“That must be nice.” She took a long gulp of her coffee to hide her jealousy.

He nodded, averting his gaze for a moment. “Speaking of my family, you’ll get to meet them tonight.”

“Tonight?” she squeaked.

“Yeah, we’re doing a family dinner. I’m bringing you along to meet them. It’ll be a good time to introduce you to everyone.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for telling me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I was being sarcastic! We don’t know anything about each other yet.” She grappled for an excuse. “How do you know I’m not busy?”

He cocked his head. “Are you?”

“Well…no.” She sighed. “You should have given me more notice.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. We were planning to talk through everything today so at least it will all be fresh in your mind tonight. Besides, I thought this was what you wanted.”

She blew an errant strand of hair out of her eyes with a huff. Getting her brand into Des’s bar was what she wanted, fronting up to his family…well, that was her end of the bargain. But it made her insides twist and turn. She wasn’t very good when it came to playing happy family. Still, a promise was a promise.

“Okay, fine. What else do I need to know about you?”

“I don’t bring girls home to meet my parents.”

“Ever?”

“Once.” He swallowed and looked as though he was about to explain, but a shield seemed to shoot up around him. “You’ll be the first one in quite a while. As I said, I don’t do relationships.”

“Me, either.”

“Really?” He raised a brow. “Why?”

“My parents had a crappy marriage and Dad’s now on to wife number four or five. I tried once to have a relationship.” She paused. “It didn’t end well.”

“That’s a shame.”

“No it’s not. Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who think all girls are waiting to trap a man into marriage.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m perfectly happy without the wedding, the white picket fence, and the commitment.”

He chuckled. “Music to my ears.”

She sipped her coffee and motioned for Paul to follow her into the living area. “I can support myself and, so long as other needs are taken care of, I’m perfectly happy being independent.”

“And what other needs might they be?” He dropped down onto the couch, crossing an ankle over one knee.

He seemed to take up all the room, and Libby forced herself not to admire how damned delectable he looked sprawled out like that. She chose an armchair on the opposite side of the coffee table. Better to keep a little distance.

“None that you need to worry about,” she said, crossing her legs demurely.

“Have you got a rabbit for that?”

“A rabbit?” She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant and then snapped it shut when the true meaning of his words settled over her. “What I do in the privacy of my own home is none of your business.”

“I need to know my girlfriend isn’t left wanting.” He grinned at her like a wolf sizing up its prey.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

“So why did your relationship end badly? Some bastard hurt you?” He drummed his fingers on his knee, his eyes narrowed.

“Yes.”

Some bastard had used and discarded her like a takeaway coffee cup…casting her out of the one place where she’d wanted acceptance. Craved it. Needed it with the desperation of a starving woman reaching for food because she’d never been able to get it at home. But she’d failed and had been humiliated for it.

That was her punishment for thinking she could change a womanizer into a reliable, committed partner.

The memory still bit into her, sharp and painful. But it had been a lesson she needed to learn, so Libby did the same as any good student would do. She copped the failure on the chin and adjusted her behavior accordingly.

No relationships, no commitment, no emotions. Just a little fun when she needed it, so long as she was sure she could keep the other person at arm’s length. Flings were better than relationships, anyway—it was the honeymoon period without any of the crap that followed.

“What did he do?” he asked, the curiosity undisguised in his voice.

“It’s not relevant.”

Paul nodded. Sunlight shone into the room between the slats of her blinds, casting a flickering light as the breeze from an open window pushed them around. He hadn’t shaved—the dark stubble made the angle of his jaw look even sharper and more appealing.

Libby distracted herself by inspecting her freshly manicured nails for imperfections. “What’s your family like?”

“They can be a little intense.” He raked a hand through his hair, but the dark waves sprung stubbornly back into place. “But they’re good people. Traditional. My ma will be very excited when you turn up for dinner.”

“You haven’t told her I’m coming?” She blinked.

“I thought we’d go with the element of surprise.”

She could just imagine how her father would react if she randomly turned up at his house with a man. Then again, the chances of Paul’s family being anything like her own were slim. Like runway model slim.

“How do you think they’ll take it?” She guarded her tone, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the hint of insecurity that grew inside her like a weed. But she needed to prepare mentally if he was going to feed her to the sharks.

“Are you kidding?” He bobbed his head. “They’ll think the sun shines out of your ass.”

Laughter bubbled in her throat at his choice of metaphor. “Why?”

“Because you’re girlie and sweet, but you look like you don’t take any shit from anyone, either.” His eyes lingered on her. “Besides, who wouldn’t think you were the perfect girl for their son?”

“I don’t know.” She sipped her coffee, her hands cradling the colorful mug. “This is a first for me, too. I don’t meet a guy’s parents if I can help it.”

“So I’m popping your cherry, then?”

“I’m serious about making my business work, and I’ll do whatever it takes,” she said, ignoring the innuendo.

“I can see that.” Paul’s expression was guarded, his dark eyes revealing nothing as he interlaced his fingers behind his head.

The pose made his biceps bulge beneath the soft cotton of his T-shirt. As it pulled across his chest, Libby’s eyes drifted to the muscles there. He was so…defined.

“So how did we meet?” she asked, dragging her eyes up to his face.

Paul smirked. “Can’t we go with the truth? I picked you up at a bar.”

She shook her head. “No. We met through a friend of a friend, some loose connection no one will ask about.”

“Boring.”

“Believable. We don’t need to be interesting, in fact, the less interesting the better.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “We want to seem as normal and unexciting as possible.”

“You’re making our relationship sound like wholegrain cereal.”

She smirked. “Trust me, the less information you give people the easier lying is.”

“You can try that, but my mother puts gossip reporters to shame. Trust me.”

Pulling up into his parents’ driveway with Libby in the passenger seat was weird to say the least. For a guy who’d been called so laidback he could barely stand, he suddenly felt as jittery as a teenager on a first date. Maybe it was because he remembered the exact moment he’d brought Sadie home. While she wasn’t as vibrant and confident as Libby, she’d had that same polish about her. Perfect hair, perfect clothes, perfect smile.

She’s not Sadie, and this is not a real relationship. Relax.

In the close confines of the car Libby’s delicious scent intoxicated him. She smelled like roses and those pink musk candies he’d devoured as a kid. Sweet, heavenly, and utterly addictive.

“Is there anything else you want to ask me before we go in?” She fiddled with the mirror on the passenger side visor, touching a pink gloss to her lips.

“I think we’re good.” He turned, reaching through to the back seat to grab his jacket.