Playing With Fire. Rebecca Hunter

flashed in front of her, sudden and visceral. She took a sharp breath, taming down the heat that rushed through her. It only took a few minutes with Simon for all those old feelings to flood back in. Oh, God it was so good with him back then.

      And so, so over.

      Back to the situation at hand: Why the hell had Simon shown up here today? Exes didn’t swoop in for a quick hello and then disappear. They came because they wanted something from her. William wasn’t the first to teach her that.

      To be fair, most people wanted things from her, though these things tended to be much easier to assess—a contribution to a charity, an appearance to endorse an event, something like that. In her father’s eyes, this was an unavoidable by-product of wealth. She had accepted that. But exes were more insidious, less direct at first and more demanding as time passed. They knew how to get under her skin. But they also let their dicks distract them.

      Which led right back to Simon, who was currently inspecting her front door.

      “You need new locks,” he grumbled.

      “I’m taking care of that,” she said. “I just haven’t figured out how to secure the front gate.”

      She reached around him and locked the door. Then she looked up at Simon. He was staring at her hand, with a look in his eyes like he was a million miles away. Or maybe just eleven years. His gaze flicked up to hers, and the faraway look disappeared, replaced by that new, hard expression she didn’t recognize.

      Simon steeled himself against the memories that walking into the Ruiz family house unleashed. Nothing had changed. Not the terra-cotta-tiled floor he had crossed, barefoot, on the way out of her bedroom. Not the warm yellow of the walls he had backed her up against when they were alone in the house. Not the hallway closet, where he had hidden when Alex Ruiz had come home unexpectedly in the middle of the day. Every room in the house held details from that one magical summer. But in this house, Simon was still just the son of poor Cuban refugees who would never get ahead. That wouldn’t change, either.

      Except he wasn’t that boy anymore. He had enlisted, served and risen to the top. Specialized in search and retrieval. Stood out, even in a unit full of focused, dedicated men. And then made a shitload of money with those skills in the private sector, thanks to an opportunity in security with his good friend Cameron Blackmore.

      Was that why he had parked his car in front of the Ruiz estate today? Just to remind himself how far he had come?

      Marianna took a step back and headed into the house.

      “Let’s go to the kitchen,” she said over her shoulder.

      Simon followed her down the hall. Her hair swayed back and forth with each step. His gaze dropped lower, to the narrowing of her waist. The slope of her beautiful round ass. Years’ worth of late-night fantasies flooded his mind before he could stop them. Naked on her hands and knees. Under him.

       No. Just turn it off.

      But entering the kitchen did nothing for his self-control. It was the one room in this house he had tried his hardest to forget. The place where it all began. Marianna moved through the room, closing the dishwasher and taking glasses out of the cabinet as if oblivious to the history of this space. But when her back was turned, she stopped.

      “I thought I’d never see you again,” she said. Her voice was even, as if she were talking about the weather.

      He swallowed back the tide of emotions rising through him. “That was the plan.”

      “And still you ended up in my driveway?”

      There was no good way to explain why he had come to her place this morning. Probably because he hadn’t really figured it out, either. Was it just nostalgia? Standing in her kitchen felt like a lot more than that.

      Marianna broke the silence, setting the glasses on the counter. She pulled a pitcher from the fridge. The light through the kitchen windows shone on the water, making it sparkle as she poured. She turned around and handed one of the glasses to Simon. And froze.

      Was she remembering, too? One hot summer afternoon eleven years ago, she had offered a glass of water, and that had led to much, much more.

      But this wasn’t the past.

      “Thanks,” he said gruffly.

      His fingers brushed against hers as he took the glass. Marianna’s cheeks blazed, and she looked away.

      Simon rubbed his hand over his forehead and tried to focus. He needed to fix whatever trouble she was in and get out of this place. Real soon.

      The argument outside had been about Ruiz Imports, something about the piers. Was she involved in something illegal? No. Impossible. When he lived in Miami, there’d been rumors about her father’s connections to the underground world of drugs and weapons, but Marianna would never get involved with something like that.

      Simon ran his hand through his hair and looked at her. “What was William yelling about?”

      A pause, then with a hint of sarcasm, she said, “He thought he was marrying a trophy wife. Someone without any interest in running a business. The last six years have been quite a disappointment for him.”

      Simon frowned. “He sounded a little more specific than that.”

      For a moment, her eyes flashed with fear. Had this guy threatened her before?

      No. That’s not what you’re here for. He wasn’t going to get sucked into this place again, where everything came down to Marianna.

      But he couldn’t walk out yet. It went against his training as well as his own instincts. Now he needed to figure out how to make sure that little scene in the front yard never, ever happened again. Today. And then get on a fucking plane tomorrow and never look back.

      Simon took a deep breath. “Marianna, what exactly was William referring to when he mentioned the piers?”

      Marianna huffed out a breath. “You can’t just wander back into my life and demand information.”

      “I’m not demanding. I’m asking.”

      She put her hands on her hips. “And why would I answer? Because you and I slept together years ago?”

      Slept together? That was what she called those months together that bordered on obsession? Understatement of the year.

      “Not because we slept together, Marianna,” he bit out. “Because I work in private security, and there are things I can do to help. You can trust me.”

      Her brow wrinkled, and she tilted her head to the side a bit, as if she were assessing that comment. Didn’t she trust him? Maybe her father never told her the truth about how things had ended.

      “You can trust me with your safety,” he amended, slowing at those last words.

      The lines on her forehead eased, and after another moment, she nodded. With that nod, the aching tension in Simon’s shoulders eased a fraction.

      He crossed his arms. “So what’s the story with the piers?”

      “I went to look at one of our company’s shipments,” she said.

      “Why?”

      “Because I’m part-owner of the company,” she snapped.

      Simon put up his hands. “Look, I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”

      Her shoulders rose and fell. “I... I wanted to get a better understanding of that part of the business.”

      “Alone?”

      Marianna rolled her eyes. “Don’t start with that, please.”

      Simon grimaced. There was clearly more to this story, but she wasn’t giving it. And he couldn’t blame her. They were both teenagers the last time they’d seen each other, and things had ended badly. But all he needed was enough to assess