“Don’t be sorry. He’s long gone and good riddance.”

“Okay, then.” I shrug. If she’s good with it, I sure as hell am, too.

I can feel all my red flags popping up as I tread into my danger zone. My attraction to her builds with every minute I’m in her presence.

Sliding my finger under my collar I pull it looser. I try to think about anything but her being single. “So do you have kids?”

“No.” Her expression softens, and she falls silent.

“Well, I guess that’s good then. Divorce is tough with kids.”

“Besides, I’m not sure it could’ve happened. All work and no play made the Mister a very dull boy.”

“Really?”

“And it’s not like I’m overly needy or anything. I just have needs that most men would like attending to.”

I swallow hard. “So those kind of needs.”

She lets her gaze trail from my chest down to my boots. The look in her eyes is hungry, like she’s going to eat me for dessert. “I’m sure a man like you would understand.”

I take a sharp breath. “I understand one thing for sure.”

She looks up at me expectantly.

“Your ex is an idiot.”

A wide grin spreads across her face. “Oh, I like you. Come on, it’s hot out here. Let’s go inside to cool off. I’ve got some fresh lemonade.”

She doesn’t wait for my response but turns on her heel and heads toward the house.

Her ass looks amazing as she walks. I chuckle too loud as I follow her without any hesitation.

She turns, her long hair swinging over her shoulder. “What’s so funny?”

“My dad only sends me to work on clients’ homes where the women are married or old.”

She laughs out loud. “I bet! Look at you.”

“He sure got this job wrong. Hey . . . what about me?”

She steps right up to me and looks at me with those big gorgeous eyes. “You’re hot . . . and I bet you’re a handful of trouble.”

“Maybe. But I’m pretty sure you are, too.”

She winks and keeps walking.

Holy hell. I feel the adrenalin of my pick-up days shoot up my spine. What I could do with this woman if I was still a player.

Once we’re in her kitchen she pulls out a chair for me as she heads to the fridge. “So lemonade or something stronger.”

“Got any beer?”

Grinning, she takes out two bottles. I notice there are already two empty ones on the counter with their labels peeled off in shreds. No wonder her phone got thrown across the yard. She notices me staring at the mess.

“Yeah, I was having one of those days.”

When she slides into the chair across from me, she glances down at her outfit, pulls her low neckline up a little higher and pushes her hair off her face. “I forgot you guys were coming today, and I really wasn’t expecting company. I should change into something more presentable.”

Despite all my efforts to play it cool, I doubt I can hide the weight of my lust for her in my expression.

“Not on my account. I like that outfit.”

“Hmmm.” She takes a swig of beer as she studies me, the corners of her mouth turning up.

I nod at the buzzing cell phone she set down on the table. “Is that your ex trying to reach you?”

“No, not my ex.”

“Oh, so there are others.”

Of course there are others . . . I mean, look at her.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s that damn profile on my Tinder page. I made a mistake saying that I have a very open mind.”

“Why is that a mistake?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the weirdos that contact me.”

I take a long sip of my beer as I watch her. This woman is making my head spin. “Do you mind me asking something?”

“Not at all.”

“Why are you using Tinder? I have to think that men are falling all over each other to be with you.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t want to be with anyone. I’ve done that and I like being on my own.”

Puzzled, I point to the phone. “So?”

“You really want to know? You won’t judge me?” She pauses and appraises me like she’s trying to determine if I can be trusted.

I nod—my curiosity piqued.

She squares her shoulders and boldly stares me in the eye. “I want sex, lots of sex. Nothing more. I’m only looking for hookups.”

I cough, almost spitting up my beer. Is she serious?

“Initially it was my girlfriend’s idea. After the crash and burn of my marriage she knew that my self-esteem was low, and thought if I had some fun I’d realize how hot I am.” She laughs and rolls her eyes playfully.

“I can’t believe you ever questioned that,” I reply.

She shrugs. “My husband’s lack of interest preyed on me after a while.”

I shake my head in disbelief. Her ex must be nuts.

“I’d always been a ‘good’ girl, so I thought my friend was crazy to suggest doing hook-ups on Tinder . . . but I agreed to try, and for the most part, I’ve had fun.”

“I bet you have.” I grin, imagining how men must react to her. A few years ago she would’ve been my ideal woman.

She taps the phone with her manicured nails. “And Tinder is an efficient way to sort through the crowd.”

“Then why did you throw your phone in the bushes?”

She leans back into her chair. “This last creeper pushed me over the edge. He wanted me to wear a latex body suit and sit on him.”

My eyebrows knit together. “What?”

“Exactly! So you can see why I’m agitated!”

“So you’re not a fan of squatting in latex body suits?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face.

“Hell no. I want hot sex. I’m not interested in being taken to dinner, or saran- wrapped for some kinky weirdo. Is there anything wrong to just want to get screwed?”

I shake my head. I can’t believe this woman. She’s already drained her beer and she’s at the fridge getting us two more.

“Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that at all,” I say.

“You’re a man. Tell me if I’m being unreasonable. If you saw me on Tinder would you want to straight-up screw me?”

I set my beer down. “Um, Ms. Jacoby.”

“Oh, for God’s sake call me Elle.”

“If I was a Tinder guy I’d really want to do that, Elle. But I’m a take you to dinner and get to know you kind of guy.”

She laughs loudly and waves her hands toward the ceiling. “Damn, can I get a break! My sprinkler man won’t even screw me!”

I pick my beer back up. “I’m not a sprinkler man.”

She purses her lips together and her smile fades. “I’m sorry . . . I offended you.”

“I’m a landscape architect.”

“That’s so hot.”

I shake my head in reproach. “Remember I’m just helping out my dad until he’s fully mobile again after his surgery. Regardless, fixing irrigation systems is an honorable profession.”

“Right, sorry.” She glides her fingers along the curve of the beer bottle before looking up at me with a coy smile.

“So is sex really all that matters to you?” I ask.

“Maybe it won’t be when I finally get some that’s satisfying.”

Oh, good Lord. How much restraint can one man be expected to have?

I let out a sigh of regret. “Well, I’d love to help you out but I don’t do casual sex. Been there, done that.”

I square my shoulders after making my declaration. After almost two years of following my abstinence program, I can say I’m confident I’ve moved on from my sex-obsessed ways, but it still makes me cringe with a sense of loss after the words leave my lips.

She pounds her fists on the table. “My timing is always shit. So if I’d met you during your been there period you would’ve screwed me?”

“Without a doubt. Screwed is too simple of a word for all the things I would have done to you.”

I take a deep breath and glance over my shoulder at the kitchen layout. “I’d have you bent over your kitchen island as we fucked, or your legs would be wrapped around me as I took you against that wall.”

“You’re killing me here! Are you good in bed?”

“Good?” I smile, remembering those days. “That wasn’t the adjective most women used. What do you think?”