“There will be no more kissing.”

I’m staring at myself in the mirror. I have sleepy eyes, my face is clean of makeup, and my hair is up in a bun with a headband in place to keep the flyaways off my face while we ride.

I’m giving myself a stern talking-to.

“No kissing.” I point my finger at my mirror image. “Yes, he’s hot, and his hands are crazy amazing, and it would probably be the best sex of your life.”

I frown.

“No one said anything about sex. Now you’re taking it too far, Rina. Keep your hands and lips to yourself and just work on getting ready for this role. That’s the job. Doing Ben is not the job here.”

I narrow my eyes at myself and then nod once in satisfaction.

That’s been decided.

Ben suggested I wear layers, and I followed orders. I’m in workout pants and a t-shirt with a sweatshirt over that. I have a scarf to put around my neck if I need it. It’s winter in Seattle, which means it could be seventy or thirty.

You never know.

But I do know that it’s cooler by the water. Though the fresh air will feel good.

I’ve just finished eating a bowl of cantaloupe when the doorbell rings.

It’s six on the dot. He’s right on time.

“Always punctual,” I murmur as I unlock and open the front door. “Good mor—”

He sweeps in, pulls me against him, and plants those lips on mine. I loop my arms around his neck and let him have his way with me.

Because I’m a red-blooded woman, and Ben is hot as hell.

Hot. As. Hell.

My stern bathroom conversation goes right down the toilet as he pushes the door closed with his foot and spins me around to pin me against it.

His hands skim down my sides, then move back up again to frame my face as he thoroughly explores my mouth.

I was still half-asleep when he arrived. I’m fully alert now.

He’s breathing hard when he pulls away, and his blue eyes are on fire as he stares down at me.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Hi.”

“I couldn’t help myself.”

“Not complaining.” I feel the smile slowly spreading over my face. “I gave myself a pep talk earlier, explaining that we weren’t going to do that again.”

“Sorry, I didn’t get the memo.”

I swallow hard as he backs away.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. Is it hot in here?”

He laughs and points at my sweatshirt. “You’re dressed for cold weather.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay, so we’re going on a bike ride?”