Page 114 of The Heartbreaker for Hire

I leaned closer to the bathroom mirror, carefully applying a final coat of mascara while my assistant, Andrew, sighed through my earbuds.

“Because they're men with expensive degrees and an inflated sense of their own importance?”

“That's a possibility. What else have you got?”

“Delusions of grandeur? A complete lack of self-awareness? Early-onset stupidity?”

I smiled. “Put that in an email.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Tempting, but I enjoy being employable.”

I laughed and capped my mascara.

I'd spent the better part of the afternoon horseback riding with Damon, which had been both exhilarating and humiliating. Exhilarating because there was something undeniably freeing about riding across the ranch with the ocean breeze in my hair and the sun warming my face.

Humiliating because I'd spent most of the ride trying not to stare at the way Damon's thighs gripped his saddle. I was a highly educated, successful businesswoman. Apparently, I was also a Victorian maiden who'd never seen a man's legs before.

And because we’d taken a detour to emotional vulnerability. A location I was not comfortable with. In fact, I never wanted to visit it again.

When we got home, I felt exposed, raw, and uncomfortable in my own skin. I'd taken a long shower, washed every trace of dust, horse, and vulnerability off my body.

I’d also blown out my hair. Not because I was trying to impress anyone. Obviously. I just happened to enjoy looking my best. It was part of my armor. And after the afternoon I’d just had, I was suiting up.

“Are you listening to me?” Andrew cut through my internal dialog.

“Every word,” I lied.

“Then what did I just say?”

“That you're indispensable, underpaid, and should receive a substantial raise.”

He made a sound like a buzzer. “Eh, wrong. I did not say that.”

“But you were thinking it.”