Does She Dare?

“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.