Pamela handed the carry-out coffee and muffin to the construction worker who had become a regular customer in her cafe. He was a nice guy. Always placed a generous tip in her jar. Constantly gave her a sweet grin. Never wavered with his manners. “Enjoy.”

He inclined his head, backtracking as he increased the sugary sweetness of his smile. “Thank you. I will.”

Her sister, Kim, groaned from her position in front of the coffee machine. “The studs are out in force today. I feel like we’ve hit the hot-guy jackpot.”

“He’s not that hot.” Pamela placed the glass dome back on top of the muffin display plate. “Too cute and sweet for my appetite.”

“I’m not talking about Muffin Man. I want to latch my nails into the guy out front. He’s been standing there on his cell for five minutes, and I’m dying to know if he’s going to come inside.”

Pamela swung her gaze to the door and swallowed over the gasp threatening to escape her throat. The man’s face was annoyingly familiar—the scowl even more so.

Bryan. The asshole who’d kept her up all night pondering hate sex.

“Shit.” She scooted behind Kim, hiding from view. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him walk by her little café, but it was the first time he’d stopped.

“You know him?”

“Technically? No.”

“But…”

“That’s Bryan—the guy from the club I was telling you about.” She clutched her sister’s arm, dragging her along the counter like a shield.

“The one with superior hands and an unrivaled bad attitude?”

“Yes. Now get me out of here before he sees me.”

They shuffled in unison toward the swinging kitchen doors until she safely hid from view. Now all she had to deal with was the raised questioning brow coming from her mother behind the preparation bench.

“Who are we hiding from?” Her mom craned her neck, paused in her task of peeling carrots as she looked out the service window.

“Nobody.” Pamela smiled and crossed her hands behind her back. “I just wanted to see what you’re up to.”

The raised brow didn’t waver.

“You’re such a bad liar,” Kim whispered.

At this point, Pamela didn’t care. She just wanted to remain in hiding, not tempting fate, until Bryan continued down the street.

“I think he’s gone.” Kim nudged the door open, peeking out the small space. “I can’t see him anymore.”

Relief, thick and delicious, pulsated in Pamela’s chest. “Thank God.” She didn’t have the energy to deal with assholes today. Not even good-looking ones. But just to be sure, she glanced through the slight part of the doors and scanned the sidewalk.

Nope. Not there.

“Wait.” Her sister indicated a man at the counter, his back toward them. “Is that him?”

The guy she pointed to had a similar build—broad shoulders covered in a tailored suit. Only the blond hair was all wrong. Too short. No beard.

“No. That’s not him.”

“You sure? Isn’t he the guy who was out the front?”

“What guy out the front?” Their mom squeezed between them, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.

“Forget it.” Pamela stepped back from the door, her cheeks warming. Was she hallucinating now? She could’ve sworn she’d seen Bryan. Then again, her thoughts had been obsessed with him since he’d broken her non-masturbatory orgasm drought. Not even his nastiness had abated the X-rated daydreams.

“I must’ve been mistaken.” She leaned against the counter beneath the service window and winced. “That guy doesn’t look anything like him.”

Kim frowned at her, the glance speaking of a shared concern to Pamela’s mental stability. “I need to get back out there. We’ll discuss this later.” She pushed through the doors, disappearing into the main room of the café.

“Did you get enough sleep?” Her mother scrutinized her, the concern in her eyes a familiar sight since Lucas died.

“I slept fine… Or maybe I didn’t. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’m at that age where sleep is more of a luxury than a necessity.”

The close examination continued. “You had another bad night.”

This time it wasn’t a question. After Lucas passed away, her mom had become a master at reading all the things Pamela tried to keep to herself. And years later, the game of hide and seek hadn’t ended.

“I went to the club last night. That’s all. You know I don’t get much sleep when I’ve been out.”

“It seems like more than that to me.”

She waggled her brows, hoping to kill the questions with her mother’s discomfort. “Maybe I got laid.”

“The luggage under your eyes isn’t the I-got-laid type. But you know I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.” Her mother returned to the preparation bench and picked up a carrot from the chopping board.

Pamela stood there, hard bench behind her, concerned parent in front. She didn’t want to talk anymore. There’d been years and years of it. All conversations revolved around Lucas and how she needed to live her life now that he was gone.

Like her time at the Vault, she needed to move on and realize this new chapter wasn’t a failure. It was merely going to be different. Devoid of sexual motivation, but not necessarily crummy.

Oh, who was she kidding.

Her sex life had taken a nose-dive and she was still cleaning up after the crash and burn, hoping to salvage something from the charred remains.

“Thanks.” She gave her mom a sad smile and pushed from the counter. “I better go and help Kim.”

“Ella?”

Holy shit.

Her eyes widened as the masculine voice washed over her, the dominant presence tickling the back of her neck.

Her mother paused, carrot in hand, and glanced through the service window. Pamela didn’t need to turn around to determine who owned the deep growl.

Then again, maybe this was another hallucination.

She swung around, coming face to face with Bryan standing on the other side of the window.

“Have you got a minute?” The question came casually. As if they were friends. As if she should’ve expected him to walk back into her life today.

“Do you know him?” her mother hissed, dragging Pamela’s attention back to maternal eyes now twinkling with appreciation for a man who was completely undeserving.

“Unfortunately.”

Appreciation turned to excitement. “Come in. Come in.” Her mother waved a hand, her matchmaker switch well and truly engaged.

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

“Mom.”

The warning was ignored, the kitchen door swung open, and the devil entered, shrinking the room with his presence.

“Morning, ma’am.” Bryan smiled at her mother.

Smiled and used the word ma’am.

What the hell was he playing at? The contrast from the stuck-up, superior man she knew didn’t compute. Not in the slightest. This guy had a casual air of the-boy-next-door, with a smooth swagger and gentle eyes.

“Morning, Ella.”

She didn’t offer a greeting. Not in words. Her frown posed as a technicolor response.

“Can we talk?”

She worked the question over in her mind. Back and forth. “Didn’t we speak last night?”

His lips twitched, a tiny hitch of mirth. “We did. And now I have something else I want to discuss.”

“Take a seat in the café,” her mother offered unwanted assistance. “I’ll help Kim for a while.”

Bryan raised a questioning brow to confirm the option.

“No,” she growled. “We can speak here.”

He sucked in a slow, deep breath, showing his displeasure with a subtle expand of his broad chest. “Sure.” His gaze leisurely glided from her to her mother, back and forth. “Are we still good after last night?”

“As good as we’re going to get.”

There were no grudges. Not really… Okay, she hadn’t slept a wink due to her body wanting him and her mind hating him. With time, her annoyance probably would’ve faded. But less than twenty-four hours had passed, so he was out of luck.

“Hint taken.” His tongue worked over the words like he was seducing them. Or her. She feared he succeeded in both. “I have a proposition for you.”

She shook her head. “Not interested.”

“You don’t want to hear me out?”

“I ditched the sucker-for-punishment attitude twelve hours ago.”

Another glance went from mother to daughter before his expression changed. It was slight. The minute squint of his eyes, the tiniest tilt of his chin. “This has nothing to do with punishment.” He stared at her, stared so hard her betraying nipples tingled. “It’s the opposite.”

The opposite of punishment?

She shuddered. Her built-up tension and annoyance formed a concoction that resembled arousal. All the while, her mother remained quiet. Still a few feet away. Still mesmerized by a man who deserved far less scrutiny.

“On second thought, let’s take this outside.” She dragged her feet to the kitchen doors, shoving through them to enter the dining area.

It wasn’t safe to be caged in the small kitchen with him. Fresh air became necessary. Space, too. She walked onto the street and took a seat at one of the steel-frame tables that were usually only occupied during the really busy times when customers had nowhere else to sit.

He followed, and the split second when he loomed close, about to take his seat, was a threatening taunt to all her needy senses. She wanted him over her. Under her. Inside her.

Christ.

“What do you want, Bryan?” Her voice cracked with the built-up tension clogging her throat.

He sat opposite her, dwarfing the setting, the metal table and chairs appearing toy-like under his large frame.

The problematic situation only intensified when Kim strode onto the sidewalk, a notepad in hand, and stopped at their table. “May I take your order?”

Pamela scowled. They didn’t provide table service. Never had. “No, Kim. We’re good.”

“I’ll get a large coffee, strong, with cream, thanks.” Bryan held her focus while he ordered. Asserting his authority. Vocalizing his confidence.

Wrong decision, buddy. He’d flaunted his head-strong independence in the wrong place. Especially when it came to her protective sister.

“Sure thing.” Kim scribbled on the notepad. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Pamela focused farther down the footpath, unwilling to stare into his deep blue eyes. It didn’t make sense that she could loathe and lust for a man, all at the same time. She wished one emotion would hurry up and claim victory because this seesaw was exhausting.

“We’re not good, are we?” He leaned back in his chair. “Even though you said so last night.”

“Last night we were good because I never thought I’d see you again.”

His mouth tilted as if she’d paid him a compliment. Sharp eyes turned gentle. Harsh lips became inviting. “What if I decided I’m not finished with you yet?”

She laughed, a cold, bitter laugh she hoped sounded convincing. It wasn’t the first time he’d said ‘yet’ and had it sound like a sexual promise. Both instances had been equally confusing. “Then I’d take pleasure in letting you down gently. Just like you did to me last night.”

“I see you like to hold a grudge.”

“Only as much as most women.”

He gave a breath of a chuckle, the sound lacking humor. She waited, hoping to see a believable smile pulling at that lush mouth.

Nothing came.

Nothing but her sister who slid a take-away coffee in front of him with a slight curtsy. “Here you go, Bryan. Enjoy.”

“Thanks.” He focused on the container as Kim walked away, his hand snaking up to rub over his beard. “She knows my name?”

“She knows a lot of things.” There were no skeletons left hidden to her family. No rock left unturned. Pamela rarely had anything to be ashamed of, and even when she did, telling her sister seemed like a form of penance.

“So, it’s likely she spat in my coffee.”

“No, it’s not likely.” She spoke with solemn sincerity, allowing him the time to relax and reach for his take-away cup before she added, “It’s a certainty. There is no way in hell that coffee doesn’t contain some sort of retribution.”

His smile turned to a grin. When laughter hit her ears, she sat back and stared. Carefree Bryan was remarkable. A picture of charming severity. The playfulness in his eyes swept away his hostility, those flawless white teeth no longer vicious.

He placed the cup down as his happiness dissipated and the man she knew returned, this time less harsh.

“Are you ready to tell me why you’re here?”

He raised his gaze to her, those blue eyes lingering on her lips longer than necessary. “After we left last night, some of the Vault members announced their annoyance at how I spoke to you. In fact, a lot of the women are up in arms, demanding a public apology.”

“Public apology?” She glanced around, hoping he had no intention of making a scene in front of her café.

“Don’t worry, I already told my business partners I’ve done the necessary groveling. I don’t plan on doing it again.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I’m hoping it’s because you realize we’ve already resolved the situation and dragging it out would be bullshit.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”

“Did you get the email I sent about the class I’m running next Thursday night? A guys’ tutorial on the female—”

“Yeah. I got it.”

“Then, you’ll also know I plan on having a demonstration assistant.”

She remembered. Her imagination had run wild with the thought of watching the instructional performance. “And?”

“And Janeane, the woman who was supposed to play the role, is one of the people demanding an apology. I need someone to take her place.”

“That shouldn’t be difficult. Not with women scrambling to climb on your junk.”

He nodded, as if pondering his immense self-worth. “Finding a willing woman wouldn’t be too hard. I’m more concerned with finding the right one. That’s why I’m here.”

She laughed. He had to be joking. There was no way in hell a man could have balls big enough to ask that of her after the way he’d treated her. “You want me to be your assistant?”

“Yes.” The answer came strong and sure. No doubt. No guilt.

Another laugh escaped. “Are you kidding?”

The tight set of his jaw implied he wasn’t.

“Is this some sort of game? You thought I was interested in you, so you shot me down in flames, and now that you realize I have no intention in joining your drama-llama lifestyle you decide you want my help?” She pushed back in her chair, ready and oh, so willing to bail.

“I came here because you’re the perfect fit for this demonstration—”

“Out of all the women at the Vault, I’m the perfect fit?”

“There’s no one else.” His nostrils flared and he stilled, taking precious moments before he said, “What happened last night has ensured nobody else will help me. Not without the public apology I refuse to give.”

“Oh.” She batted her lashes, the picture of sweet innocence. “I get it now. You need me,” she enunciated the words, letting them dance over her tongue. “Isn’t this a delicious curve ball?”

“I don’t need you, Ella. I can cancel the class. It’s no skin off my nose. But working together would benefit us both.”

“No.” She pushed back in her chair, preparing to stand. “It wouldn’t benefit me at all.”

“Are you sure about that?” His tone dropped, having a torturous effect on her belly. “You came to the Vault in search of something. And you know I can give it to you.”

“You could,” she corrected. “Back when you hadn’t grated every one of my nerves. For me, mental stimulation is ten times more effective than physical. There’s no way you could get me to cross the line now I have a clearer picture of who you are.”

“Don’t assume to know me.” He held her captive with his fierce stare. “We’ve spent little more than an hour together.”

An hour that packed the punch of a three-year obsession.

“Look…” She sighed. “Maybe if last night hadn’t happened, I’d consider it. But I didn’t exaggerate what I told you in the parking lot.”

She wasn’t interested. She couldn’t be.

He raised a brow. “Not even about the livestock?”

She snorted over his unexpected humor. “Okay, so maybe I exaggerated about the livestock. But that’s all. You’re not my type and I’m definitely not looking for complications.” She’d had enough to last a lifetime. “Enjoy your coffee. I need to get back to work.”

She pushed from her seat and stepped away, only to be stopped by a large hand clasping her wrist, the fingers delicate in their hold.

He glanced up at her. “I don’t need to be your type to get you off.”

He was right. So damn right her uterus squeezed, begging her to concede. Every part of her reacted to him in an unforgiving way. Her skin buzzed. Her heart fluttered. The nerves he’d grated to stubs were waving wildly with energetic excitement.

“Yeah, you do.” She knew her sexual limits, even if her body wasn’t predictable at the moment.

“So, your rapid pulse is from what?” He tilted his head. “And the goose bumps?” He trailed his thumb along the inside of her wrist. Teasing. Tormenting. “You may not like me. But you’re still attracted to me.”

He released his hold and stood. All male. All muscle. “What happened the night in the locker room is a drip in the ocean to what I have planned for the class.”

A drip?

She kept her chin high, even though her breasts ached. All she could do was shake her head, no longer able to voice a rejection.

“I’ve proven you wrong once before. Give me the chance to do it again.”

“While under the scrutiny of a crowd at the club? No, thanks.” She walked for the café doors, even though her libido remained begging at his feet. Her interest was temporary. A sleep-deprived delusion. There was no doubt he’d be unsuccessful a second time around.

Okay, maybe there was a little doubt.

A teeny, tiny bit.

Not enough to justify further humiliation, though.

“What if we had a test run?”

His question pulled her up short. She turned, finding him clutching the backrest of his metal chair.

“A test run?”

“I can open the Vault tonight. For the two of us. That way we can see who’s right or wrong.”

“I know my body.” At least she had, until Bryan had scorched her with his touch.

“I remember you thinking the same thing in the locker room.”

She scoffed, wishing she had a smart quip to shove in his face. Unfortunately, they both knew he was right. He’d tweaked parts of her she’d thought died years ago.

“You like to keep throwing that in my face, don’t you?”

“If it helps me get what I want.” He shrugged. “I’ll do whatever’s necessary.”

Her chest squeezed with the close proximity to defeat. “I’m not going to the club. If you want to do this, we do it my way.” The response felt like surrender. Tantalizing, erotic surrender.

“I’m listening.”

She approached, taking one cautious step after another. The ball rested in her court; all she needed to do was determine what she wanted to gain.

His discomfort.

The tiniest taste of retribution.

“You need to meet me at my apartment.” Where he’d be surrounded by her things and would no doubt feel uncomfortable in a scary, relationship-type setting. If they were going to do this, he needed to hate every single minute of it.

He didn’t flinch. “Your place, it is. Would you also like to dictate the time?”

“Seven.” The power trip was invigorating. “I’ll get a piece of paper to write down the address.”

“Don’t worry about it. I have all your details at the club.”

So, that was how he’d found her.

He released the back of the chair and straightened to his full domineering height. “I’ll see you tonight, Ella, and I’ll bring dinner.”

Dinner? Like a date?

He pulled a wallet from his back pocket and retrieved a ten-dollar bill. “For the coffee.”

“I don’t want your money.” She didn’t even want his conversation. All she was willing to gain from her time with him was orgasms.

“Thanks.” He encroached, putting her on edge. His aftershave danced around her, the slightest scent of sexuality teasing her senses. “I guess I’ll pay you back tonight.”

She wouldn’t shudder. She refused. “We’ll see.”

“Yeah.” His eyes danced, devilish, predatory, and so damn cocky. “We will.”