She’d lost her virginity with her high school boyfriend, had three affairs, and nothing compared to those few minutes of passion in his arms.

Of course, he’d never remember.

Of course, he’d never know her true feelings about the strength of that kiss.

Riley slammed into his back. He spun around and caught her by the shoulders. “You okay?”

So stupid. No more daydreaming about a ridiculous kiss from college. “Sorry. I’m fine. Just hungry.”

“Then let’s get you fed.”

He walked into the kitchen and she almost had an orgasm. Almost.

She loved to cook. Found it a respite from stress, and adored a good plate of food. Her home was small, but she’d created a haven for her baking hobby, even though most of the times she ate by herself.

But Dylan’s kitchen was a gourmet fantasy come true.

Stainless steel everywhere. A Sub-Zero refrigerator. A Wolf oven. A brick oven for pizzas, cappuccino makers, high-grade food processors, with actual copper pots dangling from some crazy gadget over the kitchen island. Endless granite counters, three sinks, and a four-tier spice rack. The room was done in pure black and white with pops of red.

Riley moaned and squeezed her thighs together. Oh, God, the appliances were beautiful. The things she could do here . . .

He was staring at her with fascination and something more. Hunger lit those amazing eyes, darkening the colors to a stormy blue and brown-black. “You like?” he murmured.

She swallowed as her body lit up like a damn pinball machine. She pulled herself together. “I have a thing for stainless steel.”

Those full lips twisted in a half smile. “So it’s my kitchen you’re lusting after? Pity.”

Riley rolled her eyes but turned away so he couldn’t spot the truth. “Get over yourself. Wasn’t nailing my roommate enough? She left the next semester and I got stuck with Smelly Sally for the rest of the year.”

Dylan refilled her wineglass and began pulling out ingredients from the refrigerator. She perched on one of the red stools by the island. “Pris knew the deal. Come on, we dated like twice and she said she was in love with me. I never led her on.”

Riley snorted. “So that makes it right? You broke her heart and she left to go to another dorm. I told her not to go out with you!”

He lined up the post-Thanksgiving meal with freshly cut turkey, large slices of rye bread, and an assortment of condiments. She watched his graceful fingers put together the sandwiches and tried not to think of the other talented things they could do. He was dressed simply in jeans, boots, and a white cable-knit sweater. The material highlighted the blond in his hair, and made him look like some mythical Thor from above. His sexiness made her crankier. No one should look like that. It tipped the favor to the male species.

She drank more wine.

“You were always a bit obsessed with my dating life,” he commented, pulling down two plates. “Or was it my sex life?”

“Just trying to protect the innocent from an expert man whore.”

He chuckled and grabbed a jar of pickles. “First time I heard women need protecting from orgasms.”

She tilted her head. “Cocky, huh?”

He grinned. “No. Just honest.”

Riley refused to let her girly parts go all aquiver. “Or delusional,” she muttered.

His eyes lit with amusement. The man was infuriating. “So, tell me what really drove you to Kinnections?”

The wine loosened her tongue. Why hide the truth? She wasn’t ashamed. “I want to get married.”

His brow shot up. “We didn’t even have our blind date yet.”

“Not you. Kate was supposed to find me my perfect match. I have a detailed list of requirements, and I’m ready to settle down.” She prepped herself for his teasing, but he seemed to be thinking over her statement.

“Why now?”

“It’s time,” she said simply. “I spent the first half of my life focused on my goals and career and I don’t regret it. I gave up things, some opportunities that may have led to marriage and a family. I refuse to have regrets but my priorities shifted. I want a husband. Children.”

Dylan nodded. “I can understand that. You launched a successful business, but it takes everything you have. If you had settled too soon, things may not have worked out because you weren’t ready to commit completely.”

“Yes, exactly. But now I’m focused and know what I want.”

He added two pickles to the plates. “Give me the list.”

“So you can make fun of me? No way.”

“I won’t, promise. What’s the requirements?”

A nice hazy glow enveloped the stainless-steel kitchen. Why not? She didn’t care what he thought. “He has to have a secure job. I want to have a strong friendship first before we go into sex. He needs to want children, be trustworthy, dependable, intelligent, even tempered.”

“Even tempered?”

She glared. “Yes.”

Dylan cleared his throat. “You’ll eat him for breakfast and spit him out for dinner. Darlin’, you’re a hellcat. You need someone to stand up to you or you’ll get bored.”

She stabbed a finger at him. “I am not a hellcat! I never lose my temper with anyone but you. I need a companion, father, friend, and general helper to make a successful marriage.”

“What about sex?”

“That’s not important.”

He stared at her in astonishment. “It’s the basis of a relationship. Sex bonds two people together.”

“Sex doesn’t have to fit in the box.”

He frowned. “What box?”

She sipped more wine. “You know, the box. When you’re ready to settle down with someone and make a life together, it’s best to create a sort of mental box where that person can fit comfortably. The box needs to conform with your lifestyle so you’re both compatible. For instance, sex is nice but it doesn’t have to fit in the box. It’s pleasurable, but not necessary.”

Dylan reached for the wine and refilled his glass. “Now I need alcohol. You’ve managed to stump me with this one. Why didn’t I know about this box?”

“Because it’s my own creation,” she said stiffly. “Marriage isn’t easy. I don’t want to give up my business. I intend to hire more staff, work from home, and be more flexible. But my husband is going to also have to sacrifice, and it’s not always passion and games and romance. It’s brutal, hard work. And I want that. I want to be exhausted and happy with someone and wake up in the morning and do it all over again, knowing we wouldn’t choose differently. Now do you get it?”

“Sex has to be in the box.”

She glared. “It’s my damn box and I say sex isn’t in it. Sex can be in your box.”

“What if we have the same box?”

She almost choked on her wine. “We can never have the same box. We’re complete opposites.”

“Funny, I think we have a lot more in common than you think.”

“Yeah? Name one.”

“We both signed up with Kinnections for the same reason.” He cut the sandwiches in half, looked up, and grinned. “Let’s eat in the dining room.”

Still reeling from his remark, she grabbed her wine and slid off the stool. “You want to seriously get married?” She trotted after him. “I don’t believe you. You’re a billionaire, used to parties on yachts and impromptu vacations. You live in the land of the beautiful and fantastical. Domestic boredom and routine would freak you out and you’d run for the hills.”

“A complete illusion. You’re basing these assumptions on the boy I was ten years ago. Do you think you’re the same person from Cornell?”

“Well, no.”

“Neither am I. I come from a strong family background. My parents have been married for thirty-four years. I have two sisters, tons of aunts, uncles, and cousins, and it was always a rotating door of people visiting. My grandmother lived with us. When I got home from school, she’d make coffee and I’d sit in the kitchen with her and talk. She told me about my parents when they were young. They grew up together as friends, turned enemies as teens, and married in their early twenties. I know marriage isn’t easy because I see what they go through every day. I have no illusions. They run a successful empire so Dad has to travel. Mom gets lonely a lot. And my sister had a drug problem that almost tore us apart. But they love each other.”

Riley followed him into the dining room, fascinated by his story. He placed the plates down, turned, and met her gaze head-on. “They’re in it for the long haul, and by God, if that’s not romance and passion, I don’t know what it is. They have friendship, respect, and trust. But sex still needs to be in the box.”

Her head whirled. She opened her mouth to say something, then got struck by the magnificence of the dining room. “Holy crap. You do live in the Beast’s castle.”

The formalized area held a solid marble table over ten feet long—enough to fit King Arthur and all his knights. The runner gleamed gold and silver and spread the entire length. High-backed cushioned chairs spread around the table, and a vase filled with exotic blooms was set in the center. The dark wood floors were bare and held a polished shine. The walls were a soft dove gray and displayed an array of tapestries. A French door lined with burgundy velvet drapes led onto some type of balcony area.

Once again, there was a fireplace. Two candelabras of bronzed gold rested on the mantel. The scent of damp logs drifted in the air, along with the sound of crackling wood.

“Umm, Dylan? How many fireplaces does this place have?”

He tilted his head in thought. “About ten.”

“Riiiight.” She picked up her plate and placed herself at the head of the table. Why not? She felt like she’d slipped into a fairy tale anyway. Might as well play the part of Belle. His words still echoed in her head, making her heart beat wildly. To imagine Dylan settled down with a wife and family filled her with a sweet longing she didn’t understand. It couldn’t be true. Maybe he thought he wanted to settle down, but if so, why hadn’t he found his wife yet?

“How long have you been a client of Kinnections?” she asked.

He walked over to the fireplace and grabbed the candelabras. “Awhile.”

Aha. Now she’d prove the truth of his inability to hold down a long relationship. “But you still haven’t found who you’re looking for? Doesn’t that show you’re not ready to settle down?”

Dylan opened the china cabinet drawer and slid out a book of matches. “No. It proves I haven’t met her yet.”

“But you still trust Kate to find her?”

He swiped the match and struck a flame. Then began lighting the candles. “Yes. I’ve met many incredible women and enjoyed the dates. All owned traits I want, but none had the spark I’m looking for.”

She leaned forward, intrigued. “What spark?”

“The spark of connection. That unknown quality that screams in your gut when something’s wrong and something’s right. I can usually tell from the first date, so I don’t waste their time.”

Riley shook her head in amazement. “No. Way. Dating services hook you up by determining similar interests that fit. You’re telling me the most important thing to you for picking your life mate is an unknown, mystical, magical spark?”

Dylan replaced the vase of flowers with the candles. He took the chair on the opposite end of the table and picked up his sandwich. “Correct.”

Annoyance surged. He couldn’t do that. It was a ridiculous way to decide on marrying somebody and made no sense. Of course, Dylan McCray never made sense. Why should she expect anything else?

But a strange longing curled in her belly and bloomed heat beyond. What was wrong with her? Yes, he was hot as Hades and oozed sex like a weapon. Yes, he was funny and witty and intelligent. But he would never fit in her box.

Ever.

“Why are you lighting candles like we’re about to welcome more guests? A bit much, don’t you think?”

“Let’s just say we’ll probably need it.”

She sighed and dug into the turkey. The moistness of the meat on thick rye bread held the perfect texture and taste. He’d used just enough salt to create a nice bite. So good. Eating turkey sandwiches in such a formal room, with the fire crackling, snow falling, and flickering candlelight was kind of cool. Romantic, even. She bet the woman Dylan picked would have a life full of surprises, sharp turns, and excitement. Exactly what she didn’t want.

Exactly.

As if he heard her thoughts, he spoke up. “Why do you think we’re so different?”