She’d been so pissed off that he’d denied her the privacy of a good cry.

A couple of hours later, he’d awakened her fully dressed. He’d handed her the bra and panties he’d washed for her and instructed her to get her clothes on. Ten minutes later, they’d been walking through the desert, lit only by the moonlight, neither saying a word.

As dawn broke, they’d walked into Keeler and were spotted by an elderly man, who kindly let them borrow his phone. Fifteen minutes later, the Inyo County Sheriff’s Department showed up, sirens blaring, and took her back to her father. She hadn’t seen Axel much during questioning, just long enough for him to ask her to keep his name out of the press and to wish her well.

A media circus ensued afterward. Her picture had been plastered everywhere. She’d hidden in her house for weeks, waiting for the frenzy to die down. Her father had hired her a publicist and an agent . . . then drowned himself in a new starlet. She’d been approached to write her story for millions of dollars by publishers and TV producers. Mystery had refused them. She didn’t want to recount for the world how stupid she’d been.

And she’d never heard from Axel again.

The other dark cloud hanging over her memory? Her abduction had never been solved. Her captor had been identified as a thug for hire with a record a mile long, but they’d never managed to figure out who had paid him to kidnap her or why. Her father had freaked out, convinced that his celebrity had been to blame, that someone wanting to extort money or kick-start their fifteen minutes of fame had taken her. In the absence of a better theory, it made sense. He’d insisted they move elsewhere, and had been prepping to shoot a film in London. Mystery had tagged along, and they’d never left.

In the ensuing six and a half years, she’d put the incident behind her, stopped having nightmares, and managed to move forward again. She’d finished university, three cozy mysteries with a hip flair, the most recent of which would be published in June. She’d learned self-defense, taken up yoga, and begun to live with purpose. She’d succeeded at everything she attempted—except having a full love life.

She’d never, ever been able to forget Axel or stop wondering what if things had been different . . .

“I might be in a bit of a hurry,” she admitted, glancing at Axel from beneath her lashes. “But I suspect you’ll be worth the wait.”

He grinned, flashing his dimples. “You’re an interesting little flirt.”

Interesting? Mystery wasn’t sure if that was a rebuke or a compliment. “Surely you didn’t bring me here simply to figure me out.”

“Maybe I did. You intrigue me.” He cocked his head. “And you look somewhat familiar.”

Fear struck to the bottom of her heart, but she plastered on her best poker face and tried to laugh it off. “You don’t have to feed me a pick-up line. I’m already here.”

Before he could respond, she wriggled off the counter and landed on her feet, brushing up against him. She knew Axel preferred to be in charge, but damn it, she couldn’t give him too much time to think. And she didn’t want to wait anymore.

Mystery reached for the hem of her tank top, then pulled it over her head in one fluid move. As she flung the cotton onto the counter behind her, she heard him suck in a sharp breath and found him staring at her plump mounds spilling from her underwire lingerie.

Yeah, if you like this lacy black bra, wait until you see the matching thong.

“You look . . . edible.”

If that was true, why wouldn’t he take a bite out of her? She cupped her breasts in offering and leaned closer. Instead of grabbing her by the hand and hauling her to his bedroom to promptly strip her down and plunge inside her, he grabbed her shoulders and drilled his stare into her.

“I’m going to take you so hard, baby. But in my time and in my way. Come with me. Leave your shirt there.”

When he clasped her hand and hauled her out of the kitchen, she wondered where they were headed. It didn’t take long before she realized he really did want to cuddle on the couch. He sat on a sleek gray sectional and pulled her into his lap. On the bright side, she felt his very insistent erection against her hip. The huge drawback? He wanted to talk. The longer they chatted, the more time he had to figure out who she truly was.

“Call me old-fashioned, but I like to know a little something about a woman before we share skin.”

“Not much to say. I’m boring unless I’m horizontal.”

He tossed his head back and laughed. “Somehow, I doubt that. And the more you push me, the more I’m going to drag this out. So give over and tell me all about you.”

Mystery believed him. He hadn’t hopped into bed with her simply because he could years ago. Apparently, nothing had changed. “I’m twentysomething and single, educated, and tired of European men. I’m here on vacation and fascinated by you.”

“Why? You don’t know me.”

More than one flippant answer streamed through her head, but she’d been mostly stupid and impatient today. If she wanted him, she had to put a hold on her hormones and her heart. She had to use her damn head.

“You look . . . comfortable in your skin. You seem the sort of man who lives life robustly. You can relax, as you were when I saw you at the bar, drinking your ale. But you quickly caught on to my intent, and I like people with brains and wit. I can’t deny that I found you quite sexy. Does attraction require more explanation than that?”

He raised a brow at her as his hand slid down her waist, over her hip, caressed her thigh. Mystery didn’t feel just a shiver roll over her skin; his touch shook her whole body.

“I suppose not,” he admitted. “But you’ve given it more than a little thought.”

If he only knew . . .

“Why did you say yes?”

She probably shouldn’t ask because he’d start dissecting his reasons and replay their meet in his head. Who knew where that would take his thoughts? But she was too desperate for the answer to keep her mouth shut.

“I like a straightforward girl who can tell me what she wants but doesn’t always expect to get it. You intrigued me since you obviously didn’t belong in that bar and felt more than a bit of trepidation going in. But you put your big girl panties on and did it, anyway. I’m still not sure why, and your attempt to order wine made me smile. I haven’t been amused in a long time.”

She let out a slow breath. Intriguing and amusing she could handle. Him guessing her identity would make this whole evening go south. Mystery felt somewhat guilty for tricking him. He didn’t want her then, and if he knew who she was, she doubted he’d want her now. But she honestly didn’t know how else to move on with her life. She no longer had any taste for vain actors, party-hardy musicians, or “regular” but starstruck men. Mystery seemed completely stuck on Axel.

“I’d like the chance to amuse you more.” She leaned forward and layered her lips over his.

He let her, cupping her nape to bring her closer. He sank past her lips with a groan, his tongue seeking hers for a sensual slide as his palm found its way up her abdomen, then paused just below her breast. Soon—finally—Axel Dillon would actually be more intimate with her than a kiss. Mystery wanted to arch into his hand until he palmed her breast, but she knew he wouldn’t give her what she wanted simply because she wanted it. So she waited, hoping, unable to catch her breath. Even the thought of his touch made her light-headed.

Instead, he leaned back and stared into her face, as if trying to figure her out. No, as if trying to figure out who she was.

Time to distract him—fast.

She repositioned herself on his lap until she straddled him and pressed her sex against the ridge of his hard cock. Gyrating over his erection, she arched her back and thrust her breasts closer to his mouth. He braced his big hands around her waist and ground her onto his thick staff with a groan. As a thrill reverberated through her body, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. Her breasts bounced free, and she brushed one of her nipples across his lips.