They had planned to meet at her place the day of the soiree so she could inspect what he wore and to finish their plan of attack. Should've been simple to shut him from her mind, after all, the man was a cocky menace. He propositioned women willy nilly, stole jobs from other bounty hunters, and then kissed her with enough intensity to bowl her over. Worst of all? Ever since their kiss, he was all she could think about. The man, the mystery, emerged in her thoughts at all points of the day. Like she needed the distraction with a job this big. Viola stationed herself in front of the mirror and began applying her makeup. It was just a kiss. Not as if she hadn't had hundreds before like it. She paused with her powder puff in hand. Hence the real problem—Viola couldn't remember the last time a kiss had heated her to the core, or melted through her icy exterior. Of all the men she'd been with, why did those feelings resurrect for him? She swiped her eyeliner on with a vengeance.
