I first met Tristan Miles at a meeting where he was trying to take over my late husband’s company. He was powerful, arrogant, and infuriatingly gorgeous, and I hated him with every cell in my body. In the shock of the century, he called me three days later and asked me on a date. I would rather die than date a man like him—though I do have to admit it was good for the ego. Turning him down was the highlight of my year. Six months later, he was the guest speaker at a conference I attended in France. Still arrogant and infuriating—but this time, surprisingly charming and witty. When he looked at me, I got butterflies. But I can’t go there. He’s just a player in a hot suit, and I’m just a widow with three unruly sons. I just need this conference to be over. Because everybody knows that Tristan Miles always gets what he wants…and what he wants is me.