She was starting to get the picture. “You’re an urban Johnny Appleseed. You toss these into empty lots.”

“It’s getting too late in the season now. Best times are spring and early fall. With a little luck and some rain at the right time, a hardscrabble plot of dirt starts to bloom.” He reached across the cukes to pull off a few yellowed tomato leaves. “Coreopsis, coneflowers, black-eyed Susans. Maybe some prairie grass. Fun to watch.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Two, three years. I don’t know.”

“I thought you were laundering drug money.”

He grinned for the first time since she’d cornered him. “You did not.”

“Well, not really, but . . .” As interesting as this side of him was, she hadn’t lost sight of her goal. “Maybe I should start from the beginning.”

“Or maybe you shouldn’t. You realize, don’t you, that you blew your cover at the club last night with your jujitsu moves? Nobody’s going to buy you as my social media specialist any longer.”

Something she’d already figured out. Church bells chimed in the distance, and she plunged ahead. “Her name is Faiza. She’s only nineteen, and she’s been working for the family since she was fourteen. She’s sweet and smart, and she only wants what we take for granted. A chance to be free.”

He scowled at a ragged bean plant.

“She dreams of going to nursing school so she can take care of preemies, but right now, she’s little better than a slave.”

He ripped up the bean plant and tossed it aside, crunching on what was left of the lollipop. She moved in on him. “Please, Coop. It’s Sunday. The club’s closed. All you have to do is go to the Peninsula tonight and have a manly chat with the prince. Think of it as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get an insider’s look at a different culture.”

He tossed the lollipop stick in a compost bin. “I’m happy with the culture I’m already in. Except for my thieving waitstaff . . .”

A tiny red sugar crystal lingered at the corner of his mouth, and the memory of that ridiculous kiss came back to her. She instinctively licked her lips. “Your waitstaff is basically honest. And if everybody felt the way you do, there’d be no hope for international peace and understanding.”

“Thank you, Miss Universe.”

“I’m merely pointing out that you’re being very narrow-minded.”

He jabbed a soil-crusted finger at her. “At least I have a mind. And I seriously doubt my spending a night reliving my glory years with a Middle Eastern oil baron is going to do squat for international relations. As for the rest of your plan . . .” He shuddered. “I’ve done a few things in my life I’m not proud of, but what you’re asking is creepy.”

“It’s heroic! It’s a chance at redemption for the sins of your past.” Like that kiss, she thought, but he hadn’t brought it up and neither would she. Although he seemed to be thinking about it. How she knew that, she wasn’t certain. Maybe she simply felt it. Or maybe it was something else . . . The calculating look in his eyes. A certain wiliness . . . What was he up to?

He dipped his head and brushed the corner of his eyebrow with his thumb. “If I were going to do this . . . which I’m not . . . I’d expect something in return. What are you prepared to offer?”

“What do you want?”

“An interesting question . . .”

He started smoking her with his gaze. Burning right through her lame-ass chauffeur’s outfit. Peeling off every ugly piece of it. And taking his time with it. She might not be smart about everything, but she was smart about this, and she rolled her eyes. “Stop messing with me. You can have any movie star you want, and you’re only trying to make me squirm. Just like last night. Well, guess what? It’s not working.”

“Are you sure about that?” The words slid from his lips, all silk and seduction.

“I’m pretty much un-squirmable.”

“Is that so.” He stroked the side of his jaw, leaving a dirty smear behind. “Did I ever mention what a bad lover I was when I first started out?”

One thing she had to say about Coop Graham: he was unpredictable. For a reason all his own, he’d decided to steer them into dangerous waters. She needed to back off, but she couldn’t do that, not with the way she’d responded to him last night. That meant it was kickoff time. “I don’t believe you did,” she said.

“I got lots of complaints, so I had to work at it. Treat it as a job.”

“Put in the extra practice time, right?”

“Precisely. When I think of the mistakes I made . . .”

“Mortifying, I’m sure.”

“But I kept my eye on the ball.”

“Only one? Curious. Oh, well, I hope your deformity didn’t make you too self-conscious. I’m sure you could still—”

“I finally got the hang of it when I was about—”

“Thirty-six?”

“Eighteen. I was a fast learner. All those older women willing to take a young kid like me into their loving arms . . .”

“Blessed are the merciful. But . . .” She smiled her own wily smile. “As entertaining as this is, you don’t have any interest in me. Both of us know you are completely out of my league.”

At first he seemed to appreciate her acknowledging this indisputable fact, but then his expression clouded over. “Hold on. Last week you told me how you’re a real man-eater.”

“There are limits. You’re an entirely different species from the Officer Hotties of the world. Way above even my head.”

He actually seemed miffed. “Now why would you say something like that about yourself? Where’s your pride?”

“Firmly entrenched in the real world. You belong in bed with superstars. Look at me. I’m thirty-three years old. At best, I’m average-looking, and—”

“Define average.”

“I have ugly feet, I’m at least ten pounds overweight.”

“For a cadaver.”

“And . . . I don’t give a crap about clothes or the way I look.”

“Now that part is true. As for the rest . . . You’ve heard of power blackouts. All I’d have to do is turn off the lights.”