The bathroom is small but clean. I take care of business, then wash my hands at the sink. That's when I notice the window above the toilet is unlocked, the latch clearly disengaged. I lean closer, examining it. The window is old, the kind that slides up and down instead of to the side, and it's definitely not secured.
"Mia?" I call out.
She appears in the doorway wearing an oversized t-shirt that hits mid-thigh. "Yeah?"
"Did you leave this window open?"
She frowns and moves closer. "No. I haven't even been in here except to check that everything worked when I first looked at the place."
I slide the window up, and that's when I see it. Sitting on the narrow windowsill outside, perfectly placed and impossible to miss, is a long-stemmed red rose.
11
MIA
I grip the steering wheel as I drive toward the coffee shop, my body still humming from last night with Blake. God, the man was incredible. The memory of his mouth on my body, the way his muscles flexed under my palms, and just how deeply and completely he filled me. Heat pools low in my belly just thinking about it.
And now I'm driving to meet another man.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I've never been this person. The woman who sleeps with multiple men. The woman who can't seem to keep her legs closed or her heart guarded. But Blake was so good. So attentive. The way he touched me, like he was memorizing every curve. The way he made me feel safe and desired and completely wrecked.
I shift in my seat, trying to ignore the pleasant ache between my thighs.
Focus, Mia. You're meeting Noah to establish boundaries. I nearly choke on laughter. Boundaries? Apparently, I don't have those. But apparently, I can't stop thinking about how good Blake looked naked.
Except Noah looked pretty damn good naked, too.
I groan and press my forehead against the steering wheel at a red light. I'm a mess. A complete disaster of a woman who apparently can't resist attractive men who show her the slightest bit of attention.
The coffee shop appears on my right, and I pull into the parking lot. Through the window, I spot Noah already seated at a corner table, his dark hair slightly messy, those green eyes focused on the book in front of him. Even from here, I can see the way his shoulders fill out his button-down shirt, the way his long fingers turn the page.
My stomach does that annoying flipping thing it's been doing around all three men lately.
I take a deep breath and force myself out of the car. Professional. Boundaries. That's what this meeting is about.
Yeah, right.
Noah looks up as I enter, and the smile that spreads across his face makes my knees weak. He stands, closing his book, and I notice the title. Some dense historical text about the Civil War. Of course, he reads for pleasure.
"Hey," he says, his voice warm. "Thanks for meeting me."
"Of course." I slide into the chair across from him, hyperaware of how his eyes track my movements. "Can I get you something first? Coffee? Tea?"
"Coffee would be great. Black, please."
He returns a few minutes later with two steaming mugs and settles back into his chair. The silence stretches between us, awkward and charged.
"So," I start, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. "About the other night."
"The night we had incredible sex?" Noah's lips quirk into a small smile. "That night?"
Heat floods my cheeks. "Yes. That night."
"I'm not going to pretend it didn't happen, Mia." He leans forward, his green eyes intense behind his glasses. "And I'm not going to pretend I regret it."
"Noah, we work together. We can't?—"
