...but what do you call it when you fall for your enemy? According to my mom, I've never met a stranger and my name should have been chatterbox. I get along with everyone. Everyone except Nick Rhodes. The man is a world-class jerk. He's arrogant, rude, self-centered...and loves to get under my skin. So what if he smells like heaven? If his eyes remind me of the Caribbean Ocean? If he kisses me like I'm the center of his universe. He's my enemy. So why can't I stop thinking about him? Meredith Pryce hates my guts. Ordinarily I wouldn't care. Or maybe I would and apologize. But I take perverse pleasure in pressing her buttons. I want to see the fire in her eyes when I make her lose her temper, when I make her lose control. When things change, it's not just pleasure in fighting with her. It's fighting the desire to find pleasure with her. She's complicated. And I don't do complicated. So why can't I forget the feel of her skin under mine, the way she tastes when I can't deny her pull any longer?