Quaint, Lindsay thought, stepping away from her seaside-blue convertible toward what looked like a recently painted two-story home with a wraparound porch. A row of rosebushes lined either side of the stairs, and flowering dogwood trees bent their branches in the direction of the house. She’d climbed almost to the top step when she heard Malik’s voice.

“You made it.”

She glanced to her left and took an involuntary breath. Darn. He still wasn’t ugly. Still fine as hell and quintessentially tall, dark, and handsome. He was just her type. A grits-eating, steak-and-potatoes, thick-as-hell man.

He stood at the corner of the house holding a sledgehammer and wearing loose-fitting jeans and a plain black T-shirt that gave a good view of his arms, with dark-copper skin stretched taut over large biceps. A red baseball cap flipped to the back made him look understated, yet eye-catching at the same time. Then of course, there was the beard. It was thick and lush and made him even more lip-lickingly sexy.

She experienced the same rush of heat every time she saw him. He made her thirsty, looking like a cold glass of water. On a one-hundred-degree day. In August. With not a cloud in the sky.

She hated him.

“Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice.” Lindsay started back down the stairs.

His sleepy dark eyes followed her movements. “I’m sure Stephan told you this wasn’t exactly my idea, but I figured if we were going to talk about the possibilities, I wanted you to see my work.”

His voice matched his appearance. Big and heavy, weighing down the air with bass tones that echoed in her chest and made her nipples ache.

“Lead the way.”

Lindsay followed his slow, measured gait around the side of the house and pulled up short. A large barn came into view, surprisingly modern-looking with double-pane windows at the very top and on either side of the open, sliding double doors. The building looked like it had recently been painted, too, like the main house. This time blue with white trim. But that’s not what made her stop. Lounging in the grass was a big, black Rottweiler that stood up and growled when Lindsay came into view.

“Um, is that thing dangerous?” she asked.

“Daisy? Not really.”

“Daisy? You have some nerve giving a beast that size such a sweet name. And what do you mean, ‘not really’?”

“Her bark is much worse than her bite.”

“Just so you know, I hate dogs,” Lindsay said.

Malik arched a brow, a hint of amusement entering his eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

She edged closer, keeping an eye on Daisy. “Are you sure she’s not going to suddenly attack me when she smells fear or something?”

“I promise she won’t. She’s really a big puppy.”

“Every dog owner says that, until the so-called puppy jumps on an unsuspecting victim and goes for their throat.”

“I don’t know what you’ve been watching, but my girl is nothing like that.”

His girl. Of course he’d be one of those people who treated his pet like a person.

“You still look worried. I’ll tie her up. Come here, girl.” Malik whistled, and the dog trotted over, following behind him with her head bent low. He took her over to a tree and connected her collar to a long chain. “Satisfied?”

“Very.”

He headed toward the barn, stepping onto a paved driveway that led to the gate at the edge of the property line. Made sense he’d have that area paved, making it easier for vehicles to pull in and pick up a sculpture.

“This is my workshop.”

Malik led them through the doors, and Lindsay’s mouth fell open at the number of pieces on display.

“Whoa. This is all you?”

“Yeah. I completed ninety-five percent of them over the past couple of years.”

“Wow. Your work is…incredible.”

She walked past a workbench holding welding gloves and safety goggles and a couple of sturdy-looking metal tables with an array of tools on top. She moved slowly through the displays mounted on tables and on the floor. Smaller sculptures sat on shelves to the right, as well as scrap metal he obviously used to turn into finished works of art.

“How do you do this?” She glanced back at him and promptly closed her mouth when she realized it was hanging open.

Malik leaned his back against the wall, watching her, his sleepy eyes not so sleepy anymore. Definitely more attentive. “I get an idea, and then I start working.”

He seemed so nonchalant, while she was overwhelmed by his talent. Maybe she’d been wrong about him. She ran a finger over a piece in the shape of a horse with a curled tail. It was about four feet high. “What’s this made of?”

“Fabricated aluminum and barbed wire.”

“Huh. How would you define your style?” Lindsay ran a hand over a metal piece that existed in the form of prongs reaching toward the ceiling. The tip of each one was painted an electric blue color. The design simultaneously reminded her of fire as well as the ocean.

“I tend to get inspired by nature. Water, trees, animals. Living out here, there’s plenty of inspiration.”

Lindsay nodded. She could see nature in the work. She wandered through his workshop, which looked like a disorganized gallery exhibition. There were so many pieces—small, medium-sized, and large.

One sculpture was painted brown at the bottom with green pieces that appeared to be suspended in the air above it. Edging closer, she saw the green pieces were connected by fine wire. A tree with leaves.

“The Miami buyer pulled out of purchasing that one,” Malik said.

“It’s nice.” She swung around to face him, still standing near the door. “I had no idea you’d created this much work. This is what you do all day?”

He laughed, and the deep, sexy sound rumbled in her lower abdomen. “Pretty much. Keeps me out of trouble.” He rested the hammer on a table next to a sculpture that looked like a giant flame, as tall as he was, and he was several inches over six feet. “I was working on this when you arrived. I’m putting the finishing touches on it now.”

“Do you have a portfolio online?”

“No.”

“A website?”

“No.”

“Instagram?”

“No.”

“You realize those are the basics if you want people to see your work and buy it? How else are you going to sell your sculptures? You definitely have talent, so why aren’t you out there hustling?”

Malik shrugged. “I’m not a salesperson. I suck at that kind of thing.” He appeared way too relaxed. Meanwhile, he probably sat on a gold mine.

Lindsay rested both hands on her hips. “You’re one of those people who’d rather do your art and let someone else handle everything else?”

He laughed, and his dark brown eyes lit up. His laugh was very male, extremely sexy, and made her shift her stance to ease the unexpected throbbing the sound created. “Something like that.”

He had a gorgeous smile. Her gaze lowered to the full beard and mustache that encircled a pair of lips that were indecently thick and sensual-looking. She bet they were soft. She wanted to lick them.

“So you’re the typical creative type. You’d rather be alone for hours in your workshop than spend time around other people. Am I right?”

“Nah. I like being around people when it suits me. I’m just focused right now on…other things.”

Something about the way his heavy-lidded eyes assessed her with a quick flick from head to toe gave Lindsay pause. Heat flashed across her cheeks and neck. She knew when a man was checking her out, and Malik was definitely checking her out. Odd, considering in the past he infuriated her by treating her more like a mild nuisance than the vibrant, sexy woman she was.

“That’s all well and good, but what do you plan to do with everything you’ve created? Who’s going to see them if you don’t get out there and mingle and—God forbid—sell yourself?” Lindsay arched a brow.

He rubbed his right hand along the left side of his beard, and a slow smile drifted across his full lips. “I guess that’s where you come in. Are you going to talk to Nina and help me sell that tree sculpture?”

Perhaps it was because earlier that day she’d experienced a lackluster sexual encounter, but Lindsay wondered how Malik would be in bed. His hands were so big and his fingers long and broad, expansive enough to fully cup one breast or strong enough to restrain her. Unlike Devon, she knew Malik wouldn’t disappoint. Just the thought of his stroke left her breathless.

Right then, a brilliant idea came to her out of nowhere. Standing before her was the solution she’d been searching for ever since she received Hal’s text.

She looked Malik up and down in his wrinkled shirt and washed out jeans. He wasn’t well known or tied to anyone that she was aware of, and physically, he was perfect. She had to work on the presentation, but lucky for her, she had plenty of time to work her magic. He would do.

“I might be able to help,” Lindsay hedged. “But I have a teensy-tiny favor to ask of you. Before I tell you what I want, you have to promise to keep an open mind.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he didn’t say a word.

“I want you to pretend to be my fiancé.”

Malik’s eyebrows shot upward. “Your what?” The question ended on a laugh.

Time to get down to business. Lindsay marched over to him and straightened her shoulders. “Hear me out. The arrangement would be a win-win. I have a dating book coming out. You may have heard of it—The Sexy Diva Talks Dating. Anyway, it turns out for some crazy reason my publisher and agent think I’m engaged. They want me to do a photo shoot with my supposed fiancé. It’ll solidify the fact that I’m a true relationship expert because voilà, I’m in a great relationship myself. All we have to do is pretend we’re madly in love with each other.”

“Is that all?”

That was sarcasm. She distinctly heard sarcasm.

“Mhmm. So, rather than break their hearts and risk having egg on my face, I was thinking you could come to the photo shoot. I need your services for one hour. In exchange, I’ll talk to Nina and get your sculpture in front of the right person.”

“Wow, that’s a great offer there, Lindsay.”

“I know right. What do you think?” Lindsay held her breath.

“What do I think?” Malik smiled, but barely. Just a tiny movement of one corner of his mouth before his lips settled into a neutral position. “Hell, no.”