So there's nothing tempting about me at all? Every time doubt crept in, she remembered Dylan's hands on her last night.

Not my kind of temptation, peaches. See you.

About to shut her phone off, she thought of the box of cupcakes. Love what you did to the cupcakes. xoxo I got even more ideas online last night. Need to order some shit. Don't worry, using Dad's credit card. Now shush. I'm in class. Daydreaming.

About Jason Rountree?

Bitch.

And then, a few moments later, he wrote, Yes.

She smiled and shut off her phone.

"Miss O'Donnell?"

Oh, damn. She'd taken a spot in the back corner of the lab, hidden behind a guy with hair so wild and frizzy she'd thought for sure Chef wouldn't notice her.

"Yes, Chef?" She shifted slightly into view.

"And how are we this morning?"

"Fine, thank you."

"And your stomach?"

"Strong. Like a steel drum."

"Excellent. Shall we try again?" He motioned her to come forward.

Couldn't he just leave her alone? She headed towards the front of the room, her rubber soles squeaking on the polished linoleum.

As soon as she got there, he ignored her. "Let's get busy, shall we?" His usual line to start class. "Today we make marinade."

Oh, thank God. Marinade, she could do the hell out of.

As class got going, the kitchen filled with the scents of garlic and herbs. She pulled a large glass bowl off a shelf and dumped the minced garlic into it.

And then Chef said, "Please get the meat from the refrigerator."

Oh, dammit all to hell. He was messing with her. "Sure." She could do this, of course she could. She wasn't that little girl trying to figure out what to do with raw meat because there was nothing else to eat. She could totally do this.

She stood in front of the refrigerator. Fear crept along her spine, biting down at the base and triggering a spasm. What was she going to find in there? She opened the door, and a blast of cold air hit her in the face.

A tray of shoulder clods sat on a shelf. You've got to be kidding me.

"You found them?" Chef called. She couldn't speak. She just stared in horror.

And then she heard, "Do you need a hand, Miss O'Donnell?"

She swallowed hard. He was such an ass. "I'm good." She could do this. Dylan came to mind, his hands on her hips, guiding her into the kitchen, the blindfold making her hyper aware of his breath at her ear, of his scent, that hint of cinnamon.

She remembered the feel of oily peeled grapes. So these clods...they were clay. Yep, slabs of clay. No problem. She lifted the tray-and oh, God, it smelled so bad-but she breathed through her mouth and brought it out of the walk-in, kicking the door closed.

Several of her classmates looked up, eyes going wide, but she maintained a placid expression, ignoring the roiling of her stomach.

"Excellent. Thank you. Set it right here." Chef gestured to the space beside the big glass cutting board.

After depositing the tray without a single roll of nausea-yay, me!-she looked to him for further instruction. Now that she'd done his dirty deed, she hoped he'd let her go back to her seat because she was starting to see pieces of a hacked-up cow-no, no, clay. It was simply clay.

"Do you know how to cut stew beef out of chuck?"

"No, Chef." This was a beginner's class. He was teaching the fundamentals. He didn't expect her to know. Just to be willing to learn.

"That's fine." He handed her a slicing knife with a wide, shiny blade, and she could feel his eyes on her, watching. She took it, letting it hover over one of the shoulder clods.

"Follow my example." He used his own knife to quickly slice the meat into cubes.

She saw blood ooze onto the cutting board, coat his fingers, and bubble out of the raw flesh. Bile shot to the back of her throat, but she forced it back down. This wasn't cow. This was clay. The red was paint. She could do this. And she would. She'd get through this so he'd choose her for the program.

She couldn't wait to tell Dylan what he'd done for her.

Exhilarated, Nicole came home with a fresh perspective. Not only did she pass Chef's test, but she had clarity on her relationship with Dylan. He didn't want to want her, but he did. He'd let her sleep in his bed. He couldn't keep his hands off her when he'd had a little too much to drink-when his inhibitions had been down. He'd given up a party to buy pasta and grapes to help her get over her fear of working with raw meat. And last night? That kiss. Holy cheeseballs, that kiss.

No doubt about it. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

But for some stupid reason he thought he was too different from her-too tainted by his mom. But she'd make him understand he wasn't. He was a great guy doing the best he could in a terrible situation.

As soon as she got inside the house, ready to charge up the stairs and get to him, she spotted him. Right there in the living room. Surrounded by his usual friends, he stood a head above the others. A petite and buxom brunette, dressed in skin tight jeans and a halter top, bounced around him like a Chihuahua. She kept touching him, pressing up against him. He smiled at her.

Nicole stood there, watching, all the happiness draining away, leaving her gobsmacked. Not eighteen hours after they'd gotten so lost in each other they could've had sex up against the wall had they not been interrupted, he was already onto someone new.

So he hadn't been that into her. That was how he acted when hooking up. He was a hook up artist. A master of the hookup. A hookup prodigy. A-oh, screw him. He'd been as into it as she had. Which meant he'd pulled back again.

The coward.

Okay, but even if he regretted last night, he shouldn't flaunt a new girl in her face. If he was trying to hurt her, then she kind of hated him.

Her legs felt rubbery, and she shook with a volatile mix of hurt and anger. White trash? How about asshole?

And then the girl stood up on her toes, lifting both arms to his shoulders. A look of confusion crossed his features, and just as his hands went to her hips, Dylan jerked his gaze right over to Nicole.

Pain exploded in her chest.

She charged across the room, heading for the stairs.

Dylan stalked up the stairs, and Mindy-Melanie?-trailed after him. "I'll be down in a minute." He needed her gone. He needed to get to Nicole. Seeing the hurt on her face had gutted him.

"I'll come with."

The sound of Mandy's boot heels clacking on the wood made frustration whip into anxiety. He stopped on the stairs, and she plowed into him. Her features went seductive, and she practically vibrated with sexual energy.

"Wait downstairs."

Her plump lips pouted. "I wanted us to have a few minutes alone."

"No." Fuck. He was a mess. The image of Nicole looking destroyed clawed at his heart. She must've thought he'd set the whole scene up. To deliberately hurt her.

He charged down the hall, knocked on her door. She didn't answer.

Low voices from behind him had him spinning around, bursting into his room.

James held Nicole in his arms. Dylan was on her in a flash, but she wrested out of her friend's arms and chest-thumped Dylan. "Leave me alone."

"No."

When he reached for her, she swerved around him. "I mean it, Dylan. Leave me alone." She tore out of the room and slammed her door. He heard the click of her lock.

He tapped his forehead against the wall. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He was going out of his mind.

A swish of fabric, and then James stood beside him. "So. New girlfriend. You move fast."

He closed his eyes. "She's not my girlfriend."

"Last night you had Nicole up against the wall, and tonight you bring someone else home? That's kind of a dick move, don't you think?"

"I'm not-"

"Oh, shut up. You hurt her. That's all there is to say."

Why the hell had Nicole walked in at that exact moment? His chest felt tight, making it hard to breathe. "Obviously I didn't mean to."

"Didn't you?"

For three days she'd avoided him. Turned out to be a good thing, because it enabled him to get his thoughts together. Now, he knew what he needed to say.

Dylan waited outside her lab. She'd had a party tonight with her classmates, and he could smell the roasting meat, the warm bread and, over it all, the hint of lavender. He closed his eyes, breathed it in, and it drove him straight into the heart of them.

Them under the covers, bodies pressed together stoking the heat and combustible energy they created together.

And then the door burst open, and clusters of students walked out. He leaned a shoulder against the wall, watching for her.

But she never came out. Shit. He peered into the room to find it empty, lights out. How had he missed her? He took off down the stairs, burst out the doors, to find the group of them fanning out in different directions. One lone figure headed off campus. Nicole?

He took off after her. The closer he got, the louder his pulse ticked in his ears. His mind tried to tell him that girl couldn't be Nicole. Nicole didn't wear figure-hugging dresses and sky high heels. Her hair didn't look sleek and perfectly straight.

But his heart knew. He knew those gorgeous curves, the slope of those shoulders, the taut roundness of that ass.

Dylan caught up with her as she crossed the quad. "Nicole?"

The campus glowed with the diffused light of streetlamps covered in fog. Music floated out dorm windows and couples, arms entwined, moved silently down the walking paths.

"What are you doing here?" She didn't look happy to see him.

"Looking for you."

"You found me. What's up?" She stepped onto the curb, faltering when her heel sank into the soft grass. He reached to steady her, but she pulled away. "Stop it. Just stop...touching me."

"I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" She sounded exasperated.

"Look, I'm not fucking Brittany or Mindy-hell, I'd just met Mindy that night."

"Oh, yuck. I so don't want to talk about this."

"I just want to get it out there."

"Okay, Dylan, it's out there. You brought a new girl home the day after you made out with me. We good now? Is that out there enough for you?"

"No, I mean, I wasn't trying to hurt you."

"Well, you did. But it's cool because you already told me you don't do relationships, and then you showed me. Which, wow, way to reinforce the whole telling thing."

"No, I mean, I didn't plan it. Mindy doesn't mean anything."

"God, Dylan, yeah, I get that. I get that kissing doesn't mean anything to you, but at least have the decency to understand that it does for others. Including me."

"Ours was a mistake." Dammit. "I didn't mean it like that." The cool night breeze teased her hair, and he found it hard to think.

She strode off in those outrageously high heels. "Don't make it worse. Just own it, Dylan. Kissing me was a mistake."

"Yeah, it was. But I didn't mean to say it like that. I don't want to hurt you."

"Big fail. Huge fail."

"Stop, okay? Just stop. I'm sorry. Look, I'm obviously attracted to you, and I let myself get carried away that night."

"You're attracted to me-or you'll hook up with any girl who's standing in front of you practically naked?"

"What? No." He hated the look in her eyes-searching, questioning-the look he'd put there. He'd treated her carelessly. "I'm attracted to you." Like she couldn't tell he wanted her desperately? Like his mouth, his hands, his rock hard dick wasn't obvious enough?

The moment hope lit her eyes, he knew he had to crush it. "But I'm not going to act on it. I can't."

"Why?" Her voice a soft whisper.

"Come on, Nicole. A girl like you in my life?" He gave what he hoped was a teasing smile. "You're too good to be true."