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neatly when her stomach betrayed her and growled loudly. Damn.
    Ryan raised an eyebrow.
    “Okay,” Sophie agreed. “Maybe a little breakfast.”
    They agreed to drive separately to a Belgian café that Ryan recommended. The dog was far calmer than the last time she was in the car, and hung her head out the window as Sophie drove. When she passed Moorpark, the urge to turn and go home was strong. She could stand him up and never have to deal with the feelings he aroused. She didn’t know what kept her driving south, but she made the left on Ventura and headed for the breakfast place. It wasn’t like breakfast was a precursor of sex or marriage. They would have a friendly meal, and no matter how attractive he was and how much she wanted to kiss him again, she would go on her merry way.
     
    The hostess seated them outside, shaded from the bright September sun by a large umbrella. Sasha curled up around the umbrella’s stand and lapped up the water the waitress brought her. As Sunflower stared at the menu, Ryan looked at her. There was something about this woman that pulled him to her, even though he couldn’t put his finger on just what that was.
    His normal “type” was a quiet, modest woman who dressed conservatively and spoke softly. He met them at Junior League fundraisers and alumni events. Sunflower, with her nontraditional job, wild hair, and multiple piercings would scare those women into hiding. He wanted to get married, have kids, do all those traditional things. He needed a wife who would stay at home, raise their children. Act as a perfect hostess and companion as he moved up the career ladder. Despite his active pursuit of this mythical partner, he hadn’t met that right woman yet.
    Intellectually, he knew Sunflower wasn’t that person. But he’d willingly take a breather from his pursuit to see where his attraction to her led, and work her out of his system so he could move on with his end game. He’d planned it all out years ago on a series of yellow legal pads, and while he may be momentarily distracted, he wouldn’t be deterred from his goals.
    The waitress introduced herself and scribbled their order on a small pad. When she’d gone, Sunflower leaned down to check on the dog. Damn, the view was good. It was days like this he loved California. Sunflower was definitely dressed for the hot, late summer weather. She was wearing one of those skimpy exercise outfits that were far too expensive to actually sweat in. The purple top she wore did little to cover her small, pert breasts, not that he was looking. Okay, maybe he had glanced once or twice. But she wasn’t wearing any sort of bra under the scanty tank and all sorts of ideas played in his head.
    The top was a strappy thing that left most of her back exposed and he admired her pale skin through the intricate weave. She looked very soft and touchable. It was the first time he realized she had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She must have covered them with makeup that other day, though she didn’t need a lick of makeup to look good. She also had the sexiest tattoo on her back near her left shoulder. He wondered what the Chinese characters symbolized. He tried not to imagine himself gently kissing those freckles or stroking that tattoo.
    When she was done tending to the dog, she sat bolt upright in her chair, probably sensing his gaze.
    “What are you looking at?” she asked. She’d caught him staring.
    Telling her that he was admiring her skin or imagining himself stroking her cleavage was out. He stammered the first thing that came to his mind.
    “I was wondering what that tattoo says.” He hoped his face wasn’t beet red with embarrassment at his fib.
    She stroked her left shoulder reflexively, touching the two calligraphic Chinese characters. “Oh, this. They translate into ‘wisdom.’”
    “Why wisdom?” he asked tentatively.
    “What, you don’t see me as a wise woman? Not enough wrinkles yet, huh?” She