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and helped the library raise funds for new books. Pricilla had been the food vendor of choice ever since Lexi could remember.
    “Last month we advertised her being there, and she only showed up with enough pastries to feed a handful of people,” Nora sniffed. “So unless you can promise me provisions for half the town, I’m going to have to give her contract to someone else.”
    “What?” Lexi stammered. “No, my grandma loves that event.” She had no idea what the real story was, but if Pricilla was shorting her customers, then it wasn’t good. “There’ll be more than enough for everyone. I promise.”
    “Good, because my grandson Grayson is taking you to BoVine Thursday night, and he doesn’t like flaky women.” The woman gave Lexi a slow and thorough once-over. The wag of her head told Lexi she’d come up short. “He’s also never needed a blue pill. But just to be safe, try dressing to inspire, dear.”
    Lexi looked down at her dress. It was fun, cute, and showed just enough cleavage to be flirty. She set her basket down and tugged at the neckline of her dress. Still not satisfied, she gave another tug.
    “Any lower and Mr. Craver might just fall over the counter.”
    She looked up. Nora was gone and—
    Great.
    Marc leaned against the display housing cucumbers and zucchini. Dressed in a pair of cargo shorts, a gray shirt that hugged his muscular chest, and a navy baseball cap, he held a bag of beef jerky, a power drink, and enough raw testosterone to make what should have been vineyard casual look ruggedly sexy—and extremely inspiring.
    “It’s the hair,” he said, and she agreed. He had really great hair. Even though it was only peeking out the back of the cap, she knew it was dark and thick, and she understood why women would want to run their fingers through it—other women, that is, not her.
    She’d given in to lust with Jeffery, and look where that had gotten her. Nope, not a cycle she was interested in repeating anytime soon.
    “I meant
your
hair,” he said, reaching up and taking out the elastic band she was wearing. Her hair came loose and tumbled down her back.
    When he ran his fingers through it a few times and then pulled it forward over her shoulder, his hand grazing her bare skin, her body started to tingle. And when he murmured, “Hair like yours should never be pulled back,” that annoying tingle became a full-blown hum.
    No way in hell
, she thought, taking a step back.
Not him.
    She didn’t have the time for men right now. And she didn’t have the experience
with
men to tangle with a guy like Marco DeLuca—ever.
    Her first thought was to grab her oranges and run. Then she remembered that Marc loved food almost as much as she did. That she still hadn’t figured out what was wrong with her sauce. And that she was tired of running from men.
    Sexy hum or not.
    She grabbed a dark-chocolate bar from her basket and broke off a square. “Open up.” He did, and she shoved it in his mouth. “Now smell this.” She placed the Valencia orange to his nose.
    “It smells really”—he cracked a smile—“orangey.”
    “Orangey? That all you’ve got?”
    “Fruity?” He shrugged matter-of-factly, but his eyes were twinkling with humor.
    “Never mind, smell this.” She grabbed the sour orange and put it to his nose.
    His nostrils flared, and he scrunched up his face.
Dang it.
Why was this so hard? She was picking out an acid for her sauce, for God’s sake. It was Cooking 101.
    “What were you hoping for?”
    “Well, not fruity or
orangey
, and definitely not—” She mimicked his disgusted expression, and he laughed. “I was hoping for more tart, I guess. It’s for a sauce to go over a pepper-crusted lamb chop.”
    He turned the bill of his cap backward and surveyed the choices. Lexi was too busy trying not to survey him to notice how many varieties of oranges the store offered.
    “How about this?” He broke off a chunk of chocolate and held it to her mouth. When she