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the pills labeled Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. The little white pills are there—staring right back at me and reminding me that, not only had I been reckless this weekend, but I’d also been forgetful.
    Very, very forgetful.

I straighten my tie and take one last look in the mirror. There’s enough morning sunlight shining through the window for me to get dressed without having to turn on the light. And I’m grateful, because the last thing I want to do is wake her up.
    Before I leave, I glance back at Nina, who’s undeniably gorgeous with her long black hair and creamy skin. Last night’s benefit had been particularly dull, and when it was appropriate to do so, my date and I ditched the party and escaped to her hotel room. Unfortunately for Nina, my heart just wasn’t in it, and I’d fallen asleep as soon as I climbed into her bed.
    She’ll probably never forgive me.
    Once I’m outside, I hail a cab and give the driver my address so that I can shower and change. Thirty minutes later, I’m driving toward my law office. As I head downtown, I think about law and sex. One’s logical. The other’s physical. These are things I understand. What I don’t understand is why the sexual part of my life has suddenly become nonexistent. I noticed a difference right after Simon’s wedding. He said his vows a month ago, and since then, I couldn’t be less interested in the opposite sex.
    While it’s true I enjoy spending time with gorgeous women, I’m not quite the playboy they portray in the tabloids. Sure, I’ll have my picture taken at a benefit with some beautiful woman on my arm, but more times than not, I come home alone. And that’s exactly how I want it.
    When I finally reach my office, my secretary greets me with a smile.
    “Good morning, Mr. McAllister.”
    “Good morning, Alicia.”
    Alicia is yet another beautiful, desirable woman in my life, except this woman is my employee, and I never mix business with pleasure. She’s hard-as-nails and keeps me in line, which is exactly what I need. During her initial interview last year, I accidentally called her “sweetheart.” She immediately threatened to file a sexual harassment suit against me.
    Impressed, I hired her on the spot.
    “Here are your messages, Mr. McAllister. You have a breakfast meeting with Gavin Hammond in the conference room at nine. Pastries are on the way, and the rest of your schedule is on your phone.”
    “Thanks, Alicia.”
    I head into my office, closing the door behind me. I’m grateful to have an hour before my meeting with Hammond. It’ll give me the chance to catch up on some paperwork that’s been piling up for the past few weeks thanks to my shitty attention span.
    Flipping open the first manila folder on the pile, I give it a quick glance before cursing and tossing it back into the pile.
    I’m completely useless.
    I check my phone, answering a few texts and ignoring others. That’s when I spot a text from Owen.
    Check out these pictures from the wedding. What a crazy weekend! --BigO
    The first picture is of Simon with Megan’s garter between his teeth. The bastard looks so happy, and who can blame him? The bride has killer legs.
    The second picture is of Lorie, the new object of my brother’s affection. Owen seems to really like her, which is unusual for him. He doesn’t like to get tied down, either.
    I click on the final picture, and I gasp when bright blue eyes suddenly appear on my screen. Callie’s walking down the aisle, her long blonde hair flowing down her shoulders. Without thinking, I let my finger trail along her face.
    My memory doesn’t do her justice.
    For a brief moment that weekend, I thought I might actually feel something for this girl—something that went a little deeper than just sexual attraction. Luckily, she’d snapped me out of my madness when she begged me not to be sweet. Her words had been just the reality check I needed in the heat of the moment.
    When I awoke in the middle of