The conversation was going well. Maybe it was time to get a bit more personal. “Can I ask you a question?” Angela began.

“Anything,” he said.

“Why did you choose me? That bar was full of women more beautiful. More interested in a guy like you. Why me?”

“I don’t know,” Max said. “I just got this feeling.

When I saw you and our eyes met, there was this…moment.”

Angela’s breath froze in her throat. Oh, God. He’d had a moment, too? What did that mean? No, there was no need to get excited. Maybe a guy like him had multiple moments. Maybe it didn’t mean anything at all. Of course, they’d been attracted to each other.

But a “moment” was more than just sexual attraction, wasn’t it?

They chatted about a variety of subjects for the rest of the ride-the latest festivals on the lakefront, the best ethnic restaurants in town, the traffic, the weather. But Angela couldn’t get her mind off the “moment.”

The conversation turned to his injury and his rehab efforts, but she found herself transfixed by a careful study of his mouth. He asked her about her work and she told him she was in communications, before changing the subject to the music he liked.

By the time they reached the lake, the conversation had become surprisingly relaxed, at least to the casual observer. But Angela was in the midst of an internal crisis. She found herself completely charmed by Max Morgan. He was sweet and funny and smart. And when he smiled at her, she felt as if she might just melt into a big puddle of goo on his leather seat.

No, Angela thought to herself. Max Morgan was supposed to be the enemy. And all this charm was expected from a smooth operator. Of course, he would try to weaken her defenses, to turn himself into the perfect guy. He knew exactly how to read the signs.

And if she weren’t careful, she’d fall for it, hook, line and sinker.