DOES SHE DARE?

Tawny Weber

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

To my incredible critique partners Beth and

Sheila—thanks for holding my hand.

To Karin and Poppy for the challenge,

to Trish for “ishing,” and Kimmi for advising

the best use of a pool table—I couldn’t have

done it without any of you!

In loving memory of two beautiful souls who

believed so much in my ability to do anything I set

my mind to:

My Grampa, who really could do anything.

And Carol, an inspiration of strength and love.

I miss you both so much.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Prologue

Ten Years Before

“WE DARE YOU TO KISS the baddest boy at Western High,” Suzi said, wicked glee coating her words.

Isabel Santos dug her heels into the grass to keep herself from running away. Kiss some strange boy, and a bad one at that? Were they crazy? What the hell had she been thinking?

“You want to play with the big girls,” Suzi continued, “you’ve got to prove you’ve got what it takes.”

“That’s the rule,” Isabel’s best friend, Audra, explained in a soft, slightly apologetic tone. “If you hang with the Wicked Chicks, you have to prove you can handle it by taking a dare.”

Isabel shot her a look that said duh. But inside she was shaking. It wasn’t so much that she wanted to be a Wicked Chick. It was more that Audra was in the club. And Isabel felt left out. Thanks to uptight, overprotective parents, Isabel now attended an all-girls private school and hardly ever saw her friend anymore. Lately, all Audra talked about was the Chicks and what they’d done, or who they’d done. Wild times, apparently. Not that Isabel was the wild type; she really was more content daydreaming than partying and chasing boys. But she wanted to belong. So she’d lied to her parents—told them she was spending the night at a friend’s since they didn’t approve of Audra anymore—and snuck out.

“I can handle a dare,” she vowed with a lift of her chin. She tried to push out her chest, too, but that was just depressing. The Chicks were all busty, definitely way ahead of her in the development department, as proven by the boobs overflowing their low-cut tops. When she made it into the club, she’d have to get a new bra.

She looked around the party. The moonlit backyard was filled with bodies gyrating to the bubblegum beat of pop music blasting from someone’s boom box.

Her eyes stuck on the guy in chains and leather with greasy hair and a mean look. He looked bad, all right, as in smelly bad. Could she do this? She swallowed and pulled back her shoulders. Yes, she could. She was sixteen, not six. She’d planned it all out. If she wanted to hang out with her best friend more often, she’d have to be a part of the club. She pressed a hand against her churning stomach. Even if it meant kissing smelly guys.

“Who’s the baddest boy?” she asked.

“Dante Luciano,” Audra, Suzi and the third Chick, Bea, declared in chorus.

Her churning stomach almost jumped out of her throat. Oh no. She shook her head. Not Dante Luciano. They even talked about him at her school. Usually in whispers, of course.

She’d heard he was hell on wheels. He’d done more girls and drank more booze than a rock star. Everything from vandalism to public brawls. If he was even half as bad as his reputation, she was better off with the stinky guy.

“He’s the dare,” Bea insisted. Her red pigtails waved in concert with her adamant nod. The pigtails went with the naughty-schoolgirl outfit, Isabel supposed. “Being wicked isn’t just being wild, it’s being brave. Attitude is everything, you know.”

“I don’t even know what he looks like,” she answered in a faint voice. Like it mattered. She’d made a plan, she was sticking with it. She could hold her breath for the thirty seconds it would take to kiss and run.

Audra pointed across the lawn to a group of guys doing keg stands. “The one in jeans and black T-shirt.”

Her heart did jumping jacks. She’d never seen anything—anyone—so beautiful.

“Wow,” she gasped.

Suzi and Bea laughed.

Tall and leanly muscled, he had a body like one of the Greek gods she’d studied. His black hair curled over his forehead, falling in loose waves to his shoulders. She’d only known boys. Dante was very obviously a man. Her eyes traced the wide set of his tanned biceps—rumor had it from working construction after school for his father. What would it feel like to touch him? To feel that smooth skin under her fingers? Her breath caught at the image.

She’d never understood the fuss over sex. Sure, guys were cute, some really cute. But to want to rub her hands all over one? To want to press her lips to his shoulder just to taste his skin? Until this moment, she’d had no clue. But now? She wanted to do some fussing herself.

She had no clue what she’d say to him. How did they think she could kiss him? What was she supposed to do? Isabel’s vision wavered as fear nipped at the edges of her awareness. Did she introduce herself and ask for a kiss? Just walk up and plant one on him? Did he have to kiss her back? Questions raced at a frantic pace through her head.

She shot Audra a panicked look, but her friend just shrugged. A look of worry, combined with doubt, lurked in the other girl’s heavily lined eyes.

“You don’t have to take the dare,” Audra murmured.

If she wanted to be in their club, she did. She eyed Dante again, odd sensations zinging around in a wild, tempting dance in her belly. She really did want to kiss him. Suddenly, the dare was simply an excuse.

With a quick squeeze of Audra’s hand, she made her way across the lawn. Moonlight flicked in and out of the trees, adding to the surreal feeling inside her.

She had no idea what to do. Her brain was on autopilot. Even the questions and panic were gone now; all she knew was she had to kiss Dante Luciano. She started to move forward, but another guy stepped between them.

“Dude, you’re out of booze.”

Dante slipped his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Moonlight sparked off the small metal key. “Here, hit my dad’s liquor cabinet. He’s got plenty.”

With a start, Isabel realized this was Dante’s house. Her breath hitched. He really was bad.

“Real nice of your dad to share.” His buddy grinned.

“Right. Like he shared his truck,” Dante said with a smirk. “You gotta help me get it out of that ditch tomorrow.”

Even his voice was sexy. Low, husky and filled with what she imagined sin sounded like. Dante Luciano had the worst reputation in the county. Even Audra, who was a known hell-raiser herself, was in awe of how much trouble he stirred up.

“Looks like someone’s waiting for you,” the guy said, his laugh a little mean this time. It took Isabel a few seconds to realize he meant her. At their stares, her cheeks flamed and she would have turned away except the look on Dante’s face had her rooted in place. She barely noticed his friend snicker and stalk off.

“Hey there,” Dante said with a slow grin. The world ground to a slow halt around her.

“Hi,” Isabel squeaked after a few gulps. Her heart raced so fast, she worried it was going to fly out of her chest. When he beckoned her closer, she tamped down a hysterical giggle and stepped forward until she was near enough, for the first time, to stare into his eyes. They were vivid green, like the emeralds in her mother’s anniversary band.

Maybe his gaze was cloudy with an alcohol haze and he was swaying more than the trees, but Isabel didn’t care. If only she could think of something to say.

He reached out and flicked one of her curls, then let his finger trace over her shoulder. Isabel’s nipples hardened. Something intense, damp and sticky, tightened deep in her belly. She didn’t know what was going on inside her body, but it felt good. In a scary, confusing kind of way. What should she do? Should she touch him? Should she say something? Her mind, already fogged with nerves, shut down at his touch.

Which was fine with her body. It had plenty going on.

“As the host of this little get-together,” he said, his hand now tangled in her hair, “it’s my duty to welcome you to the party. My momma insists I be polite, you know.”

His idea of welcome was friendlier than a handshake, Isabel realized, when, with his hand still in her hair, he pulled her against his body.

Her gasp was lost in his mouth. Her hands curled into the smooth delight of his chest as he took advantage of her shock to slip his tongue between her lips. Terrified pleasure filled her. Romantic notions of love-at-first-kiss filled her head, tangled with the incomplete images of dark, forbidden touches.

She’d been kissed before, but never like this. Dante’s mouth was pure magic. Soft and sweet, his tongue danced along hers. Something wild, something intense coiled low in her belly. Isabel shifted, trying to find relief, trying to figure out what to do about the power of the feeling.

When his hand cupped her breast, she gasped. Not able to help herself, she pulled back.

He laughed. “You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?”

“That’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked, her tone as soft as the night air. She’d screwed up. Ruined it. Tears filled her eyes as emotions she didn’t understand gripped her.

He flashed a half-smile, then brushed his finger over the strap of her tank top. “It’s not bad. I’ll bet you taste as sweet as you look…everywhere. Like a ripe, fresh-picked peach.”

The image of his mouth on her—licking, tasting—stopped Isabel’s breath. Like the scariest ride at the amusement park, she wanted to try it. But at the same time she was terrified. Torn between desire and fear, she stared up at him.

“Dante?”

They both glanced at the redhead standing to the side. Her heavily made-up eyes slid over Isabel in instant dismissal.

“Dance?” she said to Dante, her hand tracing down her throat, over her plump breast, then to her hip.

“Sweet,” Dante repeated, giving Isabel a look so hot, she swore she felt her heart melt. He leaned forward again to brush a soft kiss over her cheek. “But I don’t do good girls.”

A minute later, Isabel blinked back the tears as Dante swayed to “As Long As You Love Me,” with the redhead wrapped around him like plastic wrap. From the looks of her, that girl would definitely know how to handle Dante. When the girl’s hand slid down the back of his jeans, Isabel clenched her jaw and turned away. She couldn’t watch.

She scanned the couples curled up on loungers or lying together on the lawn. She wanted to—had to—get out of there, but she didn’t see Audra. She hurried inside. As she reached the door, a kid ran through, almost knocking her on her butt.

“Parents! Cops!” he yelled. “Run.”

Panic seized her. Couples shot apart and flew left and right. Cops? Oh, shit.

A half hour later, she sat in the Luciano’s living room, listening to the policeman lecture her and the dozen other kids who hadn’t escaped into the woods. This was definitely bad.

Her parents were going to kill her. And worse, be disappointed. She’d never let them down, never given them a single reason to lecture her. Panic flitted, inky black, at the edges of her awareness. The only thing keeping Isabel from sobbing was the fear that if she did, she’d throw up.

Dammit, what had she gotten herself into? She didn’t belong here. Her response to Dante proved that. She was just a kid, definitely not ready for the big leagues. Suzi leaned over and nudged her. Apparently, Audra had managed to escape, just like Dante and most of the others.

“Hey, I’d say you made it. Busted like a Wicked Chick, huh?” From the grin on Suzi’s face, she wasn’t afraid. Unlike Isabel, who was sure this was her last night on earth.

With a weak smile, Isabel slid down the worn fabric of the couch. Maybe she should have planned this better. Blinking back tears she realized she didn’t want to be wicked. The only thing she wanted now was Dante Luciano.

1

“I NEED A REAL MAN,” Isabel Santos decided. She shot a bleary look across the table at her best friend, then squinted to take in the rest of the cozy Italian restaurant. Although she and Audra were still seated, there were a few couples on the dance floor, swaying to the soft rock music.

At half past eleven in the evening, the only men left were a pair of waiters who were obviously into each other, a teenaged busboy and the cook. Considering the pasta had been overdone, Isabel crossed him off her potential list.

“I have to admit, a man would have been a more imaginative birthday gift than the nightie I gave you,” her friend mused, snagging Isabel’s attention back from her useless hunk-search. “But I wasn’t sure what size you were in the market for.”

Isabel snickered.

“It’s not the size that matters, it’s the quality,” she insisted, careful to enunciate her words through the fog of wine curling through her head. She really should have quit at one glass, but she’d been so bummed over being dumped, turning another year older and discovering she was as desirable as a dried-up prune, she’d ordered a second. Then a third. “I need a real man. A hot, sexy man. The kind that makes a girl squirm, but doesn’t require conversation and pampering. You know, a stud.”

Audra Walker-Martinez, Isabel’s oldest friend, was probably the only person in the world who she’d feel comfortable saying that to. Then again, Audra was an expert on hot, sexy men.

“I’m all for you taking on a hot guy, especially now that you’ve dumped that pansy boy you were dating. But maybe we should wait until you’re—”

“I didn’t dump Lance. He dumped me.” Isabel sneered, her voice rising as she warmed to the subject. “He was lousy in bed. But no matter how many times I tell myself it’s no loss, I still feel like I got ripped off. I’m twenty-six, Audra. The years I should have spent exploring my sexuality, living out my wild fantasies, they’ve passed me by. I can’t afford to wait any longer.”

Cringing, her face going flame-red at the cook’s disapproving stare and the grins of the waiters, Isabel stopped her rant to suck in a deep breath.

Audra lifted one brow and pursed her lips. “I had been about to suggest we wait till you were sober to make a man plan, but hey, we can start now.”

Man plan? Isabel giggled at the absurd idea, then her laughter fell away. Well why not? Before taking on any new venture, the first thing she did was sit down and make a plan. Business plans, life plans, weight-loss plans. Damned if most of them hadn’t all worked. So why wouldn’t a man plan?

“I want the ultimate fantasy plan,” she mused as she hauled her suede hobo bag up to the table and started digging through it. “Something with a limited time frame, you know? I mean, I have such a tight schedule trying to get the new store up and running, I can’t have a bunch of distractions right now.”

Isabel found her ever-present notepad, flipped to a clean page, and chose a pen—red for passion, of course.

“Okay, first step is to define the goal. Sex is a little too broad, don’t ya think?” Isabel tapped the pen against her bottom lip. “Hot sex is better, but still not right. What d’ya think? Fling? Affair? Boy toy? Bootie call?”

She glanced up to see Audra grimace. “What?”

“Nothing,” Audra denied. At Isabel’s pointed look, she shrugged. “It’s just…well, this isn’t you. I mean, the plan part, that’s all you. Goal setting, control, you’ve got a firm handle on those. But to make a plan specifically targeted at snagging you some emotionless, string-free, temporary sex? That’s the wine talking.”

“Nope.” Isabel shook her head so hard, her curls flew. “I had a fling once. I can totally do it again.”

“That fling was a failure, remember? The liar was married and didn’t tell you. You were a mess for months afterward.”

Isabel wrinkled her nose and tried to shrug like it hadn’t mattered. She had been a mess. Not heartbroken, although she’d felt like she should be. But angry and betrayed. The worst of the anger had been aimed at herself, though. She’d given into the romance of being swept off her feet by a sexy guy. She’d been so enamored with all her romantic notions, she’d ignored the warning signs. Separated. And she’d found out from his wife, who thought they were trying to work things out.

The worst part? The jerk had never seen anything wrong with lying to her. To him, as long as he and his wife had different addresses, he was free to do whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter that Isabel’s idea of free was completely different.

But that had been two years ago, before she’d discovered the power of control. A weekend goal seminar had taught her all about it. Since control was already one of Isabel’s favorite things, the seminar had been like finding heaven. All the tools she needed to shift from being a woman who doodled plans and wishes with minimal success to a take-charge business entrepreneur with a solid business plan and a firm handle on her life’s direction.

So why not apply the same principles in order to get a rocking sex life?

All she had to do was make this man plan and stick to it. As long as she did that, life couldn’t fall apart on her again. Now that she thought about it, that must’ve been the problem with her relationships in the past, especially with Lance. No plan, no goal. She’d just floated along, letting the guy set the tone for the relationship. Oh, sure, she’d hoped he’d be the one. But hoping wasn’t planning. It just went to show, the one area of her life she’d left to fate was her love life, and fate kicked her in the ass.

Nope. Outlining her exact wants and needs, then setting specific goals worked pretty well for everything else. She just had to apply it here, to her love life. Or, she corrected with a naughty little smile, what she’d soon make her love life.

“I want hot sex,” she insisted, now that she’d made up her mind. The busboy, clearing glasses from a neighboring table, shot them a startled look. Audra gave him a wink. He blushed and scurried away before Isabel could order another glass of wine.

Isabel rolled her eyes. Audra winked and made guys run—to and away from her. Isabel still hadn’t quite figured out how to get a guy’s undivided attention…or what she’d do with it once she had it.

As usual, watching Audra made her painfully aware of their differences. Audra could pull off that flirty, spontaneous thing. Isabel worried so much about looking stupid, about failing, that she avoided spontaneity whenever possible.

Not that she had self-esteem issues, really. She knew she was pretty, if in a cutesy way with her shoulder-length, dark curls. Audra, on the other hand, wore her hair short and spiky, the midnight-black tipped in magenta.

Their outer personalities were just as different. Audra being all edgy and wild, where Isabel was known as a good girl.

Inside they were more alike that most people would believe. Not only in their insecurities, but in their drive to have more for themselves than they’d had as kids living next door to each other. Audra’d created a career for herself as a lingerie designer, and Isabel who had started her florist career in her parents’ shop was on the brink of kicking off the next phase of her career plan with an innovative new florist shop. Finally, something completely on her own, a venture that would prove to she was a success.

And now she’d apply that planning savvy to the dismal emptiness that was her love life. Between excitement and the wine, it was all Isabel could do not to clap her hands together in excitement. This man plan was going to rock.

“C’mon, quit scaring little boys,” she insisted. “Help me here. Consider it my birthday gift.”

“I gave you a silk nightgown,” Audra reminded her, even as she slid the notebook and pen out of Isabel’s hands.

“Yeah, but the rest of the gift can be a guy to wear the nightgown for. Your designs deserve an audience, right? Help me get one.”

A small, sober voice in Isabel’s head pointed out that she sounded desperate and needy. It wasn’t like she was a troll with no prospects. But she knew she was the kind of gal who drew in nice guys. The ones who paid more attention to their stock portfolio and cholesterol levels than they did to mind-blowing physical satisfaction.

Take Lance, for instance. Oh, he was fine on the surface. Good-looking, smart and ambitious. But sex with him was like eating Chinese food. She’d been fulfilled in the moment, but a half hour later she’d felt unsatisfied and puzzled as to why.

“Okay, consider this my gift to you, part two,” Audra agreed. She sketched a few words on the page. “Let’s start with the basics. You want hot sex. What turns you on? What’re your fantasies?”

“Rules first. Before I get to the sex, I need the guidelines firmly established,” Isabel insisted.

Never one for rules, Audra just rolled her eyes. But she wrote the numbers one through three on the page anyhow.

“Only three?”

“Too many rules just get in the way. This is it, all you get.” She tapped the pen on the page, then raised a brow, as if to ask well?

“Okay, number one—I’m in control. I want to call the shots in this relationship instead of being the one following along like an enthusiastic puppy.”

Audra nodded and wrote that down.

“Number two—once you’re committed to the plan, you can’t second-guess yourself,” Audra declared. “It’s all or nothing. I know you, if you start second-guessing, you’ll back out before you even get started.”

“Fine,” Isabel agreed with a huff. She thought, then poked at the paper. “Number three—no silly ideas about falling in love. It’s just sex. Wild, insanely passionate sex.”

“That’s a given,” Audra argued. “Why waste a rule on that?”

“Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything,” Isabel said, only half-lying, “but I think with the right guy, if the sex is so excellent and wonderful, it’d be easy to fool yourself into believing it’s all romantic. Like love-at-first-kiss.”

Audra rolled her eyes, but wrote it down anyway. “Okay, let’s get to the fantasies.”

“I said I wanted a hot, sexy man,” Isabel reminded her meticulously.

“A hot sexy man isn’t gonna do you any good if he’s not pushing the right buttons. Any dork can be the hottest sex you’ve ever had if he’s tapping into your fantasy.”

Isabel considered, then dismissed that theory. She wanted a hot sexy man, not a talented dork. The fantasy angle had potential though.

“How do I make a fantasy list?”

“Think of the hottest guy you’ve ever seen. Real life, movie, whatever. What guy out there, just by thinking about him, gets you hot?”

She didn’t even have to consider it. All she had to do was close her eyes and a face flashed into her mind. Unruly dark hair, vivid green eyes and a body to die for. The hottest, sexiest, guy she’d ever met.

“From the grin on your face, you’ve got someone in mind?”

“Oh, yeah. Remember Dante Luciano?”

“Nice,” Audra said, her tone both appreciative and amused. “Dante was trouble, through and through. He was so bad, he made me look like a goody-goody.”

Which was saying a lot, since back then Audra had one of the wildest reps to ever hit the local high school.

“His father’s my contractor, you know?” Isabel said.

When her parents had retired earlier that year, they’d sold the family florist shop and adjoining apartment. Then they’d given her the money to fund her new location. A darling Victorian located on the main street of Santa Vera. The small, tourist haven in Northern California was a few miles from her hometown of Auburn. Close enough to keep some of the existing customer base, far enough away to feel like she was finally striking out on her own.

“Didn’t you have to talk to him or something at a party back when we were kids?” Audra frowned, obviously trying to remember.

Isabel just shrugged. She’d never discussed that that night with Audra. At first, because she’d been grounded for three months and hadn’t been allowed to go out of the house or to make any phone calls. Later, because she hadn’t wanted to hear how bad or how far out of her reach Dante was.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t hook up with Dante, then,” Audra said with a laugh. “He and his dad had major issues. I remember a few times he ended up staying at our place after his old man kicked him out.”

Twirling one long black curl around her finger, Isabel frowned. She’d never been jealous of Audra’s reputation or lifestyle before. But she’d always been curious.

“Did you and Dante ever, you know…”

Audra gave her trademark wicked grin and winked. When Isabel frowned, she laughed and shook her head. “Nah, we never did more than flirt. Dante was a couple years ahead of us, remember. He was tight with my brother, Drew. By the time I was up to his standards, he’d left town.”

Before Isabel could do more than wonder at the relief surging through her, Audra tapped the notepad with the pen. “Okay, keep your fantasy guy in mind and let your imagination soar. Let’s come up a few hot fantasies for him to fulfill.”

Isabel eyed her friend, then the notepad. She turned around and called out to the waiter, “Another glass of wine, please.”

WHO KNEW BEING A YEAR OLDER would hurt this bad? Isabel pressed the heel of her hands to her forehead to try to keep the pounding from making her eyeballs explode.

She wasn’t sure what was worse, the hangover or the sense of impending doom tapping on her shoulder. All these big plans, everything she wanted, was right here, spread out across her desk.

Could she make it happen?

A glance at the color-coded and bulleted spreadsheet told her she was a week behind on the shop renovations. Another week and she stood to lose her contract with the town council for their spring festival. Since she needed that contract to launch her business with enough success to avoid becoming a first-year statistic, she couldn’t afford the loss.

Everything she had was invested in this new floral shop. Years of planning, of dreaming and hoping. And she was going to lose it all because her contractor broke his foot? Panic rumbled sickeningly in her stomach. She couldn’t fail. Her parents’ retirement depended on her success. Their pampered and protected only child—they expected her to excel. They’d sold their store and loaned her the money to open this new floral and gift shop. Sure, they said they wanted to move to the little town in Oregon and retire next to her aunts, but she knew it was because they couldn’t both lend her the money and afford to retire in California.

She couldn’t let them down. She just couldn’t.

Pushing the spreadsheet aside, Isabel grabbed her notebook to outline a possible plan of attack to get the renovations finished on time. Flipping pages, her eyes went wide. She flipped back.

The Man Plan.

Holy shit. She pressed her index finger to the vein throbbing in her right temple. Had she and Audra actually made a plan to catch a guy? A hot sexy guy? Glancing over the pages, a reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. They’d actually created something excellent here.

She ran her finger down the page.

Rules:

1 Take control.

2 No second-guessing or backing out.

3 No falling in love.

Steps:

Find the perfect guy—check credentials.

Feel him out—or up. Make sure the spark is there.

Take the list in order; build up the tension.

Set a time limit. Two weeks is ideal affair length.

Cut him loose. Remember rule three.

Fantasies:

Hot, sexy kiss—make me melt.

Slow, sexy dance. Get a feel for the moves.

Hot, wild and a little rough up against the wall.

Intense passion in a semi-public place.

Pure romance-novel sex. Complete with a ride on a white horse along the beach.

A smorgasbord of sexual pleasure, complete with whipped cream, strawberries and lots of decadent chocolate.

Water play, shower, bath, hot tub. Something with pulsating heat.

Tied up and crazy—for extra spice, add a dollop of chocolate.

Isabel snickered. Right. Like she had time for something like this. Maybe after she’d opened the shop. Or later, once Sweet Scentsations had wowed the town and made its niche. There wasn’t any deadline on the Man Plan.

Regardless, she couldn’t worry about it now. She simply had too much to do. Tearing the pages from her notebook, she tossed them on the corner of her desk with a smirk.

Her priority right now was the renovations. With the click of her mouse, she pulled up the phone number and dialed the home of her balance-challenged contractor.

“Mrs. Luciano? Hi, it’s Isabel Santos. I’m calling to see how Mr. Luciano is doing and if my job might be back on schedule soon?”

The sweet older lady launched into a description of the extent of the fracture, the extent of Mr. Luciano’s displeasure with his confinement, and their worries about losing business.

With a wince, Isabel crossed “get out of contract and hire a new contractor” off her tentative plans.

“Do you have any idea of a timeframe?” she asked, wishing she were the hard-as-nails type who’d insist they meet the original deadlines.

“I found someone to step in,” Mrs. Luciano assured her. “He’s a wonderful carpenter. Actually one of Frank’s best, although lord knows the man won’t admit it.”

Isabel listened with half an ear while she clicked her mouse, synced her revised to-do list with her task list and updated her renovation plan.

“He said he’d go directly there,” Mrs. Luciano continued, “He wanted to look over the job first. Afterwards I’ll get him the paperwork.”

“I have a copy of the work schedule and renovation outline here,” Isabel told her. “Why don’t I just print it out for him? That’ll save a few steps.”

“Wonderful idea. That’ll keep Frank from knowing—I mean, from having to wake up and do it himself. The more rest he gets, the better, you know.”

Isabel frowned. Had she missed something?

“Mr. Luciano is okay with this substitution, isn’t he?”

“This is fine. Perfect, even. Don’t you worry. Luciano Construction promises the best, and more important, the best on time. Your renovations will be fabulous and I’m sure we’ll be back on track, time-wise, quite soon.”

Magic words to Isabel’s ears. With a relieved smile, she said her goodbyes and, with the click of the mouse, sent the schedule and outline to her printer.

Two seconds later she cursed. The printer made another loud cracking screech. Paper jam. Again. She tugged the stuck, then ripped paper out of the machine, tossing the bits in the trash. Hit print. Nothing but another grind. She sighed and bent down to find the jam.

A minute later, Isabel jumped back in shock as the machine started spewing pages before she could get the paper-guide back in place. Grabbing the printed sheets before they hit the floor, she tossed them on the corner of the desk, fit the guide in place, then shoved the stack from her desk under the still-printing pages.

Spying the first page of her Man Plan on the floor, she grabbed the sheet of paper. Before she could find the second page, a loud roaring outside ricocheted in painful volume through the room. Thunder? Isabel pressed a hand to her aching head as the sound throbbed all the way through her body. She moved to the window just in time to see a huge Harley pull up to the curb. With a flick of his wrist, the rider killed the ignition. Silence followed, and she wasn’t sure how she knew, but Isabel was sure that in the few seconds he sat there, the guy had taken in every aspect of the house and property.

Wow. Hot, sexy and delivered right to her doorstep? Isabel grinned. Almost like a fantasy? Or better yet, a birthday joke from her best friend. Would Audra send a hot dude to say hi? She snickered. She wouldn’t put it past her. After all, Isabel had made a Man Plan. Audra was bound to tease her about it. Too amused not to go check things out, she moved away from the window.

Anxious to see what kind of guy her birthday wish had conjured up, Isabel opened the front door and stepped out into the cool morning air on her wide, wraparound porch.

Even hidden by his helmet and black leather jacket, he was clearly a man used to making grown women drool. Amusement replaced by sudden lust, Isabel swallowed, glad her mouth was too dry to humiliate her.

Eyeing him as he swung his leg over the bike to stand tall on the sidewalk, she descended the front steps.

Lust was fleeting, she assured herself. Man Plan or not, it had all been a joke. A crazy idea spurred on by too much wine. She’d get over it. Even as she recalled the sexual fantasies she’d concocted, she realized this guy wasn’t for her. He was too much. Too sexy, too tough, too damned big. Too everything. Images of just how big he might be flashed through her mind. Isabel’s breath shuddered out and she waved a hand over her face to stir some cooling air.

The guy unzipped his jacket, the sound loud in the quiet afternoon street. Isabel watched, mesmerized, as he slid well-muscled arms from the sleek leather.

After tossing the jacket across the seat, he took off his helmet. Isabel’s breath whooshed out at the sight.

Black hair curled in damp waves to his collar, surrounding a face meant for sin. A slash of cheekbones and strong chin were the perfect frame for intense green eyes.

She eyed his mouth, the half-assed smirk assuring her he was trouble waiting for an invitation.

An invitation she was tempted to issue. Her list of sexual fantasies played out in Technicolor in her imagination. Each and every one starring the hottest guy she’d ever lusted after.

Dante Luciano, bad boy extraordinaire.

Isabel’s heart stopped. Impossible, yet there he was. There was no way Audra could have pulled this off as a joke. At least, not this quickly.

She took a visual inventory. Long, hard and sexy. Drool-worthy, as a matter of fact. A pierced ear, tribal tattoo on his bicep, and a black T-shirt molded over a chest that looked like it was carved from stone. Amazing! He’d actually improved with age. She hadn’t thought it possible.

“How’re you doing?” he asked. Even his words were sexy. Low and husky, there was an underlying something in his voice that made her stomach clench. It was like teetering at the top of a roller coaster, knowing one tiny push and you’d plummet. Dark, dangerous but oh-so-tempting.

She swallowed, trying to find her own voice.

“Fine, thanks,” she answered after clearing her throat.

Irritated with herself when her pulse wouldn’t steady, Isabel lifted her chin and pulled back her shoulders to look taller. His gaze held hers for a brief second, then dropped to her breasts. Her breath caught. Isabel knew she was modestly covered. Her silk T draped more than hugged, barely showing any cleavage. Even so, his gaze felt like a caress. Soft, knowing, purely sexual. Heat curled deep in her belly.

“Two-eighty-five Main Street. Sweet Scentsations, right? I’m Dante Luciano. Luciano Construction.” His gaze slid back up her features, appreciation clear in those hypnotic eyes as he met her wide-eyed stare. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. I hear you’ve got a list for me to take care of?”

2

DANTE LUCIANO SLID a long look over the woman staring up at him. Dark curls, a delicate face and curvy little body. Not bad. Even better was the look of appreciation in her eyes. Nothing like watching a woman enjoy the view.

The clothes, long flowy skirt and simple top in a muted shade of purple, were a little mellow for his tastes, but he had a good enough imagination to figure what was beneath the yards of material. Between his imagination and the look in her eyes, working with her might turn out to be a very sweet distraction. One he wouldn’t mind tasting a few times while here in town.

Who knew Santa Vera had gained such a nice view in the years he’d been gone? His shoulders twitched under the weak morning sunlight. He tried to shake off the feeling of claustrophobia that had engulfed him the minute he’d crossed the city limits into town. A man who prided himself in making life a pleasure, Dante made a point to avoid discomfort whenever possible. And Santa Vera always lived up to its promise of discomforting him. In spades.

As soon as he helped his mom with this guilt-induced favor, he’d say his good-byes and get the hell out of town. He was sure Santa Vera would be glad to see him go.

“Isabel Santos?” he asked, remembering the contact name his mom gave him.

“I’m Isabel,” she murmured. “How’d you know about my list?”

Dante frowned. Was he missing something? “Sylvia Luciano’s my mother. She told me you had some changes to the scheduled renovations.”

Sharply arched black brows drew together over eyes the same color as a stormy sky. She looked like she was taking a mental step backward, then gave him another once-over. This time it wasn’t nearly as hot. He figured his name finally registered.

He didn’t know if he should sneer or sigh. Almost a decade later and he was still the bad boy of Santa Vera? You’d think they’d have found something else to gossip about after all this time. Then again, he hadn’t changed his wild ways much, so why would he expect the town to quit being a pain in his ass?

“I didn’t realize you worked for your father,” she said with a frown.

“I don’t.” He wasn’t about to admit that his mother blackmailed him, though, so he just shrugged. “I’m helping out on a couple jobs. It’s just temporary.”

“Right, short-term. Sounds like the perfect plan…” Her voice trailed off, and an intriguing look crossing her face. He suddenly felt like a one-pound box of rich, creamy chocolates sitting in front of a starving woman. And damned if he wouldn’t enjoy her diving in for a taste.

Maybe this stint in purgatory wouldn’t be too bad with the help of the sweet Ms. Santos.

Then, like she’d given herself a mental shake, her face cleared. “So in a roundabout way, you’re working for me, hmm?”

At his shrug her face went smooth, a professional mask falling over her porcelain features. Dante grimaced. He hated masks.

But unlike his typical reaction—to sneer and turn away—Isabel’s mask made him want to coax it off her. Odd, since he was a man who definitely preferred the easy route. And coaxing anything from a woman, no matter how sexy, always ended up with him wrapped in strings. And strings were never easy.

With that in mind, Dante wasn’t sure why he gave Isabel his most charming smile. The kind that usually made women melt and go all soft and agreeable. He leaned close, just enough make her eyes widen. Her perfume, the scent of spicy sensuality, swirled around him.

“I’d say we’re working together, if you know what I mean.” Grin in place, he watched for her reaction. Sweet thing like her, he figured she’d go all outraged and uptight.

Instead, her full lips twitched and Isabel’s eyes twinkled with humor. A soft gust of wind sent her curls bouncing around her shoulders.

“If you think I’m going to do you any good when it comes to hammering drywall, you’re going to be sadly disappointed,” she informed him. “I have many talents—” her pause sent a shaft of heat straight through Dante’s body as he imagined two or three he’d like to try out “—but construction isn’t on the list.”

“No?” He cast another look over her body, then met her eyes and winked. “What is on that list of yours?”

“You’d be surprised,” she said with a laugh that hinted at nerves. “For now, let’s focus on the renovations, hmm?”

Dante glanced around the tidy commercial neighborhood. Quaint and picturesque brick sidewalks flanked cute buildings. The whole street screamed uptight, upright and closed-minded. Dante was willing to admit he might be a little bitter, given his history here. In truth, he’d earned the wild reputation they tagged him with, but that still didn’t make this his kind of place. He wondered how soon he could finish and go home to the beach. He missed Southern California already.

“The details were a little vague when I got the call to come help. Just that you’d paid your money and had a deadline. Want to fill me in?”

“Sure. Your father’s already finished the basic renovations. The apartment upstairs is done and the storefront has been framed, but not completed. Before your father broke his foot, we’d discussed making a few changes to the initial plans.”

She reeled off a grocery list of jobs still to be done. Two refrigerators, the small kitchen, finish work, floor, bathroom tiles and fixtures. Among other things.

“Damn, that’s a lot of work. And you want it all done by the original date?” Dante paused, wondering how that was going to translate, time-wise. He wanted to be on the road by the end of the month. Could he finish this job in twenty-six days? “I’ve got a tight schedule myself. I hope you’re okay with me being here a lot.”

Her eyes had heated to a smoky haze. Dante didn’t know what had inspired the change, but the sexy look was doing wild things to his body. Watching those heavily fringed gray eyes blur made him want to see if he could make them go even darker with a little loving.

He’d bet his Harley he could.

“C’mon in, I’ll show you around,” was all she said. “After you’ve seen what’s what, I’ll get you the list.”

He gestured for her to go ahead. After a long look, she nodded and turned to lead the way up the wooden steps to the house. He noted the outside was in good shape. An ode to its time period, the gingerbread trim and spindled porch seemed to say “c’mon in and check us out.” He wondered what she’d be selling inside.

Dante slid his gaze down her body, letting himself linger on the way the silky fabric of the skirt molded itself to her legs and butt as she walked ahead of him up the stairs. She had amazingly long legs for a woman of less-than-average height.

Long enough to wrap around a man and hold tight. He’d imagine they were silky smooth, too. His fingers warmed at the thought of sliding them down her leg. He’d start at the calf, there just below her skirt. He’d smooth a path over the delicate curve of her ankle and down to her toes. Then he’d give himself the pleasure of a return trip, only this time he’d keep heading north.

“You do work in construction, right?” Isabel asked, pulling him out of his sexy little detour. She shot him a sidelong look as she opened one side of the double door. “I don’t remember your father saying anything about this being a family business. I’m not questioning your abilities or anything, but it’d definitely be a plus if you’re experienced enough to handle this job.”

“I don’t work for Luciano Construction, no.” According to his old man, Dante was the end of three generations of tradition. Not because he wasn’t any good at construction, he was making his living at it, after all. But because he sucked at taking orders. And Frank Luciano was big on orders. The old man was probably dancing in fury, cast and all, over the fact that his worthless son was bailing his ass out. If his wife had even told him. Sylvia Luciano was big on keeping the peace.

“Don’t worry about it, though. I’m sure I’m experienced enough to handle just about anything you come up with,” he assured her.

ISABEL’S PULSE SKIPPED at the image of how Dante could handle things. She’d bet he could handle them just fine—and then some.

It was all she could do not to pinch herself. Dante Luciano, bad boy extraordinaire and hunk of her fantasies…here, in front of her. It was almost too much to accept. Was it a dream? A hangover-induced birthday fantasy in 3-D? Her mind whirled with possibilities, but it felt real. Her body’s reaction was definitely real.

But she’d already done her idiot impression for Dante, ten years before. Holding tight to the image of her humiliation, she vowed to keep it cool this round. If fate had brought him back into her life, she’d make the most of it. Lucky for her, she’d never even registered on his radar, so he didn’t remember her.

Excited—if deluded—triumph surged through her. This was her chance to meet him on even ground. Or as close as possible, all things considered. Sure, she might peek at the man while he worked, but she’d be damned if she’d blush and stammer when caught. After all, she was all grown up now, hardly an inexperienced sixteen-year-old good-girl.

“Yeah, but I’m talking about construction,” she corrected, proud of her offhand tone. He grinned in response. “I don’t suppose you have references or anything?”

“No references, but I’ve never had a single complaint.”

She slid an appreciative look over his body and gave a little hum. Years of hot, wet dreams flashed through her mind, all starring the man in front of her. She was sure complaints were the last thing he heard the morning after. Then, realizing what she’d done, her gaze flew back to his as color flooded her cheeks.

So much for not blushing.

Dante’s grin widened.

He moved through the open area that took up the front half of the house. Still under construction, it was one big, raw space. She watched as he inspected the wiring and plumbing.

“What’re you aiming for when this is done?” he asked.

“Sweet Scentsations will be one-stop gift shop,” she replied, glad to focus on her project instead of her wayward body’s reactions. “I’ll not only offer fresh cut flowers, bouquets and plants, but handmade candies made by a local chocolatier. There will be a small selection of gifts, cards and balloons.”

“Clever.” Dante quirked a brow. “Is Santa Vera big enough to support such a specialty shop? I’ve seen plenty of clever ideas fail in larger cities.”

“I’ve done the research. Santa Vera caters to its tourist population and over the last three years has created a solid niche as a wedding town. I wouldn’t have invested my entire capital into this shop if I didn’t have a plan to make it work.”

His eyes widened at the vehemence of her tone, but Isabel barely noticed. She was too busy tamping down the demons his question had stirred. Failure wasn’t a consideration. She had too much to prove, after all.

“That’d explain the plumbing,” was all he said, though. “What’s back that way?”

Still putting out the last embers of panic at the idea of failure, she followed him toward the storage rooms. Her gaze locked on the tight planes of his butt, highlighted in loving perfection by his worn jeans. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch the soft denim, just there where it curved over his left cheek.

Focus, she reminded herself. Be professional. She pulled in a breath and folded her fingers together. She’d have plenty of time to pant after he left.

“This is where I want the storeroom and a small kitchen to make candies on site. I also want to add another cooler for the flowers, as well as a small greenhouse on the back of the building. Those are on the list of changes.”

She went on to describe the details of the job, when the walk-in refrigerator and appliances would be delivered and her timeline. At least, that’s what she hoped was coming out of her mouth. Because when Dante shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, she lost focus. She slid a quick glance over his clenched biceps, her eyes narrowing in heated desire.

Realizing she’d stopped mid-sentence, her gaze flew to his. Under the amusement dancing in his green eyes was a burning flame of interest. Oh, God. She was making a complete ass of herself. Again. This was completely unacceptable. He had to go so she could get control of her thoughts. There was no hope of controlling the lust that surged through her body, but she could at least keep it from being so obvious.

“I have the list in the office,” she finally said. “We can go over it now.”

Dante shook his head.

“I’ve been on the bike for a couple hours. I need to settle in and get a shower. How about you give me the list now, I’ll read it. I’m good at reading. If I have any questions, I’ll let you know.”

Good, he’d be gone sooner. The short trip to her office was used to lecture herself on the value of control and how stupid she’d feel if he knew how badly he affected her. Not even bothering with a file folder, she snagged the pages from the printer and clipped them together.

She stood there, her future clutched in her fists, her past looming like a testosterone-flexing reminder of how easy it was to lose one’s brain cells at the sight of the ultimate fantasy.

A taunting little voice in her head reminded her of the Man Plan she and Audra had created. Oh, sure, she’d wanted a man. Not just a man, but a man who could make all her hot, sexual fantasies a reality. And now one—not just any man but her ultimate fantasy man—was at her front door and what did she do?

Blush, stutter and hide in her office. Not okay. After all, number one on her list was control. Number two was not looking stupid. Isabel pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to calm her edgy nerves. He was just a man. Albeit her ideal man, but that was beside the point.

The question was, would she pursue the man?

Or hide?

She didn’t know yet. But for now, he was technically her employee. So she needed to get over her girly nerves and act like the professional she prided herself in being.

Pep talk in mind, she returned to the shop. Stopping a safe distance away, she thrust the handful of documents at him.

“I was starting to wonder if you were coming back,” he commented, taking the papers. His eyes widened at the thickness of the stack. “Damn, how many changes do you plan to make? And Frank had approved all these for your timeframe?”

“They’re all approved,” she said. She needed him to go. Now. Before the pep talk faded and she tried to lick him.

He glanced at the top sheet, his lower lip dropping a little at the bulleted list, prioritized and color-coded.

“Scary,” he breathed.

“They were already printed out and on my desk,” she said, ignoring his comment. “I’d intended to put them in a file folder and all, but you seem like you’re in a hurry and I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

He seemed to get her unspoken message, loud and clear. He winked. Then he tried to kill her.

He took her hand in his, smoothing his thumb over the sensitive flesh. One second turned to five as he held her gaze. Ten seconds and her smile dropped away. Her vision blurred and her body stiffened, but she didn’t pull away. Dante’s smile quirked.

It was that smile—almost a smirk, but not quite—that brought her back to sanity. She suddenly wanted to take his cocky self down a peg or two.

“Maybe I should let you in on a little secret,” she murmured, her words low and breathy. She was proud of that tone. Like she was about to tell him her deepest fantasies.

“I’d like to hear all your secrets,” he said as he lifted her hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, then rubbed them against his cheek.

Since they mostly featured him, she was sure he’d get a kick out of them. One thing about Dante Luciano, he wasn’t hurting in the ego department. He never had been.

“Let’s settle for just this one, hmm?” She turned her hand in his, then patted his cheek. “I’m the boss here, and I don’t think mixing business and pleasure is a good idea. But I’m sure if you take your hot and horny self down to the east side of town, you’re bound to meet up with some old friends. Or make new ones even. You’ll have no trouble finding yourself a good time.”

Apparently unoffended, Dante flashed a delighted grin. “I’m much more interested in a challenge,” he told her. “Like I said, we’ll be spending a lot of time together. Why not make the most of it?”

“Thanks for the offer. But no thanks.” She laughed, actually amused. “Besides, I doubt we’ll be spending that much time together.”

“Why not? Scared?” He stepped closer. Close enough for her to smell the warm sunshine on his skin and the musky spice of his cologne. Close enough to see the tiny flecks of gold in his bottle-green eyes. Desire blurred her vision as flames of edgy wet heat flickered deep in her belly.

When Dante reached out and wrapped one of her inky curls around his index finger, it was all she could do not to whimper.

But she didn’t pull away. Hell, no, she wasn’t giving in like a namby-pamby good girl. Instead, she rolled her eyes and gave what she hoped was an amused sneer.

“Oh, please? Is that supposed to be a dare? Now what? I prove I’m not afraid to have you within lusting distance without throwing myself at you?”

“Lusting distance, huh? Why don’t we talk about that?”

“Why don’t we not.”

Dante laughed. “You know, I was looking forward to coming back to Santa Vera as much as I’d anticipate a prostate exam. But I have to admit, now I’m actually looking forward to my four-week stay in hell.”

TWENTY MINUTES later, Dante pulled out his key and unlocked the door to the motel. He hadn’t bothered to go by his parents’ house. He had, though, taken a quick trip around the property his boss wanted. Nice way to kill a few birds with one stone—help out his mom, piss off his dad and do his regular job at the same time.

Dante snickered and tossed the room key on the cheap dresser. Maybe he was still trouble? Hell, even the desk clerk had recognized him. And charged an extra two-hundred bucks deposit. Apparently she remembered his going-away party. Back in high school, he and some of his buddies had trashed three of the rooms, she’d been quick to remind him.

He shrugged off the irritation. He’d known he’d be judged if he came back. That’s how small towns were. Quick to blame, long to forget. And it wasn’t as if his reputation hadn’t been earned. He’d been hell on wheels as a teen and he hadn’t changed a whole lot since.

Sure, he had a steady job now. Ironically, despite his issues with his father, he’d taken the old man’s profession to heart. A troubleshooter for one of the largest construction firms on the West Coast, he didn’t lift a hammer much these days, but he was sure he hadn’t lost this touch. Instead, he spent his time traveling from site to site, handling everything from zoning to personnel issues.

Travelling thirty weeks out of the year kept him from boredom, as well as entanglement-free. Buddies to party with in the various towns he visited on Tremaine business, ladies satisfied with a few weeks here and there. It should be perfect. But lately, it’d been bugging him. He shrugged off the idea that his life was lonely; it was exactly how he wanted it.

Free, easy and unencumbered.

Every once in a while, his boss had him scout out properties to take over, since the guy had a weird desire to own pieces of the entire world. While the job gave Dante enough freedom to keep him from going crazy, the challenge was wearing off.

But other than a cushy bank account, a house on the beach and the Harley, he was still pretty much the same hell-raising no-good he’d been ten years before when his father told the sheriff to escort him out of town.

Dante sighed and looked around the plain motel room. Same ol’, same ol’. Living on the road was definitely losing its appeal. He unpacked his MP3 player and docking station, needing some unwind music. Before he could drop to the bed to see if it was as lumpy as it looked, his cell phone rang.

“Luciano,” he answered.

“Did you check out the property?” his boss asked on the other end. Luke Tremaine wasn’t a man to waste time with pleasantries.

“Yeah, I saw it. As luck would have it, it’s right across the street from the place I’m working on. Good location, nice lot. I’ll get inside in the next couple days, see what kind of shape it’s in.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Luke dismissed his comment. “We’ll raze it. From the reports, it’s one of those old-fashioned monstrosities. That won’t suit my purposes.”

Dante pulled a face. He could just imagine one of Tremaine’s signature, sleek chrome-and-glass dance clubs on Main Street. It’d stick out like a sore thumb. And piss off the townspeople like nobody’s business. Not his problem. His job was to scout, assess and report to Tremaine Construction.

“Don’t forget you’re still technically on the clock,” Tremaine reminded him. “Confirm the lot size and stats, then get me a report.”

With that, the phone went dead. Dante was about to toss it on the bed when it rang again.

A quick glance told him it was his mother. Dante grimaced, but didn’t answer this time. He needed to unwind before dealing with her questions and unspoken expectations. He’d take her to dinner, of course. Otherwise she’d be hurt. And not hurting his mother was one of the few rules Dante followed religiously.

But for now, he’d settle in. A quick shower, a nap, then he’d be ready to deal with the coming weeks.

The Santos job was the only major thing on his father’s schedule. A few other little jobs here and there, but nothing big. Dante’s focus would be on the intriguing Isabel’s renovations. Get those done, then he could leave, free and clear.

What was it about her that tugged at him? Other than her looks, she really wasn’t his type. Not that he liked to think of himself as being so predictable that he had a type. To him, all women were simply fascinating. But a man didn’t hover on the edge of thirty without learning a little caution around serious, sweet women.

And the vibe the woman in front of him put off was seriously sweet. Not uptight, but not on par with the hit-and-run sexual satisfaction he made his benchmark for involvement with a woman.

Dante grabbed the papers she’d given him, scanning her list. Damn, it was gonna be a lot of work. And the sweet Miss Santos was obviously planning on tracking him with a stopwatch.

Pacing off the irritated energy, Dante flipped to the last page. Hand written, numbered, with notes in the margins. Great, directions.

He focused on the words.

Oh, yeah baby.

Hot, wild and a little rough up against the wall.

Intense passion in a semi-public place.

A smorgasbord of sexual pleasure, complete with whipped cream, strawberries and lots of decadent chocolate.

Dante’s mouth went dry and the words blurred on the page as he pictured he and Isabel in each of those scenarios. Especially that last one. Fast, intense and a little rough got his juices flowing like nothing else. The idea of taking Isabel against a wall sent a bolt of heat straight to his dick.

Rock hard, Dante wondered how long it would take to get back to her house. Less than five minutes, he figured. Then again, given his present condition, he probably couldn’t even straddle the Harley without breaking a vital part of his anatomy.

He blinked and scanned the rest of the list. Any woman who could come up with fantasies this hot was a woman he wanted to get to know. Really, really well.

Looked like the lovely Miss Santos wasn’t so sweet after all.

3

“AT FIRST, I THOUGHT you were pulling some kind of prank,” Isabel said into her cell phone. She automatically glanced both ways before crossing the empty cobblestone street to the old-fashioned, brick-fronted town hall. “I mean, what’re the chances that we’re talking about Dante Luciano and the next morning he shows up at my doorstep on a Harley?”

“Definitely slim,” Audra agreed. “It’s kinda funny, though. And I’m sure he wasn’t nearly as hot as you remembered, right?”

Isabel didn’t bother to correct her. After all, admitting that actually talking to Dante Luciano in person was better than almost every sexual fantasy she’d ever had was a little pitiful.

“Did he remember you?” Audra asked.

“Hardly. I wasn’t the type to even register on his radar. I doubt Dante Luciano even remembers the night we met.” After all, he hadn’t done sweet girls. With a sigh, she realized he still probably didn’t. The question was, did she want to be sweet or not? Ten years ago, he’d scared the hell out of her.

Isabel recalled the way his eyes had slid over her body the day before. The delicious, welcoming heat of his appreciation had been blatantly clear. She shivered at the memory. Apparently she’d registered on his radar this time. And she definitely wasn’t scared.

“So I guess he’s not, you know, like a birthday wish come true, huh?” she asked, only half joking.

“No no, baby,” Audra said with a laugh. “You need training wheels first and a guy like that is bound to be as bad as that mean machine he rides. Way out of your league.”

Insulted, Isabel was tempted to defend herself. Hey, she wore big-girl panties; she could do the Man Plan. Then again, a guy like Dante was probably used to women who didn’t wear any panties. Who knew she’d reach the point of envying pantiless women and their experience? Just went to show what obsessing about sex could do to a gal. Not pretty, not pretty at all.

She sighed as she pulled open the door to the town hall. “I’ve got to go, I’ve got a business-association meeting in a few minutes.”

“Why? You’re not volunteering again, are you?”

Isabel winced.

“You are, aren’t you? Why do you do that? Don’t you have enough on your plate with starting a new business and trying to settle into a new town? C’mon, Isabel, quit with the do-gooder stuff and give yourself a break.”

Isabel puffed out a breath and tried to think of a way to defend herself. She wasn’t a do-gooder. She just wanted to fit in. To be a part of things. And since nobody ever invited her in, she volunteered.

“It’s not really volunteering,” she excused. “It’s the town planning council. They’re focused on controlled expansion, keeping the main street image intact, stuff like that. A lot of it is in preparation for the Sweetheart Festival in February.”

“What’s that?”

“To have a business on Main Street, you have to sign a contract agreeing to participate in the festival. They have a whole slew of requirements, but the promotion for the business is going to be phenomenal.”

It was all Isabel could do not to rub her hands together at the prospect. She’d been dreaming of this for years. She’d be an integral part of the town, the go-to girl for flowers and gifts.

“I want to make sure Sweet Scentsations’ placement in the festival is front and center. If I can, I’d like to provide the flowers for all the events, possibly even the gift baskets for the dignitaries. It’ll be a huge step for the business if I can pull it off. From what I understand, prime positioning like that is snapped up fast. Usually by council members.”

“Still sounds like volunteering to me,” Audra muttered. “But, whatever. Just don’t get crazy, okay? I’ve gotta go. Hey, check for hot-dude business owners while you’re in there. I’ll bet someone like that would work just fine for the Man Plan,” she advised with a laugh before she hung up.

Isabel wrinkled her nose at the phone, then tossed it into her bag. Settle for just some guy? After seeing Dante, feeling her body go into sexual overdrive, she didn’t want to settle. But Audra was the expert on all things sexual, and she obviously didn’t think Isabel could handle Dante.

Of course, a guy as hot, as gorgeous as Dante probably had his own list, or only got involved with women at his experience level. Which meant she was nowhere in the vicinity. Didn’t it figure, even within touching distance, he was still out of her reach.

TWO HOURS LATER, ISABEL stomped out of the hall, shoving her notepad into her purse. One of the reasons she’d been so excited to become involved with the business association was to take her place among the town’s business leaders. To prove herself and her main claim to fame—her planning skills. There had been ten leadership positions available, and conveniently, the association had ten attending members. But had they given one to each member? Hell, no. One guy was so special he’d be leading two committees. And her? She’d got diddly squat. Oh sure, her skills would be appreciated on any committee but they still didn’t trust her to lead.

She wanted to kick the lush fichus tree on her way out of the hall. The only reason she didn’t was the fact that the ceramic vase would probably break her toe. She should have thought of that when she’d delivered it the previous week as a show of appreciation and camaraderie for her new associates.

Associates, hell. She shoved the door open. Next time she’d deliver a cactus in a wicker pot. That way she could kick it as hard as she wanted, and hopefully it’d land on the council leader’s head.

“Isabel,” someone called out. “Wait up.”

She turned and bit back a sigh. Just what she needed, Mr. Perfect.

“Lance,” she said in greeting. His short blond hair ruffled, but didn’t muss in the brisk breeze. Even his haircut was perfect. Isabel swallowed her snarky attitude. It wasn’t Lance’s fault he was so together. She figured years of PR work as a real-estate agent had honed his persona until he was the epitome of together.

He gave her his patented smile, all friendly confidence.

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he said in a low tone. Ever the multitasker, he kept his gaze on her face at the same time he nodded his greeting to a passerby.

Maybe that was why things hadn’t worked out between them. He’d never managed to focus solely on her. And he’d definitely never understood her. That had been obvious back in the meeting. Oh, sure, she knew he’d been trying to talk her up, give her support. But all that talk about new ideas, time for change and new blood had clearly put people’s backs up.

Isabel told herself it wasn’t Lance’s fault. Tension shifted across her shoulders, but she forced a pleasant look on her face. No point in getting upset or taking him to task. She’d done that once or twice before, but he was oblivious. To Lance, his way was the only way and anyone who didn’t agree simply needed his friendship and advice even more.

Being mad at him was like trying to be pissed at Mary Poppins. Pointless and frustrating. Because inevitably, he always felt he knew best.

“I wanted to talk with you about the meeting. You seemed a little disappointed.” He pulled a face and rubbed his hand on her shoulder. Isabel pulled away. For some reason his touch gave her the creeps now that they’d split up. Besides, it drove her nuts when people patted her like she was a little kid who needed placating. Small didn’t mean stupid, she wanted to yell. Of course, since that urge came with the urge to stick her tongue out at him, she didn’t figure he’d believe her.

“I didn’t realize, of course, that you might volunteer for any of the positions or I would have warned you,” he continued reasonably. “Santa Vera is growing rapidly, but at heart, it’s still a small town, and there are a lot of small-town attitudes that come with that. It’s not that you don’t fit in,” he said. Isabel supposed his tone was supposed to be soothing, but the way it grated down her spine made her want to scream. “It’s just a matter of time. People have to get used to you. To see what you have to offer. Give it time.”

Time? She’d been here for six months. How much time did they need, for crying out loud? Back in Auburn, she’d have led any committee she wanted. But of course, her parents had been well-known business owners.

She tried to shake off her irritation, knowing it was pointless. Too many times to count, she’d been frustrated in the face of his implacable fortitude.

“I think I’d be fine with the council’s expectations,” she said, trying to keep the pout off her lower lip. “I’m a successful businesswoman, after all. You could have mentioned that back there, you know. Your respect for my qualifications probably would have gone a long way with them.”

“Give yourself time. I’d advise you to volunteer to serve on one of the committees. You know, observe, learn the ins and outs of how we operate here. Give people a chance to see how efficient you are and to appreciate what you have to offer. In a couple years, they’ll be welcoming you as a committee leader.”

Isabel ground her teeth. It was like he was talking to a little kid. Was there not one person who believed she could jump in and excel? No wonder she had hang-ups with everyone who doubted her.

He reached over to pat her shoulder again, this time giving it a brief squeeze. “You’ll catch on. If you need help, feel free to give me a call.”

Isabel’s eyes narrowed as Lance turned and walked away, his gray pinstripe suit a vivid contrast to the other more casually dressed businesspeople milling around the hall. That was the second time today someone had intimated that she was in over her head. What was up with that? Was she really so incompetent that she couldn’t handle a simple committee role? Or a man like Dante Luciano?

She pursed her lips and sighed. Well…maybe Dante was a bit more than she’d thought she could handle before. But wasn’t that the purpose of the Man Plan? To push out of her comfort zone and have mind-blowing, awesome sex.

Not an easy thing to do when everyone seemed to have so little faith in her abilities on any level—be it business or sex.

LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Isabel arranged a winter bouquet of hothouse lilies.

Was it her? Did she come across as incapable of running with the big dogs? Sweet little Isabel, why don’t you go read a book instead of trying to ride that skate-board? Oh, Isabel, don’t be silly, you don’t know enough people to win as class president; you’d just be hurt if you tried. Sweetheart, quit daydreaming. Pull your head out of the clouds and set goals, instead.

All her life, she’d been pigeonholed. Protected. Because everyone expected it—hell, demanded it—she’d played it safe, in life and with her goals. Even this business, as much as she had emotionally invested in it, was a well-calculated risk. And now that she wanted to break out of the box? Expand herself, reach for the stars? What did she get? Naysayers and doubt.

Just once, she’d like have someone expect huge things from her, that she be better than good enough. She wanted to be an integral part of something. Always, she was the outsider looking in, the quiet one in the back of the room. Ignored. God, she was sick of being ignored.

Her movements sharp and abrupt, she snapped the stem completely off one flower. With a little growl, she tossed it at the garbage can. It hit the rim, bounced off and slid back across the floor to land at her feet.

“Damn,” she muttered.

“You don’t seem like a happy camper,” a voice said over Nickelback’s “Photograph.”

Isabel gave a little shriek worthy of any horror-film starlet, breaking yet another of the fragile flowers and sending the vase tottering at the edge of her worktable.

“Hey,” Dante said, suddenly at her side. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Before her mind could acknowledge who had scared the crap out of her, he reached around her to steady the wobbly vase. With the push of two fingers, he moved it to the center of the table, then gave her a long, questioning look from those deep green eyes. Her body tensed as excitement swirled through her system. Her fingers shook. Ignoring the part of her yelling liar liar, she blamed the nerves fluttering in her stomach on the scare.

“You okay? I didn’t take you for the high-strung type or I would have announced myself.”

Isabel’s heart skittered. She wasn’t sure if it was from surprise, or from Dante’s proximity. But when it didn’t settle, she figured the credit went to him.

Because if anyone deserved it, he definitely did. Making a show of straightening the flowers she’d scattered, she cast a glance over him. From the tips of his beat-up work boots to the strong expanse of his shoulders, he was even sexier today than he’d been swinging off the Harley the day before.

His green eyes had that same slumberous look that made her insides melt. But instead of damp waves like the other day, his hair was a sexy, just-out-of-bed tumble to the collar of his forest-green T-shirt. Her fingers slid along the smooth stem of the flowers, imagining how that silky hair would feel in her hands. On her belly. Brushing along the sensitive skin of her thighs.

Isabel caught her breath at the image. Oh, God, he was gorgeous. She was too aroused to even be embarrassed at her thoughts.

“I’m fine,” she belatedly answered on a puff of breath. “I didn’t hear you come in, is all. I’m so used to working alone back here, I didn’t think to turn down the music to listen for the door.”

His slow grin assured her that yes, indeed, she was babbling. Isabel sucked in a deep breath and set the last flower in its space, then faced him, chin held high.

“I’m not high-strung, but I was startled. Thanks for saving the vase.” She gestured to the large glass urn. “It’s the last one I have in inventory and I’d hate to disappoint my client.”

“Since I hate being disappointed, I can definitely understand that,” he said, a wicked light twinkling in his eyes. It guaranteed he never left a woman disappointed, either. A flickering spark of desire flamed deep in her belly.

A man who guaranteed satisfaction? One who’d spend as much time as she liked, do all those deliciously wild things she dreamed of? In the past, all her fantasies of Dante had been of the things she wanted to do to him. The way she wanted to worship his body, to see it poised under hers. But now…his words spurred a whole new fantasy and in it, he was the one doing all the work.

“I wanted to get started tomorrow morning,” he continued, oblivious to the mental pleasure he was giving her. “I figured I’d check to see what supplies were on hand. We should go over some stuff, too. Schedules, the list…that kind of thing.”

The way his voice deepened, his eyes growing dark and sleepy, when he said that last part, sent Isabel’s system into overdrive. Her nipples beaded painfully beneath the light sweater she wore as the damp heat moved from her belly to her panties.

It’d been a long six weeks since she and Lance had split. Not that she couldn’t go without sex for a long time, but the sex she’d been getting prior to the split hadn’t been anything to celebrate. She was sure that was why her body went crazy over the innocent statement. Dante obviously wasn’t implying anything sexual.

Now if she could just get her body to believe that.

“It must be nice to visit home,” she babbled, trying to distract her body. “I grew up over in Auburn, only ten miles away, but it’s like a different world here. The people have been really welcoming. Since you’re from here, if you have any ideas for the renovations please feel free to share. I’m all for using whatever I can to make the business better.”

“I doubt any of my insight into the town will improve your business,” he said. Isabel frowned at the tension, almost an underlying anger, in his tone. She gave him a searching look, but he just returned a long, blank stare. It didn’t answer any questions, but it did stir her juices again. Holy cow, even with that stoic look on his face, the guy was hot.

“I didn’t realize you were already open for business,” he commented with a gesture to the floral arrangement.

“I’m not, really. At least, not to the general public. I do have a clientele from my previous floral shop I’m still serving. It seemed smart to hold on to as many existing customers as I could, you know? A lot easier than trying to tackle the goal of making this new business fly high immediately. Baby steps, small goals, all that.”

Dante shrugged, the muscles in his biceps rippling in a way that made Isabel want to nibble on him. Just there, on the arm, to see if he was as hard as he looked. If he tasted as good as she imagined.

“Why bother with little steps?” He narrowed his eyes, a wicked glint flashing in the green depths. He took one step, then two, closer. Close enough for her to smell the spicy scent of his cologne, to feel the heady heat of his body. Her own body reacted instantly, heartbeat racing as nerves battled desire in her belly. A distant memory flashed through her mind, clouded by time, wine and fear. She’d been this close to him once, that night at his party. This time, though, she knew what to do.

His voice dropped to a husky tone suited to dark nights and silk sheets. “If you want something, go for it. You might not get it the first time, but it beats pussyfooting around—playing it safe.”

“You don’t think it’s smarter to take the big steps in areas you’re good at, and smaller ones in the unknown?” she asked in a breathless tone.

“How do you get to be any good if you don’t take a chance?” Dante shrugged again, so close she could almost feel the movement of his body. “If you want something, make it happen. Otherwise, while you’re sitting there wishing, someone else will grab the ball and run with it.” He looked around the storeroom, then gestured to the photo display of her floral arrangements and the healthy houseplants thriving in the windowsill.

“You’re clearly good at what you do. You seem like a smart woman…” His gaze drifted down her body, a sensual caress of appreciation. “And definitely a beautiful one. Why wouldn’t you go for whatever you want?”

It was like he’d ripped the lock off her inhibitions, giving her permission to ask for anything she wanted. He clearly believed she could reach for the stars. Power, indelibly combined with deep swirls of desire, simmered in her belly.

“Did you ever make a birthday wish?” she asked, her gaze locked on his lips. They were so close, and she’d bet anything they tasted fabulous. She wanted to taste them, test their texture. To run her tongue over the pouty fullness of his lower lip and tempt him into wild desire.

Isabel’s breath shuddered at the image.

“Like blow out a candle and think about something you want? Sure,” he said, his voice a low murmur. The sexy purr washed over her, wrapping her in a shivery kind of excitement. “Why?”

“My birthday was last Saturday,” she murmured.

“What’d you wish for?”

Isabel licked her lips, then with a deep breath, looked up to meet his eyes. She could drown in those rich green depths. It wasn’t the sensual promise there that gave her courage, although that was mighty tempting. It was the absolute acceptance. As if he saw right through her, all the way to her fears, insecurities and body hang-ups. And he wanted her anyway. His desire for her was a tangible thing, clear and tempting.

“I wished for a birthday kiss. A really hot, really special birthday kiss,” she hedged, not ready to admit her entire fantasy wish. Ha, baby steps be damned.

A slow, sensual smile curved his lips.

Dante took one more step closer, bringing his body within caressing distance of hers. Isabel’s fingers burned with the need to run them through his hair, then down his arms. When he slid a hand behind her neck, angling her face toward his, she couldn’t stop her breathy moan.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured right before his mouth took hers.

At the touch of his lips against hers, years of dreams shattered into a million pieces. Nothing in her deepest fantasies had prepared her for the dark, rich delight he invoked through that simple caress. One brush, two. Then, his sleepy green gaze holding hers prisoner, he ran his tongue along Isabel’s bottom lip. Her breath shuddered to a halt, then whooshed out as he closed his eyes and got down to the serious seduction of her mouth.

Like the roller coaster she’d once likened him to, he took her on a terrifyingly wild ride with his mouth alone. The thrust of his tongue didn’t invite, it demanded her participation. Lights, shimmering and sparkly, flashed against Isabel’s closed lids as she gave over to the parry and thrust of his kiss. The feel of his body, deliciously hard, against her thigh, made her groan.

The sound seemed to be his signal to halt, since he slowed the slide of his tongue. One final caress, a butterfly kiss against her lips, then he gently pulled back.

Well, well. If the passion zinging through her body was any indication, he had actually improved with age. She sighed in delight.

“Hope it lived up to your wish,” he whispered.

She sighed.

“I wanted to talk to you about this list of yours,” he murmured against her hair. “There are quite few items there I really liked. I want to make sure I get them right.”

So tuned in to her body’s sighs of pleasure, Isabel barely caught his words.

“List?” she murmured.

“Right. The list of sexual scenarios. You hit on all but one of my absolute top fantasies.”

What? Isabel pulled back so fast, Dante’s arms slipped from her waist. Her skin chilled, whether it was from the loss of his body heat or his words, she didn’t care.

“List of…?”

“Sexual scenarios. Fantasies,” he expanded helpfully. Without asking, he pulled her back into his arms. She was too shocked to move again.

“You have my…” Oh God. Isabel’s mind ran in a million directions, none of them good. Part of her noted how odd it was that she wasn’t embarrassed to have had the hottest man she’d ever met read her deepest sexual fantasies. But that part was pretty well drowned out by the other parts all screaming holy shit, how’d he get the list? She’d had it on her desk, hadn’t she? When had she last seen it?

“How?” she mumbled.

“It was with the renovation instructions you handed me yesterday.”

Isabel closed her eyes and nodded. Of course it was. Anything else might be less embarrassing.

“Hey,” he said, his tone soft and sweet. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Sexual fantasies are normal, you know? It’s the people who deny their fantasy life who have problems.”

Why was she sure that meant he was completely problem-free? Then the rest of his words sunk in. Had he expected her to act like some virginal maiden shocked to have anyone realize she had a thing for sex outdoors?

“I’m not ashamed,” she said honestly. “Embarrassed, yes. I can’t believe I didn’t notice that list was missing.”

“I’ll be happy to return it,” he said with a slow grin. “Of course, I’d be happier to fulfill it with you.”

Isabel almost came then and there. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her rigid nipples and tried not to moan at even that minute contact.

She nibbled on her bottom lip, trying to figure out what to say. Oh, she knew what she wanted to say. Let’s go, was the obvious reply. Then she’d suggest numbers three, four and seven. She managed to control herself, though. After all, hot and wild string-free sex was one thing. Having it with a man who was essentially working for her was another.

Besides, as much as Dante turned her on, a million doubts flew through her head. He was way out of her league, fantasy hottie or not. Hell, she’d almost come from a kiss alone. Could she keep up with a guy like that? Sure, she wanted to go for her goals—especially her fantasy ones. But she needed to think about this. Number one on her list, she had to be in control. Who knew having a wish staring you right in the face could be so scary?

So instead of dragging him into her office, shoving him down on her desk and running her tongue over his body, she gave a casual shrug.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to pass.”

“You sure?” He flashed an amused look and winked. “Because I’m betting with only a few changes, that list is the outline for the best sex possible.”

Isabel gaped. “Changes?”

“Yeah, just a couple here and there.” Dante gave her that slow, sexy smile. Rubbing his finger up and down her arm in a slow, steady caress, he leaned in to brush his lips over her ear. The warmth of his breath seared through Isabel, heating her all the way to her core and making her squirm. “Change that horse to a Harley, the forest to the beach.”

The images flashed through her mind, her and Dante, both naked, on that huge black Harley of his. The rumbling power of the engine as it purred beneath them adding to the sensation as she rode him in the moonlight. Licking her lips, Isabel pressed her thighs together.

“Let me get this straight,” she said, unable to hold back a baffled laugh. “You’re trying to revise my fantasy list? Why don’t you just go make one of your own?”

“Because yours is already almost perfect. It just needs a few minor adjustments.”

“And you’re the man to make them for me?” She posed it as a question, but she already knew the answer.

“Babe, I’m the perfect man for your fantasy list.”

Even though her body agreed with him, Isabel struggled to grab control of her reactions and the conversation. “What an ego. Does that work for you often?”

“I’ve been called an expert by more than one lady,” he offered. Despite the humor dancing in his eyes, Isabel didn’t think he was teasing her.

“I’ll just bet you have.”

“I’d be happy to show you,” he promised, his breath warming her temple. “We can work our way up to the Harley ride.”

The wispy tendril of desire unfurled, low in her belly. Isabel realized this was a man who could bring her to orgasm with his voice alone. She’d bet he could do it without even using dirty words.

“I’ll have to pass,” she said faintly.

Dante let her pull away without protest. But the laser-sharp look in his eyes told her he was likely aware of her every fear and knew exactly which moves would alleviate the apprehension. And which would shift it over that blurry line into the realm of dark, edgy sexual craving.

She hurried from the room before she begged him to do just that.

DANTE SHIFTED UNCOMFORTABLY as he watched Isabel walk away. Damned if she didn’t have a sweet sway to her hips in another one of those silky skirts. After tasting her, feeling the luscious pressure of her lips under his, all he could think of was holding those hips as she rode him. Dante wanted to chase her down and haul her back into his arms.

He could still taste her, sweet as a peach, on his tongue. The feel of her small body against him, her flowery scent filled his senses. God, she’d turned him on.

Down, boy. It wasn’t gonna happen. As interested as she might be—and he’d tasted plenty of interest as her tongue had wrapped around his—she was holding back. He didn’t know why, but she obviously didn’t want to give in to the attraction.

Maybe because he’d seen her list? She really didn’t seem embarrassed, but who knew with women? All he knew for sure was that Isabel obviously liked control. And Dante was the kind of man who thrived on making women lose control.

And it was only fair. That list of hers had kept him awake half the night, imagining her, them, living out each of those fantasies. Dante shifted, his jeans still uncomfortably tight.

He battled down the frustration. Tasting heaven, then being told he couldn’t have more just didn’t sit well. It was all he could do not to go after her and see if he couldn’t seduce her into changing her mind.

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