The man worked nonstop. Oh, he played hard, too. They’d returned to Europe together and taken the inside passage in Canada and Alaska the previous summer. There were parties and award dinners with passing friends and fake acquaintances. There were a few people that Michael called friends, but she didn’t think there was even one he’d shared his true life with.

Karen put the last of the dishes in the massive machine, lowered the door, and turned it on.

After grabbing the last of the empty trays that were ready for the trash, she opened the back door and moved around to the front of the building where they housed the Dumpster.

As usual, the roar of an engine sounded like a mating call to teenage boys. She turned around, garbage in hand, and caught sight of Michael pulling into the parking lot. The copper metallic paint glistened off the low-profile sports car that she couldn’t immediately identify. It wasn’t his. Or at least, it hadn’t been when she’d left the house that morning.

Kids started pouring from the club as he cut the engine, and he and Zach hopped out of the car with cat ate the canary grins on their faces.

Karen popped the garbage into the trash can and wiped her hands on her pants as she walked over to greet the boys, who looked as if they had just been on a joy ride. She knew he’d show up in something crazy expensive, but she assumed it would be the Ferrari parked in the garage that she’d all but refused to ride in because of the time the semitruck nearly ran them over.

With her best eye roll, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared Michael down. “What did you do?”

He delivered his sexy smile. Beside him, Zach dished out a grin that would devastate her if she allowed it.

“Is it new, Ms. Jones?” Dale, one of the regular kids from the club, asked.

“There aren’t plates on it, moron, of course it’s new,” his best friend, Enrique, said as he hit him upside the arm.

“Is it yours, Mr. Wolfe?” one of the kids in the back asked. By now there were two dozen circling the car. When the bell to the high school next door rang, Karen knew they’d be mobbed with kids from the school, and the club, within seconds.

“What is it, Michael?” someone else asked.

Karen walked around the back of the car and noticed the logo.

“It’s a McLaren, dude.”

“Sweet!”

“Do you like it, honey?” Michael asked over the top of the car as he watched her approach.

“It’s very pretty.” It was, even if the cost of it could probably feed several villages in third world countries for a year.

“Damn, Ms. Jones, you don’t call a car like this pretty.”

Karen shot a nasty look at the boy talking. “Language, Peter!”

He had the good sense to lower his eyes. “Still can’t call it pretty. Sweet, sick, fu—” he stopped himself. “Freaking amazing, but not pretty.”

It is f**king amazing. There was no denying that, and from the grins on both Zach’s and Michael’s faces, it was a fun ride, too.

“I’m glad you like it. I bought it for my sister for her birthday.”

The smile on Karen’s face fell. “You what?”

“Hannah. Think she’ll like it?”

Words escaped her. “You did not!” She twisted toward Zach, who happened to be closer to her than Michael was. “Tell me he’s kidding!”

Zach was still smiling, but she couldn’t read much from his expression because of the sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Michael Gardner Wolfe, tell me you’re joking!”

“You don’t think she’ll like it?” he asked.

“You can’t give this to a seventeen-year-old girl.”

A gasp went over the kids. “Lucky sister.”

“Wish he was my brother,” someone from the crush of kids said.

“Why not? It only has two seats so she can’t pile kids inside, and it’s only a V-8.” Michael was still grinning, completely oblivious of how stupid this idea was.

“She’s a kid! She’ll hit the gas and wrap herself around a pole. It’s too much. The insurance alone is insane!” She wagged her accusatory finger in his direction, and then swung it toward Zach. “You’re not giving it to her. Your mother will kill you!”

Michael finally stopped smiling. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Yeah, well you should have. Holy cow! What were you thinking? A day at the spa, a trip to the mall, those are the kinds of presents you give to your kid sister, not a car like this.”

Michael leaned over the hood and rubbed his jaw. She was getting through to him and her heart started to slow down.

“You’re right.”

The kids had gone quiet as they listened and recorded their argument on their cell phones. Like every visit to the club, Michael’s presence would be up on YouTube and Facebook before the hour was up.

“Of course I’m right.”

Michael lifted his glasses off his face and set them on top of the car. He looked at the keys in his hands and then to her. He tossed her the keys, which she caught with one hand.

“Then it’s yours.”

She tossed the keys right back as if they burned. “I don’t need this car.”

Back the keys came. “You said it was pretty.”

“I already have a pretty car.” The keys sailed over the car again. Like a tennis match, the phones were swinging back and forth.

“This one is prettier.”

She caught the keys again and stomped her foot. “Michael!”

He mimicked her, stomped his foot, and winked. “Karen!”

He started to laugh. “C’mon, honey. It’s your anniversary present. One whole year of putting up with me.”

“Take the car, Ms. Jones.”

When she caught Zach’s expression, she knew the whole ploy of giving the car to Hannah had been a joke. Michael knew Karen wouldn’t drive this car without some kind of hook.

“It’s not polite to give someone’s gifts back,” Peter said beside her. She heard the words she’d told them more than once.

Karen glanced down at the car and cringed on the inside. She dangled the keys in her hand. As she walked around the hood, kids parted a path. If there weren’t cameras pointed at her, she’d likely stomp on his foot and shove the keys in his pocket, but instead, she leaned into him and whispered in his ear. “I’m going to kill you when I get home.”

He just laughed.

“You’re welcome,” he said loud enough for the audience. He kissed her cheek briefly and offered his Hollywood smile.