Kim tried not to ogle Michael while he worked under her hood. Really, she did. He wore a thin sweater that rode up his muscled back as he twisted and screwed and wrenched. The waistband of his black boxers peeked over the top of his jeans. His boxers had some kind of cartoon character on them but hell if she could make out what. He probably wouldn’t appreciate her yanking down his jeans to see for herself.

“Any ideas what the problem is?” she asked after handing him the wrench he’d been looking for. Hey, growing up with a mechanic brother, it was impossible not to learn some stuff through osmosis.

“Your fuel injector looks clogged. How often do you run a treatment through it?”

“Never. I thought that was one of the add-ons shady dealers tried to sell you that no one really needs.”

He shot her a look. “Brad’s your brother?”

Defensively, she clamped her arms over her chest. “So?”

“Have him explain some stuff to you sometime. Might save you another morning spent on the side of the road. Get inside and try to start it, please.”

“Yes, sir.” She didn’t bother hiding her surly expression as she clomped through the snow to get inside her vehicle. She’d definitely learned plenty through osmosis with Brad but obviously not enough.

She gave the engine a crank. It sputtered to life and she grinned for the approximately thirty seconds the car ran before conking out again. “What the hell?” she yelled out the open door.

“Think your fuel pump’s bad too,” he yelled back over the wind. “And the battery’s corroded. How old is it?”

She tried to think back. “I don’t know. Two years? A while. I don’t commit this stuff to memory.”

“Try it,” he suggested, leaning his arm on the car frame like a human shield against the blowing snow. “I’m going to need to tow it in. Want to ride with me in the truck?”

“Not really.” You liar who lies.

Although, overall, he did seem to be a pretty nice guy. The puzzle pieces of his life didn’t exactly add up, true. He could be lying about more than his age. Maybe he’d gotten that fancy house through drug dealing or something equally nefarious. He could be in the mob. She would be stupid to trust him after finding out he’d lied during the first conversation they’d had, not to mention the oddness—hot oddness—that was last night.

Snow had collected on his dark hair and starred his eyelashes. “Want me to call Brad?”

So she could explain to her brother why she’d refused a ride back with his tow truck driver? Absolutely not. And that was if he even answered his phone. “No. I’ll ride back with you. Just don’t…don’t try anything.”

He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll try to resist the urge.”

She grabbed her purse and climbed out of the car. “Funny guy.”

“Get inside.” He jogged to his vehicle and started it up before returning to her. “There’s coffee and the heater’s pretty good.”

“Stop being nice to me.”

“Okay,” he said pleasantly. “Stand out here and freeze.”

She got in the truck. And drank half his coffee before he made it back inside.

“I owe you,” she muttered, clutching the travel mug with hands that still faintly trembled. The chill had snuck under her skin, icing over her bones.

He flicked on the turn signal and pulled away from the side of the road. “I know how you could pay me back.”

“By buying you an extra-large cup from the Dunkin’ near the shop so you don’t have to drink more of this swill?”

“You’ve been drinking that swill.”

“Beggars and choosers and all that. Besides, I’ve been choking down this coffee almost as long as you’ve been alive.” Whoops. She winced. Elephant in the corner, come on in, the water’s fine.

The heavy-lidded look he shot her warmed up her frozen nipples. And the rest of her. “You’re not that much older than me.”

“Try fourteen years, Romeo. I checked out your driver’s license.” At his sharp look, she pursed her lips. “You’re the one who forgot to hide your lie better so don’t blame me for being a snoop.”

He paused long enough for her to wonder if she’d hurt his feelings with the age crack. She didn’t care if she did but still, she wondered.

All right, so she cared. So she liked the lug. So what? It couldn’t go anywhere. He was a man-child with impressive equipment he might not even know how to use properly.

Then again, he might.

“So that’s why you booked. I was wondering.”

“One reason among many, stud.”

“I’m twenty-five, not twelve. You’re thirty-nine, not eighty.”

His incessantly patient tone grated on her frayed nerves. “Fourteen years difference is more than half of your life. What could you possibly want from me?”

“Sex,” he said simply, causing her to spit out her coffee on the dash.

All. Over. The. Dash.

She tugged a tissue out of her purse and tried, rather ineffectually in light of her shaking hands, to pat the dashboard dry. “What did you say?”

“Need a napkin?”

“I’m good.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

She dropped the mug in the cup holder and wagged a finger in his face. “No. Do not do that. Do not make sexual entendres. It isn’t appropriate. My last name is on your checks. Checks you probably don’t need because I’m half convinced you’re secretly a drug dealer for the mob—”

“What?” He laughed and flipped on his signal. She didn’t know why he bothered because they were practically alone on the roads. Someone must’ve called a town-wide snow day when she wasn’t looking. “Some imagination you have, O’Halloran.”

“You came up with that fanciful story about some old lady benefactor but why should I believe you? You’ve already shown yourself to be a liar.”

“Because I’m telling the truth. The only reason I lied about my age is so you wouldn’t shut us down before we even started. I could tell you were in classic doe mode—”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, skittish, afraid of people getting too close. Men,” he clarified. “I’ve been there too. With women, I mean.”

“Me skittish? Like you? Hardly. We are very different.”

“We’re more alike than you think.”

“Sure we are.” She shoved the soaked tissue into the front pocket of her purse and stared straight ahead into the whiteout beyond the windshield. Not that anyone would ever guess it was anything but a sunny day from the relaxed, capable way he was maneuvering the tow truck on the icy roads. She picked up the coffee he hadn’t touched and took another long drink. “I really don’t appreciate you making me act like such a raging bitch. I’m not one normally, so why do you bring it out in me?”

“Sexual frustration?”

“I had an orgasm last night, thank you very much. One orgasm. Which is all that will be occurring between you and me.”

“Hmm.”

God, this man. She wanted to punch him and fuck him simultaneously. “Did you read one of those articles where it said all women near forty need sex twenty-four hours a day or something? Am I your idea of an easy mark?”

“No. But I can tell you that twenty-five-year-old men pretending to be thirty definitely do, especially when they’re suffering through the longest dry spell in the history of ever.”

“My dry spell could beat yours.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” He reached over and flipped the lid on the coffee mug to closed a second before they took a sharp curve. Then he opened it up again once they’d gone through it. “Sex isn’t the only reason I’m interested in you.”

She stared at his hand, now resting confidently on the bottom of the wheel. Where did men that considerate even come from? She sure hadn’t known any. Except her brother and even Brad wasn’t that helpful. He started Sara’s car for her on cold mornings but he didn’t monitor mug spillage. “Oh really. Do you find my lack of knowledge on fuel injectors cute?”

“I bet your knowledge about birds and how to keep your gift-shop customers happy makes up for it.”

“Smooth talker.”

“You’re also funny and smart and the wrinkle you get between your eyes when you’re concentrating or pissed off is extremely sexy. You love your brother and want to make him happy. And you don’t like being seen as soft so you do your best to seem hard.” He reached over and did the coffee move again as they made the last turn before the shop. “How did I do?”

“Fine.” Too fine, she admitted, flicking away his fingers before he could open the top of the mug again. “That still doesn’t explain why you want to go out with me. Surely you must have women your own age willing to play in your sandbox.”

“Oh, we don’t have to go out, we could stay in.” He grinned.

And much to her consternation, she grinned back.

* * *

Somehow he’d finagled another chance.

That night after class, he and Kim found themselves back at The Bottomless Cup. They’d run into each other outside—intentionally on his part since he’d come by in the hopes she might show up—and she hadn’t objected to his suggestion of coffee and pie.

Not the sweets he wanted most but the night was young.

“So you’re done with art. Turned in your final project tonight?” Michael stirred cream into his coffee, focusing on the task to avoid glancing into her melted caramel eyes. They weren’t gold and they weren’t brown. Hazel was probably the correct term, even if it didn’t begin to describe the heat and life and humor that burned behind them.

“Yeah.”

“Of me.”

Kim sighed and sipped her coffee. “Of you. No, I didn’t spend extra time elongating your penis. You got what the Good Lord gave you and not an inch more.”

He laughed and marveled that they could be in the same diner again, and it could feel so natural even with so much sexual tension between them. Kim wasn’t Roch and apparently he wasn’t the man he’d been a few years ago either. Just fun had become a misnomer, at least in regards to the woman sitting across from him. She captivated him on so many levels he was having trouble simply slotting her into a bed partner role.

“Not even after last night? I would assume that would get me halfway to hero status.”

She dumped more sugar into her coffee and sipped. “In spite of what transpired between us last evening, I am not sweet on you. Just saying.”

“You’ve only known me forty-eight hours.” He kept his voice even. “That would be impossible.”

“Of course it is. And your junk isn’t so magical that you’ve been elevated to hero yet.”

“I was referring to rescuing you by the side of the road. Though that was technically this morning.”

“I don’t even—” She broke off, her eyes narrowing. “It was you.”

He didn’t ask what she meant. He already knew. “I was wondering when you’d remember.”

“Two months ago, the night my tire went flat. It was raining out and you came when I called the shop. You told me to call you Mike.” She frowned. “You’re so not a Mike.”

“Michael sounds a little pretentious for a tow truck driver, dontcha think?”

“I asked you how long you’d worked for my brother and you said two hours.” She smiled faintly. “I was your first call, wasn’t I?”

“You sure were. And you didn’t identify Brad as your brother.” He sampled his coffee. “Some impression I made that you just remembered, huh?”

“You had a cap on and a slicker. It was dark out and I could barely see your face.”

“I saw yours.”

She snorted. “Really. I suppose you recognized me the moment you first saw me in Randall’s class too?”

“Not the first moment but the first night for sure. I figured it out after class when I was trying to understand why I couldn’t get your face out of my mind. That night on the side of the road you were wearing a knockout red dress and killer heels, showing off all those curves, and you couldn’t stop swearing to yourself as you texted. Looking all fierce.” He shook his head and sipped. “It was all I could do not to laugh while I changed your tire.”

“Good thing you didn’t. I probably would’ve kicked you.”

“You seemed mad enough to.”

She made a face. “My ex Gary decided to leave me high and dry that night. We’d split up a while before but we’d agreed to go to the sanctuary’s fundraiser together that night. Instead he started texting me all this crap about how I was a shrew who didn’t like to swallow. Really nasty stuff.” She sighed and picked up her fork to dig into her slice of pumpkin pie. “Turned out he was drunk. The next morning he begged me to take him back.”

“Did you?”

“Hell no. I have more self-respect than that.”

“Good.” He set down his mug and decided to go for it. “So is that true about the swallowing thing?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m curious. There’s no wrong answer—” Laughing, he ducked as she threw a balled up napkin at him.

“Insensitive prick.” But she was laughing too.

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward until their foreheads were practically touching. “Oh and my prick’s very sensitive, I assure you.”

She rolled her eyes and popped a broken piece of crust in her mouth. She also didn’t try to put more space between them. “If I answer that, you have to answer a question of an intimate nature.”

The gleam in her eyes made him decidedly nervous but he couldn’t say no. “Deal.”

“I wouldn’t swallow with him because his stuff smelled like pool cleaner. Normally I have no problem. My turn.”

He smothered a laugh in his fist. “Shoot.”

“Why did you have such a long dry spell? It’s not like you’re ugly or anything.”

He ran his fingertip around the rim of his mug. “Maybe I was afraid I’d become addicted and wouldn’t be able to stop.”

“Well, duh. That’s how it’s supposed to feel. So good you want to die.”

Her easy acceptance made him want to tell her more. All. His virginity seemed like a deterrent to the kind of relationship he’d always yearned for: sex and companionship without anything messy to get in the way. He already had a family to support so he wasn’t necessarily looking for someone else to worry about and protect. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a good time together, become friends and enjoy the physical side too, for as long as it lasted. No strings. Uncomplicated.

Of all the women he’d met, Kim seemed most likely to appreciate that sort of setup. If only he wasn’t a fucking virgin. That changed things. Gave them unintentional weight. Most likely she’d assume he was religious and wanted to marry the first girl he boned or else she’d figure he was all kinds of screwed up. She’d probably find it insane that he’d been faithful to a woman who was his financial provider and as time passed, little else. But he’d promised Roch he wouldn’t stray and he hadn’t.

Still hadn’t, more than a year after her death. Until last night.

“It’s not only that I’ve had a long dry spell. I haven’t had that much experience,” he hedged, the truth close enough to taste. Far enough away he couldn’t force it out. What did it matter, really? If they became intimate, his virgin status would no longer be an issue.

She gave him a sly smile. “You’re damn good at working your cock.”

Even without seeing his own face, he knew he’d blushed as red as the pleather seats underneath them. Heat scalded his neck and ears. So freaking embarrassing.

“God, you’re cute.” Her smile widened. “I’m going to hell for corrupting you. I can’t believe I’m saying that to a guy I watched nude model and mutually masturbated with but there you go. Strange days, my friend.”

Sensing his chance, he pushed aside his practically untouched pie and grabbed her hand. “What if that invitation to hell came engraved in gold?”

“Come again?”

“We’re friends, right? You said it yourself. And friends do things for each other.” To each other, he added mentally. “You don’t seem to want to go out with me on an actual date. So we should consider other options for getting to know each other.”

“The two times we’ve visited this diner don’t count as dates?”

“They do but I want more.”

“Of course you do.” Using the hand he wasn’t holding, she pulled another napkin out of the dispenser since she’d fashioned hers into a weapon. “Look, I’m not real good with emotional blackmail. It gives me hives.”

“What if you enjoy what I ask you to do?” He hoped she would. She’d seemed to enjoy their first night together but there were no guarantees that would continue.

“I’m listening.”

“I told you I’ve had a long dry spell. And when you’re trying to get back into the dating pool, lack of experience makes things awkward.” He took a deep breath. “I’m asking you to…corrupt me. With my full permission.”