It didn’t seem fair. Of all the men to instantly hate her, why did it have to be one who dressed like a French billionaire and smelled the way her first orgasm felt? Who had a voice like hot gravel and was so well travelled he made David Attenborough look like her mum? She’d have thought his dislike was garden variety sexism but Ty was famous (in an industry where referring to your wife as ‘the old ball and chain’ was still considered hilarious) for his progressive views. He frequently shut down regressive conversations with a curt, “if you feel that way, go join ISIS.” He was even, it was whispered in the darkest of office corners, a socialist.

Why would a socialist hate her so much? She loved sharing. That was what the lemon-curd meringues were all about. Kate exhaled, bringing her attention back to the mystery man in her bed. She needed to focus on something other than Tyler Henderson. She tried to replay her time at the pub. She’d sat there for hours while the men around her drank steadily and she’d been so bored she’d secretly ordered a vodka raspberry. No one noticed so she’d ordered another one, then another one. Once she was pleasantly buzzed, she’d gotten up and started playing the pinball machine. It had a dragon on it. She’d been feeding the slot another dollar when…

The image of young guy burst into her mind—a nice smile, curly hair and massive shoulders. “Aha! Rugby Boy!”

The man in her bed let out a groan.

“Ooh, sorry!”

Rugby Boy groaned again, and Kate clapped her hands over her mouth. She remembered now. Rugby Boy had reminded her of the guys from home, sweet and countrified but without the surfer’s tan and sea-salt hair. He offered her a drink with such puppy dog eagerness, she’d said yes without even thinking about it.

As the night wore on and she became tinglier with alcohol, Kate had decided it was time to try again and that if Rugby Boy tried to kiss her, she would let him. He tried. His kisses had been toothy and a little too wet, but he was confident and attractive, and his body was as hard as stone. She decided she wanted to go home with him. That was where her memory reel ended, but Kate could pretty much piece the story together from there. She and Rugby Boy had come back to her room, one or both of them had decided she was too drunk for sex, and then she’d offered him her bed as a consolation prize. It was kind of unchivalrous of Rugby Boy to have taken it, but hell, this was meant to be a one-night stand. What could you expect?