She sagged against him for a crazy instant, felt a moment’s regret, and opened her mouth as he tasted her. The world seemed to melt away, the sounds of the diner disappearing over the thudding of her heart, the desire thundering through her blood.

No, no, no! But she didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

When he finally lifted his head and stared into her eyes, his were hot. Intense. Her skin was throbbing, tingling.

His voice was ragged as he said, “It’s not a sin if you renounce your vows,” he said.

“I . . . I haven’t taken the final ones.”

“Lucia, think about it.”

Her heart cracked, and she wondered for a moment if she’d ever stopped loving him. For years she’d told herself her fascination with the man was a schoolgirl crush.

Now . . .?

But loving him would be an act of supreme idiocy.

Swallowing hard, feeling guilty as sin, knowing she was using him like the kind of women she abhorred, she said, “I will, Cruz,” and though she meant it, that she would consider renouncing her vows, had already decided, in fact, she knew she couldn’t, wouldn’t, consider his underlying question. There was no future for the two of them. She knew it now; he’d know it in a few minutes.

He let her go and walked into the bathroom.

Lucia didn’t wait an instant. She grabbed her backpack, put it over her shoulders, and pushed her way out the back door, past the busboy who was emptying the trash from a smaller can to the large bins near the parking lot. The smell of old coffee grounds, rotting vegetables, and bad fish soiled the air.

Lucia barely noticed as she jogged across the lot and told herself she could do this. She could steal a motorcycle; she could ride it without skidding into a ditch or hitting another vehicle.

It’s just like riding a bike—once you learn, you never forget! Or so her cousin, Juan, had once insisted.

Oh, Holy Father, she hoped that just once Juan knew what he was talking about!

She was already fumbling with the keys as she reached the Harley. Her heart was pounding crazily, her hands sweating so badly that she nearly dropped the key ring.

Come on, come on, she told herself. It had been years since she’d driven a motorcycle, and then it had been her cousin’s little Honda, half the power of Cruz’s beast of a machine.

Adrenaline screaming through her veins, she threw her leg over the seat, started the bike, and took off. The Harley growled, tires chirping and laying rubber as it streaked forward.

Cruz’s helmet flew off the handle bars to bounce behind her across the asphalt of the parking lot.