As I walk away, Vera calls brightly, “Don’t do anything that will get you sued!”

I skirt around tables and zero in on Alaster Brant. He watches me come, a knowing smirk on his lovely British face. Blond hair, blue eyes. Killer smile. I should have never fallen for his charms, but the accent had proven too much for my defenses. I’d broken my cardinal rule of never dating actors. Naturally, I came to regret it.

Reaching the table, I set the bottle and glasses down between him and his manager, Darcy Kaplan. Darcy nods at me, her attention barely wavering from her phone call.

Alaster smiles blithely. “Candace, you look ravishing.” Goddamn accent.

I smile sweetly. “And you still look like a philandering piece of shit.”

He chuckles. “I’ve missed your wit, dear. Are you free this evening?”

“No, and consider me booked for the rest of my life and yours.”

He places a hand over his heart, blue eyes widening with manufactured hurt. “You can’t dash a man’s dreams like that. It’s cruel.”

“Leave me alone, Alaster.”

I turn fast and walk smack into someone’s chest. A familiar chest—smelling of smoke, leather, and vetiver.

“Whoa,” says Sebastian, grabbing my shoulders as I jerk back. I glare up at him, wishing more than anything that I’d worn heels. It’s hard to intimidate someone who’s almost a foot taller than you are.

“Let go of me,” I growl, and shove past him. I make it the rest of the way to Vera without mishap and plunk into my chair.

“That looked awkward,” she says dryly.

I take a large swallow of my wine and glance across the patio. Sebastian has joined Alaster and Darcy, who’s his manager, as well. The men are laughing. Fucking actors.

“Smallest big city in the world,” I mutter.

Vera says, “I ordered us salads to go.”

“God bless you.”

When our food arrives, I make haste to the valet while Vera stops in the restroom. I stare at a palm tree as I wait, taking deep breaths to rid my nose of Sebastian’s scent. On my tenth breath, it floods my senses anew. My skin prickles as he moves up beside me.

“Are you stalking me, Bast?”

He waves a valet ticket. “Such vanity, Candy.”

Frazzled by his nearness and last night’s dream, I snap, “Don’t call me that.”

“But you’re so, so sweet.”

Arousal quakes in my belly and lower. I have a flash of recall that makes me dizzy—his head between my legs, his growling voice telling me how sweet I taste. That I’m candy to him.

I almost swoon with relief as my car pulls up and the valet steps out. Vera walks out of the restaurant and hurries toward me. Perfect timing. I smile up at Sebastian, glad he can’t see my eyes behind my dark sunglasses.

“Quit messing with me.”

His brows lift. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“How the hell should I know? But whatever it is, stop. There are millions of other women in this city you can test your pick-up lines on.”

“None of them blush like you do, Candace.” Before I can retort, he nods toward my car. “I’ll see you tonight at Alex’s. Don’t forget a gift.” He strides toward the valet with his ticket. He doesn’t look back.

Vera whistles softly. “That is one fine ass.”

I drag my eyes away from the area in question. Shaking my head, I skirt around to the driver’s door of my Mercedes convertible and slide into the seat. Vera passes a tip to the valet, then drops into the passenger side.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” I mutter, gazing through the windshield at Sebastian, who swings a long leg over the back of his Harley. He settles, shifting his hips a little. Muscles clench low in my body.

Irritated with myself, I put the car in gear and floor it out of the parking lot. I don’t pay much attention to direction, needing only to get the hell away from Sebastian Bellizzi.

Vera squeals as I take a turn without breaking. “What the fuck did he say?” she shouts over the wind.

“In twenty-four hours, he’s twice referenced wanting to go down on me.”

“What!” she screeches. “What’s wrong with you? Let him get it out of his system!”

“Not happening,” I say, in a tone that I know she’ll respect.

There’s a lot Vera doesn’t know about Sebastian and me—our history is one of the few details of my life I’ve kept private from her. Because although casual sex with Sebastian might sound like a mutually beneficial agreement, there’s never been anything casual between us.

The first time we met, I threw a plate at him and he yelled at me. Granted, we’d been seven and eleven years old, but as they say, first impressions matter.

Back then, Sebastian was the troubled nephew of one of my parents’ employees, Nona Bellizzi, who I’d been calling Nana since I could talk. More than being the estate manager of the family home in Weston, Massachusetts, Nona was family. Part-nanny, part-grandmother, she’d been a staple in our young lives. More constant even than our parents, who occupied an often exclusive sphere of their love for each other.

When Nona wanted to bring her nephew over from Italy after some undisclosed conflict, my parents had quickly agreed. Not only that, they’d insisted he live with her in the sprawling guesthouse on the property and footed the bill to secure him midyear enrollment in our private school.

Late on the night of his arrival, I’d been pillaging the kitchen for snacks. Sebastian, sleepless from jet lag and deviant, had been sneaking around the great house. Thinking myself alone, his innocent question of, “Can I have a cookie?” had resulted in said plate throwing and yelling.

It wasn’t the last time we yelled at each other. Or broke dinnerware.