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  “We’re not taking off until ten.” He reached for her, slipping his fingers between her legs. “Let’s have breakfast.”

  “I can’t!” She batted him away. “I have to work.”

  “Come on,” he cajoled, pulling her back against him. “We clicked so well last night, let’s continue the fun.”

  How much clicking could there have been if all she remembered was him scratching her? “Sorry. Breakfast isn’t my style.” Her bra was in his loafer. She shimmied into that and began the hunt for her skirt and top—there, on the back of the pilot’s seat. “Where do you usually go when you tie down here for the night?”

  “A hotel, but—”

  “Good. Great. Take the rental car I arranged for you yesterday and come back in a few hours.”

  He came up behind her, again tried to hold her. “I had fun,” he whispered, nuzzling her jaw.

  The sun had come up, and for all Dimi’s worldliness, she never had sex in the light of day. Never.

  “We have a connection,” he said.

  Uh-huh. A connection. He couldn’t be more than twenty-four, and she knew men. At that age, the biggest connection they had was to their own penis. Mostly, she figured, he just wanted to get lucky again. “Get dressed.”

  He pulled on his pants, his shirt, and began hunting for his shoes. “How about next weekend? Are you—”

  “No.” She softened her voice. “I’m sorry, no.” She put her hands on his shoulders and tried to turn him toward the door to shove him out, because damn it, if Mel caught her with one of the clients, she was going to skin her alive. “Go,” she said.

  “This first.” He leaned in to kiss her but she shifted, giving him her cheek instead.

  “Hey, I want a kiss.”

  “Well, I don’t.” She never kissed her lovers. Like getting naked in the light of day, it seemed too intimate, too real. Putting her hand to her head, which was threatening to leap off her shoulders, she tried to smile. “Look, I’ll call you, okay?” Standard line, of course, used only to avoid a scene.

  He saw right through her, and went from pout to something else, something darker and much closer to anger. “You don’t have my number.”

  From the radio in her skirt pocket she heard Kellan say something. Shit. Indeed, the crew had arrived, probably all in the lobby macking on donuts, hangover free. Damn it.

  Danny would look at her with that combination of disappointment and regret, like it was her fault she sometimes tended to use sex as her Prozac, and Dimi would feel like crap. “I’ve got to run—”

  But Gorgeous Guy grabbed her arm and held on with a shocking strength. Just last night that strength had been incredibly arousing. Now, not so much. “Let go of me,” she said very carefully.

  “You can’t just run out on me.”

  She went from guilty to mad without passing GO. “Look, I can do anything I want.”

  “So that’s it?” he asked, eyes narrowed, definitely annoyed. “You got off and now you’re done with me?”

  She looked down at the hand still wrapped around her arm, at his fingers digging into her skin, and felt a frisson of unease. “Let go of me. Now.” To ensure he did, she shoved him back and then hopped down from the plane, racing out of the hangar.

  Asshole. Why did men have to be assholes who ruined everything?

  The bright morning sun nearly blinding her, the cool air burning her lungs, she turned toward the lobby. With any luck, she wouldn’t see a soul, and indeed luck appeared to be on her side as she entered the side lobby door and found the room empty.

  Even the café was quiet, which meant that everyone had dispersed and gone off to begin their day. Whew. Bypassing her desk, she headed straight for the restroom to freshen up, thinking ha! she’d made it, she was in the clear—

  “Dimi!”

  Previously Gorgeous Guy. Yelling for her, damn it. With a wince, she turned back, and from across the expanse of the lobby, saw him heading right for her. Gone was any trace of the soft, sexy smile he’d exhibited last night, and in its place was a determination to have a scene.

  Yep, she was still a jerk magnet. Good to know. She debated about just dodging into the bathroom and letting him pound on the door, but before she could, he was right there in front of her. Okay, no problem. She’d just knee him in the nads if it came to it, then drag him back to his plane and leave him there for his friends to find—

  “Don’t walk away from me.” His brows were furrowed together, assuring her that she wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of a pounding hangover. “Don’t ever walk away from me.”

  Was he kidding? She opened her mouth to blast him, but someone stepped in front of her.

  Danny; tall, rangy, and lanky, with his blond surfer-dude hair sticking out of his baseball cap, falling to his shoulders. Not handsome, not even take-another-look cute, but he had a pair of clear blue eyes that could cut right through a soul, which she hoped they were doing right now to Previously Gorgeous Guy. Danny held a wrench in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other, which he casually lifted to his lips to blow away the steam before taking a sip. “Problem?”

  “Do you mind?” Previously Gorgeous Guy gestured to Dimi. “I’m trying to have a conversation here.”

  Not budging—in fact still blocking the view of Dimi entirely—Danny bent his head and took another sip of his coffee. “Oh, yeah,” he sighed. “Charlene can make a cup of coffee. Want one?”

  “No,” Previously Gorgeous Guy said through his teeth. “I don’t. I want to talk to her.” He pointed to Dimi with one jerky motion.

  Danny nodded, then slowly shook his head. “Unfortunately for you, she doesn’t seem to be that interested in having a conversation.” Without taking his eyes off him, Danny cocked his head. “Dimi?”

  “No,” she said to Danny’s back. “I’m not interested in having a conversation.”

  Danny nodded and spoke in the same easy voice, though she could hear unbendable steel beneath it. “You okay?”

  “Fantastic.” She’d never stood behind Danny before. He was bigger than she’d thought, sturdier. He had himself a set of broad shoulders, and buns of steel, too. All that surfing, she supposed—

  “Dimi.”

  Lifting her gaze, she realized Danny had craned his neck to look at her. “Give us a moment?”

  He was telling her to go into the restroom, that he’d take care of the issue, meaning he’d escort the guy out of the lobby and either back to his plane or off the premises. “Right,” she said, and gratefully made her escape.

  Inside the bathroom, she caught a look at herself in the mirror, and stared. Her hair had gone on a party without her permission, she wore no makeup, both an absolute crime in her book. She was pale enough to scare herself, but worse, her skirt and top were wrinkled. She also had four paw-print bruises on her arm where the guy had grabbed her, not to mention a scratch on her inner thigh.

  She definitely looked a little rough around the edges, like she’d been rode hard and put away wet, like she didn’t care about herself and where she’d been.

  And as that sank in, her eyes filled. Idiot. What she’d done last night had been stupid and careless and dangerous. And it could have had an extremely unpleasant ending.

  Yet she’d known all that and had done it anyway.

  The restroom door opened and she turned her head, expecting Danny, expecting to have to put a smile on her face and pretend all was well, that she was “fantastic” as always, knowing she needed to thank him.

  But it wasn’t Danny at all. Mel stormed in, and Dimi prepared for a lecture, to be berated about her bad choices, to feel an inch tall.

  But Mel didn’t even glance at Dimi. She went straight to a sink, cranked on the cold water and bent. Dimi watched in surprise as Mel closed her eyes and slapped water on her cheeks. “Mel? What’s the matter?”

  She didn’t answer for so long that Dimi thought maybe she wouldn’t. Finally, she straightened, water dripping off her nose. “Men suck.”