Renata Novak vowed to never get divorced again. She held the brocade-padded hanger with the red lace bra poised over her breasts. Studying her reflection in the mirror, she thought she looked really naughty. She loved the way the dark red added a shimmer to her curly black hair and contrasted with her honey-colored skin.

Behind her, the brightly lit lingerie shop showcased the newest in erotic-styled lace--everything from barely there panties to luxurious silk nightgowns. Renata had always been a white cotton sort of girl, but the divorce had been something of an epiphany, and she decided she needed a new perceptive. Just being in the store made her feel wicked. In a good way.

She wasn't really certain she was ready to be lace bra and thong panty bad, but she thought she should try. The two slices of cheesecake she'd had for breakfast was probably as sinful as this Catholic girl would probably ever get, but with that red peek-a-boo lace bra just begging to go home with her, she was willing to take another step forward in her decision.

"That shade of red would look smashing on you," a masculine, English-accented voice said behind her.

Renata almost dropped the bra. A man stepped into view in the mirror and his azure blue eyes met hers in the reflection. Full seductive lips smiled at her. A heated flush crawled up her cheeks.

She turned. A few feet behind her a well-dressed blond man leaned one powerful broad shoulder against the lingerie store's pillar. Everything about him spoke of money and class, from the snowy white shirt under the black tailored suit to the sheen on his Ralph Lauren loafers. Shoes were her one true weakness and wearing a blindfold she could spot Ralph Lauren a mile away in a snowstorm.

"I'm sure your husband would approve," he continued.

She gripped the hanger until her fingernails bit into the satin. The painful scene in the courtroom only a little while earlier still fresh in her mind, she said, "As of two hours ago, there is no longer a husband."

The Englishman smiled. "His loss."

"Not if you've seen who he left me for." She couldn't believe she was spilling her guts about her divorce to a total stranger.

He walked over to her. "Have dinner with me?"

Her eyes widened. She was getting picked up. Right here in Harlow's Lingerie Boutique in the Baron Hotel. Oh no he isn't. This gorgeous, blond god was putting the moves on her. She didn't know whether to be flattered or mad. Right now she was still running around in disbelief mode. "I don't even know your name."

"Damien." He slipped his fingers under her palm, lifted her hand to his lips, and gently kissed the tips of her fingers.

"Renata." She found herself leaning back to stare up at him. Being barely five-foot-two made most people in the world tower over her. "My name is Renata."

Why she didn't yank her hand away was so beyond her. Renata bit the inside of her bottom lip to head off the sigh, aching to escape. This guy was smooth. The feel of his warm lips against her skin made her toes curled inside the high heels she wore. Considering the narrow, pointy tips of her sling backs this in itself was a minor miracle. His blue eyes met hers. She could see fire burning in their depths and the same heat settled in her stomach. He had her. No doubt about it. He had her.

He lowered her hand and laced his fingers through hers. "My instincts tell me you are as charming as your name." He guided her toward the cash register.

Well, hells bells, she was getting the red lace panties and the tasty Englishman. Not bad for her first day being single in seven years. Not bad at all.