“Thanks. Except when Meg foisted the name on me I was a toddler, and she was referring to the dimples on my butt. Thank goodness I ended up with them on my face so I didn’t have to spend my life explaining what the name really meant.”

He chuckled, then asked, “What’s your nickname for her?”

“Prom Queen. I think she must hold some world record for attending proms.” She took another sip of coffee and a wistful expression filled her eyes. “When we were growing up, I would have given anything to look like her. To be like her. But now…now I wouldn’t trade places with her for any amount.”

“Why’s that?”

She hesitated, as if debating whether or not to tell him, then said, “She’s been married for six years and things aren’t going well. Unfortunately, Meg’s husband Dan is a carbon copy of our dad-financially successful but emotionally unavailable. She has a beautiful home, two terrific kids, every material possession she could ever hope for, but Dan’s first, second and third priorities are his career. Meg and the kids are a distant fourth.”

“That’s too bad.”

“It is. They separated once, three years ago, but after going to counseling they reconciled. Yet nothing’s changed. I give her credit for not wanting to give up on her marriage, but under all the material things she just seems so…lonely. Just like our mom was.”

“Your parents divorced?”

She shook her head. “My dad died when I was in high school. I’d lived with him my entire life, yet I barely knew him. He was always working or on a business trip, always too busy to play or go to the mall or come to school events. He never took time to enjoy life, to enjoy his wife or daughters. For a man who had such a strong drive to succeed, he couldn’t see that he failed at the things that were most important. His family. His marriage.” She looked down at her hands and when he followed her gaze, he saw how her fingers were clamped tightly together.

Reaching out, he laid his hand over hers. “I’m sorry, Lacey,” he said quietly. “I know how much it hurts to lose a parent. I lost my mom five years ago. Cancer.”

She looked up, her eyes full of sympathy. And something else. Surprise and confusion, as if she were seeing him for the first time-the exact way he knew he’d looked at her only moments earlier. “I’m so sorry, Evan.”

“Me, too. She was a great lady and a terrific mom. Like you, I wasn’t exactly a standout in school. I was the pudgy kid who always got teased, the nerd who sucked at sports and always got picked last in gym class.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. I kept trying at sports, but it was hopeless. Still, my mom always encouraged me, always cheered me on, even when I kicked the winning goal in soccer for the opposing team.”

Her eyes widened. “I did the exact same thing. In fourth grade. I wanted to die. Instead my mom took me out for ice cream to celebrate that I’d scored my first goal.”

“My mom took me for pizza.” He smiled and squeezed her hand. Looking down, he saw the way his fingers were curled around hers. And liked the way it looked. Raising his gaze back to hers, he said, “Half an hour ago I wouldn’t have believed it, but it seems we have a few things in common.”

She nodded slowly, as if she couldn’t quite believe it, either. “Seems so. What about your dad?”

“He died in a car crash when I was a baby. I don’t remember him at all. It was always just me and my mom.”

Her gaze searched his. “So you’re alone.”

Those softly spoken words resonated deep inside him. They weren’t true-he had lots of friends, good neighbors, work colleagues, even some distant cousins who lived in Florida. But that wasn’t what she meant and he knew it. She meant immediate family.

“I’m alone,” he agreed. Because in spite of his friends and neighbors and colleagues, he indeed felt very alone. And had for a quite some time.

Until tonight.

He didn’t feel alone here, in this coffee shop, talking to her. In fact, he felt…good. Really good. The evening, which had started out so disastrously with broken cars and cell phones, insane sprinklers and a ridiculous robe, had definitely taken an unexpected and-he had to admit-not unpleasant turn.

“No girlfriend?”

Her voice jerked him back. “No one steady. If there was, that kiss wouldn’t have happened. I know you think I’m a pain in the ass and maybe I am, but I’m not a cheater.”

A hint of rose blossomed on her cheeks. “Believe it or not, I haven’t thought of you being a pain in the ass for at least five minutes.”

“That makes two of us. And sets a new record. Wanna go for ten minutes?”

Her smile flashed. “Think we can make it?”

“I’m game.”

“Okay. So tell me why you don’t have a steady girlfriend. I mean, even though you’re a pest, you should be able to get at least a first date just on the basis of your looks.”

“Uh, thanks. I think. And I date. But lately…” He shrugged. “I’ve grown tired of the games. Which is why Sasha is working out so well. She’s always happy to see me, doesn’t mind me hogging the remote, never complains if I leave my clothes on the floor and she doesn’t speak English.”

Lacey laughed. “If you could just cure her of the flip-flop eating-”

“Gnawing to death,” he corrected with a grin.

“She’d be perfect,” they said in unison.

Their laughter slowly died and Evan became aware-painfully aware-of how close they sat. How romantic and intimate this setting was. How alone they were. How soft and smooth her hand felt beneath his. He brushed the pad of his thumb over the velvety soft skin of her fingers and the desire he’d successfully held in check shot to the surface.

Did she feel it, too? This sexually charged tension that suddenly seemed to crackle in the air between them? Based on her quick intake of breath and the heat kindling in her eyes, he was certain she did. But before he acted on it, there was something he wanted, needed, to know.

“What about you?” he asked. “Boyfriend?”

“No. At the risk of repeating your words verbatim, if there were, that kiss wouldn’t have happened. I know you think I’m a pain in the ass and maybe I am, but I’m not a cheater.”

“At the risk of repeating your words, you should be able to get at least a first date just on the basis of your looks.”

“Actually, it feels as if I’ve had a first date with half the single guys in L.A. I’ve been through my share of bad relationships. But I figure you’ve got to go through the bad ones to get to a good one, and I must be due for a good one if for no other reason than the law of averages. But the men I meet somehow always turn out to be like my dad and brother-in-law-all work, no play, success at any cost. I call them soulless clones. Like you, I’m tired of games. At this point in my life, I’m not looking to impress a whole bunch of different guys. I’d rather impress the same guy over and over again.”

“Shouldn’t be too difficult. You’re pretty impressive. Especially in that dress.”

“Uh-huh. You’re just saying that because you want another cookie.”

“I wouldn’t say no if you offered.”

He knew his tone clearly implied he was talking about more than cookies, and for several seconds they simply stared at each other. Evan could almost hear her internally debating how, or even if, she should respond to his words. Would she play it safe? Or take a risk?

“Another cookie, coming right up,” she murmured, then slowly rose. He watched her walk toward the counter, the rear view of her making him draw in several deep, careful breaths. When she reached the counter, she kept her back to him. Rising on her toes and bending forward-a move that nearly stopped his heart-she reached into the glass display case. Then she turned around and leaned her hips on the counter. The smoky look in her eyes arrowed a jolt of fire straight to his groin.

“Here it is,” she said, waggling the cookie, her voice as smoky as her eyes. “Bite Me.”

With him wearing the robe and her in that dress, offering him a cookie, it was as if the widow display had come to life, just as he’d fantasized earlier today. He didn’t hesitate, but he had to force himself to stand slowly and cross to her with measured steps. He stopped when less than two feet separated them and planted his palms on the counter, caging her in.

“That’s an offer I can’t refuse.” He leaned forward and lightly grazed his teeth down the side of her neck.

She moaned and tilted her head to the side, an invitation he immediately took advantage of, nipping his way up to her earlobe.

“Nice,” he murmured against her fragrant skin. “But I think you should rename your cookie Kiss Me.”

She let out a long, pleasure-filled sigh. “Okeydokey.”

“You’re very agreeable all of a sudden.”

“I get that way when a sexy man is nibbling on my neck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Noted.” He pressed his lips to the spot where her pulse throbbed. “But surely you don’t think that’s going to scare me off.”

“I sure as hell hope not.”

She turned her face toward him and with a growl he covered her mouth with his. Any thoughts he might have entertained that the sparks flying during their earlier kiss had been a fluke were instantly erased. He felt as if his circuits had been hooked up to a nuclear reactor and someone had flipped the switch.

He leaned into her, pressing his hardness against all that gorgeous, feminine softness and everything faded away except her. The way she felt in his arms-all curves and warmth. The taste of her in his mouth-cookies and frosting. The scent of her filling his head-sugar and peonies. With a deep groan, he ran his hands down her back, pressing her closer, kissing her deeper, his tongue exploring the satin of her mouth while he filled his palms with the round fullness of her bottom.