He could have any woman he wanted. But for some reason, he wants me… Mack Hart is 28. He has a doctorate in Computer Engineering. He possesses an IQ of 172. And he has a bank balance containing nine zeroes. I’m Sidnie Beaver (and don’t think I haven’t heard all the jokes before.) I’m 22. I have trouble tying my shoelaces some days. And my bank balance is permanently, dangerously in the red. His research is so important that his rival will pay big money for it, and I desperately need some of that cash. When Mack demands I come to his office, I’m convinced it’s because he’s caught me on security camera taking photos of his files when I should have been cleaning. Instead, he seems more interested in the piece of paper I accidentally dropped the night before. It contains a rather steamy poem I wrote about my perfect fantasy man. I’m sure he thinks it’s about him, which isn’t surprising considering how accurately he fits the bill. Mortified, I explain that I write romance, but that it’s just a hobby, and I don’t have much experience in the real world. I wait for him to show me the door. Instead, he asks me to be his date at a party that evening. Terrified that he’s going to discover my secret, I try to turn him down. But Mack Hart is a man used to getting his own way.