She continued on the hunt for Jack Sullivan. One of the first results mentioned that his company was the gold sponsor for a charity gala supporting breast cancer research next month. The company even sold a small, pink pocket-sized vibrator called The Divine, and donated half of the proceeds from that product to breast cancer.

Damn. Not only was he fantastic in bed, he was good to women in important ways too.

One of the next results was an article in a business magazine headlined Soldier-Turned-Sex-Toy-Mogul.

She was almost ashamed at the way goose bumps rose across her arms and legs. She wasn’t supposed to be stirred by such things, but holy fucking hell, the man had served his country, had been in uniform, had been stationed in Europe as an army intelligence officer. She didn’t know much about the armed forces—she grew up surrounded by the arts, since her father had been a theater professor and her mother a choreographer—but she’d treated a few soldiers and a few officers too, and she’d learned enough about the work. An intelligence officer managed, analyzed and provided strategies for soldiers on the front line based on the intelligence gathered during missions. Many often went onto jobs in the corporate world after leaving the military.

And here was Jack, a sexy-as-sin CEO and a former soldier.

Yeah, that was hot as hell.

Emboldened by this candy trail, she continued on it, hunting out more details. She found an article from last night in a local news outlet.

New York’s Most Eligible Bachelors

Sex toy mogul Jack Sullivan tops this year’s list of the city’s most eligible bachelors in business. Don’t you think he needs a new woman to mend his broken heart? Makes you just want to nab that man even more.

Her heart fell when she read those words. She brushed aside her naughty thoughts, focusing instead on the man behind the headlines. A pang of concern took root inside her as she read on, clicking until she’d learned exactly why he’d come to see her.

Her heart lurched towards him. His fiancée, Aubrey Sheen, had been a former Olympic skier, who’d died on the slopes in a freak accident a little more than a year ago. Apparently, the pair of them had travelled to Breckenridge, Colorado for a ski weekend seven days before their wedding. On the last run of the day, she’d crashed into a tree on an intermediate trail that she held the speed record on. She’d died on impact, the reports said. Michelle’s throat hitched as she read the stories, and the ones that followed it. Months later, the local press had started hounding the eligible-again bachelor about his status, and apparently being a widower had made him all the more appealing for those who cared about such things.

Michelle was not one of the people who cared about such things. Not one bit. She cared instead about the fact that somehow that man was hurting, and he wanted help for it.