“Are those pugs?” I ask, curious despite myself.

He’s affronted. “Yorkies.”

I’m tempted to argue the point—they’re definitely pugs—but I let it go. His wife, Marianna, runs a dog rescue and loves dogs even more than she loves buying Tanner bizarre socks; she’ll sort out any identification issues.

Dropping his leg with a theatric groan, he leans back in his chair. Tenting his fingers, he watches me with an intensity that promises trouble.

“So, let’s talk ‘payroll.’ ” Though the lanky blond man looks nothing like my younger brother, Caine, Tanner’s current commitment to winding me up is identical.

“Don’t encourage Keith to bother Claire.” Running a hand through my hair, I try to hide my agitation.

Tanner gives me a pointed look. “Why?”

I know Because it’s the right thing to do won’t be enough for Tanner. Not when I’ve shown this much emotional investment.

“Because I’m seeing her,” I bite out.

It’s technically not a lie. I saw her spread on the forest floor beneath me. I saw her body writhe and squirm when she came. I saw my cum dripping out of her slick, hot cunt. Every time my mind gets off its leash, I see her in my head. It’s why I can’t get a damn thing done today.

I can’t stop seeing her.

His eyes narrow. I continue before he can say something obscene, “She’s done with him. Don’t encourage him.”

At least I think she is?

Tanner’s amusement slips away. “You realize this is sloppy, don’t you? Keith was pivotal in securing the Hellix–Net Nest merger. He’s the only reason they’re with us.” He looks past me and out the picture window behind my desk. “Fucking racquetball leagues. I’m going to start playing again and see who I bump into.”

He’s right. I’m being sloppy. I’m aware of that, but it doesn’t change anything. “Keith never needs to know.”

That earns me an eye roll. “This is going to be the most expensive fuck of your life.”

It already is.

Also worth every penny.

He keeps going. “Is that ass worth three million? Because that’s what it’ll cost us if you piss him off.”

“Don’t be crass.” I sigh, spinning my chair back and forth the slightest bit. “Russ can pull it off; it’s creepy when you do it.”

Tanner ignores my mention of Russ, who makes up the Graves portion of Graves, Underwood & Crowe. “Fine. But I didn’t even know you were dating, let alone Keith’s ex-wife.” Picking up a pen from my desk, he points it at me. “Is this a midlife crisis? A cry for help?”

“No. It’s dating.”

“But you don’t date.” Swirling the pen through the air like he’s writing a message, he waits for me to argue.

“It’s casual” is all I can come up with. He’s right. I don’t date. But, technically, I’m not dating Claire.

“So, if they end up getting back together, you’ll be able to keep working with Keith. Since things are casual.” He’s watching me too closely, looking for the slightest hint that I’m lying. “I’m not trying to wind you up. I think there’s a chance that could happen. He’s been looking rough since the divorce. Things may be rocky with Naomi; he crashed in his office two nights last week.”

I force a smile, as if I think Tanner’s being ridiculous. “That doesn’t mean anything. I sleep here all the time.”

“Yes, you do. Keith doesn’t.” Tanner’s face is kind. “He wouldn’t be the first guy to think the grass is greener only to realize he should have stayed in his own damn yard. I don’t want you to get blindsided.”

“I’m not worried about it.” The lie is bitter, dragging across my teeth. “Like I said, it’s casual.”

He nods. “All right, just be smart. I don’t want the firm paying millions for you to get some pussy.” His face breaks into a grin that means something even more ridiculous is about to come out of his mouth. “I’m happy you’re getting laid, though—maybe it’ll make you nicer.”

I roll my eyes. “Get out of my office. I need to prep for a meeting.”

Standing, he stretches lazily. “I still don’t believe it’s casual. But I take it back: if fucking Keith’s wife makes you less of a prick, maybe a few million is a reasonable investment.” With an irritating smirk, he’s gone before I can correct him.

Ex-wife.

Tapping on my keyboard with a bit more force than necessary as I respond to an email, I remind myself he’s right. What I have with Claire isn’t casual. It’s business.

Sweaty, dirty, primal business.

I press send and close my laptop. I’m taking an early day.

NINE Shane

When I get home from work, I give Claire a ten-minute head start. It’s the longest ten minutes of my life, Tanner’s words replaying in my head. The smug look on Keith’s face as he talked about Claire. I don’t want to think about any of it. Once I cross the tree line, I don’t. Everything clicks into place the way it always does. Stress evaporates, leaving nothing but the sounds of nature in my head. It’s why I live this far out, even though the commute is hell. Although usually I’m in the woods hunting whatever animal is in season, or hiking, not stalking a beautiful woman.

It rained last night. Claire’s footprints are easy to spot. She tricked me before, doubling back on her trail, but she isn’t doing that today. Her prints are deeper, the tread of her sneakers blurred, bits of dirt and grass flung around.

My little deer was running. These aren’t cautious, planning steps. These are tracks left by prey with a singular focus: get as far away as possible, as fast as possible. Claire’s in flight mode. I fucking love it.

Forty-five minutes later, I’ve followed her trail deep into the woods. The farther I go, the more I suspect she truly went exploring after our last hunt. She’s heading for the lake. That suits me fine. The idea of fucking her on the sandy shoreline grows more appealing the closer I get. If she lures me away from the lake, I might just drag her back to it.

Claire doesn’t lead me away from the lake. I follow her steps to the water’s edge. Several large rocks jut out of the lake at different points, and I scan them, looking for her. My cock tightens when I catch a glimpse of green fabric. She’s tucked behind an outcropping on one of the larger rocks. I can only see what must be her back, or maybe shoulder, and I know she can’t see me.

She wore her clothing into the water, which would have slowed her. I don’t make the same mistake, stripping fast and slipping into the water without a splash. The water’s cool, but it doesn’t keep my cock from thickening as I picture the shock on her face when I sneak up on her. I swim silently, swinging wide to approach her from the back. As I round the rock, it takes me a moment to realize what I’m looking at. It’s her shirt, a green athletic top, but it isn’t on Claire. It’s on a bush, a small scrubby thing somehow growing from a crack in the rock.

I blink at it, stunned. She tricked me. But why take the time to set up a decoy when she could have put more distance between us? I spin, water splashing, and scan the shoreline where I entered the lake. At first, I don’t see anything. Then I spot her at the edge of the woods. She’s too far away for me to see her face, but her tan skin glows against the trees without her shirt. Snatching her shirt off the bush, I start swimming for the shore.

The second my feet hit the sand, I rush for the fallen tree where I left my clothes. I get there and freeze, Claire’s shirt still in my fist. Where there should be pants, a shirt, underwear, and boots, there are only boxer briefs and boots, my socks balled up inside where I left them.