Seriously, what did she have to lose? It was New Year’s Eve. Let the fun begin!

Tara Reisner glanced down at her stunning red gown and downed the rest of her champagne, then laid the glass on the table and made her way across the ballroom. The night was young. Only twenty more minutes till midnight, and it would be another year. Yay!

She scoffed, then grunted. Yeah. Great way to start the New Year. Alone.

Tara moved through the crowd and slipped out through the French doors, out to the balcony of the hotel. Times Square loomed not far away, and crowds filled the street below. Flurries of snow dusted the view, falling over the people below like white confetti before the ball had even dropped. Endless chatter rose like a rash over her skin. Shivering from the chill in the brisk air, she didn’t care. The cold numbed her insides—she didn’t want to feel, worry, or be sick to her stomach. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here alone, but it wasn’t practical to give up two good tickets to this party that she’d paid and arm and leg for.

What a life. New Year’s. Blah. Who the hell cared that it was New Year’s? She leaned over the balcony and glared at the people lining the streets, celebrating. The metal railing dug into her stomach, and a bubble of nausea pushed itself to her throat, the misery forming a lump. Her hand reached out to catch a snowflake.

“What are you doing?” The harsh voice stung her ears, and she leaned farther over the railing, wondering if she was hearing things.

Suddenly jerked away from the railing, she looked up into the bluest eyes—eyes that’d haunted her for two thousand ninety-one days. Exactly six years ago to this day. Crap. Just what I need.

Pulling away from the muscular arm wrapped around her midsection, she glared at Kane Matthews. “What are you doing here?”

His gaze sharpened. He crossed his arms, shoulders tightening to emphasize his domineering build. As her brother’s best friend, Kane probably still saw her as a responsibility. She felt a lecture coming, typical of him even though they hadn’t crossed paths more than a few times since they’d broken up. Time didn’t change anything.

“What were you just doing?” he asked. His stance widened.

Tara smiled. “Nice to see you, Kane. It’s been a while. How’s life?”

He frowned. “Are you drunk?”

She ran each word through her mind. Drunk? Her head shook involuntarily. A fuzzy pounding knocked against her temples. Letting out a laugh, she said, “No. I don’t get drunk. I barely drink.”

His frown intensified, and she spotted the hard glint in his damnable blue eyes. Her heart rate quickened. Normal body reaction to the handsome hunk that made her life miserable. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t be in this situation. She wouldn’t be the one freezing her bottom off in this cold, wishing ill of the happy people below, and pitying herself for the crummy turn of events in her life. All his fault.

Wait. She stilled. Where did that thought come from?

Her hand fluttered to her chest with a laugh. Maybe she was going crazy. It wasn’t his fault that she just got dumped. On Christmas Day. Her love life seemed to be following a pattern Kane had started: dumped on holidays. What were the odds? Ha!

“I think you had enough to drink tonight.” Kane moved forward, and she sidestepped his hand, bumping into the railing.

“I don’t think I had enough to drink actually.” No. She wasn’t drunk. Maybe a little buzzed, but the cobwebby feeling in her head felt nice. She should have invested in a champagne company instead of opening a bridal store. Champagne was probably easier to sell, and it might not be sucking her savings dry like her business did. “What are you doing here?”

Kane raised his eyebrow. His jaw tightened, and he glared.

Her hand itched to touch him, rub out the furrow of his thick brows. They’d barely seen each other over the years, but she could remember the first time her brother had brought him home to her parents’ house in Albany for spring break. She’d thought he was the hottest God she’d ever seen. And the sex… Her breath lodged in her throat. Not that any good came out of that either, since he’d dumped her after wasting a year of her life. And now she was moping about another end to a relationship—on the same day he’d dumped her six years ago. Funny how ironic life was.

“I just bought this hotel. Are you here by yourself? Where’s your boyfriend?”

She smiled, and her cheeks pinched, working muscles in her face she hadn’t known she had. She slapped her hands to her face in an attempt to loosen the strain. “Why am I not surprised that you own this, too? What happened to the airplane business?”

“It’s good. Tara, where’s that guy?”

“That guy?” Her hand gripped the railing to steady herself. “Oh, you mean Steve. He’s good.” Good, as in good as dead.

Kane eyed her warily as if he didn’t believe her. Hell, she wouldn’t believe her either.

She only deepened her smile. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since….” She couldn’t remember. When was the last time she’d seen him? Oh, yeah. When she’d stupidly brought Steve to show him off at her parents’ Christmas party two years ago, and she had tripped over her black dress into Kane’s lap. Yup, I am one graceful woman. Not.

“I’d see you more if you came down here to visit your brother. Does Vince know you’re here? Alone.” He reached out, and she jerked back, ramming against the rail. Her elbow stung.

“Who says I’m alone?” She straightened, then frowned at the light illuminating his chocolate brown hair. He always had nice hair. She used to love running her fingers through the thick mass—back in the days when life was so much simpler, then Mr. Hotshot had to go and take over his father’s company.

Tara shook her head to clear her thoughts. Where was the anger coming from? She’d been long over Kane. He hadn’t wanted her enough. They had argued too much. And he didn’t love her.

“Are you alone?” His quizzing eyes irritated her.

“No.” She bit her lip. Shame poked at her. “Yes.”

“I think we need to get you out of here.” He grabbed her elbow before she could pull away. “You definitely had too much to drink.”

Tara took a deep breath as he led her back into the ballroom to the entrance. She wasn’t drunk enough. “I’m not. I didn’t drink that much. Just three glasses of champagne.”

They stood at the elevator, and she stiffened when his arm circled her waist.

“You can barely stand still, Tara. You’re drunk.”

She turned her head to look at him. “What do you know? Maybe this is how I am. I’m always clumsy. I lack grace, remember?” A nudge of anger pinched her heart. He’d proposed, then retracted his offer because she wasn’t what he needed in a wife—graceful, elegant, sexy hostess material. Steve thought the same. Was there something wrong with her?

She scoffed. There was nothing wrong with her. It was the men she chose to get involved with that were screwed up. About time she opened her eyes and smartened up before she got involved again.

Without a thought, her palm settled on his chest. Instead of touching his black tux, her hand slid onto his white shirt, inside his jacket. Her breath hitched at the hard muscles under her fingertips. “Wow, I think you got bigger.”

He chuckled and moved her into the empty elevator. Heat scorched her hip, and she realized it was from his hand. She leaned into him. His masculine scent tickled her nose, and she sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. Her insides tingled.

“Not drunk, you said?”

The laughter in his voice spread warmth through her body. Maybe she was drunk. Or just fuzzy from the feel of him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she grunted. An ache started to build in her stomach. She should move away, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Her cheek brushed against the material of his jacket.

“Tara, does Vince know you’re here?”

She sighed again at the feel of his strong hand rubbing her back. If only he’d go lower…

“Nope. I bought the tickets weeks ago to come celebrate with Steve, but he’s….” She frowned. In bed with his secretary? Eh, Kane didn’t need to know. How much more failure could she admit to?

“Where is he?” His arms tightened around her, and the sound of his voice made his chest rumble against her ear. Her nose dug into his jacket, reveling in the musky scent of his cologne. She loved his smell. A tingle whipped down her spine, and she inhaled another breath.

“Probably sleeping with his secretary.” Crap. She stilled. What happened to not telling? Yup. Drunk.

He tensed and continued to rub her back. The roughness of his palm scratched against her bare skin, but somehow his touch soothed her, warmed her. And made her more aware of the hot tension boiling in her stomach. Normal reaction. When had she never been attracted to Kane? The man was a mass of hunky testosterone that could seduce any female if he turned his charming smile on them. He didn’t even need to smile at her, and she was a puddle on the floor when he entered a room. Too bad it didn’t work out between us. Nope. Girls like her didn’t last with hot guys like Kane, even though she’d once believe he was the one for her. Eons ago.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he murmured into her hair.

She pulled away. “I need to go. I have a room on the twenty-third floor.”

The elevator opened.

“Why don’t you just hang out with me for a little bit, and then I’ll take you to your room?” He gestured to the door.

Turning around, Tara gasped. Of course, he’d stay in the penthouse suite. What did she expect from a rich bachelor? He could probably buy and sell her if he wanted with the amount of money he made, unlike her, who was barely surviving with her own business.

“It’s beautiful.” She stepped into the foyer that opened into the spacious living room. The tall ceilings and wrap-around wall of windows sucked the breath out of her already weak-kneed body. Moving past the cream-colored, leather couches, furry white rug and bar, she pressed her face against the window to look into the rainbow of lights and tall buildings. The streets were still dotted with people—happy people, kissing and hugging—enjoying themselves because their life was probably perfect.

Tears stung her eyes.

Why was she feeling so pitiful? It wasn’t the end of the world because her jerk of an ex cheated on her and dumped her on Christmas Day. Or because her business was failing and she could barely make rent for the next month. It was New Year’s Eve. She should be happy to be starting new. Who was she kidding?

Life sucked.

“Here.”

Tara turned and stared at the glass of water in Kane’s hand—his very nice, manly and tanned hand.

“Drink this. You’re probably dehydrated.”

She wrapped her fingers around the glass, touching him by accident. An electric shock jolted up her arm, and she ignored it as she took a sip of the water while eyeing him. He smiled at her, and she wanted to press her whole body against the window. Maybe it’d help diffuse the raging heat singing her skin. He had taken off his jacket and bowtie, and the white shirt stretched across his broad chest, hugging every muscle just right. Her mouth went dry.

“So, does Vince know you’re here?”

She shook her head. “No. He’s out with Shelly, celebrating her pregnancy and the New Year.”

“Does he know what that sleazebag did?” Kane crossed his arms over his chest, stretching the shirt even more. Her eyes dropped past his belt and jerked back up. Naked images of him played in her mind. The many times they’d made love. Flashes of him taking her against the door, in the kitchen, on the floor. Wherever. Whenever. Her breathing escalated, and her heart started on a marathon without her.

Clearing her throat, she looked him dead in the eyes. “No. And you’re not going to tell him either.”

He frowned. “What happened?”

She studied the hard set of his jaw, the furrowed eyebrows, and her insides tingled again. He still cared for her. At least he wasn’t demanding that she tell him. His days of bossing her around were over. But she missed the hot arguments, which usually led to making up afterwards. The only place they’d never argued was the bedroom. Her body clenched at the old memories of them stealing away to bed together. She shifted on her feet, the sudden ache between her legs more and more apparent. What was wrong with her? She’d just gotten dumped, and now, she was lusting after another ex. Yeah, she had to be drunk.

She shrugged. “His secretary. What more can I say?”

“Did you know about his affair? Weren’t you guys going out for a while?”

A fist gripped her chest. Anger sizzled. “Three years,” she replied. Three years of her life that she’d wasted trying to make herself into the perfect wife of a lawyer who didn’t appreciate her. All she’d ever done was become the best girlfriend—taking care of and giving Steve whatever he wanted. Like a…doormat. Wow, I am a loser.

“And did you catch him with the secretary?”

She laughed. She wished that was the case. She’d ditched her family for Christmas to spend it with Steve, so he wouldn’t be alone; she’d believed that he’d propose since she found a ring box in his room, but no. Instead, she’d received a very nice silk scarf and a kick in the ass. Out the door. “Nope.”

“Are you okay?”

Her heart tightened at the concern in his voice. Rage pulsated through her like a fire. “Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He reached out and brushed her forearms. Her irritation dissolved. Just like that. “I know you’ll be okay. You’ve always been strong.”

His blue eyes stared down at her, and she wanted to faint. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach along with the simmering heat.

“Stop being so nice,” she ordered.

Kane cracked a grin. “I’m always nice to you.”

She mustered a speculative look, and he laughed. Drawing away, she moved to the couch, needing to put space between them before she decided to do something stupid. Like jump him and demand he take her against the window. She stopped. Oh, my God. Where are these thoughts coming from? It’s Kane. He didn’t want you, remember?

Tara set the glass down on the coffee table. “Where’s your date?”

“I didn’t have one.”

She whirled around in shock. “You didn’t have a date?” She crossed her arms, and the beads of her bodice poked against her skin. “How is that possible?”

Kane chuckled. His eyes dropped for the briefest second to her cleavage, and she thought she was seeing things. Heat strummed down her spine, and the fire in her stomach intensified. Her legs trembled.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” He moved a step towards her.

A nervous laugh ripped past her lips. “Oh, come on. You’re Kane Matthews, hot successful bachelor. Your ex-wife was a supermodel. And I’m sure you have women throwing themselves at you left and right, hoping to just lick your shoe.”

He smiled. And her eyes drew to his firm, sensual lips. She’d forgotten how nice his mouth was—and the stuff that it was capable of doing.

“My shoe?” His smile broadened to a grin. “Do I still have that big of an effect on you?”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Why? Are you planning on proposing to me again, only to dump me the next day?”

His jaw tensed. “Why drag up the past?”

She shrugged and reached for her glass of water, needing to hold onto something, before she threw herself at him. She couldn’t. They’d been long over. And her brother was his best friend. If her mother found out they’d spent any time together, then she’d start talking about weddings. And Kane was not the type to marry again after his disastrous marriage. “How’s Candy?”

Kane laughed. “Cindy. I wouldn’t know. Last I heard, she was off on some shoot in Australia with a Spaniard.”

Tara knew Cindy’s real name, but the perfect, leggy-blonde-runway bimbo got on her nerves. Divorced for two years, Kane became the most eligible bachelor, known for his international model girlfriends. But that hadn’t stopped Tara from feeling hurt that Kane had married three months after they’d broken up.

“Now, why did you guys get a divorce again?” she asked. She fell to the couch. Water sloshed over the rim, and she set the glass down. Always clumsy. Yup. That’s me.

“Besides her sleeping with every man with possible money, we wanted different things.”

Her eyes rose to his face. A hard glint stared back at her. “That’s a shame.”

He shrugged and walked to the mini-bar in the corner.

Her mouth watered at the expanse of his back and his tight buns through the black pants. Get a grip, Tara. It was a good thing that they had ended. He wanted too much. And all she’d ever wanted was his love.

But the sex had been so good between them.

“So what are you doing on New Year’s Eve by yourself?” she asked. She had to stop these crazy thoughts. But he’s so hot. He’s the ex—the enemy, the one that had broken up with her because she wasn’t the right one—just like Steve had dumped her at Christmas. Her hands clenched.

“I came back from Italy early. Your brother didn’t know I’d return so soon, so I didn’t make any plans. What about you? Why are you here alone? Three hours from home.” He took a sip of his scotch, eyeing her over the rim of his glass.

Tara stood up and glanced towards the window. The noise from outside became louder which meant the countdown was near. The goal of her trip to the city had been to get her mind off of Steve. Now, she could barely focus on anything besides the man standing in front of her. So, her plan was working, except not in the way she’d planned.

Distraction was good, wasn’t it?

She didn’t answer him, but closed the distance between them. Her heart pounded fiercely against her chest as if threatening to jump out. Sweat coated her hands, and she brushed them against the silky material of her gown.

“I was supposed to be here with Steve to celebrate New Year’s,” she answered. Her mind spun in confusion, warring with conflicting emotions in her chest. She closed her eyes, her skin prickled, and she became more aware of Kane. His musky cologne danced around her senses, mesmerizing her with his presence. Moisture gathered between her legs. A dull throb pounded in her core.

She wanted him. Right then. There.

“He’s a jerk. Just forget him.”

Her eyes shot open to see him lay his scotch glass on the mahogany bar.

“I’ll walk you to your room.” Kane ran his hands through his hair. Tension radiated from him. The fine lines of his forehead creased with worry as if picking up her thoughts.

Swallowing the lump of courage in her throat, she stepped up and laid a hand on his chest. His muscles tensed under her fingertips, and his eyes darkened to midnight blue.

If she didn’t do this now, then she may never have another chance.

She moved back, and his gaze followed her. Her hands reached behind to the zipper of her dress.

“Tara, what are you doing?”

She could almost hear the countdown from outside, but her attention didn’t waver from him. Panic lit his expression, and a sense of power came over her.

“Starting my New Year.”

Her dress fell.