Page 7 of 7 Nights of Sin

The baristas knew me, and smiled when I settled at a table in the corner with a good view of the door. I placed an order for a muffin and a cup of coffee and went over my notes while I waited.

I was mid-mouthful of coffee when Kevin walked in. The chime above the door jingled, and I glanced up, regretting having a mouthful of hot coffee as soon as I saw him. My swallow was painful, and I tried not to stare.

It was hard to go more than a few days without seeing Kevin Porter's face somewhere. He was on commercials and always being interviewed for something or other. There was a billboard in Times Square with his face on it, for crying out loud.

But none of that was the same as seeing him come striding in. People (me included) could say what they wanted about him, but he was fucking gorgeous. He always had been, and it had only gotten worse with age. He was tall, easily clearing six feet, with bright blue eyes and curly brown hair that fell into his eyes and over his ears. He had a clean-cut, all American look about him, the perfect face to sell products, and it was only emphasized by the dimples in his cheeks, the main thing people commented on when they talked about his appearance.

They always appeared when he smiled, giving him a boyish charm that drove women and some men alike completely wild.

He dragged a hand through those curls as I watched, his eyes darting around the shop, and then they landed on me and widened.

For a second, he hesitated, and then started walking in my direction.

I busied myself with taking another sip of coffee and wiping my mouth, folding my hands on top of my papers and meeting his gaze when he came over.

"You know," he said. "When Kathleen told me I was meeting someone named Carolyn James, I didn't even think it would be you."

Good. I had the upper hand, then.

Or at least, I should have, but the way he was gazing at me had me feeling flushed, and I shook myself minutely. "Mr. Porter," I said. "Please, have a seat."

He frowned, but dropped into the chair across from mine. "Really, Caro? Is that how we're gonna do this?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"You just called me 'Mr. Porter'."

"That's your name."

"You've never called me that in your life," he fired back.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "You're my client, currently," I said in my best crisp business tones. "How would you prefer to be addressed?"

"Kevin is fine," he said, looking like he wasn't quite sure what was happening.

"Kevin then," I replied. "In any case, you know why we're here. You're having an image issue, and I am here to fix it."

"That's a nice way of putting 'I'm being slandered by a bitch'," he muttered.

"Technically, it would be libel, since it was a printed article," I murmured. "And calling her a bitch isn't exactly going to help your cause."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. I could feel his eyes on me, so I looked away, giving the stack of notes my attention, drinking my coffee, brushing crumbs from the table. Anything to avoid paying attention to his gaze.

Through sheer force of will, I made my face not get hot with a blush. It had been six years, and it wasn't fair that he was still able to have this effect on me.

Just because he was gorgeous, and I'd once craved his attention more than anything, didn't mean I was the same person I was back then.

I'd grown up. I'd gotten over the way things used to be. I didn't need his attention. I didn't want it.

I wanted to do my job.

I shuffled the papers and stacked them neatly in front of me, glancing up and keeping my expression polite and neutral.

"I have a plan," I said. "I'm good at this, and if you listen to me and do what I tell you to do, then you can save your career. If not, you can go broke like all the other wash-ups. It doesn't really matter much to me."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Do you give that charming speech to all your clients?" he asked.

"Only the difficult ones," I replied coolly.