“Easy to make snap judgments when you don’t know someone, isn’t it?” he asked, eyeing me.

“Touché,” I nodded, nudging him with my foot to go on.

“And then Lizzie. Oh boy, that woman is insane! I met her in London, piss drunk in a pub. She walked up to me, grabbed my collar, kissed me stupid, and dragged me home with her. That girl knows exactly what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.”

I remembered some of her louder moments in great detail. She really was rather specific about what she wanted, provided you could get past the giggling.

“She’s a solicitor—attorney—and one of her main clients lives here in San Francisco. Her business is based in London, but when we’re both in the same city, we make sure to see each other. And that’s it. That’s all she wrote.”

“That’s it? Three women, and that’s it. How do they not get jealous? How are they all okay with this? And don’t you want more? Don’t they want more?”

“For now, no. Everyone is getting exactly what they want, so it’s all good. And yes, they all know about each other, and since no one’s in love here, no one has any real expectations beyond friendship—with the best possible benefits. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I adore each of them, and love them in their own way. I’m a lucky guy. These women are amazing. But I’m too busy to date anyone for real, and most women don’t want to put up with a boyfriend who’s across the globe more often than home.”

“Yes, but not all women want the same thing. We don’t all want the picket fence.”

“Every woman I’ve ever dated has said she doesn’t, but then she does. And that’s cool—I get it—but with my schedule being so crazy, it got to be very difficult for me to be involved with anyone who needed me to be something I’m not.”

“So you’ve never been in love?”

“I didn’t say that, did I?”

“So you have been in a relationship before, with just one woman?”

“Of course, but as I said, once my life became what it is today—the constant traveling—it’s hard to stay in love with that kind of guy. At least that’s what my ex told me when she started dating some accountant. You know, wears a suit, carries a briefcase, home every night by six—it’s what women seem to want.” He sighed, setting his coffee down and relaxing further into the couch. His words said he was okay with all this, but the wistful look on his face said otherwise.

“It’s not what all women want,” I countered.

“Correction, it’s what the women I have dated all wanted. At least until now. That’s why what I have works great for me. These women I spend my time with when I’m home? They’re great. They’re happy, I’m happy—why would I rock the boat?”

“Well, you’re already down to two now, and I think you’d feel differently if the right woman came along. The right woman for you wouldn’t want you to change anything about your life. She wouldn’t rock your boat, she’d jump right in and sail it with you.”

“You’re a romantic, aren’t you?” He leaned in, bumping my shoulder.

“I’m a practical romantic. I can actually see some appeal in having a guy who travels a lot, because, frankly? I like my space. I also take up the entire bed, so it’s difficult for me to sleep with anyone.” I shook my head ruefully, remembering how quickly I used to kick my one-nighters to the curb. Some of my past wasn’t all that different from Simon’s. He just had his sexcapades tied up in a much neater package.

“A practical romantic. Interesting. So what about you? Dating anyone?” he asked.

“Nope, and I’m okay with that.”

“Really?”

“Is it so hard to believe a hot, sexy woman with a great career doesn’t need a man to be happy?”

“First of all, bully for you for calling yourself hot and sexy—because it’s true. It’s nice to see a woman give herself a compliment instead of fishing for one. And second, I’m not talking about getting married here, I’m talking about dating. You know, hanging out? Casually?”

“Are you asking me if I’m f**king anyone right now?” I shot at him, and he spluttered into his coffee.

“Definitely the strangest conversation I’ve ever had with a woman,” he muttered.

“A hot and sexy woman,” I reminded him.

“That’s for damn sure. So, how about you? Ever been in love?”

“This feels like an ABC mini-series, with all the coffee and the love talk,” I said. I might have been stalling.

“Come on, let’s celebrate this moment in our lives.” He snorted, gesturing with his coffee mug.

“Have I ever been in love? Yes. Yes, I have.”

“And?”

“And nothing. It didn’t end in a very good way, but what ending is ever good? He changed, I changed, so I got out. That’s all.”

“You got out, like…”

“Nothing dramatic. He just wasn’t who I thought he was going to be,” I explained, setting my coffee down and playing with my hair.

“So what happened?”

“Oh, you know how it goes. We were together when I was a senior at Berkley, and he was finishing up law school. It started out great, and then it wasn’t, and so I left. He did teach me how to rock climb, so I’m grateful for that.”

“A lawyer, huh?”

“Yep, and he wanted a little lawyer wife. I should have caught on when he referred to my future career plans as a ‘little decorating business.’ He really just wanted someone who looked good and picked up his shirts from the cleaners on time. Not for me.”

“I don’t know you that well yet, but I can’t really see you in the suburbs somewhere.”

“Ugh, me either. Nothing wrong with the ’burbs, just not for me.”

“You can’t move to the ’burbs. Who would bake for me?”

“Pfft, you just want to see me in my apron.”

“You have no idea,” he said, winking.

“It’s hard to get everything you need from one person. You know what I mean? Wait, of course you do. What was I thinking?” I laughed, gesturing to him.

We both jumped at the knocking on my door across the hall. The maintenance guy had finally arrived.

“Thanks for the coffee, and the shower, and the pipe rescue,” I said, stretching as I walked toward the door. I nodded at the guy in the hallway and held up one finger to let him know I’d be right there.