I just wanted a freaking cup of coffee. After all, hard-charging lawyers like me require caffeine to survive court battles.
I didn't expect my life to change.
I didn't expect the unbelievably hot guy behind the counter—all green eyes and golden surfer curls—to tilt my world.
And I REALLY didn't expect his particular brand of laid-back alpha male style.
I'd been so secure in my own little world. One with Rules about what I do—and what I definitely do NOT do.
Especially in bed.
Rule Number 9? No dirty talking? There's no earthly reason why I'd want anyone to do that.
I may be stuck-up, but my Rules kept me safe and happy.
Okay, I wasn't happy. Depressed and repressed is more like it.
But am I ready for Mister Barista to obliterate every Rule in my book?
