She laughed. “In my experience, married or single has nothing to do with propositions.”

Harry stared at her. Talk about bold. It was one thing to flirt and dance around with innuendos, but Cash’s ex was flat out coming after him, as in on the hunt and ready to lay claim. Hell, he’d bet she’d offer him a good time in the back seat of his car if he acted half interested. Back in the day he might have considered it, but that was so friggin’ long ago, he couldn’t remember why he would have agreed. Maybe that wasn’t exactly true. It would have been about the sex. Just the sex. And it would have led to more sex and too many holes in his heart and a soul that was blacker than Christine’s hair. He’d climbed out of that hell with Greta’s help and he was never going back there again.

“Harry?” She lifted her glass, sipped her scotch. “Have I shocked you? Or are you considering how this would work? I can assure you, I’m very good at keeping secrets.” Those dark eyes slid from his mouth to his neck, landed on his chest, and damn, he could feel them targeting his crotch right through the tablecloth.

Harry opened his mouth to answer but the waiter appeared with their salads—no radicchio for him—and a basket of bread. Talk about perfect timing. He’d have to ask Greta if the waiters at Harry’s Folly knew exactly when to interrupt a table that was headed for trouble. He bet they did. When the waiter left, Harry pinned Stephanie with one of his no-BS looks and said, “I know you’re good at keeping secrets.” Pause. “That’s why I came all this way to offer you a one-time deal, not to be repeated or confirmed. The deal I’m offering you involves a whole lot of money and a chance to start over, for real this time. But if you’re only interested in sex, then you can stop right now because I’m not going to be your sugar daddy.”

She cleared her throat, dabbed her lips with a linen napkin. “Maybe I misread your signals.”

“Yeah, maybe.” What a crock. “I know my proposition isn’t as exciting as yours, but do you think you might want to hear it?”

A nod and a sniff, followed by a pinched, “I’m interested.”

Damn right she was. The second he said the word money, she’d gotten real interested. Harry forked a hunk of lettuce and tomato, popped it in his mouth and chewed. Let her wait it out a bit. The flushed cheeks and the way she fiddled with her fork said she wanted to know the details, especially how many zeros were involved. He’d get around to it soon enough. Harry speared more salad, thought of Greta and the damn radicchio he hated. Stephanie Richmond thought he wanted sex? With her? He chewed harder, faster. Hell no. The only woman he wanted was Greta.

Cash’s ex cleared her throat, said in a voice that was all business, “You have me very curious. Can you tell me about the details of this proposition?”