The competition’s warming up. You might actually say it’s going to get . red warm.

When my dad died, I lost a hero and a job model-and inherited a floundering furniture organization.

So I do what any dutiful (and slightly guilt-ridden) child would do-I leave behind my burgeoning style label and come home to Chicago to sit at the helm of Bailey Living, the company my dad spent his existence building.

But righting a sinking dispatch is hard work, so while i meet up with an unbelievably hot guy at an about Crimson Hot Rival market party, it looks like a perfect (and perfectly innocent) method to permit off just a little steam.

It’s supposed to be a one-night stand. Simple, uncomplicated, totally forgettable.

Except nothing about Luke or the night time we spend collectively is also remotely forgettable. It’s incredible, is what it is. The type of night you want to quit strangers on the road to rave about. You know, if that didn’t make you seem completely crazy.

That is why I’m convinced I have to be hallucinating once i see him sitting across the boardroom desk from me personally a few days afterwards. Surely this is some kind of pleasure-induced delusion.

Nonetheless it isn’t.

It turns out Luke isn’t only the guy using the magic fingertips and the magic tongue and the magic

. . . wand. He’s Luke Whittaker, and he is actually the top of Bailey Living’s biggest rival.

Making him my number 1 rival.

The one guy I can’t have . . . is the one guy I can’t forget.

And the look Luke’s offering me from across the table at this time is one I cannot forget either. Something informs me that guy isn’t likely to mind providing me some stiff competition . . .

Contains mature themes.