After an hour of easy conversation, they'd walked to a nearby deli and ordered sandwiches and smoothies and then spent several hours talking, getting to know each other. It hadn't taken Kat long to size up Grant. He'd definitely fit the bill on the outside and seemed to be a good man on the inside too. And after a few dates, she'd found herself ticking off a number of items on her long checklist: ambitious, successful, well educated, polite, regular haircuts, clean-shaven, no hint of arrogance, and no cowboy boots. And he didn't delight in pissing her off.

Yeah, she'd added new items to the list. And, as another checkmark on her revised tally, Grant had gotten Cassie's seal of approval. Always good to have.

But the real shocker remained Sarah James. The woman adored Grant, almost embarrassingly so. In fact, Kat believed her mother liked him better than her. After all, marrying off her spinster daughter before her eggs expired ranked as Sarah James's number-one priority. And Kat had grown weary over the years with the parade of New York's most eligible bachelors-or highest bidders, as she referred to them-whom her overbearing mother foisted upon her without the slightest regard, or warning. Of course, Kat had time on her side. At her age, bachelors without children and alimony landed high on the endangered species list, making her mother's mission nearly impossible at this point.

So, when Grant Collins had rescued her by parachuting into her life, she'd hoped her matchmaking mother might finally ease up.

Yet, she and Grant still hadn't hit the sheets. She hadn't even invited him up for drinks. They'd been seeing each other for over a month, and she knew had they met earlier, before him, they would've had toothbrushes at each other's apartments by now.

She chastised herself for delaying the sex and honeymoon phase of their new relationship. The fun never lasted, of course, but she still enjoyed every second until the masks came off. But so far, Grant seemed perfect. Too perfect. She reminded herself to give him time to relax, time to slip up. However, waiting for his flaws to crack the surface amounted to a diversion from what bothered her most of all. From who bothered her most of all ...

Kat stretched her neck in an attempt to ease the tension, cast away the unwanted thoughts that stuck to her like tacky flypaper. She bristled at the memory of him. The conflicted feelings that slow-talking Neanderthal still evoked in her sent fire coursing through her veins.

Just when she believed her demeaning error in judgment had finally been put to rest, some visceral image of him would pop into her head again: his dimpled smile, his pale blue eyes full of fun, his demanding lips and hands-everywhere on her willing body. Kat squeezed her eyes shut. Even under threat of torture, she would never confess that when in need of release, vivid memories of their one scorching night had rescued her more often than she cared to count.

Grant was the only man she'd dated for any length of time since the blunder with Tucker. She'd kept herself far too busy, on purpose.

However, old habits had found her finger hovering more than once over a familiar contact still in her phone. But she'd refrained from calling Dan. The memories of their fights and why she'd ended their quasi-relationship wouldn't allow her to take the easy way out again. She refused to put either of them through the inevitable torment-no matter how much she missed her old friend's company, or his touch. She'd cut their cord for a reason, determined to go solo, determined to prove to both of them she could. And with only the best intentions, he wanted her to fail.

Her mind skipped back to Grant. How much longer would his patience last with their dates ending in only fevered kisses and tentative touches? Although, to be honest, his restraint baffled her. The slow pace she'd set didn't seem to bother him. He'd had a long-term relationship end badly less than a year ago. She figured he was on the mend, hesitant to jump without first knowing exactly where he'd land.

Her own hesitancy made her feel silly, even though she admired his self-control, wished she'd had some herself six months ago. She hadn't decided yet how this evening would end. A part of her wanted to reward his quiet, steady persistence. The other part of her just wanted a man again. Strong hands on her body, muscular weight on top of her-and underneath her.

Time to help the poor guy. Kat strode toward Grant. He broke free from Sarah's clutches after she pressed an air-kiss to each side of his face. Then he shook hands with Henry James, who'd listened nearby, watching his daughter's date, with a peculiar expression. As she made her approach Kat's attention drifted to her father. He stood ramrod straight in his black tux, his eyes now fixed on hers as if searching for some answer in them.

Grant stepped in front of her, a warm smile lighting his face, and she turned to allow his help with slipping on her coat. Maybe I'll invite him up tonight, she mused. Maybe. The equivocation puzzled her. What the hell was wrong?

What was stopping her?

"Kathryn, darling, I'm delighted you were able to join us for dinner this evening. The celebration simply would not have been the same without you." Sarah's eyes remained firmly fastened to Grant's.

Right. Kat's presence bothered her mother far more than her absence ever had. Their relationship only grew more strained with the tick of time. But when Sarah James wanted something-like the perfect son-in-law, an investment banker born into old New York money-the woman could lay on the honey-soaked lies, and thick.

"When I accepted the Collinses' invitation for Easter brunch, I never would've imagined you'd rearrange your entire holiday schedule, Mother, just for me." Kat gave Grant a quick, knowing glance. Sarah nodded nervously, fiddling with the pearls at her throat.

Kat's sharp focus shifted to her father. For a second she glimpsed amusement in his eyes, then it vanished, replaced with an unsteady aloofness. For so long she'd wanted to say to him, "Tell me what you're thinking. Talk to me ... about anything ..." But Henry James was a man of few words, and even less affection.

Grant grasped her hand in his velvety smooth palm and steered them toward the private penthouse elevator where they awaited the next ride to freedom.

"Lunch next week at the Metropolitan Club?" Charlie, Kat's eldest brother, asked Grant, as he and his wife joined them by the elevator.

"I'll have my secretary compare calendars with yours. How's that sound?" Grant replied.

"Perfect," Charlie said, with a couple of pats to Grant's shoulder.

Kat could feel Charlie's hypercritical eyes drilling into her, demanding her attention, insisting that she acknowledge his magnanimous efforts with Grant.

Over her dead body.

Charlie had had no problem over the years shoving his judgmental finger in her face time and again-at their mother's command, no doubt; his words simply rang too familiar. When Sarah's censures had failed to make a difference, she'd clearly used Charlie as a mouthpiece to convey her own embarrassment with Kat's string of men and apparent lack of family values.

One question still gnawed at Kat: why hadn't her father ever commented?

The couples entered the shiny gold car and Charlie pressed the down button.

When the doors slid shut on her father's unflinching gaze, Kat reaffirmed her reason for continuing to attend these hollow family affairs: the childish hope that one day Henry James would allow her into his world.

Hell, she'd settle for his smile.

No more skulking, watching, waiting until her lights went out after midnight. No more behaving like a damn stalker or a schoolboy who couldn't muster the nerve to talk to a pretty girl. He'd wanted to make sure she didn't have a boyfriend and wasn't completely sure she didn't. Oh yeah, she'd met the same guy for lunch and dinner Friday night, then saw him Saturday night and had spent the whole damn day with him today. She still hadn't come home yet. He gritted his teeth. What did he expect? It was a holiday. One that a lot of people spent with family. Something he didn't have. Tucker shutdown the pity party to focus on the here and now, and the one positive he could see in all of this: Kat's guy never went up to her apartment; she'd waved him off in a taxi both nights. Tucker had pinned his hopes on her doing the same tonight. He'd convinced himself there was a chance this guy wasn't anybody serious-yet.

Christ, he needed that to be true.

He scanned across the street. Then she rounded the corner. His nervous pacing halted as he slid into the shadows and onto a bench sitting under a burnt-out lamppost.

The pressure mounted in his throat about how this night would end.

The beautiful couple held hands, laughed, and cozied up to one another in the cool night air. Tucker's stomach tightened and his lungs stopped midbreath from the sight of her, like the other times, and like the first time six months ago. His eyes roamed to her long, shapely legs, teasing and tormenting him with the memories of having been wrapped around his body. Then his attention traveled higher. Her hair longer, layers bouncing. The evening breeze kicked up, swept some strands across her face, and her date tucked the flyaways behind her ear. Tucker's heart squeezed into a hard knot. He knew that guy was Kat's type-not him-or at least that's what she believed. He sighed, knowing he had his work cut out for him.

He hoped six months had been enough of a cooling-off period for her. Hoped she would at least hear him out now. He hated like hell what had happened between them. Well, only hated what had happened the next day. He wasn't expecting a warm reception tonight, just a chance, an opportunity to say his peace, and see if it made any difference, any at all.

He would man-up tonight. He would be the man he should've been the first time.

At forty-one, Tucker had been around the block a few times. A serious relationship or two, girlfriends here and there, but not one of those women had stood out like Kat James. Not one had left the impression on him she had, and he wanted to know why. The last time he'd left the Big Apple, he'd had his tail between his legs. This time it wouldn't end that way.

However it ended.

Kat and her date wrapped themselves up in each other, kissing and hugging. Then the guy shuffled her back into the shadows for some privacy. Things had heated up. Tucker white-knuckled the bench seat. He closed his eyes and dropped his head. Don't let him up, Kat. Don't. Not tonight. After holding his breath for a bit, Tucker glanced up at the sound of her voice. The brake lights of a taxi flashed, then a door shut. Kat stood across the street by herself, watching the cab as it pulled away from the curb. She stayed rooted for a moment, her fingers brushing across her lips as if she questioned her decision, and then shook her head.

He pushed to his feet as she headed up the stairs to her third-floor walk-up.

With long, purposeful strides, Tucker made quick work of crossing the narrow street. His heart raced, but his mind cleared the closer he got to her. Keys rattled as she readied to unlock the door.

"Kathryn James."

She stiffened, dropping the keys in a loud clatter on the concrete stoop.

Tentatively, he moved up a few steps. She knelt to retrieve her keys and then swung around to glare down at him. The sway of tree branches mixed with the dim streetlight painted animated shadows across Kat's face, cloaked the mood harbored in her eyes but not in her self-assured posture. He climbed a few more steps toward her. She appeared calm, passing cool judgment.

She scrutinized him from head to toe.

"Is this a bad dream? Or a bad joke?"

He flinched at her harsh tone, knew he had it coming-and a lot more. Now he wondered if six months had been long enough. Maybe there was no such thing.

"I was hopin' we could talk, Kat. Maybe you'd let me buy you a coffee or ..." He stopped short. Thought it best to hold his words based on her unfavorable expression.

"Why would I do that?"

"Well, I'm sure there're things you'd like to say to me. And I deserve every one of them." He slid his hands into his back pockets. He stood strong against her unrelenting stare, determined not to break away from it or cower underneath it. "I owe you at least that. I'm not in the habit of hurting women. It's never been my style. There's nothin' good to be gained from it."

"Right, Tucker. Nothing to be gained-except maybe a sweeter deal for you. Is that what you were after? A higher return on your investment? A bigger piece of my company? What?"

"I didn't even think that far ahead, Kat. I knew you'd be pissed when you saw me that morning, and rightly so. But I was going to leave it up to you that day whether we moved forward with a deal. I'd done my homework. I already knew your company was a sound investment before the meeting. But I was more interested in you at that point than your business."

She remained silent, the wheels in her head clearly grinding. Then her eyes softened, unless it was just wishful thinking on his part.

"What're you doing here, Tucker? Really? Are you here on business?"

Before he could answer, a tenant shoved through the door, sidestepping them and bounding down the steps as a chatty group pushed by to enter the building. Her eyes continued to bore down into his. He decided to move up the last couple steps so they were level. Equals.

"Before you knew who I was, before I earned your contempt, weren't you the least bit curious about me? Didn't you want to know more about me?" Her features tightened in reflection. He chose to take her silence as progress. He knew damn well if she disagreed, she wouldn't hold back.

"It doesn't matter now, Tucker. There's nowhere to go from where we started. We both know that."

She was curious. He could hear it in her voice, see it in her eyes. His heart raced. He leaned closer and now he could smell her clean, sweet scent.

"Who says? We get to decide that, Kat. Nobody else."

Her face remained placid, impenetrable.

"You never answered me. Are you here on business?"

He wanted to touch her, kiss her. Make her believe him.

Make her see him.

"No. I'm here for you."

The moment his low rumble and distinct cadence rolled through her like thunder, her body had remembered, had unleashed the memories of him. Kat's knees had almost buckled from the initial impact. Now, staring into his eyes, breathing in his masculine scent, feeling the heat from his body, she made a silent vow to remain focused and not act like a fool. Her head had a firm grip on the reins this time, not her hormones. She'd spent the last month getting to know a terrific man. A man for whom she had not once felt the hot spark of electricity, the sizzle of chemistry licking at her skin at this moment, and from the moment he'd said her name.

Her full name.

No one called her Kathryn, except her mother. For some reason, when he'd said it, she liked it. Wanted to hear it again. It'd all left her feeling angry and confused.

Why was life playing this joke on her?

"Why?" The one-word query asked as much to herself as to Tucker.

"Because I can't forget you. I know I probably should, but I can't. I'm tired of fightin' it, Kat. I want to know why I can't forget that night and everything leadin' up to it." Hope flickered in his eyes. "Can we go somewhere? A coffee shop, a diner? Hell, I don't care, a park bench. I just want to talk to you. I want you to know who I am, and I want to know you. Please?" His whisper held a hint of desperation.

The truth in his words was evident in the emotion crisscrossing the rugged planes of his face. He'd laid his cards on the table. There'd be no harm in hearing him out, right? She could speak her peace too. Maybe then she could move forward with Grant.

She looked away, cleared her throat, and nodded. "There's an all-night diner around the corner. We can go there."

His face shaded in relief. "That sounds great."

He stepped aside and allowed Kat to lead the way.

They walked side by side, silent, Tucker with his hands dug down in his front pockets, Kat with her arms folded. Now they sat in a booth opposite one another, sipping their coffees, strangers more now than six months ago.

Not knowing what to say, Kat sat quiet. The burden of proof belonged to the man across the table anyway. Since Tucker had initiated this face-to-face, he could start the ball rolling. She leaned back against the padded booth, holding his stare with her own determined one.

Finally, Tucker approached the minefield of his making. "I am sorry about what happened, Kat. It's not what I wanted. I ..." His eyes flicked away and he shook his head. "You don't remember seein' me that day before I talked to you at the bar, do you?" She thought about it and then shook her head. "I didn't think so." He scratched along his jaw, and sighed.

"Well, I saw you. I saw you up the street, runnin' and dodgin' people." He smiled at the memory. "I still don't understand how you women run in heels." He shook his head in disbelief, and maybe even a little awe. "Your legs, I noticed immediately. Your umbrella lifted up a few times and I saw your face, stopped my heart for a beat or two. Then I saw where you were headed, knew right then I had to get to the door before you did. Had to find a way to get your attention." His eyes dropped. "But it didn't work. You looked right past me, like I wasn't even there. I heard your name when you checked in, and then I knew I had a decision to make." He looked down at the coffee mug squeezed between his large hands.

"We can argue all night about me not comin' clean on who I was. But the truth, for me, is once I knew you didn't recognize my name, didn't know I was the one you were waiting for, I decided then and there to be Tucker Williams-the man, not the pompous venture capitalist." He paused, searched for recognition. She rewarded him with the hint of a grin at the echo of her own words. "I wanted a chance, Kat. I wanted you. I wanted you to flirt with me the way you did that pretty boy behind the bar."

He chewed at the inside of his cheek and waited. Kat glanced down at her lap, attempted to hide her smile.

"I'm not the sorta guy you usually go for, am I?"

"Not even close."

"So why did you, Kat?"

He seemed to need an answer as much as she did.

"I'm not sure, other than," she glanced away, back in time, "I just wanted to ... I wanted you.

"I haven't done anything like that since I was in college-a lifetime ago. I'm a grown woman now with rules. I exercise good judgment, and I certainly don't have one-night stands with strangers. I can't even blame it on alcohol. It was all me, sober, lucid ..." She looked away, a hint of anguish in her expression.

"I'm glad it was all you, Kat, and nothin' else." His hand stretched closer to hers, near enough to touch her, but he didn't. "And I'm damn glad you broke your rules with me. Makes me think you need to change your rules, about who your type is and all. I'm sure you have one of those lists, don't you?" She tried to hold her grip on the veil he'd begun to lift away. "I was pretty sure I didn't make the cut from the get-go. And after what happened, you probably decided you were right about me all along. I'd like the chance to prove otherwise, Kat." His confidence now boosted, optimism shimmered in his eyes.

She tried her best to come up with reasons why it would be a terrible idea. Kat had Googled him after the meltdown at her office; she knew a lot more about him now. Like his investments in and commitment to alternative energies and the environment, and his philanthropy in Helena and the communities surrounding it. The horse ranch he lived on in Montana, and how he'd come to run Diamond Industries. After her Internet snooping, she'd felt like a pretentious shit. She'd behaved no better than the rest of her snooty family, with her condescending misjudgments based on his appearance and pronunciations.

This man had real depth, heart.

However, she still stood by the conclusion she'd drawn.

"Tucker, like I already said, there's nowhere to go-"

He cut in, his impatience clear. "Who says, Kat? Some book? Some magazine you read? Who? Because that just doesn't fit my way of thinking. Why can't we start from right here?" His finger tapped the table. "Right now. I know we didn't have an ideal start, but we can change that. We can make whatever we want out of this."

He settled back against his seat while she tossed around his proposal in her head. Time to cut to the chase. "I don't think you love that guy you were with tonight."

Her demeanor stiffened.

"You don't know anything about him, Tucker," she said, her words barbed.

"I know you didn't invite him up the last three nights."

"You've been following me?" Her mouth fell open in shock.