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remember?”
    â€œYes,” she said on an irritated sigh, “I meant…”
    â€œI know what you meant.” He glanced into the trunk of her car. “You need all of this to paint a picture?”
    â€œIt’s a faux finish, not just a picture,” she told him, then added, “and yes, I do.”
    One corner of his mouth lifted and Anna hated to admit even to herself what kind of impact even that tiny half smile of his had on her.
    â€œOkay, then,” he said, reaching into the trunk to pick up most of her equipment. “Follow me.”
    She didn’t have much choice, Anna thought, trottingbehind him in an attempt to keep up with his long-legged stride. He led her toward the garage and headed directly for an open doorway. She followed him inside and glanced down the long open space at the cars parked in separate bays. There were two of them and they were really just shells. No tires, no engine, no window glass.
    â€œYou couldn’t afford one with an engine?”
    He grinned at her and the solid slam of that smile hit her hard enough to momentarily dissolve her balance.
    â€œThose are great cars,” he pointed out after he set her supplies down onto a neatly organized workbench.
    â€œIf you say so.”
    â€œI thought artists had great imaginations,” he taunted.
    â€œI use it for painting, not for driving.”
    â€œWhen I get that Bentley and the Cobra up and running, you’ll change your tune.”
    Confused, she looked again at the skeletal cars. She hadn’t known that he was a man to actually get his hands dirty. All she’d ever heard of Sam Hale was that he designed luxury cars that his company built for the bored rich. “You work on them yourself?”
    â€œI do. Got my start that way,” he said with a sigh of satisfaction. “I was a mechanic,” he told her, shaking his head in memory. “A damn good one. Worked night and day when my folks died to make sure Garret could go to college and have a good shot at life.”
    â€œWhat about your shot?” she asked, surprising herself as much as him.
    He shrugged. “I did the college thing, but it was cars that drew me in. I built my reputation slowly, growing my business and then I built a custom car for a Hollywood producer. He liked what I did so much that he recommended me to his friends. And before I knewit, I was running Hale Custom Autos. But I still like to work on cars myself, get my hands on a flatlined engine and make it purr again. Guess you don’t understand that, huh?”
    â€œActually, I do,” she mused and found herself looking at him in a whole new light. She’d assumed he was simply another wealthy man, locked in his office, running his own little world from the top of a pedestal. It seemed there was more to Sam Hale than she had thought. “Trompe l’oeil painters can use computer programs to design and detail out every move. But I’d rather get my own hands on a blank wall and make it something amazing.”
    â€œSo,” he said with that half smile she found so dangerously compelling, “you’re telling me we have something in common after all?”
    She looked at him, standing there all tall and dark and gorgeous. Seriously, he had enough charisma and magnetic attraction about him for two healthy men. She knew that for her own well-being, what she should do was say screw the job and the money and get back into her car. But she wasn’t going to do that and she knew it.
    â€œYes,” she admitted. “I guess I am.”
    For a brief moment, their eyes locked and the air between them practically sizzled. There was something here, she thought as her heart pounded and her mouth went dry. Something that was as exciting as it was dangerous. And she had zero business feeling this way about him. There was no way anything was going to happen between them.
    He didn’t trust her. He thought she was after