Max ignored the guy holding a camera in his face as he opened the passenger door and waited for Kari to climb in.

"That's rude," Kari told the photographer, prompting him to point the lens at her instead and click away. "Very rude," she repeated, frowning at him.

Click. Click. Click.

Max shut her door, then walked calmly past the cameraman as if the photographer wasn't even there. Not bothering with his door, Max jumped over the side and slid under the wheel. Within moments they were back on the road, the wind blowing her hair away from her face.

Twenty minutes later, Max pulled the Porsche into a reserved spot behind a building on Camden. He got out and came around to open the car door for her.

She looked around the parking lot and tried to figure out where they were. "What are we doing?"

"We need to eat. I don't know about you, but I'm starved." He gestured with his chin toward the back door of a restaurant. "My friend, Vincent, is the owner of La Taverna, the best Italian restaurant outside of Italy. He'll set us up while you fascinate me with a captivating story about the benefits of eating legumes."

She opened her mouth to protest, but his sarcasm made her chuckle. And besides, she was hungry.

"Come on," he said taking advantage of her lightened mood. "They've got the best Shellfish Risotta in the world and a Chianti with a wild rustic edge to it that will have you begging for more."

She raised a brow. "If I agree to have lunch here, you have to eat whatever I order for you."

"It's a deal."

He took her hand.

She tried to ignore the tingles racing up her arms as he helped her out of the car. The pad of his thumb brushed over her knuckles. She wondered if he'd done that purposely. Obviously, it had been way too long since she'd been with a man. As soon as she had her balance, she pulled her hand away.

A frown creased his brow.

"I'd prefer we keep this professional."

His hand cupped her elbow as they walked. "Are you married?"

She sighed. "No."

He knocked on the back door to the restaurant. "Boyfriend?"

"Not at the moment."

"But for some reason we can't be friends?"

"I don't think it's a good idea."

The door opened. A man in his late fifties with dark silver-tipped hair and a white apron tied about his generous waist, looked from Kari to Max, and then grinned. "Buon vederli il mio amico. Dove siete stati? E chi e questa signora bella sul vostro lato?"

"Questo e Kari. Rifiuta di essere il mio amico. Forse potete cambiare idea con alcuno del vostro Risotto," Max answered.

Kari watched the exchange, surprised to hear Max speaking Italian as if he'd been born and raised in Italy. It was hard to believe the cocky football player from her high school days, the boy everybody knew as Mad Max, the guy she'd spent the first half of her life pining for, was standing before her now, fully grown and still way too charming. His house, the Porsche, and the fact that he could speak Italian, told her he hadn't spent all of his time partying after all. His successes should not have surprised her. For years she'd watched him from the sidelines. Truthfully, she had always known he would be great at whatever he set his mind to. He had always been active in the community. He still had the same killer smile...and damn it all, she still lusted after the man.

"Kari," Vincent said, taking her hand and brushing her knuckles against his lips. "Welcome to La Taverna."

"Thank you, Vincent. Max speaks highly of you and your restaurant. I'm glad to be here."

He released her hand and led them through the center of the small restaurant to their table. The smell of savory Italian sausage and meatballs wafted through the air. Her stomach grumbled.

The tables, covered with red and white checkered table cloths, were set within a rustic, wood-laden surrounding complete with pillars and hanging vines. A couple of cozy couches and overstuffed chairs made up the waiting area near the front entrance. After seating them at a table for two near a window with a view of a vine-covered terrace, she watched Max while he exchanged pleasantries with Vincent. Mesmerized by his profile, his square jaw, straight nose, and full lips, she wondered how she came to be sitting here now across from Mad Max. The resemblance between him and her daughter Molly was extraordinary.

Only yesterday, she'd been horrified at the idea of working with him, and yet now, twenty-four hours later, with his collared shirt open and his sleeves rolled halfway up his muscled forearms, she found it hard to look away. He was gorgeous and self-assured, ambitious and magnetic.

He turned toward her then, his eyes lingering on hers long enough to make her wriggle in her seat.

"The usual?" Vincent asked.

"Afraid not," Max answered without taking his eyes off of her. "Kari is my nutritionist and she'll be doing the ordering, which means we'll need a menu."

"Oh," Vincent cried, fixing his gaze on Kari as he held a hand to his chest. "You cannot come to La Taverna for the first time and not enjoy the shellfish Risotta and the pappardelle with asparagus and mushrooms."

Kari laughed. "Fine. I give up. Give Max his usual and I'll have whatever you bring me. But if I lose clients because they find me here feasting on Risotta instead of fruit and vegetables, you're going to have to change your menu."

"Alright, Il mio Kari bello. For you I even make a beautiful insalata."

Kari watched Vincent walk away before she noticed Max still staring at her.

"What? Do I have dirt on my face?"

"No. But even if you did, you would still look beautiful."

She rolled her eyes. Just last week she'd seen him on the cover of a celebrity magazine. He'd been strolling along the beach with a famous lingerie model, and yet he wanted her to believe he was suddenly smitten with her. Give me a break. Not that she didn't keep herself in shape, because she did; she worked out regularly, ate healthy foods, and took good care of herself. But she didn't dress to impress. Nor did she spend a lot of time on hair or makeup. "It's not going to work, Max."

"What?"

"Your games. Throwing compliments at me and gazing into my eyes as if you were suddenly struck by one of cupid's arrows."

"Anything's possible."

"Not us," she said, wriggling a finger between the two of them. "Anything is possible except the two of us."

He feigned a wounded look and put a hand to his chest as if he'd been stabbed in the heart. "You cut me to the quick."

"I know how men like you work. You're a player, Max. You have a different woman waiting for you in every city. You like to charm the ladies. You couldn't stop charming them if you tried, so lets just stay real and get down to business."

His shoulders relaxed. "Fine. But I think you should know you're the first woman I have shared a meal with, or anything else for that matter," he added when he noted her skepticism, "in many months."

"Interesting."

"You don't believe me."

"It doesn't matter what I believe."

"Vincent," he said as the man brought them bread and poured them each a glass of wine. "How many times have I come here to eat in the past few months?"

Vincent rubbed his dark stubbled chin. "I would have to say once or twice a week...so that would be say...sixteen times in the last two months. You owe me much money, my friend."

"We'll discuss that later. Now tell Kari how many of those times I brought a woman with me."

"A big fat zero," Vincent answered without the slightest pause. "I tell Max he's losing his animal magnetism, but then he brings an enchanting lady such as yourself and I now feel better. Now both of you," Vincent said as he headed back to the kitchen, arms flailing, "drink the wine and eat the bread before it goes bad."

"Now you believe me?" Max asked. His blue eyes flickered.

"Sure. I believe you."

He held up his glass and clinked it against hers before they both sipped their wine.

Kari held back a moan of pleasure as the smooth taste of Chianti slid down her throat. "Delicious."

"Wait until you try the Risotta." He broke off a piece of bread, then reached over and slid it into her mouth before she could protest. "So now that you know I'm not a *player,' you'll have dinner with me tonight?"

She chewed, swallowed. "No."

"Why not?"

She took another sip of wine and tried not to pay too much attention to the way he looked at her...with a fiery intensity in his eyes that made her toes curl. "Because I don't date my clients...ever."

"Why not?"

"It's unprofessional."

"Now you're just being old fashioned and stubborn."

She shrugged. "Sticks and stones will break my bones..."

"A little childish don't you think?"

"Perhaps," she said with a smile, "but somehow it fits."

He took a sip of his wine. "You, Ms. Kari, are one mean lady."

"It's your fault," she teased, enjoying herself as she tried to recall the last time she'd flirted with a man. "You bring out the worst in me."

"Well, if this is the worst of you," he said, leaning forward and sliding his hand over hers. "I can't wait to see the best."

It was past six by the time Kari reached N. Buena Vista and parked her car outside the quaint three-bedroom home with the hand-carved wood sign that read "Lindsay's Daycare." Her long-time best friend, Lindsay Baker, had inherited the house years ago, around the same time Kari had discovered she was pregnant with Max Dutton's baby. After Kari's parents found out she was pregnant and kicked her out of their house, Lindsay invited Kari to move to Burbank with her and start a daycare.

Lindsay had a way with kids. And with Kari's help, the business thrived. Kari's daughter was two when Lindsay suggested they hire help so Kari could follow her dreams and attend college. After six years of studying, running after kids, and changing diapers, Kari received a Master of Science in Nutrition and Physical Fitness from the University of California, Los Angeles.

Kari climbed out of her car and admired the yellow house with its newly painted white trim and overflowing flower boxes. She would miss living here, but it was time for her and Molly to find a house of their own. Richard Bauer, a real estate broker, was going to show her a few houses this weekend.

The front door opened and Molly stuck her head out. "Mom, you're late. You and Lindsay have to drop me off in thirty minutes."

Molly's bright blue eyes made her think of Max. "Why? Where are you going?"

Molly hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. "You didn't forget again, did you?"

Kari stopped to take a whiff of the sweet scent of a hybrid tea rose lining the walkway. When she straightened, Molly was still waiting for an answer. "Afraid so."

"Geez, Mom. Pretty soon you're not going to remember my name."

"Don't worry," Kari said as she gave her daughter a hug. "I'll never forget your name, I promise."

Molly didn't look convinced, but she let it go. "You're supposed to drop me off at Heather's because you and Lindsay are going to Carol Stevens' bachelorette party."

Damn. She had forgotten. And she was emotionally and physically exhausted. But she and Lindsay had promised Carol they would go. Only four women were going. She couldn't back out at the last moment.

"So, what was he like?" Molly asked next, interrupting Kari's moment of self-absorbed misery.

Kari cocked her head. "Who?"

"Mad Max."

A knot lodged in Kari's throat. Stay calm. Nobody knew Max Dutton was Molly's father. Not even Lindsay.

A high-pitched screech pierced Kari's ears. "Are the twins still here?"

Molly nodded and said in a low voice, "Aunt Lindsay says their parents are going through tough times. They might get divorced."

"That's awful."

"Yeah, it is. Now tell me about Mad Max."

Kari slid off her shoes and dropped her purse on the coffee table. "Uhm...he was..."

"Rich, and he lives in a big house?" Molly asked.

"Yes." She smiled as she remembered Max telling her he was a rich, good-looking celebrity. "He's an interesting man."

Molly rolled her eyes and shut the door behind them.

Kari pushed the bangs out of her daughter's face. "How did you know his nickname?"

"Who doesn't know that? Meeting Mad Max would be like meeting Kobe Bryant or Brad Pitt. Mad Max won the Heisman Trophy in college, and according to Grant, he's one of the best defensive corners in NFL history. All of my friends want to know what he's like in person. Mrs. Chamberlain from the school office even called to ask if you could get her his autograph."

"Mrs. Chamberlain called here?" Kari shook her head in exasperation. "Who told you I was meeting with Mad Max-I mean Mr. Dutton-and how would your friends know about it?"

"Aunt Lindsay had Emma watch the kids for an hour so she could pick me up at school today, remember? Maybe you should take some more of those fish oil vitamins you keep telling everyone to take for their brains."

"Don't get sassy," Kari said. "It's all coming back to me now."

The twins squealed as they sprinted through the room, weaving between the scarred oak coffee table and Molly's legs. More high-pitched noises followed when Molly pretended she was going after them.