Damn skippy she liked the car.

“It’s not bad,” she said nonchalantly.

“Coming from you, that’s quite a compliment.” He pulled her closer, so that she stood between his outstretched legs. “So do they allow significant others who have prison records at the U.S. Attorney’s Office annual Fourth of July picnic?”

She chuckled at the thought. “Let’s get through next week first. See how things go after the Time article comes out.”

Kyle cocked his head, as if realizing something. “You’re worried about what I’m going to say during the interview.”

Well…yes. “You say whatever you want.” It was his job, his business, and thus his right to handle it his own way. Just as the same rules applied to her career.

He touched her chin. “I’ll be circumspect, counselor. We’re in this together.” His blue eyes were warm as he peered down at her. “So what would you say to going out for dinner tonight?”

“A second date? This is getting serious,” she said coyly.

“Just name the place. The sky’s the limit.” He slid his hand to the nape of her neck. “I could spoil you rotten, Rylann. If you’ll let me.”

Heady words, indeed. As they leaned against his super-fancy sports car, she brushed her fingers across a lock of dark blond hair that had fallen across Kyle’s forehead. Then, suddenly, she realized she had one mea culpa left.

Oh, boy.

He saw her look. “What?”

“I’m wondering how I’m ever going to explain you to my mother. If you think I’m a burr up your ass about the ex-con thing, just wait until you meet her.”

“Maybe we could take a lesson from my parents and give her the sanitized, wholesome version of the story. One that emphasizes my numerous fine qualities.” Kyle mused this over. “Something like…’Once upon a time, I met a guy in a bar who was wearing a flannel shirt and work boots, and he turned out to be a prince in disguise.’ “

Just then, a car slowed to a stop in front of them, filled with five guys in their late teens. The driver stuck his head out the window.

“Yo, Twitter Terrorist!” he called out. “How’s this for a tweet? ‘Kiss my ass, dickhead!’ ” The entire group laughed as a guy in the backseat stuck his bare ass out the window, mooning them, then the car peeled away.

Kyle and Rylann stood on the street, saying nothing for a moment as the car drove off. Then he turned to her with a sheepish grin. “Obviously not one of the high-fivers.”

Yes, she’d caught that. “What am I going to do with you, Kyle Rhodes?” She slid her arms around his neck and peered up at him.

His hand moved to the side of her face. “Whatever you want, counselor. Stick with me, and I promise you that life will always be an adventure.”

And as he lowered his head and kissed her, Rylann decided that was the best plan of all.