“Fox, it’s me,” she said, then winced. As if he didn’t know a thousand women who had his name on speed dial.

She’d just opened her mouth to identify herself when he said, “Molly Webster,” turning her name into a purring caress. “You often prank-call strange men on Sunday mornings?”

Goose bumps broke out over her skin. “I wanted to invite you to the market,” she said before she could lose her nerve, twisting her fingers in the thin cotton scarf she’d wrapped around her neck because she liked the indigo color against the raspberry of her cardigan. “If you still want to come.”

“Baby, I always want to come.”

Face red-hot, though her nerves eased at the sign he wasn’t still furious, she laughed. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“How soon can you be ready?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his tone.

“I’m pretty much done, but I can drive over and pick you up. It’ll take me about ten minutes at this time of day.” The roads would be all but dead, even in the city. “Is that enough time?”

“Man who needs more isn’t a man, but I don’t even need that.”

“I’ll start driving now.” The butterflies took flight again, her need to see him a scary, beautiful craving.

“Or you could come downstairs to the surface parking lot.”

Eyes widening, Molly ended the call and grabbed her purse. When she left the elevator on the ground floor to step out through the main doors, it was to find a low-slung beauty of a car parked near the exit from the underground garage. A bright, sleek yellow, it was a sexy, powerful intruder in amongst the compacts and sedans. Just like the man who prowled around the car to put his hands on her, her own on his chest a heartbeat later.

“You were so confident I’d call?” Her violent pleasure at his presence slammed up against annoyance at being taken for granted.

“Hell, no.” Smoothing his hands over her hips, his touch proprietary, he said, “But while I might possibly have a temper—”

Molly couldn’t maintain her annoyance in the face of his blunt response. “Possibly?” she said with a small smile, happiness dancing in her at having the heat and power of him so close, his scent in her every breath.

“Possibly.” He nudged her closer between his spread thighs, his hands moving to her butt, the green of his irises brilliant under the morning sunlight. “I’m not a man who gives up when I want something, and I want you, Molly. Under me, on top of me, with your luscious mouth on my co—”

Damp heat between her thighs, she pressed her fingers against his lips. “Stop. We’re going out.” Not back inside and to the bedroom where words weren’t necessary, pleasure and sensation their vocabulary.

A slow smile that turned her knees to jelly. “Yes, ma’am.” Squeezing her butt, he dipped his head, his lips flirting with hers until she wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth. He stroked his tongue deep, the rhythm languorous and she had the thought that if she hadn’t made him leave last night, he’d have moved in her with the same unhurried patience this morning.

“Come on,” he said when their mouths parted, that sexy dimple creasing his cheek and his hand cradling her nape in a way that felt breath-stealingly protective. “Let’s hit this market before I take you up against the wall there.” His forehead touched hers. “I’m not sure your neighbors would approve.”

Cheeks blazing, Molly shot a nervous glance around the parking lot. It proved empty of all other life. Phew. “Aren’t you worried about photographers?”

“I fucking love this country.” He placed one hand on her lower back, nudging her toward the car. “Even your paparazzi are polite and don’t bother people until after ten.”

“Ha-ha,” she said, trying not to think too hard about how incredibly good it felt to be with him. “And wow, look, you picked such an inconspicuous car.”

“Smart-ass.” He lightly spanked that ass, to her renewed blush. “The rental company only delivered it yesterday, and as far as anyone knows, it was hired by a corporation.”

“Where’s your disguise?”

“Wait and see.” Leaning down to open the door, he said, “Into my chariot.”

Molly bit her lower lip and wondered if she should warn him about the parking situation at the market. Then the devil in her, long stifled, grinned and said why not give him the full local experience? “Is this a Lamborghini, too?” she asked, sliding into the buttery-soft leather bucket seat with a sigh of pleasure.

“Baby,” he said, after getting into the driver’s seat, “we need to have a serious discussion about your lack of knowledge of the most beautiful machines on this planet.” Closing a hand on her thigh, high enough up that her breath caught, he slipped on mirrored sunglasses with the other. “This is a Ferrari Spider.”

She widened her eyes, unable to tone down her awareness of that hand on her thigh… or of how possessive it felt. “Gosh, what a rookie mistake.” Faux embarrassment. “I mean, what ordinary person can’t tell a Ferrari and a Lamborghini apart on sight?”

“A certain librarian clearly wants to be in trouble today.” Shifting his hand from her thigh to grip the back of her neck, he held her in position for a patented Fox kiss. Deep, wet, lusciously sexual.

He didn’t stop until she was squirming restlessly in her seat. A final lick across her lips, a warning squeeze of her nape. “You’ll get the rest of your punishment later.”

“You—” Shaking her head, she pointed to the street—and if his grin kicked her in the heart, she’d already made her decision, already decided not to be a coward, to embrace this month no matter the consequences.

“Busy place,” Fox said fifteen minutes later, the area around the outdoor market a hive of activity, cars and pedestrians intermingling as the early birds made their way to the entrance.

The Ferrari received more than a few hoots and hollers, especially when the tiny paved parking lot proved full even so early, and Fox was waved into the overflow lot—a grassy field that also occasionally functioned as a racetrack.

“Molly, you have some explaining to do,” Fox muttered when the car’s undercarriage almost scraped a raised section of earth during their turn into the “parking space” pointed out by the orange-vested teenage boy acting as an attendant.

“Were you expecting valet service?” she asked innocently, enjoying playing with him in a way she could’ve never predicted that first night. “I heard they have that at the malls in L.A.”

“Oh, your punishment is going to last a long time.” He turned off the engine. “I think I’ll need to hear some begging before I show any mercy.”

His growled warning, voice holding that edgy roughness that had turned him into a megastar, had her clenching her thighs together as he reached into the miniscule backseat to grab a baseball cap and what looked like a sticker. Confused, she watched him peel off the backing and apply it to his cheek. Suddenly, he had an impossibly realistic-appearing tattoo of a knife-edged starburst on his face.

“Wow,” she murmured, running her fingers over the “tattoo.” “That’s incredible.”

“I have a friend who’s a makeup artist.” He tugged on the cap, the brim shadowing his sunglasses. “She fixes me up with these—people focus on it and don’t bother with the rest.” He pulled on a gray hoodie that covered his arm tats, and suddenly, he wasn’t Fox the rock star but Fox the gorgeous, intelligent, fun guy who was going to the market with her early on a Sunday morning.

Feeling her heart twist in a way that heralded trouble, she didn’t resist when he put an arm around her waist once they’d stepped out of the Ferrari—even though it wasn’t safe, wasn’t sensible.

She already knew that in a month, when he left, it would hurt.

“That is a smokin’ car,” the attendant said, having wandered over to admire it.

Fox halted. “You have a license?”

“Yeah.”

“Keep an eye on it and I’ll let you drive it around the block.”

 “Man, thank you.” Shocked awe on the teenager’s face. “Man, shit. I’ll make sure no one touches it.”

Sliding his hand into the back pocket of her jeans as they left the lot, Fox allowed her to set the pace of their exploration. She’d worried the lip ring would make him noticeable, but no one seemed to pay him much mind even when he ditched the sunglasses, asking her to keep them in her purse. Of course, he attracted plenty of admiring female glances, with more than one envious one leveled at Molly, but none of that had to do with his rock star status. No, it was Fox’s raw sexual appeal.

“This is my favorite section,” she said, leading him to the dubious antiques while wondering how any woman stayed sane in a relationship with a man so desired by others. The idea of Fox with another woman—

Strangling the thought before it could ruin their day, she went to the best stall. “Some of it is actually real. Like this.” She picked up a teacup and saucer in beautiful condition. “See the mark on the bottom?” she whispered. “And they’re selling it for only five dollars.”

Fox pulled out a five and handed it to the stall owner before she could go for her wallet. Opening her mouth to protest, she saw the glint in his eye and knew he was expecting it. “Thank you,” she said instead, giving the cup and saucer to the stall owner’s son so he could wrap it up in cushioning newspaper.

“Good choice, baby.” His breath warm against her skin as he leaned in, one hand on her lower back, he said, “Don’t you feel guilty fleecing these nice people?”

She pointed to another similar set as her nipples grew tight and sensitive against the lace of her bra. “I saw that at our version of Walmart last week for seven bucks. He’s selling it for twenty. Trust me, they make their money.”