“Take me to dinner?” she repeated. “Or take me to bed?”

“Both.” He refused to feel vulnerable for stating his intentions. Just because he was hot to fuck her didn’t mean she had the power to hurt him. Hiding anything would suggest wariness and he wasn’t going to give her that ammunition. She could shred him just fine without any help. “Or just the latter.”

Her chin lifted. “Do you have a significant other in your life?”

“I wouldn’t be propositioning you if I was.”

“No girlfriend?”

He shook his head.

“Fiance?”

“Not yet.”

Miguel looked for any sign that his responses pleased or displeased her. She revealed nothing. His dick throbbed in time with the pounding beat of his heart. “You?”

She waved the question off with marked impatience. “Where should I meet you?”

Her desire to have an escape vehicle aggravated him, which he didn’t hide with his curtness. “Mezaluna work for you? I’ll pick you up.”

“It’s gone. The Torettos moved a few years ago. They wanted a quiet little restaurant, so when things got busy around here, they moved on.”

Rio Penasquitos hadn’t even been a spot on the map when he’d left, but it had grown into a quaint tourist destination and vacation spot for the wealthy. That was due in part to his mother, a trophy wife who’d returned to her home town to raise her only child and brought media attention with her. “Why don’t you pick me up at the bed and breakfast,” he challenged, “and we’ll figure it out from there.”

Her foot lifted, her leg moving restlessly. His gaze narrowed on that telltale movement.

“Okay,” she said finally. “What time?”

“Seven?” He remembered the shop closed at five. Expectation thrummed through him, a heated awareness that made a joke of the casual interaction they were pretending this was. Tension was strung tight between them, vibrating in the air with the energy of an approaching thunderstorm.

She wasn’t indifferent to him. He wondered if he’d possibly ruined her, too. Just a little. While he couldn’t imagine any man not taking the time to savor her body for hours, he knew damn well that no one could possibly love her as completely as he once had. Even the man he was today was incapable of that depth of emotion and connection. She’d killed the innocence in him that had made it possible to love a woman without any thought of self-preservation. He’d been wide open when she cut his heart out and scars had formed, creating a thick shield that he couldn’t get past and no woman could get through.

“I’ll see you then.” She backed up toward the garage. “You look good, Miguel.”

“So do you.” Good? She looked edible. His mouth was damn near watering with the anticipation of tasting her again. If there hadn’t been a dozen auto technicians around, he would have kissed off waiting until seven and taken what he wanted now. As it was, there was no conveniently private place on the lot to eat her sweet pussy, which is exactly what he’d do once he got his lips on her.

“I’m glad you came by,” she said softly, holding his gaze.

He bared his teeth in a smile. He didn’t want to be placated. He wanted a rushed dinner followed by unrushed sex that would pale in comparison to his exaggerated recollections. Then he’d leave the past behind where it belonged. “So… did you end up missing me now and then?”

“Sure.” She turned her back to him again. “See you at seven.”

Faith barely made it to the dispatcher’s office before her composure broke. Leaning against her father’s desk, she gasped for breath, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Miguel Santos. Even after all these years, his effect on her was like getting hit by a bus.

“Hey.”

She looked at her eldest brother filling the doorway. “Hey.”

“John said Miguel was here.”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t fair that his dark sexuality was even more potent now than it had been in high school. He was businessman for God’s sake. A “corporate raider,” although he called what he did “activist shareholding.” He should have a paunch. And thinning hair. Instead he was a delectably mature version of the quarterback he’d been in high school. His dark T-shirt hadn’t hidden his beautifully defined biceps or his lean waist. She bet he still had washboard abs and a heavily muscled back. And the rest of him…

Jesus. One look at him and she swore she could feel him pushing inside her. She remembered that all too well. The searing pleasure of his entry. The sensation of utter surrender.

Russell stepped into the office, his blue eyes dark with concern. “What did he want?”

Blowing out a shaky breath, she moved to one of the two chairs facing the desk and sat. “Retribution. He tried to play it off, but he was seething. I could feel it from several feet away.”

“Then he’s not over you.” He scrubbed a hand over his shadowed jaw, his gaze thoughtful. “And we all know you never got over him. Maybe this is a second chance.”

“At what? Hurting each other?” She swiped at her wet eyes. Everything was knotted up inside her, making her lightheaded and queasy. “His life is in New York. Mine is here in California.”

“Things are different now.” Leaning his hip into the desk, Russell crossed his arms and looked back out the door into the busy service bays. Air tools whirred loudly, drowning out the sound of multiple radios, each playing a different genre to suit the tastes of the auto tech who owned it. “Business is hopping. We’ve got a solid nest egg—”

“I’m not different,” she argued. “I don’t want to raise a family away from my own family. I don’t want to sit in a penthouse apartment, planning dinner parties and waiting for my husband to come home late only to leave early the next morning. I’m not the right girl for that life and Miguel can’t settle for anything less. This isn’t Pretty Woman, Russ. The girl from the wrong side of the tracks doesn’t always end up with the millionaire.”

“You did not just compare yourself to a prostitute.”

“Cinderella, then. That better?”

“Hardly. In any case, Miguel wouldn’t be settling with you,” Russell bit out, bristling with an older brother’s pride. A consummate ladies’ man himself, he didn’t tolerate the same nonchalance in men she dated.

“He wouldn’t be getting this either.” She waved a hand that encompassed her greasy uniform from neck to ankle. “One of the things I’ve always loved about him was his acceptance of me just the way I am. It turns him on that I wrench and get dirty. If I slipped on a pair of heels and a strand of pearls he’d probably need Viagra to fuck me.”

She actually couldn’t imagine Miguel ever needing Viagra for any reason, but—

“Whoa.” Russ held up a hand. “TMI.”

That made her smile briefly. “I have to call Mrs. Santos. Let her know he’s on the way.”

“How long is he in town?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

A hot shiver coursed through her. The sexual ferocity on Miguel’s face had made her wet. It had always been that way between them, their desire simmering below the surface, ready to boil over at the slightest provocation. “Yes. Dinner. Tonight.”

“I’m not sure I feel good about that. If he’s pissed off, I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

Faith’s brows rose. “I’m a grown woman. That’s not your call.”

“You’ve been hurt enough as it is.”

“He’s got a right to be mad, don’t you think?”

Russ stilled. “He knows?”

“No.” She rubbed at the knot of fear and regret in her stomach. “But that doesn’t change anything. It’s his birthday tomorrow. If he wants to ring in the occasion by working out his frustration in the sack, well… I really don’t mind. It’s been a long assed dry spell for me and—”

Covering his ears, her brother was up and out the door in a heartbeat.

She was reaching for the phone when he poked his head back in. “What?” she asked.

“I’ll run point tonight.”