He walked outside and studied the cars lined up to be washed. Reaching into his back pocket, Kevin pulled out the pad of paper where he marked what washing packages the owners chose. He went to the head of the line and started taking care of customers. He didn't even look up for several moments, having no idea the size of the line.

Jose, who stood near him ready to vacuum the interiors, whistled. "Caliente."

Kevin glanced up from the pad. Just a couple cars away was a dark red Maserati. Kevin recalled seeing it in a magazine advertisement. He thought the name of that particular model was the GranTurismo. His jaw dropped. He swallowed heavily, unable to keep from staring, but not at the sleek, sexy speed demon. Rather his gaze was fixated on the hot-as-fucking-hell guy behind the wheel.

The god wore deep, dark shades, had dark wavy hair, and sensuous, kissable lips. Kevin's tongue slipped out, and he ran it along his own lips, imagining what the other man's mouth would feel like. Even though he was still a couple spots away, Kevin could see he wore a suit. Broad shoulders filled out that suit. He frowned. Damn, but there was something disturbingly familiar about the man.

Jose nudged him.

Kevin blinked out of his stupor and realized the woman in the sedan in front of him glared at him. "Sorry, ma'am." He flashed the woman his don't-you-just-think-I'm-adorable smile. "You wanted the standard wash, right?"

He wracked his brain, trying to think of why the Maserati guy looked familiar. Someone famous?

The Maserati finally pulled up to him. The man smiled. Oh, Lord, the god had dimples.

"Yum," Kevin said, before he could stop himself.

Mr. Maserati lowered the sunglasses. Dark, chocolate eyes framed by impossibly long lashes stared back at him. "Kevin? Kevin Flaherty?"

Oh, fuck. Michael Bennett. It couldn't be. But it was. No wonder he looked so fucking familiar. When Kevin was growing up he'd been best friend's with Michael's little brother, Danny. Kevin had had a huge crush on Michael. And when Michael had come out as gay when Kevin was fifteen ... well, he'd made a fool out of himself. Throwing himself at Michael and begging him to take his virginity. Of course, Michael had said no. And Kevin had died.

Well, not literally. Though he might have wished it so just then.

"No, sorry, wrong guy," Kevin mumbled.

Michael raised a sexy eyebrow. "Your smock says Kevin."

Shit. "Like there's only one Kevin? I'm not him. Whoever it is." Kevin stepped away. He'd get Guillermo to take Michael's car wash order.

"Flaherty! What are you doing?" Mr. Lewis yelled from by the cashier booth. "Take the guy's order."

Kevin grimaced and turned back to the wet dream. "What did you want?"

"So," Michael said, his lips twitching. "You are Kevin Flaherty."

Kevin blew out a breath, a lock of his own hair floating on his forehead. "Whatever, dude. You want the works or what?"

"Yeah, I think that's exactly what I want." He'd dropped his voice low, sounding unbelievably sexy. It sent an unwelcome jolt to Kevin's cock.

He wrote a code on the windshield with chalk, then tore off the sheet from the pad and handed it to Michael. The man deliberately curved his fingers up, running the tips along Kevin's palm, sending shock waves through Kevin.

Michael got out of the car and turned it over to those who would vacuum it and take it into the automatic washer. He wrapped those damn fingers around Kevin's wrist. "I'll see you later, Kevin."

"I don't even know who you are," Kevin lied.

Michael laughed, the bastard. "You know."

He walked away to stand with the other waiting customers, Kevin watching his every move. He hated himself.