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The article contained a picture of a drop-dead gorgeous woman with flowing red locks, holding the arm of Alexander Stone. She looked like she just stepped off the stage of America’s Top Model.

Enough of that.

I hit the back button again and came across another sleaze article. This one was a little more recent, dated only three weeks ago.

“Alexander Stone, the 32-year-old real estate mogul, refused to answer questions regarding his relationship with Miss Suzanne Jacobs. The couple has been seen together at three separate charity engagements, causing the rumor mills to fly. Anyone who follows our column knows Mr. Stone is never seen with the same woman twice. Could she be the one to finally capture his heart of stone? Miss Jacobs was unavailable to answer our questions.”

Never the same woman twice? Bingo—that’s what’s wrong with him.

All men were exactly the same. Alexander Stone was just another stereotypical millionaire playboy.

Good luck with that one, Miss Jacobs.

I gave in to a big yawn and stretched my back. The hour was nearing midnight, and I had to work the next day. It was my turn to work the mid-shift, so at least I got to sleep in a bit. I closed the laptop and headed back to my room.

I wearily climbed into bed, pulled the blankets up, and tucked them beneath my chin. Within five minutes of my head hitting the pillow, I fell asleep, putting all thoughts of those powerful blue eyes to rest.

Chapter Three

Krystina

When I arrived at Wally’s for my shift the following day, Jim was waiting by my locker in the break room. He didn’t say anything to me at first, but he looked like he was steaming over something. He stepped aside so I could open my locker and deposit my things inside. Pretending to be preoccupied, I ignored the indignant look he threw at me and glanced down at the broken screen of my cellphone. I made a mental note to stop by the cellphone store the next morning to see about getting it replaced.

“Are you even going to say hello?” Jim eventually spat out.

Yep, he is definitely pissed off.

“Um…hi, Jim.”

I didn’t know what else I could say. I wanted to avoid engaging in a conversation that would inevitably lead to one thing, and I didn’t have the energy to deal with Jim’s advances today. I was tired and irritable from a restless night. Dreams of Alexander Stone’s blue eyes haunted me all night, making it impossible for me to concentrate on much else this morning.

“Your bruise looks pretty nasty,” Jim informed me in a cynical voice.

Gee, how nice of you to say. Like I don’t already know. What bug crawled up your ass today?

I silently counted to ten in an attempt to rein in my temper.

Be nice.

“Jim, is there something wrong?” I asked, my voice coming out clipped, despite my efforts to remain patient.

“Oh, no. Nothing is wrong. Besides the fact I had to clean your coffee spill and your drool off the floor in aisle nine yesterday.”

“My drool?” I eyed him quizzically.

“Oh, come on, Krys. You could barely even speak when that guy Stone was looking at you. I’ve never seen any woman act so gaga over a guy, especially you!”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I said curtly.

Was I that obvious?

I made a move toward the door, but he blocked my way.

“Is it because he’s loaded?” Jim asked.

The fact he thought so little of me stung. I couldn’t explain to myself why I’d lost my head yesterday. I couldn’t possibly explain it to Jim. Yesterday I didn’t even know who the man was, let alone that he was filthy rich. Jim was so far off the mark.

“Move out of the way, Jim. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I have zero energy for an argument today.”