“Good afternoon, Kat,” she said, pushing her glasses up her small nose. Her whole face, surrounded by curly gray hair, wrinkled when she smiled.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Latham. You’re looking well.”

“Thank you. You’re here to use the reading room?” She flicked through a schedule book on her desk.

“I am.” Kat extended a printout. “I’ve booked it indefinitely for these days at these times.”

“Ah, here we are, dear.” She handed Kat the sign-in sheet, which was empty. Carter hadn’t arrived yet.

Kat signed her name. “When my student gets here, can you tell him to come straight through once he’s signed in?”

“Of course.”

Kat wandered through the immaculate building toward the reading room constructed as part of her father’s wishes in his will. Kat had always loved to read and her father had wanted to create somewhere that not only she but other people could go to lose themselves in the pages they read.

His plan was to do it before his fiftieth birthday, which he never saw.

Kat dropped her bags onto one of the large oak tables and sat down. She pulled out all her resources for Carter so they could get straight to work. She didn’t want to dilly-dally. She got flustered enough in his presence.

The truth was, after seeing Carter so … civilian, as he left Kill, Kat had finally accepted that maaaaaybe she had a wee crush. The vision of his buzz cut and bright blue eyes, his body wrapped in a tight T-shirt and low-riding jeans, accosted Kat once again.

Why did it have to be the Ramones? She loved the Ramones. She loved them even more stretched across Carter’s wide chest and large biceps. She’d been unable to tear her eyes from his tattoo, either. Cursive black and red flames of delicious ink dressed his skin to the elbow of one arm and to the wrist of the other; the intricate vines, patterns, and words she couldn’t quite make out were stunning.

And very, very sexy.

Dammit. She’d been a train wreck. All she’d wanted to do was thank him for the amazingly thoughtful birthday present he’d given her and she’d ended up stammering like an idiot.

It was so stupid, and not simply because she was the teacher and he was her student (how cliché). Carter was from a different world. He was a different species to her, and not because of his criminal past, although that was definitely a factor. He was angry and big-headed, hostile, and cocky. He was everything she should run away from, screaming. But she couldn’t deny he was equally smart, sensitive, and funny.

Christ, what a mess. Why couldn’t he be a normal guy? Like Austin.

She glanced at her cell phone. Austin had texted her twice since the morning to wish her luck with Carter and to tell her that he was thinking of her. He was impossibly sweet, but still the uneasiness remained.

Kat started as if struck by a lightning bolt.

Was Carter the reason she was so damned uneasy with Austin? Was he the cause of the heaviness in her stomach, the discomfort, the whisper of wariness, and the reason her heart galloped?

Shit. She pushed her bangs from her face. Enough was enough. Kat knew she had to grow up and stop acting like a teenager. It was her first session with Carter outside of Kill and, by God, she was going to act like the professional she was.

Resolute, she crossed her legs and waited.

As the minutes passed, her foot began to tap the leg of the table. Fifteen minutes went by and she was still alone. And now pissed.

She checked her phone for any missed calls or texts from him. Nothing. She bit the inside of her mouth in fury. She should have known he’d let her down. He was a newly released criminal who had wild oats to sow. Why the hell would he waste time with her, even if it was part of the conditions of his parole? She was stupid to think that he’d meant it when he’d said he wanted to keep their sessions going.

Another fifteen minutes passed, and, with a string of quiet expletives, Kat began to pack her things. Screw him. If he didn’t want to take it seriously, why should she care?

A hand on her shoulder made her scream.

“Shit! Don’t!” Carter urged with his hand out to her in surrender. “Fuck. It’s me.”

She clutched a palm to her forehead, gasping for breath. “Christ. You scared me.”

“No shit,” he replied while his eyes danced up and down her body, making her stomach tighten. He grumbled something and ran a hand across his hair. A hand that, Kat noticed, was covered in oil.

In fact, most of him was covered in oil.

She studied him from head to toe. His hair was shorter; he’d obviously made a trip to the barber. His face was, as always, epically handsome, but now it had a smear of oil across its right cheek. His T-shirt, which was a black Strokes affair, was tight and dirty, and his jeans, Kat could only assume, used to be blue denim.

“What the hell happened to you?” She tried to ignore the twist of lust that unfolded in her belly when she saw the bike helmet in his hand.

Carter smirked. “I had a fight with a V8 engine and lost. That’s why my ass is late.”

The cocky look on his face reminded Kat she was pissed. She stood up and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Yes, you’re late,” she growled. “So the session is canceled.” She whirled back around to continue throwing her resources back in her bag.

Carter’s laugh was disbelieving. “Are you kidding me?”

“No,” Kat snapped, keeping her back to him. “You’re late, and I’m not here for shits and giggles while you mess around with your toys. You didn’t even text or call to let me know!”

Carter grabbed her arm and spun her until she faced him. She gulped at the anger on his face.

“Hey,” he barked, his nose only inches from hers. “Stop bitching and throwing shit for a minute, and calm the fuck down.”

She caught his scent in her nose and on the tip of her tongue. It was deep, smoky, and metallic and made her lungs tingle.

“Let. Me. Go,” she ordered through gritted teeth.

Carter stared at his hand on her arm and let go immediately. “Sorry,” he muttered, though his eyes were still thunderous. “Look, don’t leave, okay? Just let me explain.”

She crossed her arms. “Fine. Explain.”

Carter’s eyes narrowed. “As stated in my parole,” he started through tight lips, “my job is working at a body shop that my best friend owns.” He gestured at the oil all over his clothes. “Max was having trouble with the engine on a Corvette. I offered to help just before I left and it went to shit. I would have called or texted you, but I was busy making sure that two-hundred-pound engine parts weren’t falling onto the heads of my coworkers.”

Kat considered what he’d said. He was so masculine and strong, standing in his dirty clothes with a day’s worth of stubble. He oozed carnal sex. When he’d gripped her arm he hadn’t hurt her, of course, but the sizzle of his hands on her was hard to ignore. It was still there, buzzing deep inside her in places only he could reach.

She dropped her arms and shrugged. “Fine. Whatever.”

“I’m sorry. What?” Carter bent down so he was eye level with her.

“I said fine. Let’s get on with it,” she retorted sharply. Condescending ass. She gestured brusquely to the chair on the other side of the table.

Carter dropped into the chair and began rummaging through his bag as Kat watched surreptitiously. He pulled out a large pack of Oreo cookies and placed them on the table.

Kat gaped. She hadn’t had an Oreo in years. She’d never been able to bring herself to, since they were a thing she and her dad had had. He’d always eat the center; she’d eat the cookie. Together they could demolish a whole pack in minutes. “You’re not allowed to eat in here.”

He glanced around the otherwise empty room. “Are you gonna tell on me?”

Kat sat down with a thump. “Just don’t make a mess.”

“Sure, Peaches.” He took a cookie, pulled it apart, and licked the cream center.