Tempting the Millionaire. Jackie Braun

about the way his life had turned out. As long as he kept his relationships casual enough that no one heard wedding bells, he could have plenty of fun.

      But that “fun” did not and would never include Piper. Their friendship had sort of crept up on him, originally built on a few chance meetings at their apartment complex, some venting about work and a shared affection for baseball and action movies. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their friendship—like hit on her.

      Entering the break room, he reached for the spare change in his pants’ pocket, but froze when he realized he wasn’t alone. Clearly, the universe was testing him. Piper stood in the otherwise empty room, bent at the waist and peering into a cabinet below the sink. The short caramel-colored jacket she wore had risen above her hips, and the matching slacks hugged her curves in a taunting way that left him struggling not to look at her caramel-covered backside.

      Poor choice of words. The color she was wearing didn’t really resemble a sweet, sticky dessert topping, he told himself. It was more…well, hell. Women always seemed to have twelve words to describe one color, but he couldn’t think of anything but caramel and the thick, sugary taste it left on his tongue.

      He wasn’t sure if he made a sound or if she’d just experienced that I’m-not-alone-anymore feeling, but she straightened suddenly, glancing over her shoulder.

      “Josh! I didn’t realize anyone was standing there. Hey, you don’t happen to know where the extra coffee filters are, do you? I could have sworn they were in here.”

      “Uh…coffee filters? No. No idea.” No alternate locations sprang to his hormone-impaired mind, but he needed something to distract her from resuming her under-the-sink search. Lord help him if she bent over again. “So, any new thoughts on how you’re going to solve your problem?”

      She leaned against the counter, her smile rueful. “You mean this weekend? Maybe. I think when I get home tonight, I’ll call a few of the guys I’ve dated here in the city. I might not leave a relationship with your finesse and have them come back begging for more, but I think I’m still on speaking terms with everyone.”

      “Oh.” Even though he knew Piper had dated, the thought of her with a guy jolted him. “Well, that’s…great.”

      “If one of them actually says yes,” she said. “I just hope it isn’t Chase. I figure I might get desperate enough to ask him, but I won’t be brokenhearted if he says no.”

      “Chase?” The only ex Josh remembered was Bobby. Or maybe it had been Rob. Definitely something in the Robert family.

      “Yeah, Chase is one of those people with a strangely apt name. He spent the duration of our very brief relationship trying to get in my—” Suddenly, Piper’s expression changed. If he didn’t know her and her forthright nature better, he’d say she looked almost self-conscious. “Well, you know what I mean.”

      Josh’s eyes met hers, and he hoped like hell his expression held no sign of the thoughts he’d been having so recently. “Yeah. I know.”

      Neither of them seemed to have anything to add then, so they stood without speaking, gazes still locked. Though probably not even a full minute passed, the silence stretched on too long to be entirely comfortable.

      Piper looked away, glancing at the empty coffeepot on the counter. “I think I’m just gonna grab a soda and get back to work.”

      He pulled the forgotten change out of his pocket. “Me, too.”

      They both stepped toward the vending machine, then drew up short. Josh motioned with his hand, indicating that she should go first—mostly because it gave him a chance to regain his composure.

      He was glad she was going away for the weekend. Maybe he’d just been spending too much time with her lately. Maybe his dry spell had boggled his thinking and was the logical explanation for the effect Piper was having on him. Sure, that was probably it. And once he found a date for this weekend, and Piper spent some time out of town, Josh would be fine.

      He just wished his jaw didn’t clench involuntarily every time he thought about Piper spending those days cuddled up to some faceless guy from her past.

      3

      PIPER WAS DOOMED.

      After several fruitless phone calls and a long shower Wednesday evening, she was ready to concede defeat. As she’d rinsed shampoo from her hair, she’d mentally cast about for a last-minute possibility, but the truth was, she’d exhausted all her options. One ex hadn’t remembered her, which had been a big ouch to the ego. Chase was busy this weekend, but seemed to think they should get together sometime soon and have sex. Robbie, her last hope and most amicable breakup, had happily informed her he was engaged. Apparently his fiancée would frown on the idea of his running away for the weekend with an old flame. Go figure.

      I can’t believe he’s getting married next month. Has it really been that long since we split up?

      Piper pulled on a pair of sweatpants, assuring herself that she didn’t mind that her last date had been eons ago. She wasn’t one for wasting time, and when you weren’t actually looking for a relationship, dating was pointless. Why should she suffer through those pauses in conversation, those realizations that the person seated across from her was never really going to “get” her, when she’d rather be at home with her laptop and computer-assisted drafting software, getting ahead in her chosen career?

      She supposed some people dated for companionship, but she had friends she could call on for company. Others might want dating for sex, but her experiences had left her convinced the whole thing was overrated. Pleasant, sure, but worth neither the awkwardness and risks of a casual affair nor the changes to her life to accommodate a relationship.

      Maybe it was the guys she’d been with. Maybe a more experienced guy who knew women better, like, for instance, J—

      “I do not need sex,” she informed her empty apartment and dead ficus tree.

      And she didn’t need a man, either, she thought grumpily as she towel-dried her hair, then skimmed it back into a ponytail. Maybe she should just stick to her guns this weekend. Tell her family there’d been a misunderstanding—okay, a colossal deception—but that she was single and perfectly happy to stay that way. Of course, they were more likely to believe she was alone because she was pining for Charlie.

      She strode across her living room and dug through her rolltop desk for the comfort of a Chocomel candy bar, but came up empty. A knock at her front door ended the sugar search. Given her current luck, it was probably the landlord with eviction papers. She considered her damp ponytail and heather-gray sweatsuit. Wouldn’t win any fashion awards, but it covered all the necessary body parts.

      When she opened the door, she found Josh, not the landlord. Josh’s face was so grim that perhaps he’d just been evicted.

      “I’ve been thinking, Piper.”

      Normally she would have made some joke at his expense, but his scowl discouraged it. “About?”

      “You. Your situation, I mean.”

      He stepped inside, and she backed away with an alacrity she hoped he didn’t notice. Earlier, when they’d been in the break room at work, she’d experienced a strange hypersensitivity to his nearness. Now, in the privacy of her apartment, it was magnified. Did he have any idea how good he smelled? A dizzying anticipation fluttered inside her, as if every part of her body was just waiting for the moment when his skin might accidentally touch hers. And she couldn’t tell if she was nervous about it or looking forward to it.

      Neither. Get a grip on yourself. She gestured toward the living room. It wasn’t big, but the square footage there made it a lot safer than the small foyer. “Why don’t you come in, have a seat?”

      “Sure.” He made his way to the plaid sofa. “Did you, uh, did you call any of the guys you used to date?”

      Piper