Terms of Surrender. Leslie Kelly

such a strong, young man. He had surprised her again, revealing a depth of warmth and kindness she didn’t usually encounter in men she met. It seemed out-of-place with his raw, masculine good looks and his career.

      “The next time you have the chance to do a simple, twenty-minute favor to help out a stranger, go for it and think of me,” he added.

      Uh, interesting way to put it. Going for it while thinking of him…that might not be very difficult. But there they were again, back to quibbling about those its.

      She could do as he asked—pay it forward—and she would. But she had another idea, too. She cast a quick look at the ring finger on his left hand, not seeing a band of gold. Though a mechanic might take a wedding ring off when working, she didn’t see any distinctive tan line, either. So she hoped she was right in deducing he wasn’t married. Whether he was unattached, she couldn’t know. But it was worth finding out.

      Mari hadn’t been out with a man in a long time. It had been even longer since she’d actually been the one to ask for a date.

      It’s not a date. It’s a thank-you.

      Right. It was the least she could do. What anyone would do.

      Would you do it if he was seventy, with a long, greasy gray ponytail, a hairy back and tattoos?

      She told that little voice in her head to shut the hell up, then took a deep breath. Hoping she hadn’t misread interest when he was just being a nice guy who treated every woman like she was something special, she said, “You’ve got a deal. But can I also buy you a late lunch or an early dinner as a thank-you?”

      She held herself rigid, waiting for his answer.

      “You don’t have to do that.”

      Not exactly a refusal. But not a yes, either.

      “Here’s another idea,” he said. “How about you spring for a couple of burgers and come with me to the marina? We can take my boat out and watch the sunset over the water.”

      Oh, wow. That definitely sounded more like a date than a thank-you. A very intimate, romantic kind of date, which was crazy since she didn’t even know this guy.

      Don’t be stupid. Women go on blind dates all the time with men they’ve never met.

      But in a boat, far from land? How crazy was that? What if he turned out to be some Freddy Krueger type? Her plastic-wrapped body parts might wash ashore all up and down the eastern seaboard. What if they never found her head?

      He held up a hand, palm out. “Wait, scratch that. You don’t even know me—I shouldn’t have put you on the spot. You’re probably worrying I’m going to kidnap you or something.” Or something.

      She didn’t say anything. Not a word. Especially not about her fear that they wouldn’t find her head.

      “But lunch would be great, thanks. I’m glad you asked.”

      “You wanted me to?”

      “If you hadn’t, I would have. Believe me, I wasn’t going to let you leave without at least getting your name.”

      “It’s Mari…Marissa.” She extended her hand in greeting.

      “Mari,” he said, zoning in on her nickname, as though he’d immediately decided it suited her better than her formal one. It was like he could see past the rigid hairstyle and the plain clothes and the reason she was here and already knew the more free-spirited woman who lay beneath all that. “Nice to meet you, Mari. I’m Danny.”

      He took her hand in his larger one, and she forgot to breathe for a second, wondering why such a simple touch made her shiver. His skin was warm, his grip firm, the fingers strong and the palm rough. And he didn’t let go right away, hesitating for the briefest moment, as if he, too, were savoring the first connection of skin-on-skin.

      Their stares met. He’d pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head and the late afternoon sunshine brought a brilliant gleam to those amber eyes. The gentle smile of pleasure on his face told her so many things—that he was glad to have met her, that he had wanted to ask her out, that he did look forward to getting to know her.

      That he was interested. Maybe even as interested as she was. And she, being totally honest with herself, was very interested. More interested in him than she’d been in any man for a very long time.

      They might have nothing in common, might not know each other, but they definitely had sparks. Electricity. Plus he was kind, thoughtful…and sexy as hell. Anyone with a fully functioning vagina would be interested.

      Finally releasing her hand, he said, “Can I admit I was grateful for your dead battery?”

      “Really?”

      “Yeah. It saved me from having to dump a box of nails in the parking lot, hoping you’d run over them and flatten a tire, so I’d have to help you out.”

      She laughed softly, liking that he’d been so serious about seeing her again…even if his methods sounded a little outrageous. Then again, it wasn’t like he’d acted on them.

      “Mental note. Potential stalker,” she said, her tone wry.

      “I just know a good thing when I see it.” He lowered his voice to add, “You’re somebody I want to get to know better.”

      “Why? Because I’m nervy enough to park illegally at a naval academy?”

      “Well, yeah,” he said, his mouth quirking higher on one side. That twinkle reappeared and he seemed wickedly amused as he added, “Plus, I just have to know more about a girl who takes off her underwear and leaves them in her car right before a big job interview.”

      DANNY PROBABLY SHOULDN’T have said anything about finding Mari’s undergarments in her glove compartment. He’d caught her off guard, and the gentleman he’d claimed to be definitely wouldn’t have brought it up. He could easily have pretended he had never seen a thing, saving both of them from embarrassment.

      But Danny was ungentlemanly enough that he couldn’t help it. Mari was just too sexy to resist, and too contradictory not to try to figure out.

      He couldn’t deny he’d been very curious about her even before he’d found the wadded-up ball of fabric in her car. And once he had? Whoa. Reaching in for the manual to check the engine specs and winding up with his hand covered in soft, silky, woman-scented material had been a delightful shock. He’d already been sure he wanted to get to know her better. That surprising discovery had changed the very meaning of the word know to a much more carnal variation.

      It hadn’t taken a lot of imagination to put everything together and figure out what she’d done. There’d been their previous conversation, her nervousness, the way she’d been fiddling around in her car when he’d first come out to warn her away from the Employees Only parking lot.

      He had to admit, he hadn’t been sure how she would react when he told her she’d been busted. But she hadn’t slapped his face or stalked away or cussed him out.

      She’d groaned once. Her pretty face had turned a little bit pink. Then she’d burst into laughter, as if she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Even now, several seconds later, unrestrained giggles erupted from her lips as she tried to explain.

      “You…aren’t supposed to know that!”

      He wagged his eyebrows. “I didn’t, not 100%. Not until you just confirmed it, anyway.”

      She slapped her palm against her forehead. “I can’t believe I fell for it. I should have pretended I had no idea what you were talking about.”

      “That might have worked, but, uh, I was pretty sure. Now, fess up…is that what we were really talking about earlier?”

      “’Fraid so.”

      Remembering everything he’d said before, he added, “So you thought I was offering to get in your car and, what, give you directions