“I was an ass in there,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t.” She kissed his palm. “You weren’t. It’s me. I’m the ass.”

A low, rough sound escaped his throat, one that might have been pleasure, pain, or a combination. His eyes were shadowed as they met hers, lit only by a quick flash of lightning that burst around them. Then he pulled away. “Let’s go get you a change of clothes.”

Afterward he drove south on I-5, toward Mission Bay. Given the amount of alcohol she’d consumed, and the energy they’d burned on her living room floor, she was beat. And punchy with it. “We didn’t really solve anything,” she said softly as he drove. “And yet you’re sort of stuck with me.”

“Or you’re stuck with me. Depends on how you look at it, I suppose.”

“Maybe we should start over,” she said. “We could even pretend we don’t know each other.”

“What, to buy you time to sort through your feelings?” he asked dryly.

Damn it, maybe. “It’s not a bad idea.”

He slanted her another glance.

“This has nothing to do with you, you know. I’m just not a successful dater. In fact, usually, once I—” She broke off at his expression and decided she’d probably let her mouth run a moment too long.

“Once you sleep with him, he’s gone, is that is?” he asked.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk.”

“No, maybe we should. I don’t want to be your dick-of-the-week, Summer.”

A laugh burst out of her at that. “Well, then. How about we take this one day at a time?”

“I think with you, we’ll go minute to minute. And now that you’ve turned me around so many times I don’t know whether I’m coming or going, are you going to tell me the other thing you needed to tell me?”

“Oh my God, I’d nearly forgotten.”

“What now?”

“Did you know Braden’s leaving?”

“What do you mean, leaving?”

“He’s with Chloe tonight. It’s their good-bye. He said he isn’t the stick around type.” A stab of guilt went through her because she’d become the same type. “I thought you’d want to know.”

“Yeah. I want to know.”

He said this so grimly she frowned. “What aren’t you telling me here?”

“Nothing I’m supposed to.”

Her heart sped up, and her stomach dropped. “I know Braden’s quiet and sort of mysterious, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone. If you could have seen the way he looked at Chloe tonight…”

He swore at that, muttering to himself, then glanced at her again. “He has a police record.”

“He’s been arrested?”

“Yes. And his name isn’t Braden Cahill. His real name is Brian Coldwell. Did you know that?”

“No.” Her thoughts raced uncomfortably. “You’ve been busy,” she said slowly.