Why not? That would give me time to shower and sit in the steam room. “Sure. I’d like that.”

After my shower and steam, I dressed in my office clothes, wishing I had a pair of skinny jeans, stilettos, and a camisole to meet Brent next door. Oh, well. The black slacks and burgundy blazer would have to do.

I walked over to the tavern. Brent was already there, seated at the bar. His long blond hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and he wore a few days of light brown scruff on his face. His jeans hung loose around his nice butt, and he wore a V-neck gray T-shirt that accented his biceps and triceps nicely.

Yeah, he was pretty. Really pretty. Not Fox Monroe pretty, but beautiful in a totally masculine way.

What was I doing here again?

I didn’t want a fitness model. I wanted a rugged man in leather.

I wanted Rock Wolfe.

But I smiled. I’d accepted this date. He smiled back, holding up his bottle of beer.

God. Alcohol.

I definitely hadn’t thought this through.

I sat down next to him and laid my purse on the bar.

“What do you want?” Brent asked me.

To have my head examined. Yeah, not really the right thing to say. “I think I’ll have sparkling water to start. You know, hydrate after a massage and all.”

“Good girl.” He motioned to the bartender.

I scanned the rest of the bar as I waited for my drink and zeroed in on a loner at the end of the bar. He looked familiar. Familiar but refined instead of rugged, with hair as long as Brent’s but dark where my date’s was light.

Of course. Roy Wolfe.

Why would he be at the Brook Tavern? This was a modest little place, hardly up to Wolfe standards.

Roy was an artist, a loner, a renowned recluse. When he looked up, I smiled at him and waved.

He nodded slightly and then looked back down at his drink.

Was he okay?

Well, not my problem.

I took a drink of my water and tried to listen to what Brent was saying, when—

It became my problem.

Rock Wolfe walked in the Brook Tavern.

Our gazes met, and I glanced peripherally at Roy, who was waving Rock over.

Rock did not look happy.

I turned my attention back to Brent. He was the person who’d invited me, after all. Still, Rock had taken care of me last night when he didn’t have to. He was a good guy. A great guy. Not the douchebag I’d thought he was when we first met.

And man, he was a god in bed.

Why was he meeting his brother at Brook Tavern? They could be having drinks at The Four Seasons or the Marriott Marquis.