What was she even doing here? She should never have gone to Des after being shot down by some over-confident, balding rat. It was a moment of weakness and now she was about to expose how desperate she was to the one guy she respected.

She huffed, fidgeting with the large hoop earrings that dangled next to her jawline. Would he really be able to help her? By her list Des was all kinds of wrong. For starters he made her stomach all fluttery and her palms all sweaty. He made her tremble and laugh and fantasize.

And he didn’t tick any of the boxes she required in a partner. He didn’t have a job her mother would deem acceptable, and he was…scruffy. He wouldn’t fit in with the straight-laced Greene family the way her brother-in-law had, and her mother would perceive Des as rough, even if all his tattoos were covered. He’d always be on the outside, and she’d be stuck in the middle.

A lump settled in her throat. More than their differences, it was a promise she’d made to her father on his deathbed that held her back. Three things: settle down, get married, keep Mother happy. She would have sworn anything to have more time with him, and those requests had seemed like nothing.

She couldn’t date a guy like Des, not when she knew it would mean breaking the last promise she’d ever made to her father.

“I know I’m late.” Des’s booming voice made her jump as he barrelled out the door, tugging on a black motorcycle jacket. He looked the same, yet different. He still wore jeans and a black T-shirt, his perpetual uniform, but there was something fresh about it.

He’d shaved.

Gracie smiled and waggled a finger at him, shoving memories of her father from her mind. “Tsk tsk.”

“We had a situation with the kitchen. Not enough of the special.” He frowned. “Again.”

“You’re off duty now,” Gracie said, linking her arm through his and attempting subtlety as she took in a deep breath. The leather from his jacket and the spice of his aftershave was a potent combination. “No worrying about work, that’s a rule.”

“I thought I was in charge tonight. Why do I have to follow your rules?”

They took off down the street, Gracie’s heels clicking against the pavement. Even with her tallest stilettos, the top of her head was still below his chin. “I thought the rules might help you find the right guy for me. Anyway, where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

They rounded a corner, away from the hustle and bustle of the main strip in South Melbourne. The market glittered in the distance, lights glowing and people gravitating to it like flies to honey.

“I didn’t know the market opened at night,” Gracie said.

“It’s the first week,” he replied, holding her close as they passed a group of people. His arm flexed as he pulled her in and she stifled a sigh. “It runs through the last bit of spring and all through summer. One of my regulars has a stall here.”

“This is different.” She nodded, smiling to herself. One point for creativity.

“I never did understand why you always brought your dates to my restaurant. I think it’s a great place, obviously, but a restaurant is a bit boring for a first date, don’t you think?”

“It’s not boring, it’s…traditional.”

“And you like traditional?”

She detected a note of disappointment in his voice.

“I like familiar,” she corrected. “Besides, I always wanted to have a story to tell when I finally met the right guy. And I thought saying that we had our first date at a place called First was cute.”

Des looked at her as though she’d sprouted antennas and started speaking another language. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” She straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin up. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing is wrong with the fact that you thought it was cute, but forcing something by doing the same thing over and over…well, that’s never going to work.”

“You think I should leave it to chance?” She raised an eyebrow.

Gracie Greene never left anything to chance.

“Didn’t someone say that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?”

She tugged her arm out of his. “Yes, someone did say that, but that someone was a man.”

“I guess that’s why you asked for my help,” he pointed out. “Not that I think finding a boyfriend is all that important, by the way.”

“You haven’t met my mother.” She rolled her eyes and allowed Des to steer her to the market crossing. “It’s perfectly fine for a guy to be single, but a woman…there must be something wrong with her.”

“Nobody believes that shit anymore.”

His hand was at her back, the light pressure barely registering through her coat, but it was enough to make her pulse race. Why was it that simply being near him caused her body to do all kinds of crazy, involuntary things?

He was wrong for her, so wrong. But she couldn’t deny the flicker of excitement he stirred, the tiny, rebellious hint of fire she’d never sought, never wished for. In fact, it was a feeling she actively avoided, because it meant that she’d have to put herself on the line.

“Rule number two: don’t mock a girl’s ideals.” She offered a smile, sidestepping the argument for now. But she wasn’t going let him off the hook too easily.

“What was rule number one again?” His brow crinkled.

“You’re going to struggle if we’ve only gotten to rule two and you’re already forgetting. Rule number one was no worrying about work.”

“Right.”

As they entered the market, Gracie’s senses were swarmed with a glorious fusion of food scents, noisy chatter, and warmth. Everywhere people were laughing, eating, talking, and having a great time. She had to admit, it did seem like a more fun environment in which to meet someone than browsing profiles and taking notes on her own.

Des held her tight as he led her through the crowded stall lanes to the dining area. Hawker-style food carts ran the length of the market, selling everything from Indian curries to French crepes to churros, paella, and more. Spices and herb smells filled her nose, making her mouth water.

“I’m starving,” she announced. It was the truth, though food was not exactly what she had in mind.

Close in the crowd, she leaned into the hard warmth of Des’s body. Her fingertips brushed his jean-clad thigh and she kept her vision straight ahead. She felt wicked, far away from her usual, conservative self.

You’re not here to play pretend with him. You’re here to solve a problem. Eye on the prize, Greene!

She checked out the menu for a Greek food stall and a warm hand embraced hers.

“I’m assuming there are no rules against hand-holding?” He leaned down, his breath tickling her ear. She desperately wanted to turn to him, to see those full lips of his up close and admire every curve in detail.

“This is strictly a business outing.” She removed her hand from his. “Hand-holding is more of a date thing…and we’re not on a date.”

The reminder was as much for her as it was for him. Her body wanted nothing more than to fuse to his, to clasp his hand, to find his lips with hers, to explore and delve and taste. Gracie swallowed against the desire building in her.

They ordered their food and found a seat at the end of a long communal table. It shouldn’t have been romantic—they were surrounded by crowds and noise and chaos—yet the way the world dissolved around them whenever he was near was the most heart-fluttering, stomach-flipping, breath-stealing thing Gracie had ever experienced.

She was in way over her head.

“So,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as squeaky out loud as it did in her head. “How is this supposed to help me find a man?”

“It’s all about variety.” Des gestured with his fork. “You’ve been hitting the same type of guys via the same mediums and it’s not working. You need to break out of that rut.”