"Excellent. That means you'll find him soon. The right guy always comes along when you're not looking."

"Sure. If you say so."

"I do. Believe me, when you least anticipate it, something unexpected will happen and-poof!-your world will be turned upside down."

Their waiter delivered their food, and having skipped lunch, Jilly immediately applied her chopsticks to her sautéed shrimp and broccoli.

"I wish there was someone at my office I could introduce you to," Kate said, filling their small, white, porcelain teacups with fragrant brew, "but they're all either married, gay, nearing retirement age or as mature as preschoolers."

"Hmmm. I thought all men fell into one of those categories."

Kate laughed. "Only ninety-nine percent. It's trying to find that elusive one percent that's the challenge. But Ben is proof that they're out there."

"Well, I don't have the time right now to devote to searching out the one remaining good apple in the barrel. Men require too much time and attention, both of which I'm currently out of." She shook her head. "Whoever said women were high maintenance was definitely a man. Where are all the guys I read about in Cosmo who like independent women who don't cling to them like vines? I certainly haven't met any." She stabbed a shrimp with the end of her chopstick. "Sure, they say that's what they want, but after a few dates, it seems as if guys develop expectations-like that I'll be at their beck and call, and that they can take charge of my life. Then they get testy if I need to cancel plans because of work."

"Amen, sister," Kate said. "The majority of men I met before Ben required nonstop ego stroking, and seemed to crave almost slavish devotion-not that they necessarily planned to return that slavish devotion, and not that I'd wanted them to, anyway-but they wanted it just the same."

"Yup. And the minute they realize my job is my top priority and I'm not willing to rearrange my entire schedule, or change my hair or fashion preferences or political beliefs or whatever to suit their every need, interest fizzles-on both sides. I don't want or need a man to take care of me, and I sure don't want a man who thinks he should be in charge all the time. I don't want the mess my mom found herself in to ever happen to me, which is why it's so scary that I almost fell into that trap with Aaron. I've worked too long and hard to make certain I can take care of myself-financially and emotionally."

"Oh, I agree," Kate said, popping a water chestnut into her mouth. "But-trust me on this-it's very nice to have someone else take care of you physically for a change."

Jilly shook her head at Kate's devilish grin. "You're killing me, you know that? Good grief, you practically have little bluebirds of happiness encircling your head like a wreath. If I didn't love you so much and weren't so happy for you, I'd have to bring you outside and slap the crap out of you for being so content and in love and sexually satisfied."

Kate laughed. "Well, maybe you'll meet the man of your dreams at Chateau Fontaine this weekend."

"Not likely. This is going to be strictly business."

"Just keep an open mind-in case Mr. Right happens to knock on your door." She raised her porcelain cup and fixed Jilly with a no-nonsense stare. "Promise?"

Jilly briefly looked toward the ceiling, but tapped the rim of her cup against Kate's. "All right, I promise. But the problem here is that because you're in love, you think everyone should be in love."

"Everyone should be," Kate agreed without hesitation. "Falling in love doesn't mean you're relinquishing all control or losing your independence." She reached out and squeezed Jilly's hand. "It doesn't have to be that way, Jilly. I used to think that, too-until I met Ben. There's a big difference between compromising your dreams and ambitions, and sharing them with someone. You'll understand when you meet the right guy."

Looking at Kate's earnest expression, at the happiness that shone from her in almost visible rays, Jilly felt a pang of something resonate through her that she couldn't put a name to. Envy? Want? Probably. Who wouldn't want the sort of love Kate had with Ben?

"Well, until the right guy toddles along, my time and energy are focused on my career. And winning the ARC account would be a major coup."

"Speaking of which," Kate said, scooping more fried rice onto her plate, "I wonder what Matt Davidson will say when you land the account."

An odd tingle, no doubt indigestion brought on by the mention of Matt's name, fluttered through Jilly. "He'll probably claim in that infuriating, superior way of his that he could have landed the account in half the time, and with a better campaign. He thinks he's 'all that' because he brought in a big account while I was out with the flu. He's the most arrogant, ambitious, annoying, cutthroat, doesn't – give – a – damn – about – anyone – but – himself person I've ever had the misfortune to meet."

Grrrr. The mere thought of Matt Davidson raised her hackles. He'd earned her enmity right from the beginning when he'd waltzed into Maxximum and promptly landed Strattford Furniture, an account she'd worked on for weeks. When she'd confronted him, demanding an explanation for stealing her account, he'd bristled, denying he'd ever do such a thing, claiming that Walter Strattford was a long-standing friend of his family and had sought him out. After Matt's story had proven true, even though she was still irritated, Jilly had attempted to offer an olive branch, but clearly Matt wanted no part of her peace offering. He seemed to have singled her out as his main competition. As Jilly wasn't about to let him usurp her hard-won position at Maxximum, the line in the sand had been drawn.

Unfortunately, the part of her that demanded complete honesty had to admit-albeit grudgingly-that Matt Davidson's creative abilities were pretty impressive. Okay, incredibly impressive. And as if he wasn't already irritating enough, the guy had the nerve to be good-looking to boot. With his dark hair and deep blue eyes, Matt Davidson definitely wasn't hard to look at.

Still, she had no intention of turning her back on someone as openly ambitious as Matt. Advertising was dog eat dog, and she had no intention of getting devoured.

"Well, he might be your biggest rival and a pain in the butt," Kate said, yanking her from her reverie, "but based on that glimpse I caught of him that one time when you pointed him out, he's very cute."

"Yeah. Cute like a rattlesnake. You saw him at a distance. The closer you get, the less attractive he is, believe me." Her inner voice chanted something that sounded suspiciously like liar, liar, pants on fire, but she wrapped a muzzle on the pesky voice, and forced her annoying coworker from her thoughts.

Her career was priority one. And with hard work and dedication, she had a feeling that this weekend at Chateau Fontaine was going to bring her everything she wanted.

Chapter 2

Stopping under the columned portico that stood in front of Chateau Fontaine's curved driveway, Matt shifted his Lexus into Park and gratefully exited the vehicle. His legs were stiff from six straight hours of sitting, and his ass felt like it weighed eight hundred pounds. For the amount of time he'd been in the car, he could have driven to damn Canada.

Of course, not arriving at Chateau Fontaine until the middle of the freakin' night was his own fault. What stroke of insanity had possessed him to attempt to drive out to the winery? He'd known there'd be traffic-hell, the Long Island Expressway wasn't called the World's Largest Parking Lot for nothing-but he'd figured that by not leaving the city until almost 8:00 p.m. he'd miss most of the congestion. Unfortunately he hadn't factored in the holiday shoppers on the road. Nor had he predicted the overturned tractor-trailer that had closed all eastbound lanes, clogging the roadway for miles. Or the snow that had started falling several hours ago.

After accepting a claim check from the valet and removing his black leather overnight bag from the trunk, Matt circled through the revolving glass door then crossed the cream marble floor, heading toward the registration desk as if it were an oasis in the desert. Damn, but he was tired. His eyes felt gritty, he was thirsty, and the energy provided by the Snickers bar he'd eaten at his desk for dinner was long gone. But at this point he was even too tired to eat.

"Hell, I'm even too tired for sex," he muttered. Now there was a sentence he didn't think he'd ever hear himself say.

All he wanted was to crawl into bed and pass out until his wake-up call. After pulling an all-nighter last night working up ideas for ARC Software, then suffering through a long, frustrating, headache-inducing day, topped off with the drive from hell, he was finished.

He'd wanted to check in early, to give himself a chance to relax and look over his notes before his breakfast meeting with Jack Witherspoon, but his crazy day had sunk those plans like a bowling ball tossed in a lake. He'd spoken to Jack this morning and since neither knew exactly what time they'd be arriving at the resort, they'd agreed it was best to meet first thing in the morning instead of tonight. Good thing, as Matt would have had to cancel.

When he arrived at the highly polished beige granite counter, he was greeted by a young woman whose name tag announced she was Maggie. Maggie appeared way too perky for the middle of the night.

Summoning a tired smile, Matt gave her his confirmation number by handing her the fax he'd received that morning from Maxximum's travel agent.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Davidson, you're all set," Maggie said with a friendly grin. She handed him a key card and a pamphlet. "This explains all our amenities. Take the elevators on your left to the third floor. Room 312 will be at the end of the hallway."