrMDGfW_Sg

**A/N**

Please be warned - there is a rather awesome sex scene in the second INSTALLMENT of this chapter TITLED: Let Me

So if that is something you'd rather avoid, then skip the next chapter.