I swear, I have no idea what in the hell prompted me to ask that question.

“I’d imagine so.” Vivian shrugs. “I’m probably going to find out tonight.”

“That’s a no, then. If he didn’t kiss you after a great first date, he must be a lousy kisser. Wanted to put off the inevitable.”

“Or maybe he’s just a gentleman.”

“Nah, I put my money on lousy kisser.”

“You’re insufferable. And anyway, I bet Roger is a better kisser than you.”

“Yeah?”

The elevator has almost reached the lobby, and in ten seconds she’s going to walk out and go on her wonderful date with Roger not the Rabbit, and kiss him on the way home, and I already hate this random stranger.

Before I can change my mind, I place a hand on her waist to draw her close, cup her cheek, and press my lips to hers. At first, she’s rigid in my arms, but soon one of her hands shuffles up my chest while the other grips the hair at my nape, trying to pull me closer to her. Impossible; our bodies are already fused.

The kiss deepens and becomes more heated. I’m about to move my hands to much riskier areas when the elevator doors ding open and a startled “Oh!” makes us pull apart.

In the lobby, the tall, handsome man who runs the online magazine on our floor is staring at us with a shocked expression, which quickly turns into a wicked smile. “Please, don’t stop on my account,” he says in a posh British accent.

Vivian blushes tomato red, straightens her dress—which has ridden up her thighs, uncovering more delicious skin—and marches out of the elevator. “Don’t worry,” she snaps. “We were done. Good evening.”

I follow her into the hall, and she waits until the man has left before pointing an accusing finger at me. “What did you do that for?”

“You weren’t exactly an innocent bystander,” I note.

“It was a spontaneous reaction, nothing more.”

“Well, I’m glad I could bring out your basic instincts. Anyway,” I shrug, acting a thousand shades cooler than I feel. “You bet me Roger is a better kisser than I am, how were you going to decide who wins otherwise?”

Her eyes narrow. “I’m going on my date now, and I will have fun and not think about you and your stupid bets.”

She walks away, and the way her behind is swaying in that dress and those shoes sure doesn’t help me get my head back on straight.

Yeah, go on your date, kiss Roger, I don’t care.

On impulse, I take my phone out on the off chance that the Listen to Your Heart offices are still open.

Jennifer picks up on the second ring. “This is Jennifer, a Listen to Your Heart Dating Specialist. How may I help you?”

“Hello, this is Lucas Keller.”