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us from being friends?”
    “I’m not sure we ever were friends. Friends don’t rip their friend’s heart out over a piece of ass he met at the gym.”
    Joey nodded. Acknowledging her point, probably not conceding it, if she knew him. “Just one drink. Come on. I know you’re having a rough time.”
    Marissa pushed the tip jar to the corner of the counter, she’d let Belle handle that later. Wait. Wait. What? What did he mean? “Exactly what kind of rough time is it you think I’m having?” She yanked the scrunchie out of her hair, releasing the curls, and scrubbed the tension away with her fingertips, and all this without taking her eyes off Joey. Waiting, waiting for an answer to her question.
    His Adam’s apple did a bob. She knew that bob oh-so-well. Joey was working on an answer. She tapped on the cupboard, studied her nails. Damn, they looked bad. She missed the days of French manicures, of pampering. Yeah, well that was a long time ago.
    “Well?” She prodded Joey.
    “I went to school with Rudy.”
    Rudy. The a-hole at the bank. The one whose desk she hoped she’d scuffed.
    “Your friend sucks.”
    “It’s not exactly in his control you know.”
    “Why the hell is he discussing my private business with someone it doesn’t concern?”
    “Wow, Marissa. You’re not retracting your claws in the least today.” He took a few paces in her direction, then detoured to the server station, picked out a corkscrew and two wine glasses. “It’s not a conspiracy or anything like that. Anyway, I thought maybe I could be of help.”
    “Really? Like what kind of help.” She didn’t trust him in the least. If Joey’s mouth was moving, he was lying. “You’re in car sales. What are you gonna do? Give me a job selling cars?”
    He turned the corkscrew into the bottle. Twisted it out and set it down. “Well, yeah, I guess if that’s what you wanted. But I was thinking of something else. Something to help you keep Two West Two. ”
    He had her attention now. Though she still wasn’t ready to buy whatever he was selling. “Keep talking.”
    “I could give you the money, you could make me a partner.”
    Marissa opened her mouth to tell him there was no way in hell she’d sign any part of her father’s business over to him.
    He raised his hand, stopping her before she’d even begun her protest.
    “There’s another option. Hear me out.”
    She waved her hand like a cop controlling traffic, leading him forward. “Go on.”
    “Marry me.”
    “What?” she couldn’t have heard him correctly. Couldn’t have. There was no way. “Marry you? Why the hell would I want to do that? Why the hell would you?”
    He took a sip of the wine he’d poured, sauntered to the counter, still the same cocky old Joey, and handed her a glass. “Why don’t you just think about it before you give me an answer?”
    Marissa set the glass down. She wasn’t even remotely interested in drinking wine. She hated wine. It gave her a headache. And right about now, Joey was giving her one too.
    His option wasn’t quite the option he thought it was. It wasn’t the option that anyone who didn’t know Joey would think it was.
    She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Shuffling sounds made her hope that Joey was leaving. Without stopping or even opening her eyes, she said, “Lock the door, please.” Taking a short nap on the cot in the back sounded good right about now.
    A hand on her shoulder made her jump. She’d thought he was leaving, not walking her way. The other hand on her other shoulder wasn’t quite the same shock, but when the hands started to travel down the sides of her body, semi-cupping the sides of her breasts before drifting to her hips, she had to put the brakes on.
    “Joey, I can’t even think straight. Give me some time.”
    “Think about my offer.” His voice was soft in her ear. The same voice that used to make her body react to his touch.
    He brushed his lips over hers.
    She didn’t open her eyes