Early the next morning Tomilola stood next to the table where she'd set Demola's roses, her nose buried in the burgundy blooms. They smelled so good. Bold, sweet...heady.

Much like the man who'd sent them.

Smiling ruefilly, she took another deep whiff and straightened, trying not to let her mind wander, once again, back to the thoughts that had kept her awake most of the nights. Thoughts of Demola Adenuga.

But it was impossible.

She couldn't get the man out of her head. Couldn't get the heat of him standing behind her, his hard body brushing hers, out of her mind. He'd almost kissed her last night. And she'd almost...