Chapter Eight

Amy wore the green suit to work on Monday.

Because she was going to call Red. She didn’t know much about money and banks, but she knew that her chances of being loaned any money were much greater if she didn’t look as if she needed it so desperately.

The suit gave her confidence, too.

She dug in her own closet and found a pair of black pumps she’d bought ages ago—for her mom’s funeral—and hadn’t worn since. They were black and the heels weren’t too high. They were Italian and leather, a tribute to her mom’s affection for quality. She’d thought them elegant then, and they didn’t look dated at all. She wore the loafers to work, then changed.

Mrs. Murphy looked her up and down, but Amy was saved from any interrogation by the ringing of the phone. She’d already made an appointment with Red—who sounded very nice, and knew nothing about her, which was proof that Ty wasn’t organizing things for her behind the scenes—when the flowers were delivered.

For her.

It was a beautiful spring bouquet, with lilies and roses and more, in shades of pink and purple and white. Amy was astonished, because no one ever sent her flowers.

She opened the card and her heart stopped for a moment.

I’m sorry was written inside. I was wrong. Give me another chance at lunch today?

And it was signed by Ty.

Amy took a shaking breath and stuffed the card into the pocket of her suit jacket. He’d apologized and she was completely seduced.

He probably didn’t need to know that she’d been planning to give him that chance at lunch today anyhow. She knew it was important that he’d lost his temper and that he’d sworn.

Amy put the flowers in pride of place on her desk and enjoyed how Mrs. Murphy regarded them with suspicion.

The morning flew by.

* * *

Ty was looking forward to lunch on Monday.

No, he was looking forward to seeing Amy again.

He wanted to provoke her to defend her favorite genre again, just so he could watch her without distraction. He wanted to make her laugh. He wanted to learn more about what she liked and why.

Mostly, he wanted to apologize in person.

He worried about the flowers, that he might have made a bad choice of color or that she might have allergies. He worried that she might dislike getting them at work, but he wanted her to receive them before lunch. He worried that she might not give him another chance and watched the minutes tick by with painful slowness.

He had to get her phone number because it killed him that this apology had had to wait.

Reviewing April reports for his best clients that morning didn’t captivate his attention. His mom had called the night before and again that morning, gushing about Amy and what a marvel she was. Ty had no disagreement with anything his mom said.

Book, line, and sinker sounded like the truth.

Ty was early to the food court and claimed a seat at Amy’s usual table. He was starting to think of is as their usual table. From his place, he could watch the elevators. He opened his book but glanced up at intervals. Even though he was waiting for her, he was startled when she appeared.

Amy wasn’t wearing navy.

She wore a suit he hadn’t seen on her before, with a tweed jacket in green and gold and a skirt in solid green. The hem swung around her knees in a fabulous way. The loafers were gone, and instead, she wore a demure pair of black leather pumps.

He swallowed and stared.

Amy smiled and spun in front of him before taking off her jacket and sitting down opposite him. “What do you think?”

“Gorgeous,” Ty said, and meant it.

Amy blushed, right on cue. “My mom was a dressmaker. I still have all of her clothes but I didn’t really think about us being the same size. I’m a little taller than her, but that’s it.” She smiled and stroked the tweed. “I remember her making this.”

The love she had for her mom shone in her eyes, and it was enough to break Ty’s heart.

“It suits you,” he said. “Great find.”

She grinned impishly. “Don’t you miss my loafers?”

Ty considered them. “I only regret that you didn’t give me the chance to burn them.”

“Never! I need them for the trip home.”

She crossed her legs, giving him an ideal view. “You are killing me,” he murmured. “Is this how you’re going to get even with me?”

“Liar! You’re too nice a guy to ogle women’s legs.”

“You might be surprised,” Ty growled and she eyed him for a minute.

She started to blush and he watched. “Thank you for the flowers,” she said quietly.

“I am sorry.”

“Me, too. You really made me mad.”

“We have that in common, then,” he acknowledged and she smiled.

“My gentleman was quite annoyed that he didn’t have my undivided attention when I got home,” she said, surprising Ty with that confession. Her eyes sparkled when she looked up at him. “He doesn’t take well to being left home alone on the weekend.”

“Your gentleman?”

Maybe her role-playing at F5 wasn’t the only surprising thing about Amy.

“Fitzwilliam gets disgruntled if dinner isn’t in his dish on time.”

If she was talking about a man, she had some kind of strange domestic life. “Fitzwilliam?”

Amy laughed and Ty knew his confusion showed. “He’s a cat, a Maine Coon. When I first found him, I thought he was a brooding type, but he was just suffering.”

“Found him?”

“They left him!” She confided, outrage putting an enticing spark in her eye. “When the neighbors moved, they left him behind. He was abandoned with no food and was eating garbage if he could find it. I heard him yowling before the new people moved in.”

“And he wasn’t theirs?”

“Their children have allergies. They couldn’t keep him. I took him home.”

Of course, she had.

“I knew where the first people had moved and I called them, thinking it was a mistake, but they said they didn’t want him anymore.” Amy’s eyes flashed. “They couldn’t even take him to a shelter or a vet, so he could have a new home. He was just left behind. They didn’t even think about him dying there!”

Ty was intrigued. “So, you kept him?”

“Well, I took him to the vet and they said he was undernourished but otherwise healthy. They said that adult cats don’t get adopted very often, so I couldn’t take him to the shelter.” She made a face. “They kill them, you know. They have to, because there are just too many cats without homes.”

Ty knew she was trying to hide her tears. “You had to save him.” She had a soft heart. He liked that she was so giving.

He had to figure that it was part of the reason she was allowing him another chance.

“I did, even though he had an attitude problem. He’d glower at me when I was home, but he ate when I left the room. I didn’t even know his name, or how old he was or anything, but I couldn’t exactly call the former owners again.” Her lips tightened. “They weren’t very nice the first time.”

“Because you were reminding them that they’d been callous.”

Amy thought about that for a minute. “Maybe. Anyway I had to give him a name, so Fitzwilliam seemed the obvious choice.”

“Which one? Darcy or Colonel?”

Her entire face lit with a joy that made Ty feel like a star. “Does it matter?”

“It’ll tell me everything I need to know,” he said, because it was true.

Amy’s smile turned mischievous and the sight made Ty’s chest tight. “Then guess.”

Ty thought for a moment. “‘My disposition could be said to be resentful,’” he quoted. “‘For my good opinion once lost is lost forever.’”

“You’ve seriously watched it so many times that you have it memorized?”

“Maybe, but I also took nineteenth-century English literature as a breadth course.”

“But you’re a money guy.”

“The cute girls are in English lit classes.”

She laughed at that. “But now, like Mr. Darcy, he’s warmed up considerably. That’s a nice change after Riordan.”

“Vanity Fair?”

She nodded and sighed. “It was the perfect name for him. A reckless gambler, and a handsome rogue. He had charm and good looks, but a conviction that he could beat the odds of crossing the street.”

“He showed up on your doorstep wounded,” Ty guessed.

Amy nodded. “And I couldn’t just leave him. The thing was that after the surgery, he wouldn’t stay in the house. He made us crazy with his yowling and his escape acts.”

“He had to be who he was.”

“And he’d come crawling home, bashed up in one way or another. He cost us a fortune. I think Dad and I paid for the renovation at the vet’s offices.”

“But you couldn’t turn him out.”

She blushed a little. “He was very charming.” She sighed and twisted the container from her sandwich. “But when they found the cancer, it was too advanced. We just kept him comfortable for as long as possible.” She shed a tear, and Ty felt like he should console her in the same instant that he feared it would be inappropriate.

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling it was inadequate.

“Do you have pets?”

“No. Never have.”

“You should think about it,” Amy said. “I didn’t plan to have another cat after Riordan, given how much trouble he’d been.” She smiled a little. “But Fitzwilliam charmed me.”

“‘But I think Mr. Darcy improves on closer acquaintance. In essentials, I believe he is very much as he ever was. I don’t mean to imply that either his mind or manners are changed for the better, rather, my knowing him better, improved my opinion of him.’”

“Wow.”

Ty shook a finger at her. “But that’s not what it says in the book, actually.”

Amy propped her chin on her hand to study him. “I don’t remember. What’s in the book?”

Ty cleared his throat. “‘When I said that he improved on acquaintance, I did not mean that either his mind or manners were in a state of improvement, but that from knowing him better, his disposition was better understood.’”

“You are good at this,” Amy said, then met his gaze with a sparkle of challenge in her own. “I should have called him Algie.”

“‘Anyone who knows me really well knows that when I’m very upset, I refuse everything except food and drink,’” Ty guessed, quoting Oscar Wilde.

“You must have gotten great marks in that class.”

“Kyle and I had an incentive.” At her glance, he clarified. “Friend of mine. That’s where we met. We’d both chosen the course for the same reason and were the only two straight guys in the class. We had to stick together, and we had to ace the course.” Ty smiled and continued. “Four sisters means I had an advantage.”

She laughed. “How many times have you seen Pride and Prejudice?”

“I’ve lost count. Fifty or sixty. They wore out one DVD set.”

“So, is it true that a man in possession of a fortune, or at least a decent job, must be in need of a wife?” Amy asked.

“My mother thinks so,” Ty confessed and she smiled at him in the way that set his blood on fire.

“I suppose it’s not all bad for a man to be protective.”

“I suppose it’s not all bad for a woman to have naughty fantasies,” he countered.

She raised her gaze to his. “Maybe it would be smart, though, to only act them out with a man she trusts completely.”

“Definitely smarter,” Ty agreed. They stared at each other for a sizzling moment, one that made him hope about possibilities, then Amy unwrapped her sandwich.

“Do men really look that much?”

“All the time.”

“Not just legs?”

“Nope.” Ty hesitated. “How honest should I be?”

“Completely. I can take it.”

“That pink lipstick of yours yesterday was very distracting.”

“Really?” Amy didn’t look displeased by the revelation, which was good.

“Absolutely.”

“What about you, with your hand on my back?” she replied, then rolled her eyes. “And your thumb.”

“The first time was an accident,” Ty admitted. “But I liked it. Did you?”

Amy averted her gaze, then looked him square in the eye. “Yes.”

They stared at each other for another hot moment and Ty’s throat was tight. He was about to make a suggestion when that Mrs. Murphy began to shout at Amy. “Not again,” he muttered.

“All the time,” Amy replied in an undertone.

“We’ve got to find you another job.”

To his surprise, her eyes were dancing. “I think I have an idea.”

“Tell me.”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Her expression turned fierce. “I don’t want you fixing it.”

“You know me already.”

Amy grinned.

“I promise to stand back unless my assistance is specifically requested.”

“Deal.” She offered her hand and they shook on it.

Ty wasn’t in a hurry to let her hand go.

“Amy!” Mrs. Murphy interjected, appearing suddenly beside them. “Mr. Forsythe just called. His flight was canceled because of thunderstorms and he’s stuck in Dallas. You know he has to get to Denver today…” She frowned down at their clasped hands and Ty hoped the gesture gave her something to worry about.

“I thought it would be better if he changed at O’Hare,” Amy said, already gathering her things.

“Well, it isn’t up to you, is it?” Mrs. Murphy snapped.

“Then maybe it can be fixed after Amy has lunch,” Ty suggested more mildly than he felt. “I doubt the storms will stop soon.”

Mrs. Murphy looked him up and down, then spoke to Amy again. “You need to come and do this now. Mr. Forsythe has gone to lunch and expects this to be solved by the time he’s done.”

He went to lunch and left his travel arrangements to be solved by Amy? Irritation rolled through Ty. It would be much easier for this Forsythe to step up to the desk in Dallas and sort out his own flights.

Ty opened his mouth to comment but Amy got to her feet. “I have a secret weapon you don’t know about,” she said with a smile and hastily put her lunch back in her tote bag. “I’ll see you later.”

She was gone before Ty realized he still didn’t have her number.

* * *

Amy’s dad would have loved how much Ty knew about nineteenth-century literature, too. Ty might have taken the course for the women, but Amy liked that he retained so much of it.

And that he watched chick flicks with his sisters. He was such a nice guy.

It wasn’t quite as sexy as being a dangerous man, but it was still good.

If he’d let that inner tiger of his out more often, she might have been in serious trouble. Amy supposed she should be grateful for small blessings. This fake date plan would be easier to end if there weren’t any emotional complications.

She told herself that it was good that Ty wasn’t really her type.

She wasn’t sure she believed it.

Once Mr. Forsythe’s travel plans were rearranged, Amy was called into the older woman’s small office. “We might as well get this out in the open,” Mrs. Murphy said. “Are you considering leaving us? Is that why you’re dressed up, and you were lunching with that man?”

She’d witnessed the handshake and thought it meant a different kind of deal.

“I really don’t think it’s something I should discuss,” Amy prevaricated.

“Well, I would have thought that you’d have spoken to us first if you were unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“But you think you can do better.” Mrs. Murphy exhaled. “I will see if anything can be done to give you a small raise, since Mr. Forsythe depends upon you so much. I trust you will show the courtesy of not accepting another offer before I get back to you on that.”

“Of course not.”

The two women eyed each other, and Amy realized her request would only fan the flames. “I do have to leave a little early today, if you remember. I mentioned this morning that I had an appointment…”

“And I assumed it was a doctor’s appointment, not another interview,” Mrs. Murphy huffed. “I won’t make it easy for you to complain about us here. Go to your appointment, but be sure everything is done before you leave.”

“Of course.” Amy bit back a smile as she returned to her desk. It would be wonderful to get even a small raise.

Maybe she would be able to afford that new roof after all.

* * *

There was an obvious step Amy had to take, although it made her nervous.

So, she avoided it.

She went to her appointment with Red and had to think it went reasonably well. He was dressed as well as Ty, but wasn’t as handsome or as trim. His hair was as red as could be expected, and he wore a gold wedding ring. There were pictures of three red-headed kids on his credenza and a pretty woman with them.

Red was quick to put her at her ease, and after reviewing the information she’d brought, he had a few suggestions. He wanted to have the house assessed, because he thought its value was probably low. It made sense that if her only asset was worth more, Amy might be able to borrow a little more. Red was positive about her prospects and promised to call her in a few days.

Bolstered by that, Amy made the plunge. She went to the copy shop and made copies of her book pages. She’d miss the train she usually took, but this had to be done. Amy needed to know whether she was on the right track with her book, and that meant showing it to someone else.

Someone who understood the genre.

Jade.

Even if the prospect terrified her.

One good thing about running late was that there was little chance of running into Ty at the bookstore.

To her relief, he wasn’t there.

On the other hand, she was a little disappointed to have missed out on another glimpse of him.

Jade waved to her from the horror section and Amy hurried toward her friend. She’d put the copies in an envelope and handed it to Jade before she could reconsider. “I’m doing it,” she said in a rush. “I’m writing a book. Could you read it and tell me if it’s good?”

Jade’s eyes lit. “No way. Really?” She accepted the envelope with a kind of reverence. “It is evil of you to bring this now when I have to work until nine-thirty tonight.”

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t wait to read it!”

“You have to be honest,” Amy insisted. “Totally and utterly honest.”

“Absolutely,” Jade said. “I’ll tell you the truth.” Then she bounced a little. “This is so exciting, Amy!” They hugged quickly, then Amy crossed her fingers and left for her train. When she glanced back, Jade was peeking inside the envelope.

Amy couldn’t read on the train on the way home. She kept thinking of bits she should have changed, or additions she could have made, or how the book could have been better. It seemed that as soon as it left her hands, she had a million more ideas.

She reminded herself that it wasn’t published, or even sent to an editor.

Her book was safe with Jade.

Even so, Amy made a lot of notes when she got home. So many notes that Fitzwilliam had to remind her about dinner, more than once.

Then she read the last bit of the book again, reviewing what she’d written. It was the scene where Lothair claimed his prize. It should have been really intense.

It seemed thin to Amy.

Lacking in sensory detail.

It was evidence of her lack of experience. How long had it been since she’d had sex? And she’d never had hot sex like this, let alone sex in a bondage scene.

She had to come closer than her own experience to improve this part of her book.

Amy took a deep breath. She retrieved the flyer from F5 and read the bit on the back again. Private sessions available. How much would one be? She had to invest in her research. She had to find the money for it.

She had to give the book its best shot.

She pulled out her phone and called F5, hoping that Matteo was available for private instruction.

* * *

Ty was heading upstairs from swimming laps, daring to hope that he was making some progress with Amy. She hadn’t gone to the bookstore after work, and he felt cheated of her company. He told himself that he’d see her the next day, but he was restless.

“No, I think he’s probably gone for the day. Can I take a message?” Damon was on the phone at the desk and Ty waved to him on his way to the elevator. “Wait!” Damon said, then beckoned to Ty. “I see him now, just coming out of the pool.”

Ty frowned. Who would call him at F5?

“Matteo!” Damon shouted and Ty understood. “Call for you!”

But who would call Matteo?

Only one person.

Ty crossed the lobby fast and took the phone. “Hello?” he said in his deepest voice, trying to imbue the single word with his Spanish accent.

“Hello, Matteo,” Amy said, her words falling quickly. “You probably don’t remember me…”

“Of course, I remember you, Angel,” he said.

She exhaled and he realized she was nervous. Why was she calling?

“Oh good, because I see on the flyer that F5 offers private instruction, and I wondered if we could, if you could, I mean, if it was possible…”

“There are private instruction rooms on the sixth floor,” Ty said smoothly, uncertain whether to be annoyed with her for taking such a chance or thrilled by the prospect of such intimacy with her. She was screwing with his assumptions one more time.

Damon grinned and turned to answer a question from a staff member.

Ty folded his arms across his chest, the image of Amy, probably barefoot in her kitchen, making his gut clench. “If you would like a session, Angel, I can indulge you for an hour for fifty dollars.”

Damon gasped in outrage from behind him and tapped the price list on the counter with an emphatic fingertip. Ty waved him off. Amy wasn’t going anywhere else to get this kind of private instruction from anyone else. He would subsidize it and she’d never know.

“That’s all?” she demanded. “Oh, well, that’s wonderful, then. Could we book a session?”

“The week after next…”

“This week,” she insisted. “Wednesday night?”

Ty was startled but he tried to hide it. He checked the schedule. “Of course, Angel. Room 612 is available at seven on Wednesday night.”

“Oh, good. Do you need a credit card to make the reservation?”

“You are on file here,” Ty said evenly. “It can be paid at the time.”

Damon spread his hands, shaking his head.

Ty waved him off again.

“Oh, good.”

“Do you have preferences, Angel?”

“Um. Everything we did before, but in private,” she said hurriedly. “I want to see what it feels like without so many people around.”

“It will be more intimate,” Ty said, his own body reacting to the prospect. “It will feel riskier.”

“Good,” she said with a little rush of breath that put fire in his blood. “Good. That’s exactly what I want.”

Damon shoved a sheet at him and Ty eyed it, then nodded.

“You should stop in at the club, Angel. They have consent forms and check sheets for private clients, the better to ensure that everyone is satisfied.”

“Good idea,” she said, her anticipation clear. “I’ll do that at lunch tomorrow.”

Ty winced that he’d be missing another chance to talk to her.

On the other hand…

“Thanks, Matteo. I’ll see you then.”

“Of course, Angel.” Ty ended the call and stared at the phone for a moment.

“You know we have fixed rates,” Damon began.

“And you know you can charge the difference to me,” Ty replied crisply.

“Maybe there’s going to be rain in the desert after all,” Damon teased.

“Maybe it’s not your business.” Ty heaved a sigh and turned to the store. It was time for some more research.

There was no way he was going to take a chance on disappointing Amy.

* * *

Ty studied.

Research was how he confronted every challenge in his life. He researched, he studied, and he aced the exam. He researched, he studied, and the stock portfolios under his management were the most profitable ones. He researched, he studied, and he won. Over and over again. The strategy worked for everything else: it had to work for sexual games.

He didn’t have performance anxiety, especially about sex. Ty knew he was a good lover, at least when he knew the lady’s expectations. What concerned him about Wednesday night was his lack of certainty over Amy’s expectations.

And his determination to give her exactly what she wanted, whatever it was.

What options was she going to choose? He had to be ready for all of them.

On Monday night, Ty had watched a ton of the instructional videos that were for sale in the club’s shop, and read the instruction books, too. He was looking for diversity, and for games he’d never played before. There was a surprisingly high number of them. Some variations made him feel that he’d lived a very sheltered life—human pony training was oddly fascinating—and he was surprised to find some images titillating.

He crashed late, rose early, and told himself that it was a good thing that Amy wasn’t meeting him for lunch. He wouldn’t be at his best.

He took his e-reader with him and picked up a couple of digital books in the store, then read them at lunch. Anaïs Nin was a gimme. He was studying, but it felt covert.

Illicit.

Cassie was waiting for him in the lobby of F5 when he came home Tuesday night.

That gave him a bad feeling.

It wasn’t just that Cassie looked like the proverbial cat who had swallowed the canary. The way she waved her tablet at him seemed portentous.

Had Amy canceled?

“Your girl came to fill in her forms,” she said, much to his relief.

“Really?” he replied, trying to sound casual and indifferent when he was relieved—and not.

“Really,” Cassie said with conviction. “Check out the lady’s preferences. Pretty conservative, if you ask me.”

Ty hoped so. He said a silent prayer that it wasn’t too heavy of a scene Amy wanted, shoved a hand through his hair, and looked.

Spanking

Bondage.

Blindfold, hood, and/or gag.

He dared to be relieved. It was just like what they’d done in the class, but in private.

Still fully clothed, too.

Okay. He could do this.

“She’s not much of a risk-taker,” Cassie said, drawing her fingernail along the row of options. “But some women like the tease.”

“It’s not bad to be cautious,” Tyler found himself saying.

“Maybe that’s what you two have in common. Nice people making cautious moves.”

“Maybe I’m not as nice as you think,” Ty replied, knowing he wasn’t nearly as nice as Amy thought he was.

Cassie flicked her finger to make the display scroll. “Don’t miss the best bit. It surprised me.”

Shibari.

“Should I know what that is?” Ty asked warily.

Cassie smiled. “The Japanese art of binding captives, often suspending them.”

Ty caught his breath.

“It’s a tricky one,” Cassie confided. “No pressure, but the captive can get badly hurt if the person tying the knots doesn’t know what they’re doing.” She practically strutted to the gift shop as Ty’s heart stopped cold. She picked up a coffee table book. “The only reference we have, but she had a good long look at the open copy.”

It was titled simply Shibari and had an image on the cover that was artfully lit. The nude woman had been photographed from behind, her hands bound behind her back with heavy jute rope. The knotting was elaborate, from shoulder to wrist, ensuring that her arms remained outstretched behind her in a precise position. Her legs were crossed in a way that looked uncomfortable to Ty and, judging by the shadow beneath her, she was suspended from the three ropes that stretched upward.

“Complicated,” Cassie mused without sympathy.

“Fuck,” Ty said under his breath.

Cassie laughed and shook a finger at him. “No, no, none of that. This isn’t a brothel, you know. It’s about the sizzle, not the steak.”

He gave her a glare that could have melted glass and seized the book.

Cassie pretended to swoon. “Put that in the jar and it’ll rain for forty days and nights in the desert,” she said, but Ty was already striding across the lobby.

Shibari.

What was in Amy’s mind?

How was he going to master this ancient art in one night?

Mild panic set in. Ty blew off his work-out and headed upstairs to cram. He hadn’t gotten through half of the materials he’d taken the night before, and there wasn’t much time left to get it right. He had to multi-task.

Upstairs, Ty loaded another DVD. This one was about pain and pleasure. The narrator had a British accent. He couldn’t decide whether that made it more ridiculous or less so.

“Trace the letters of the alphabet on her clitoris, with your finger or tongue…”

The video showed just that, a drawing of a clitoris with the letters of the alphabet being languidly traced over it. They were in lower case.

This would be the pleasure bit.

Ty had this covered. He opened the Shibari book and flipped through it. He’d choose one pose and master it. They were both beginners, after all. Just one, an easy one. The narrator droned on as Ty sought a comparatively simple option.

He was irritated when his door buzzer sounded and snapped “What?” over the intercom.

But it was Lauren and even over the intercom, she sounded odd. Upset, maybe. She never came by his place unless there was something really wrong. Ty buzzed her in.

He opened the door to the corridor to wait for her to step off the elevator, wanting to make a guess at what was bothering her before she put a good face on it. Her head was bowed, her long hair obscuring her features, but he was sure that when she glanced his way, she blinked back tears.

Her smile was certainly forced.

“What’s up?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

“I need a reason to visit you now?” she asked, a break in her voice.

“Of course not, but it’s been a while.”

“You just don’t like having anyone in your cave.”

“There is that,” he admitted, then made a guess. “How’s Mark?”

“Fine.” Lauren seemed to bite off the word. Mark might be fine, but Lauren’s view of him wasn’t. She slipped past Ty into his apartment and stopped dead. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

Shit. Ty realized that his study materials were strewn all over the coffee table, couch, and dining room table. There was a drawing of a clitoris filling his television screen. Ty felt the back of his neck heat even as he cleared the coffee table.

At light speed.

“J. K. L.” continued the voiceover with the British accent, at least until Ty shut off the video with a savage gesture.

“Seriously,” Lauren said. She propped her hands on her hips and gave the apartment another look. “You, of all people, are into this? And so into it that your pristine retreat is—be still, my heart—a mess?”

“It’s not a pristine retreat,” Ty said with some irritation. “And it’s not a mess.”

“Sorry to correct you, bro, but you’re wrong on both counts.” Lauren picked up a black leather flogger and tried it against her palm. “I find it really hard to believe that Amy is into this.” She spared Ty a glance. “Or are you seeing someone else on the side?”

“It’s really not your business.” His look should have warned her to let it go, but Lauren wasn’t daunted.

“Oh, but it is.” She lounged in one of the leather chairs that was still clear, crossing her legs and bouncing one foot. “Seeing that Amy is going to be my sister-in-law any minute now.”

Ty nearly dropped the stack of books he was moving to the floor. They did land harder than he’d planned. “I beg your pardon?” he said with care.

If he had proposed, he would know it.

Lauren leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “I should warn you. Mom is seriously planning to put the moves on her at the wedding. She says it’s high time you settled down, and if you won’t put things in motion, she will.” She leaned forward. “Amy didn’t even flinch when they tossed Ethan at her with a loaded diaper. What did you expect?” She started to hum Here Comes the Bride and he chucked a book at her.

She caught it, turned it over and her eyes widened. “Who are you really seeing?”

“Amy. Why?”

Lauren tossed the book on the coffee table. It was the one featuring the guy Ty didn’t like, the candidate for castration. “Because she’s totally not your type.”

“I like women. She’s a woman.” He raised a hand.

“No, you like gorgeous women. Sleek, polished women who could be models. But they’re not. They’re all super-ambitious career machines with hearts of ice.” Lauren made a face. “Barracudas, every one of them.”

Ty was startled. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

Lauren shook her head. “Take Giselle. She had you in her sights like nobody’s business. I think you were the airline retirement plan.”

“Maybe.”

“What made you finally realize that I have shoes with greater empathy?”

Ty sighed. “I knew that right away. I only ever went out with her the once.”

“Really? To Grandma Trixie’s eightieth birthday? Strange choice for a first date.”

“It was an act of pure desperation.”

Lauren pointed at him. “That I understand.”

Once Ty started to confess, the truth came easily. “I was on the flight home from Beijing. Giselle was the stewardess in the first class cabin. Very pretty.”

“She is that.”

“Charming. Interested.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Proof only that she was heterosexual and had a pulse.”

Ty ignore the implied compliment. “Mom called before we pushed back. Mom called again when we landed.” He met Lauren’s gaze steadily. “Mom had an agenda item to resolve.”

His sister grinned. “Grandma Trixie’s eightieth birthday party. And more importantly, the great showdown between the Preston sisters.” Lauren sat back and nodded, then mimicked their mother expertly. “You know, dear, that Aunt Teresa’s children are all married and she has nine grandchildren already…”

Ty made a dismissive gesture. “I knew before we even got to the party that I’d made a mistake.”

“Kudos to you for that.” His sister toasted him. “I was afraid you might have been thinking with your dick.”

“Thank you very much.” Ty sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. “I’ve been listening to Kyle for too long. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Even pretending you were still seeing her?”

“Even that. Kyle thought it was brilliant. Me, not so much.”

“Good. The longer I heard about Giselle, the more I worried about you.” Lauren folded her arms across her chest. “Are you still taking advice from Kyle?”

“Why?”

“How could you bring home a woman who looks like a kindergarten teacher and expect us to believe it’s love?” She shook her head. “Seriously?”

Amy had been right about Lauren’s skepticism. Ty had some damage control to do. He sat down opposite his sister, intent on making a case that his sister found persuasive. “Seriously. Amy’s different and that’s the point.”

“How so?”

“The others were predictable,” Ty explained, having analyzed the heck out of his own dating dry spell. “I knew exactly what they’d do when and how the relationship would evolve. I knew when the demands would start, and the arguments, and the shrill bits.”

Lauren seemed to be fighting a smile. “The shrill bits?”

“I hate the shrill bits,” he admitted and she chuckled. “So, I’d break it off a week or two before we got to that part. I’d meet someone else, sparks would fly, and the whole thing would progress exactly the same way. I could see Giselle starting down that path before we even got to the party.”

“Your future unfolded before your eyes.”

“Sure. The hot sex after the party. The forgotten something or other in my apartment. The phone calls, the dropping by, the contrivance of coincidence.”

“And then the shrill bits.”

“Inevitably.” He shook his head. “Only truly stupid people keep doing the same thing and expecting different results. Something had to change. I didn’t know what, so I stepped back.”

“To analyze and assess.”

“Call it a weakness.”

“Until you got stuck in an elevator with a woman who looked like a plain little mouse but ended up setting your straight.”

Ty smiled, recognizing a truth when he heard it. “It was different.”

“I’ll bet.”

“And Amy’s not plain.”

“I know that, but most men wouldn’t notice. Those cheekbones are awesome, and her complexion…” Lauren rolled her eyes. “I’d love to get my hands in that hair. How long is it?”

“Just past her shoulders,” Ty guessed, remembering the length of her ponytail in the class.

“Lots to work with. Feel free to give her my number.” Lauren winced. “But be smooth so she isn’t insulted.”

Ty nodded, although he had no intention of stepping into that minefield. He knew well enough that suggesting a different stylist to one of his sisters carried the possibility of launching the nukes. “The thing is that the more I look, the more I see. Her eyes are like Sophia Loren’s. She has opinions I don’t expect. She’s not innocent, but is vulnerable. Yet she’s worldly in ways that I’m not. She surprises me…”

“And so she’s a riddle you feel compelled to solve.”

“Exactly.” Just uttering the word sent a rush through Ty, and that was when he knew.

Amy was the one.

He’d found Ms. Right, in the most unlikely of places, when he wasn’t even looking for her.