Page 7 of It Has To Be You

She wandered over to his disappointingly bare desk and turned to the neighboring bookcase. Books were always a good sign and hopefully something they’d have in common.

There wasn’t a lot to see, but Indy soaked up every detail. A model of a catamaran, a crystal decanter filled with what was probably bourbon, a photo of Nick shaking hands with the head of the Heritage Political Party. Indy couldn’t recall the guy’s name, but the ads she’d seen of him speaking out against unions meant she hated him on principle.

Safer and infinitely more interesting to her were his books. Besides a handful of non-fiction titles on stocks, marketing, and not giving a fuck, wasInfinite Jest,The Great Gatsby, and stranger still, a well-thumbed copy ofFifty Shades of Grey.

And, well… Indy wasn’t really sure what to make of that.

Then she found it. Upon flipping throughFifty Shades, a piece of paper fluttered to the ground. A bill. With Nick’s home address.

She rushed to put it back in the book, but it didn’t matter. She’d already seen it.

234 Park Lane, Apartment 12E. Three stops from this very building.

Riley would be proud, but Indy felt a little green. Clutching the book, she willed her hands to stop shaking. And when a deep voice came from behind her, she all but threw the damn book back onto the shelf.

“It’s rude to go through someone else’s things.”

Shit.Nick.

She whirled toward the door.

Whoa.Not Nick.

Never had the phrasemountain of a manbeen more appropriate. He was…

Her mind blanked.

Calling him impressive was like looking at Mount Everest and calling it a hill.

She knew someone could have legs for days, but was there such thing as chest for days? Shoulders?

He stood in the doorway in navy trousers and rolled up cuffs that exposed a dusting of dark hair on his forearms. His stance was incredibly distracting and removed any chance of an easy escape.

It was a pose fit for a book cover. One quick photo, and she would make millions. Would he stand still long enough for her to write down a description? Because Superman here deserved to be immortalized in print.

“Who are you?” she asked, standing her ground. Confidence was key.

No matter which way Indy painted it, sneaking into her future husband’s office and snooping before having the chance to say hello would not make a good first impression.

From the slight raise of one brow and the glint in his eye, he knew how good he looked. “I think the better question is who are you, and why do you look guilty?”

Shit. She held her breath as heat rushed to her cheeks and racked her brain for a way to smooth things over.What would Riley do?

“I asked first.”

Tall, buff, and suspicious stepped into the room, wearing a smile and giving her a thorough once-over. Indy fought back a shiver. Now that he was closer, she could make out the honey brown of his eyes. This guy wielded his gaze like a weapon, stripping her down.

It should not turn her on as much as it did.

“Ethan Fraser,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Nick’s cousin. Is there anything specific you’re looking for back there, or do you get off on invading people’s privacy?”

The way his lips had curved around the phraseget offmade it difficult to think.

She cocked her hip against the desk and crossed her arms. “Do you even have an appointment, or do you get off on barging into offices unannounced?”

Grinning, he ran a hand through his luscious brown hair. It was cut short on the sides, and a longer shock of it swirled across his forehead. The kind of dimples that persisted no matter his expression taunted her with their existence.You like us, they called.You want us.

Honestly, a smile like that should be outlawed.

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