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Next year was an election year.
And Darcy ran a sex blog.
His life was here, and her life was in New York.
He had no business doing anything with her. No business touching her. Darcy Miller was off-limits. A memory of his past that had to stay that way.
So instead of the comeback he wanted to say—something dirty and explicit—he settled for pleasant. “Have a good day, Darce. Let me know if you need any more information.”
She turned back, her dark hair a sleek contrast against her white sweater. Her blue eyes piercing and mischievous. “Oh, this isn’t over.”
He let his gaze roam over her. “You’re not going to be able to win this one.”
“We’ll see,” she said.
“That we will.” He’d win, just not in the way he wanted.
