She shoved him onto the floor of the limo and sat up, concealing her reddened, very excited, and suddenly lonely nipple under her top again.

“What?” Trey said, sitting on the floor at her feet, looking all tousled and aroused and completely flabbergasted. Damn him for being so irresistible. And knowing it.

“I do have feelings,” she said. “And I’m not stupid, so don’t think your lies are going to work on me.”

“What lies?” The man was a fine actor. He honestly looked like he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Only you, Reagan,” she said, mimicking that sultry, bedroom voice of his.

“What lies?” he repeated. “I meant that. I want that. With you. Only you.”

“You want what with me, Trey? Sex?”

“A committed, steady relationship. I want to try it for the first time in my life. With you, Reagan. Don’t take it lightly. If you think the idea doesn’t scare the piss out of me, you’re wrong. But, I think…” He shifted his gaze to the ceiling. “Never mind. Forget it.”

“You’ve never been in love?”

“I didn’t say I’ve never been in love. I said I’ve never been in a steady, committed relationship.”

Reagan scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. “So you cheated on the woman you loved?” Ethan had cheated. She couldn’t be with a man who cheated again. It hurt too much.

“No, it was one-sided. Bri—the person I was in love with didn’t love me back. I kept hoping that would change given enough time, but… I want to move on. I didn’t think I’d ever feel that way—didn’t think I’d ever give up—but today has been one kick to my system after another and here you are all perfect for me. I don’t think I should ignore that.”

She snorted. “You think I’m perfect?”

“No, I think you’re pretty fucked up, Reagan. Perfectly fucked up.”

She tightened her arms, which still crossed her chest, and rubbed her upper arms. “You’re fucked up too.”

“Exactly.”

She watched him for a moment, looking for the smooth operator who separated women from their panties with such ease, but Trey seemed completely sincere. She’d be able to tell if he was just saying what he thought she wanted to hear to get into her pants, right? She supposed there was an easy way to tell.

“Okay, we’ll try this serious relationship thing on one condition.”

“I have a pressing condition in my pants.”

She shook her head at him, needing him to be serious. “I don’t quite trust you yet. I still think you just want to fuck me and then dump me. Which, okay, fine if that’s the truth then I can handle that, but don’t make me love you and then break my heart.”

“Why would I open my heart to you if that was the case?”

“I’m not sure if you’re opening your heart or just making up some bullshit story to get laid.”

“I’m not. Honestly, Reagan, I have no problem getting laid. If that’s all I wanted, I can find it anywhere.” He stared up at her for a long moment and, when she didn’t back down, he released an exasperated sigh. “What’s your condition?”

“That we spend the entire day together on a completely platonic level.”

“That’s a sucky condition.”

“No sucking either.”

He laughed. “Okay, fine. Platonic. I can do that. That’s where we hold our breath, try not to come for a really long time, meditate and stuff, right?”

She laughed. “No, baby, that’s tantric.”

“I was hoping that was what you meant,” he said, a devilish grin on his handsome face. “But if you did actually mean platonic, I think I can manage it for one day.”

“And you have to pass the Ethan test.” No one ever passed the Ethan test. Her heart would be perfectly safe from Trey Mills’s clutches.

“That’s two conditions. You get one or the other.”

Only fair, she supposed. He’d never make it through a platonic day anyway. “Fine. You just have to make it through the day without a single come-on, caress, or stolen kiss. And no flirting.”

“Agreed.” He extended a platonic hand. “Shake on it.”

She took his hand and shook it, surprised when he didn’t try to prolong the clasping of their hands. “It’s a deal then. One platonic day together.”

He released a relieved breath. “Thank God the sun goes down in six hours. You said nothing about a platonic night.”

Why did the man have to be so feckin’ perceptive?

Trey had never had so much fun not having sex with a woman. They’d had burgers and beers while watching a ballgame in the back of the limo. Had he wanted to steal a kiss, rip off her clothes, fuck her senseless? Every second. But he’d somehow managed to behave. She’d cheered for the San Diego Chargers, and just to get her all up in arms, he’d pretended to be a fan of the opposing team. He hadn’t paid enough attention to the game to remember who had won.

After the game, they’d taken a walk on the beach. Talked. About music. He’d never met a woman who knew so much about music. He’d hung on her every word. Was it because he was thinking about the way her kiss tasted, the heat he’d discovered between her legs, the cute way she squinted in the sunshine when she looked up at him? Only about half the time. She was genuinely interesting. He wasn’t just pretending she was interesting to get laid. He’d talked to women this way when he had no interest in them sexually, but this? This was new for him. This being totally turned on by a woman he genuinely liked blew his mind. Why had he thought this was a bad thing? Because he’d always felt like he was being untrue to Brian, that’s why. Screwing around with people he didn’t care about didn’t feel important. Every time Brian entered his thoughts, Trey still felt guilty for liking Reagan so much. It felt like he was cheating on Brian. It seriously messed with his head so he made an effort not to think about Brian. With Reagan beside him, it was easier than he’d thought it would be.

He and Reagan found a skate park on the beach and she talked a couple of dudes into letting her borrow their skateboards. She ollied and kickflipped like a pro. Trey tried to keep up, but he hadn’t been on a skateboard in about ten years and it showed. The skater dudes were impressed with Reagan’s abilities. Trey knew they were all thinking about fucking her. He could see the hunger in their eyes. Even though Trey spent most of their skate park adventure scraping his bruised body off the ground in a most unimpressive fashion, she left with him—much to her captive audience’s dismay—and they’d continued down the beach.

She spotted a drink shack and lit up with excitement. “I’m thirsty. Are you thirsty?”

He needed a Tylenol and an icepack for his elbow more than a beverage, but how could he say no to that eager look on her face? “Yeah, sure. What do you want?”

“Vanilla shake.”

He bit back a quip about vanilla sex.

A Frisbee landed at Reagan’s feet and a big, slobbery, yellow dog barked at her excitedly. He wagged his tail and nudged the plastic disk with his nose.

“He doesn’t bite! Would you mind tossing that this way?” some guy yelled from near the waves.

Reagan gave the dog a scratch behind the ears and then tossed the chewed up bit of plastic toward the waves. She chased him a couple of steps and then stopped dead in her tracks. She glanced at the line at the drink stand and then at Trey.

“Go play with the dog,” Trey said. “I’ll get your drink.”

Her happy laugh was all the reward he needed as he found the end of the line.

While Trey waited for the cashier to make Reagan’s vanilla milkshake, he watched her throw the Frisbee down the beach for the Labrador retriever again and again. The dog’s owner was watching her almost as closely as Trey was. The dog was in total puppy love as she scratched him behind the ears, took the tooth-marked plastic disk from his mouth, and gave it another toss toward the lapping waves.

“Here you go,” the girl behind the counter said. “One vanilla shake. One cherry slush.”