She cut him off as if she knew what he was about to say. “And you’re still the big man, bossing me around. I’m strapped for cash. No joke.” He could see compassion in her eyes, and humor was there as well, in her gaze and at the slightly tilted-up corners of her lips. “And I want you to know how very grateful I am. You gave me a job. Took time out of your busy schedule to travel with me to Vegas. All these things you did—for no ulterior motive—but because that’s who you are. I don’t know how you got the reputation of a degenerate, dissipated playboy. You are such an honorable, decent, kind human being.”

“I’m not,” he growled. He felt naked.

“You can say what you like.” She wagged a finger at him. “But your actions prove otherwise. Want an example? That abundance of food you bought me at The Palm. It was the first good meal I’d had in a very long time. I was literally dizzy with hunger when you insisted on taking me out. The leftovers sustained me until Friday when I got paid. Your random act of kindness meant a lot to me.”

“Woman, you better take off those rose-tinted glasses. I was being the big man, Mr. Moneybags, patting myself on the back for helping out the poor unfortunate peasant. Hell, I bet you ate food like that all the time. There I was sitting in that booth opposite you secretly congratulating myself on my largesse. I was so pleased, so full of my own consequence, proud that I wasn’t a starving kid anymore and had the means to help out. And if I’m being totally truthful, I wanted to impress you.”

Her hand covered his. He could feel the scrape of calluses. Had scrubbing his house put them there? Did her strong, slender hands used to be unmarred, manicured, and soft as silk? Perversely, he found a beauty in the slightly rough texture. It was a tribute to her strength of character—her willingness to buckle down, work hard, and do whatever it took to ensure her safety and independence. “You did impress me,” she said softly.

She was gazing at him like he was some kind of saint, when the truth was, he would have gladly given up his worldly goods to bend her over the diner table and take her eight ways to Sunday. “Don’t look at me like that.” His voice sounded like it was being filtered through gravel. He shook her hand off and picked up his burger to keep himself from reaching for her. “I’m not to be trusted. Fair warning, I’m an unprincipled bastard, through and through.”

“Good to know.” Sarah moved to the chair next to him, her thick, lush lashes obscuring his view of her summer-sky eyes.