“How kind,” Dominique murmured, then walked away.

She passed a trash can and nearly tossed the number. But something made her fold up the paper and slip it into her handbag.

* * *

CHARLIE CHECKED THE street, then watched Michelle in the mirror. Her coworker waved her in. Charlie backed the engine into its spot in the bay.

The accident on the highway into town had been bad. Both cars totaled. Fortunately everyone inside had been wearing seat belts and the air bags had done their thing. The passengers had walked away with only a few minor bruises. One of the cars had gone up in flames, but Charlie and her team had quickly taken care of that.

She got out of her gear and returned to the bay. The engine came first. Then she could clean up and get something to eat.

Michelle strolled over with two mugs of coffee. She handed one to Charlie and grinned. “You have a visitor.”

Charlie held in a groan. “My mother?” Had Dominique waited?

“Not exactly.” Michelle pointed.

Charlie turned and saw Clay leaning against the wall. When he caught her eye, he straightened and started toward her.

The man could move, she thought, watching his long strides. His body was perfection—a result of his career choice, she knew, but still impressive. The only thing better was his face. The lines and planes, the dark eyes. Her gaze drifted to his mouth and she wondered if he was going to kiss her again. Strangely, she found herself thinking she wouldn’t mind. Well, except for the “in public” part.

“Hi,” he said as he approached. “How was it?”

“Easy for us. Not so good for the people in the accident. Everyone is fine, but one of the cars caught fire. The other is totaled.”

“Tourists?”

She nodded. “They get excited about their time away. Sometimes they get distracted and sometimes it’s just bad luck.” She glanced around. “You didn’t see my mother here, did you?”

“I don’t know your mother.”

“Some people have all the luck,” she said with a sigh. “Petite.” She held up her hand midway between her elbow and her shoulder. “Short, blond hair. Green eyes. Elegant.”

“No. Haven’t seen her.”

“Good. She came by. I think she’s decided to start haunting me early. You know, get in a few years of practice before she becomes a ghost.”

“Sounds like a fun relationship.”

Charlie’s mouth twisted. “Oh, it’s a thrill. I’m not sure why she’s even here. Fool’s Gold isn’t her kind of place. She swears she wants to spend time with me, but that’s just too strange to think about.”

She paused, aware she was talking too much. A clear sign of nerves. It was being around him, she thought. Everything was different now. They’d kissed. They were going to have sex sooner or later. That was a point-of-view shifter.

There was also the fact that he’d promised a full-service seduction. She didn’t know exactly what that meant. Even more confusing, she couldn’t decide if she was more excited or more scared. The fact that she had any excitement at all was a real win for her. She told herself it was smarter to accept the progress than to question it but she wasn’t that comfortable with the whole seduction idea.

“Stop,” Clay said, holding up both his hands. “You’re exhausting me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re thinking too much. I can hear it. I knew you would be. That’s why I came by. You need a schedule.”

“Excuse me?”

He took her arm and drew her closer to the open garage door. “A schedule,” he repeated, his voice quiet. “So you can know what to expect. And when. Then you won’t worry so much.”

She doubted her worry level was going to change significantly throughout the process, but she was willing to pretend so she didn’t have to talk about it.

She folded her arms across her chest. “What did you have in mind? And while we’re on the subject, how long is this going to take?”

He grinned. “The conversation or the full-service seduction?”

Heat burned on her cheeks. She knew she was blushing, damn him, and didn’t know how to stop. “The, ah, doing it part.”

He leaned close. “Seduction. Come on, Charlie. You can say it.”

“I can also pick up a tire iron and beat the crap out of you.”

“That’s my girl. We’ll take as long as you need. It’s as much about the journey as the destination.”

She glared at him. “Have you been taking yoga? Is this crazy yoga talk?”

“Trust me. You’ll like it. All of it. That’s the point. To get you to where you can relax and enjoy. It’s not going to happen in an afternoon.”

Words to make her chest feel tight and maybe a little tingly.

She glanced behind her. No one was in the bay, but that didn’t mean her friends weren’t paying attention to Charlie and her visitor.

“We probably shouldn’t discuss this here,” she said.

“No problem. You’re off tomorrow?”

She nodded.

“I’ll come by in the morning. We can work on your schedule then.”

She had a brief impression of notations on her calendar. September 3, 3:00 p.m. Clay gets to first base.

“Shift change is at seven.” She thought about telling him that sometimes she stopped for coffee or breakfast and didn’t get to her house until eight, but that seemed like too much information.

“See you tomorrow, then,” he said.

He gave her a wave, then walked away. She allowed herself a couple of minutes to appreciate the view, taking in his very fine butt. She’d seen it plenty in pictures and in movies, but it was better in person. Just think, one day she would see it na**d. Maybe even touch it. Having sex meant—

She came up against a mental wall and slammed right into it as reality took an unexpected turn. She and Clay were going to have sex. She’d asked him to do that with her. But what she hadn’t considered was his part in all that. As in he would take his clothes off.

She was about to have the world’s best-looking male model na**d in her bed. What on earth had she been thinking? She wasn’t beautiful or even pretty. She was too tall and too strong and not the least bit girlie. She didn’t own any hair products or know how to do makeup. She’d never owned a curling iron. There were exactly two dresses in her closet and she would rather be gut-shot than wear a thong.

Talk about a disaster.

She couldn’t do it, she realized. She couldn’t go through with it. She needed a different type of man. One who was a few degrees closer to normal, and possibly desperate enough to be grateful. Now she was going to have to figure out how to tell Clay that he’d just been fired.

* * *

CLAY SAT ON Charlie’s front porch steps and checked his watch. With shift change at seven, and Fool’s Gold’s nonexistent rush hour, she should be home any minute.

He’d stopped by Ambrosia’s Bakery on his way over. He’d picked up an assortment of Danish, along with the coffee. He was comfortable bribing her with sugar as well as caffeine.

He’d been doing some reading on what rape victims went through as they recovered and the road to what Charlie would call normal wasn’t always easy or straight. Partners were advised to be patient and pay attention to signals. He was willing to do both.

Right on time, her truck came into view. She drove into her small garage, then closed the door and stepped out the side door. She walked across the lawn and paused at the bottom of the steps.

She looked a little tired. He wondered if there had been a lot of calls in the night. Other than the dark circles, she was her usual slightly wary self. Her short hair stuck up at a couple of odd angles, as if she hadn’t combed it since getting out of bed. Her face was bare, the skin smooth. She still wore her dark blue uniform and steel-toed boots.

But he saw past that to the feminine curves she hid behind shapeless clothes. He was sure she no longer thought about consciously being androgynous. That her style had evolved, first out of fear and then because it was what she did. Comfort mattered more than fashion to Charlie.

But beneath the baggy and shapeless attire was an impressively honed body. He’d seen her in shorts and a T-shirt during the volunteer workouts and he’d been impressed.

“You’re here early,” she said.

“I brought coffee.” He held out the covered container. “And Danish.”

She smiled. “Wanted to make sure I invited you in?”

“Something like that.”

“Smart man.” Her mouth twisted. “But I can’t accept them.”

“They’re pastries, Charlie. Not an engagement ring.”

Her shoulders squared and her chin came up. He recognized the body language. She was getting ready to do something unpleasant. He was a little surprised. He hadn’t thought she’d get scared so fast.

“I can’t do this,” she told him.

“Have coffee and Danish?”

She drew in a breath. “No. The sex thing.” She glanced to the side, then at the ground, before returning her gaze to his. “With you.”

That was an unexpected kick in the gut. “Want to tell me why?”

“Because of who you are.”

He checked the words for hidden meaning and couldn’t find any. “I’m not a felon or married. What are you objecting to?”

“You.” She waved at him. “This.” Her hand moved up and down. “The total package.”

He glanced down at himself. He had on worn jeans. He’d pulled a long-sleeved shirt over a white T-shirt, but hadn’t bothered with the buttons. He had showered and shaved, so he knew he didn’t smell.

He’d done his best to stay grounded in a business that had insisted on inflated egos with every level of success. Still, he’d looked in the mirror enough to know he’d been blessed with a great set of genes. Nothing he could take credit for, but he also wasn’t going to ignore the obvious.

“At the risk of sounding like a jerk, you want someone better-looking?”

She made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. “No. I want someone closer to normal. Maybe even a guy who’s a little desperate. You’re so perfect. Physically. I can’t—” She glanced around, then lowered her voice. “I can’t be na**d with you.”

He relaxed. This was a problem he could handle. “Are you worried I won’t be interested enough to get it up or that I’ll be critical?”

She gulped air, then raced up the steps. “We’re not talking about this.”

He rose quickly and caught her before she could stick the key in the lock. He put his hand on her wrist. “We are. Which is it, Charlie. Tell me.”

He was close enough to see the thousand shades of blue in her irises, the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes, the three freckles on her nose.

“Both,” she admitted, her voice defiant. “Are you happy? It’s both. I’m scared enough without dealing with ha**g s*x with some ass model.”

“Ass model? That’s dismissive. Slightly judgmental.”

She pulled her hand free, then poked him in the stomach. “You have a six-pack.”

“Most days, unless I eat Chinese. The salt is a killer.”

“I’m not like other women.”

“You have all the parts.”

“They may not work.”

He lightly touched her cheek. “They work. I know you’re scared. We’ll deal with that. Together. I’m willing, Charlie.” He smiled. “Trust me, you don’t have to worry about my mechanics.”

“I’ve seen your mechanics. They’re a little terrifying.”

He leaned in. “Airbrushing.”

Her eyes widened. “No way.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s true. You know how they make models’ legs longer in ads, or their teeth whiter?”

She nodded.

“They do the same thing for us. Make the bulge more impressive than it is. In person, I’m not all that.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “You’re lying.”

“You’ll have to find out for yourself, won’t you?”

The humor faded and she stared at him. “I am scared.”

“I know.”

“The message from my mother was to be feminine and men would like me. I tried and I got raped.”

He touched her cheek again, enjoying how soft her skin was. “You don’t have to change for me. I like you just the way you are.”

She bit her lower lip, then nodded. “How many Danish?”

He laughed. “Three each.”

“Then I guess you can come in.”

She opened the front door. He collected the coffee and the bakery box and followed her inside to the kitchen. After grabbing a couple of paper towels, she motioned for him to join her at the table, in front of the window that opened out onto her backyard. She opened the pink box, then breathed in deeply.

“Heaven.” She grabbed a cheese Danish and took a bite. Her eyes closed and she gave a low moan.

Clay stared at her, wondering if she knew how sexy she was. There was nothing artificial about her. Just an in-your-face attitude. With Charlie, everything was on the table. He had a feeling that once she worked through her problems, she was going to be a guy magnet.

He took a cherry Danish and put it on the paper towel. “About the schedule,” he said, pulling a pad of paper out of his shirt pocket. “What works for you?”

“Can’t I finish my coffee before we talk about that?”