It’s official. I, Ainsley James, am crazy. Desperate and crazy. It’s the only explanation as to why I’m nauseous, standing outside Maverick Lexington’s door. I mean, it’s possible the stories about his deck of playing cards - with the letters IOU scrawled across the back - are just rumors of the ruthless quid pro quo deals he barters. But the flutters in my stomach know better. Maverick is as cold as they come. But, I need one of those cards. I need to owe Maverick Lexington a favor....