After four years of living in the Pacific Northwest, you think I’d be used to the constant drizzle and the way my clothes were never quite dry, but as I headed down the stairs of my apartment, I couldn’t suppress a groan at the rain that greeted me. I knew the sun still lurked somewhere up there, and maybe one day I’d get a chance to see it, but that would probably mean moving down the coast, somewhere like sunny San Diego. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea, I thought, unlocking my old rust bucket, a ’93 sedan I called Pretty Baby. There was nothing pretty about the peeling red paint on the hood, but I figured showering her with compliments would give the old girl incentive to actually start—something that was becoming increasingly harder to manage.

I put the keys in the ignition and turned her on…or attempted to. There wasn’t even a groan of annoyance at being woken up, and I tried cranking her up again. Nothing. Dead silence.

“Oh, come on, Pretty Baby, not today. Please not today,” I said, trying in vain to get something out of her, any little spark of life that meant she wouldn’t be going to the junkyard later. I couldn’t afford another car, and I didn’t want to manage without one, not with the possibility of an internship coming up in a couple of weeks. The city’s bus system was unreliable at best, which meant I’d be walking the miles back and forth. Great.

After giving the ignition one more try, I sighed and popped the hood. I didn’t know much about cars—nothing, really—but I figured maybe looking at it would help me at least pinpoint the problem. The hood creaked as I lifted it and stared down at the mess of black boxes and wires, and I realized pretty quickly how out of my element I was. All I could tell was where the battery was, but the rest of it? It was a jumble of stuff that didn’t mean anything to me. What, like there’d be some flashing red light that would tell me exactly what the problem was? Yeah, real genius right here.

Dammit. There was no way I could afford to have someone look at her, and I definitely couldn’t shell out for whatever fix she needed, so the best-case scenario here was… Well, there wasn’t one. I was shit out of luck.

“Thanks a lot,” I muttered, straightening and then taking out my frustration by kicking one of the front tires. Okay, so I’ll call in to work and tell them I’ll be late, and then— Oh holy hell.

My eyes widened at the sleek black Aston Martin purring its way down the road. It was beautiful, and easily the most extravagant car I’d seen around these parts. I stared at it as it made its way closer, and then realized what a heap of junk I was standing in front of. Scooting back, I pretended to busy myself with something under the hood so whoever was driving wouldn’t pay me any attention.

The sports car slowed to a stop beside me, and I poked my head up to see why.

Wow. Up close, the car was even more impressive. What I wouldn’t do to take a spin in that.

One of the heavily tinted windows lowered slowly, and as the man behind the wheel came into view, a flush of shame heated my face. If I’d thought the car was beautiful, it had nothing on the driver. Coal-colored hair swept back from his angular face was only the beginning of the dark features that made up his striking appearance. He had hypnotic eyes beneath brows the same shade as that inky hair, and they were the color of rich chocolate. They seemed to be taking measure of me, and as they did, the smile that morphed his full lips straddled a fine line between friendly and sensual. Either way, it made my heart race.

“Car trouble?” he asked, and that smooth, velvety rumble of his voice was something I felt all the way down to my toes.

“Uh…no,” I said automatically, and then shook my head. “I mean, yes. It won’t start.”

He lifted a brow. “No? Maybe I can help.”

“No, that won’t be—” I started, but the man was already pulling his car to the space in front of mine.

Christ, this is mortifying. This rich, gorgeous man wanted to help me fix my piece-of-crap car, and all I could think was how freakin’ humiliating it was. I’d been around Brayden and all his money, of course, but never had I been more aware of what I didn’t have.

The Aston Martin’s door opened and the man stepped out, his movements as graceful as that of his car’s namesake. Dressed in a midnight-blue suit, he was perfectly polished from the top of his head down to the immaculate Oxfords he wore, and as he walked toward me, my heart stuttered. I wiped the rain out of my eyes, all the better to see him, but the crappy weather didn’t even seem to faze this guy. He was so devastatingly attractive that I wanted to tell him to get back in his car, not to get his hands dirty by dealing with my mess.

And damn, he was tall. As he came to a stop in front of me, I had to look up at him, and the power I felt radiating off him had me dumbstruck. Then a slow smile curved his lips.

“Let’s see what we have here, shall we?”

* * *

The perfect plan required patience and precision, and as I stared down at the young man in front of me, I knew both had been achieved. Jesse Clark was looking up at me with a mixture of admiration and lust stamped all over his features, and that was exactly where I wanted him.

When I’d wound down my window and gotten my first real look at him up close and personal, I knew my decision to come after the guy had been the right one. With his sky-blue eyes and flushed pink cheeks, his innocence was a beacon to all that was depraved in me.

Wanting to keep him off guard, on that edge of awe and awareness, I peered under the hood of his car and took a look at the filthy engine the piece of shit housed. I could sense his gaze upon me and wanted him to look, enjoyed the feel of his perusal, as I took my time to inspect what he’d clearly given up on.

After ascertaining what the issue was, I straightened and pivoted to catch Jesse’s gaze traveling over me, and decided it was time to make the man speak. I reached for the buttons of my suit jacket, and as I unbuttoned the first one, and then the second, those curious eyes flew up to find mine.

“Uh, umm, what are you doing?” he asked, as I continued to the third. Once it was undone, I shrugged out of my jacket and noticed the way he caught his plump pink lip behind his teeth as I handed it over to him.

“I’m going to fix your car for you.”

Jesse’s eyes darted to the vehicle even as his hand automatically, and without question, curled around my jacket, doing my bidding. Yes, he is going to be ideal for what I have in mind.

“You know what’s wrong with it?” he said as his attention came back to me.

From my vantage point, which was much higher above his five-ten frame, I could see tiny droplets of rain clinging to his lashes, and it just added to the allure of him. His blond hair, his fair skin, it all drew me in. It was exhilarating to think I could corrupt all that was good in him. All that was pure. “I do. It’s an easy enough fix.”

With my eyes fastened directly on his, I undid the cuffs of my sleeves and slowly rolled them up my arms, and Jesse shuffled on his feet as though he was suddenly nervous.

I liked that.

I wanted that.

And when he dropped his eyes to what I was doing and his fingers tightened around my jacket, I was more than aware that the nervousness was also tinged with an excitement I was purposely provoking.

“So, umm, what’s wrong with it?” Jesse asked, pulling his eyes away from me and turning back to the car. I moved in beside him and, while his eyes were fastened on the engine, shut my eyes and inhaled. I could smell the scent of the soap he’d used earlier, and knew if I stripped him down, the fresh, clean scent of it would be headier at the hotter, more intimate junctures of his body.

Not wanting to cause alarm in the little lamb, I opened my eyes and focused back on the task at hand. “It’s the spark plug here,” I told him, and pointed at the offending plug. “It looks as though it might’ve come loose.”

Jesse moved in under the hood and bent over the engine. Then he turned his head to look at me, and the smile that hit his lips was brilliant. “Really? That’s it?”

I reached out, took the dirty plug between my fingers, and shoved it back in place. The fit was tight, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I had a strong hand when necessary. “That’s it. I bet if you go and try it now, the engine will kick over.”

Jesse’s eyes ran all over my face, taking in every line, every feature, and I let him take his fill. He wasn’t shy in his once-over, and when he finally moved out from under the hood, he did it like a man in some kind of daze.

“Okay, I’ll, uh— Give me one second.”

As he jogged around to the driver’s side, I moved out from under the hood to watch him go, and didn’t miss the fact he was still clutching my jacket in his hand. The rain had now soaked through my shirt, but I didn’t give a shit as I stood there watching him go.

The pliers sitting on the floor of my car had done the trick with the stubborn fucking spark plug, and when Jesse turned the key in the ignition and the car rumbled to life, his thumbs-up and joyful face told me I’d just landed at the top of his “most helpful” list. Exactly where I wanted to be.

* * *

I kept the car running as I jumped out, not wanting to test my luck and have it shut off the second the handsome good Samaritan left.

“You are a miracle worker,” I said, grinning at him as he shut the hood and rubbed his hands together. “Oh, wait, let me run inside and get you a towel—”

“There’s no need,” he said smoothly, holding out his hand. I stared at it for a second before realizing he was asking for his jacket back.

“Right, sorry.” I flushed again, but he only smiled at me. As I reluctantly handed him the jacket and he laid it over his arm, I regretted that I hadn’t taken the opportunity to lift the expensive material to my nose to memorize his scent for later. I bet he smelled amazing, like money and sex. As if he could hear my thoughts, the man cocked his head to the side and smirked.

Stop being such a perv, I thought, even as I took in the soaked white shirt that stuck to every muscle of his fit frame. The guy was in unbelievable shape, and as I continued to mentally undress him, I filed that visual away to use later tonight.

“I wish there was some way I could repay you,” I said, finally meeting his eyes.

The man seemed to think that over, and then he said, “Maybe a coffee?”

A coffee? “Um, I’m sorry, I don’t actually own a machine—”

He chuckled. “No, I meant maybe we could go out for coffee?” When I hesitated, mentally scrolling through my meager bank account, he said, “My treat.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t let you do that. I owe you for this. My treat.”

“Hmm. That you do. Are you free Friday?”

“Friday? Oh, for coffee. Right. Um…yeah, I’m off that day. Friday would be great.”

“Perfect.” A brilliant and white smile lit up his handsome face, and I could only blink at him. “My name is Salvatore, by the way. Salvatore Wolfe.” He held out his hand again, and this time I took it. As his fingers wrapped firmly around mine, his name rolled around in my head, something about it sounding vaguely familiar. Salvatore Wolfe…Wolfe… Hold on, this was the guy Brayden had mentioned owned the Wolfe’s Den? And he’d just asked me on a date…me?

No. No way. This couldn’t be happening.

“Jesse Clark,” I said, once I managed to find my tongue.

Salvatore’s hand was still wrapped around mine, strong and inviting. I liked the way it felt against mine, and I wondered what it would feel like on other parts of my body…

When he spoke again, his voice had lowered an octave. “It’s nice to meet you, Jesse.”

I could only nod, still caught up in his captivating stare.

“I suppose I should go now,” he said.

“Yeah, me too.”

Salvatore looked down at where I still had a hold of his hand, and I let it go like he’d caught fire.

“Right, sorry,” I said, averting my eyes so I didn’t show him just how much I wanted him to keep touching me. My gaze fell on his Aston Martin, and the contrast between our cars only highlighted the difference between the two of us. I am so in over my head.

“Are you a fan?” Salvatore asked, as he followed my stare.

Is he kidding? I nodded enthusiastically, my eyes still following the wicked lines of the sinful ride. “Definitely. It’s beautiful.”

“Yes. It is.”

When my gaze came back to his, I noticed he wasn’t looking at the car but directly at me, and the intensity of that stare made my knees feel weak.

“Right, well…” I said, backing away before I did something insane like, oh, I don’t know, beg him to stay. “I better get going before Pretty Baby decides she doesn’t want to work again.”

When one of his dark eyebrows arched, I realized I’d just used the ridiculous name I had for my car. I gestured over my shoulder with my thumb. “That’s my car’s name.”

“Pretty Baby?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Like most things, she responds best when I compliment her.”

Salvatore’s lips twitched, as though he was fighting back a grin. “That’s…good to know.”

I had a feeling he was saying more than what he was actually saying, and as he turned to go, I realized he hadn’t told me a time or a place to meet him on Friday.

“Wait,” I called out, not wanting to let him go without a definite way of seeing him again, because sweet Jesus, he was something to see. Salvatore stopped and turned to face me. “What time should I meet you Friday? Where?” I winced at how eager I sounded, but shit, it wasn’t as if guys like Salvatore Wolfe showed up to rescue you every day. You had to trust fate was dropping him in your lap for a reason.

His eyes creased at the sides as his lips curved into a smile. “I’ll come and pick you up at four. Take you for a ride.”

I sank my teeth into my lower lip and nodded, loving that idea, and slightly giddy over it. “Okay, see you then,” I said, and then I waved like a lame asshole and wanted to roll my eyes at myself. I was acting like someone with a high school crush.

“See you. Take care, Jesse.”

And then he walked to his car, his long strides eating up the pavement as he went, the rain bouncing off his strong shoulders as though they were shields, and all I could do was stand there and watch. Watch as the most magnetic man I had ever met slid into his car and drove away.