The café’s dining room was empty, spare a few women sharing their usual mid-afternoon coffee. The lull always hit hardest on Tuesday afternoons, which made for really crappy timing since Pamela’s mind was mimicking an attention-starved toddler.

“Drop the dishcloth and nobody gets hurt.”

Her hand paused mid-circular motion on the counter, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Kim holding the window spray as a weapon.

“What are you doing?”

“Mom and I have been patient, but your time is up. You need to stop the manic cleaning so we can have a serious conversation.”

Pamela released the cloth and wiped her hands on the ass of her black leggings. “What have I done?”

“It’s been two days.”

“Two days,” her mom parroted from the kitchen.

“Since?” She stalled, praying they weren’t going to bring up the person she’d been trying desperately to forget. It had been two days since Brute. Two days since Chinese, orgasms, and a formidably sexy body in her bed.

“Don’t play dumb.” Kim crossed her arms over her chest. “We’ve given you space to digest whatever happened, and now we want the dirty details.”

“Not today.” She reclaimed her cloth and continued with the calming circular motions. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Since when?” Kim hissed. “You always tell me everything.”

“Yeah…well, maybe it’s time I stopped oversharing.”

“Did he say something? Or do something?”

Pamela scoffed. “From now on, take that as a given. But after the other night, I’ve got bigger problems than his insults.”

“I knew it.” Her mother shoved through the swinging kitchen doors. “I never would’ve picked it from such a handsome boy, but I told Kim I had a niggling feeling about those marks on your throat.”

“Mom,” her sister warned. “We discussed this and decided it was a rash.”

Oh. Shit.

Pamela’s hand instinctively snapped to her neck, covering the thin scarf strategically placed around the fading red fingermarks.

“Or am I wrong?” Kim went from chastisement to fire and brimstone with the widening of her eyes. “Did he force himself on you?”

“No. God, no.” How did she admit to loving every second of his strong hold around her throat? How could she make them understand she’d never been more turned on than in that moment? “The marks are…”

“Damn it, Pamela. Just tell us what happened.” Her mother’s concern came with a volatile voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” She sucked in a breath and slumped with the exhale. She’d been dodging this conversation for a while. “Actually, no.” She didn’t want to admit what happened—the monumental stupidity. Problem was, she knew this drill. They weren’t going to leave her alone until she blurted the truth. “I fell for him.”

They stared.

Unmoving.

Unblinking.

“It’s idiotic, I know.” She winced through the words. “It must be something hormonal.”

“I thought you said he was a dick.” Kim lowered her voice and did a visual scan of the few remaining customers.

“He is.” Oh, God, he is.

“Then there must be a reason.”

There were many. The pathetic excuses swiftly formed a list in her mind—his touch, his voice, his body. He was gorgeous—oh, so, gorgeous—with his tough-man beard, scrutinizing eyes, and talented hands. Visually, he was perfection. And those books. He’d cleared the shelf that had served as a constant reminder of the months of cancer and misplaced hope. The realization had brought tears, happy ones.

And sad ones, too.

“I can see your brain running a mile a minute.” Kim narrowed her eyes. “He did something to win you over, didn’t he?”

“No. Not really.” Definitely nothing worthy of the plaguing heart palpitations she’d been battling. “He was the same asshole, for the most part.”

“And the other parts?” Her mom reached over the counter, tidying the sugar packets in an unconvincing act to appear unfazed. “Could there have been a deeper connection on some other level, maybe?”

Pamela rolled her eyes. “Wow. You slid off your protective suit and seamlessly pulled on a matchmaker cloak in record speed.”

“I’m not matchmaking,” her mom scoffed. “I’m only suggesting there may have been more of a connection between you than you think.”

“Come on.” Kim waved her on with a swirl of her hand. “Break it down. Tell us what happened. Start to finish.”

Her mom cleared her throat. “Apart from the juicy stuff, of course.”

“Of course.” Jesus Christ. If she ever heard the word ‘juicy’ from her mother’s lips again it would be too soon. Especially when referring to sex.

Her sister and mother had continuously supported her. They had her back even though they didn’t understand her enjoyment of adult clubs or any of the facets within them. They listened without judgment. The only thing they didn’t do was hide their confusion over it.

“He turned up at my apartment with food and wine. I think there may have even been a smile on his face.” Yes, there’d definitely been a smile. A self-assured curve of his lips. “We talked over dinner, and he was friendly. Even a little funny. Then he helped clear the table and gave me a foot massage.”

He’d shown his charm and more of that willingness to physically please. And one by one, the opposing list of negative attributes had begun to diminish under the weight of his allure.

“A foot massage? Is that a fetish thing?”

“There’s no foot fetish.” Not that she knew of. “He was being nice. He even opened up to me about a family struggle he’s having.”

Kim’s brows pinched. “Then maybe you fell in love with him because—”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. This is not love.” She snatched the dishcloth and twisted it in her hands. This thing wasn’t anywhere close to the L-word. It didn’t even nudge the edge of the greedy emotion. What she felt for Brute was something less vulnerable…but equally cloying.

“Then how hard was the fall?”

Pamela turned to scrub at a non-existent mark on the counter. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing. There hasn’t been anyone in my life since Lucas. Not other than physically.” But he’d shown her a glimmer of the man beneath the mask. He’d given her a peek at the soft, gooey center, and it kinda seemed comparable to her favorite peppermint-filled chocolate. “This could be a simple case of enjoying the attention I’ve been starved of. I just wish I could get him out of my head. I need to stop thinking about him.”

“Because he’s allergic to commitment?”

She paused, wondering if her situation would be as dire if that was the only issue. “Because I’m supposed to be his assistant for this demonstration night, and I’m not sure I can hide the way I feel. The last time I showed any sort of interest, he confronted me about it in front of the entire club. I’ve never been more humiliated, and back then, I didn’t think of him as more than an asshole. Imagine how he’d react now.”

Kim cringed.

“See?” It was a problem. A big problem.

“Tell him you can’t help with the class thingy,” her mother offered. “Call and say you’re busy.”

“If I call him, he’ll expect an explanation.” And if they spoke, she’d cave under the dominance in his voice.

“Then don’t call.” Kim shrugged. “Send a message saying something came up and you can’t make it. Don’t elaborate. Give him the bare minimum details and leave it at that. You don’t owe him anything.”

No. She supposed she didn’t. Aside from a one-sided orgasm tally, there was no commitment or binding agreement.

“Where’s your phone?” Kim glanced beneath the counter, pushing aside her mother’s handbag.

“Under the register.”

Her sister scooted farther along, retrieved the device, and handed it over. “Send it now.”

Pamela sucked in a slow breath and eyed her mother, who nodded in solemn agreement. “Do you really think this is the best way to go about it?” Guilt took over her stomach, making it roil and rumble. Or maybe that was the fear of missing out on another life-changing orgasm.

“Do you have his number?” Kim asked.

“Yeah.” She’d saved his details under Brute. Not Bryan. She’d even quit using his name in the hope the reminder of his attitude would kick her out of her stupidity.

The plan had turned out to be highly ineffective.

“Go on.” Kim spurred her on with the jut of her chin. “Do it.”

Pamela lowered her gaze to the cell in her hand and typed without thought. If she paused, even for a second, she wouldn’t go through with it.

Something came up. I can’t be at the Vault next Thursday. I’m sorry.

She clicked send and swallowed over the squeeze in her chest. Bye, bye, beautiful orgasms. “There.” She handed the device to Kim. “Done.”

It didn’t feel done. Her heart beat in a fractured tempo. Her chest grew heavy. She hadn’t liked a man in years. She hadn’t felt anything apart from pure frustration toward the opposite sex since Lucas died. Which made shoving Brute away seem comparable to punching herself in the vag.

“I’ll silence the ringer.” Kim pressed buttons on the screen, then returned it to its place under the counter. “If he calls, ignore it. If he messages, delete it. You don’t need another emotionless ass in your life.”

Ouch. The insult hit her in the chest. “Lucas wasn’t an ass.”

“No, sweetie.” Her mom gave a sad smile. “But he didn’t love you either. You deserve something better this time.”

Yeah, she knew she did. Her problem was her inability to attract anything other than two distinct categories of men—those who could work her body into a frenzy and leave her heart stone-cold or those who warmed her heart and lacked any understanding of her sexuality.

“Come on.” Kim inclined her head in the direction of the dining room. “Help me clear these tables to get your mind off him. And while we’re at it, I can tell you about those online dating sites I’ve been researching.”

She established a routine for the remaining two hours of her shift—do five minutes’ work, check her phone, ponder why Brute hadn’t responded, then do another five minutes’ work. The cycle was vicious. Then again, maybe his lack of response was a relief.

“See? There was nothing to worry about.” Kim flicked off the kitchen lights and headed for the front door. “He probably doesn’t care at all.”

Her mother had said the same thing before she’d finished for the day.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Brute didn’t seem like a man who wouldn’t care about a cancellation. Or more specifically, a rejection. He seemed the type to demand explanations and berate unworthy responses. “At least I’ll sleep better tonight.”

“Do you want to come over and watch a movie? We can get pizza.”

“No, I’m good.” Pamela pulled the café keys from her handbag as her sister opened the front door. “I think a bath and an early night is what I need.”

She stepped onto the sidewalk, dragging the door shut behind her. With a jab of the key and the flick of her wrist, the lock was secure and she could finally go home.

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies.”

She turned at the unfamiliar male voice and found a dose of cuteness staring back at her. “Muffin Man.”

Kim snorted at her side.

“Muffin Man?” His hope-filled expression fell.

“Sorry.” She slapped a hand over her mouth and tried to ignore the heat setting her cheeks to flame. “I… Um…”

“You’re a regular.” Kim chuckled. “But we didn’t know your name. So, Pamela dubbed you Muffin Man.”

“I did not.” It had been Kim. All Kim.

The guy glanced between them, a smile gently spreading his lips. “It’s Callum.” Humor tinged his voice, friendly and sweet.

Too friendly and sweet. If only he had a fierce streak, then her uterus would be doing tumbles.

“Nice to meet you, Callum.” Kim backtracked, removing herself from the equation with stealthy finesse. “But I’m going to have to run.” She finger-waved. “I have an appointment with my personal trainer. I’ll talk to you later, sis.”

Pamela glared at her lying sister’s back until she lost sight of her in the busy foot traffic. When she turned to Callum, he was staring at her, his brown eyes filled with nervousness.

“Well, it’s great to formally meet you, Callum. Was there something I could help you with?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. Nibbled his bottom lip. The apprehension may have been endearing to someone else, but she’d always admired confident men.

“Yeah, I’ve been hanging around, waiting for you to finish for the day. I thought, maybe, I could buy you a drink or two.”

“Oh.” Her brain seized. “Um…” She hadn’t been expecting an invitation. Especially not from a man who seemed puppy-like in his timid nature. “I…”

“I know it’s out of the blue.” He gave an embarrassed chuckle. “It’s taken a while to work up the guts to speak to you.”

Again, she should’ve been charmed. Even a little flattered. He seemed like a nice guy.

Evidently, her libido didn’t do nice.

“Tonight?” She glanced along the pavement, caught between voicing a gentle dismissal to appease her disinterest, and an unwanted acceptance which would finally see her sampling a different sort of male.

Who knew? Maybe this timid guy had the occasional anal orgasm in his repertoire.

“I, umm…” She focused on the people passing by—the businessmen, the couples, the kids. Now was as good a time as any to try something new, right?

She opened her mouth, poised to accept, when her gaze snagged on the man leaning against his car a few yards down the street. As if pulled from her fantasies, Brute stood there, arms crossed over his chest, his stance casual as he pinned her heart like a preserved butterfly.

“I’m sorry, Callum.” She turned back to meet soft brown eyes. “I can’t tonight.”

He shrugged, his smile now painted on. “That’s okay. I know it’s late notice. Maybe another night?”

“Sure.” Who knew what the future held? One day soon she seriously had to quit the infatuation with emotionless men and fall for someone like Callum.

Someone sickeningly sweet and drama-free.

Just not today. Not when a man entirely opposite stood close by, invigorating her bloodstream with his annoyance.

“Have a good night.” Callum inclined his head in farewell, waved, then turned in those big workman boots.

“You, too.” She plastered herself against the glass doors, refusing to look at the man who approached. The closer Brute came, the harder it became to breathe. Her skin prickled. Her throat tightened.

“Is he the reason you’re leaving me high and dry?” he growled in greeting.

Her heart beat harder, the mix of attraction and his anger sizzling all her nerves. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I deserved an explanation.”

“You could’ve called.”

“I thought the same about you. After the orgasms I’ve dished out, you’d think the last thing I deserved was a few vague words via text.”

Oh, boy.

Mentally, she had her hands on his shoulders, pulling him in for a harsh kiss that would end with her knee in his junk. Physically, though, she had her teeth clenched and a scowl firmly in place.

Nothing about this moment could end well. Especially when she couldn’t voice the real reason for her cancellation, and she didn’t have a fake excuse on stand-by.

“So, I’ll ask again.” He beamed down at her. “Is that guy the reason you’re leaving me high and dry?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No.”

“You dating him?”

“Is that any of your business?”

“If you keep coming to me complaining you can’t get fucked properly, then, yeah. It sure is, ’cause that guy is never going to do you right.”

“Keep coming to you?” God, this man made her blood boil and her pussy contract, all at the same time. “You want an explanation for why I canceled? Maybe check your attitude.”

“Bullshit. You’ve always known my attitude. If it’s not that guy, my next guess is your husband.”

Her mouth gaped at the insertion of Lucas into the conversation.

Seconds ago, Callum made her flat-line with disinterest. In a heartbeat, this callous man had given her a major case of arrhythmia.

“The other night,” he continued, “you said you hadn’t had anyone over since he’d died. So, if it’s not the pretty boy, I’m guessing it’s a guilt thing.”

“This is not a guilt thing,” she grated.

“Then what?”

She sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and fought against the warring emotions bubbling in her chest. She hated this sparring match. Loved it, too. She wanted to claw his eyes out. Wanted to fuck his brains out. This situation was a whirlwind of confusion.

“I already told you I need to give up the Vault. Going back for one last time is a stupid idea.”

“Instead, you expect this new guy to rock your world?” He ran a rough hand over his beard, his scowl unwavering. “You’re making the wrong decisions.”

“And you’re an expert on love now?”

He screwed up his perfectly perfect face. “I’m not talking about love. This is about fucking. You can’t seriously believe that guy would have the first clue about getting you off.”

“They say it’s the quiet ones you need to look out for.”

“They’re wrong.” He stepped forward, getting in her face, a mere breath away. “The quiet ones bring shock value because they’re boring as hell. What you need is someone who lives and breathes to fuck. A guy who can match your appetite. Someone who can push you. Test you. You don’t need a guy who doesn’t have the balls to tell you he’d like to see your sweet little cunt riding his dick all night.”

She shivered. Head to foot. He stole her breath. Infused her with adrenaline. Oh, God, her panties were damp.

“Go home, Ella.” He stepped away and made for his car, leaving her reeling with the abrupt end to the conversation. “Get dressed and meet me out in front of your building at nine.”

“Excuse me?” Her hands shook. Her brain stopped firing on all cylinders. There were many things to hate about his statement—the authority, the self-righteousness. Yet, her libido only focused on the sexy dominance. “Why?”

“I’m taking you out. It’s about time somebody taught you how to find the right hook-up.”

A whimper formed low in her chest. Reject, reject, reject. She couldn’t go ahead with this. She refused. “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”

“Your history at the Vault proves otherwise.” He pulled open the driver’s door and looked at her over the roof of his shiny car. “Nine, Ella. Be ready.”

Then he was gone, leaving her to become overwhelmed by excitement and pure, undiluted fear.