The One You Want by Gena Showalter

acting just like his other women, dropping by without an appointment.
That had to be annoying to him.
    “I’m sorry,” the receptionist said, returning the phone to its receiver. “But he’s in a meeting.”
    “Did you tell him who I am? Jada Hamilton. And that it’s an emergency.”
    “I told him.”
    Jada sucked in a breath. “Bastard,” she muttered. She spun on her heel and almost knocked into Kenna. Her eyes widened. “You!”
    “Me,” she managed. She took a step back. Coming here had been a mistake. A huge mistake. He was in a meeting, and she had no right to disturb him.
    “You might as well go,” Jada said, tone clipped. “He’s in a meeting.”
    “I heard.”
    Jada linked their arms and guided Kenna back to the elevators. “You’re his sister, right?”
    “Stepsister.”
    “But you still know him well.”
    Did anyone ever really know a man like Dane? “I suppose.”
    “Tell me. How many others have you seen him with? I try and try to get him to open up, to commit, but he never will. He’s like an island, you know, and only a few people are allowed to visit...before being shipped off. I know I can make him happy if only he’ll give me a chance.”
    The words were flying at Kenna without pause, and she could barely keep up.
    “He resists anything long-term,” Jada said. “Has he ever told you why?”
    Ding.
The elevator doors opened up and an older African-Amarican man stepped out. He nodded at them and moved on, and Jada and Kenna took his place inside the box.
    “Well,” Jada prompted.
    “No,” she replied honestly. But she could guess. His dad.
    “He told me we were done,” the woman said with a sigh. “Why would he do that unless he’s scared of what he feels for me?”
    Because of what he feels for
me
.
Warmth poured through Kenna. He’d kept his word. Wasn’t seeing other women.
    “I must have gotten too close,” Jada said.
    “You mentioned an emergency,” Kenna said, changing the subject. “A matter of life and death.”
    The girl sighed. “The life and death of our relationship.”
    “Miss Starr!” a harried voice called. The elevator doors were in the process of closing. An arm shot through the center, stopping them. The frowning receptionist stepped halfway inside. “Mr. Michaelson will see you.”
    She blinked, surprised. “But his meeting...”
    “He’ll see you.”
    Jada stiffened.
    How had Dane even known Kenna was here?
    She pulled from his ex, hating that the girl was hurt by his rejection but also happy for herself—was that wrong?—and followed after the receptionist. Details of the office she’d missed because of her nervousness registered. The gleam of the hardwood floors and the plushness of the rugs. The paintings on the walls were all florals, and she wondered who had chosen them. Not Dane, surely. The counter was white marble veined with rose.
    The door on the right opened into an active hallway with multiple office doors on one side and cubicles on the other. Many eyes watched her curiously as she passed, and she curbed the urge to smooth her hands over her hair and clothing.
    The receptionist opened the French doors at the far end, and several males stomped out. She motioned for Kenna to enter. Then those doors were closed, and Kenna was alone with Dane.
    He strode toward her, and wow, he looked gorgeous. Like a model himself, set apart from the rest of the world, utterly unattainable.
    “I interrupted your meeting,” she said, heart hammering against her ribs. He’d had those lips on her, those fingers inside her.
    Hammering harder.
    He reached her, wrapped his arms around her. She could feel the long, rigid length of him, and it only made her craving for him worse. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.
    Yes, oh, yes. “No,” she said with a shake of her head, and pulled from his embrace.
    He followed her, even as she evaded him. “I’m not ruining your workday,” she insisted.
    “No, you’re not. You’re making it