“Apparently Johnny was impressed with you as well.” Dominic leaned back in his chair, gave her a nod. “Did you fuck him?”

“I really couldn’t say. Have you been fucking anyone interesting?”

“Actually, I’ve been abstinent. My friends think I’m dying of something.”

Fortunately her sandwich arrived just then because she was speechless. Either Dominic was lying or… She was speechless.

Dominic smiled a thank-you to the waiter, then pointed at the sandwich as the man walked away. “We can do better than that. Dinner somewhere? What would you like to eat?”

The phrase hung in the air. Potent. Lush with possibility.

She flushed, feeling an unwanted desire leap inside her and forcibly tamping it down.

“I really haven’t fucked anyone since you left,” he said quietly.

“Since you left.”

“We could argue the point. We both left.”

“Speaking for myself, for good reason.”

He wasn’t touching that. “I missed you.”

She valiantly resisted the urge to reply in kind; she wouldn’t so easily succumb to hope. “You knew I was here,” she said instead, narrow-eyed and accusing. “How?”

“Someone I know saw you in the lobby a few days ago. I decided to take a chance. Could we please not argue? You look wonderful.” His sudden grin was sexy and sweet. “I could show you a good time, Miss Hart. After thirty-six days of no sex, I think I could last all night and the next day and”—his grin widened—“however long you want.”

“That’s it?” she said coolly. “I’m just supposed to say yes and forget you and those women, your leaving, and everything that—”

“I’d like that, yeah.”

“I suppose you would,” she said tightly. “Just move past the train wreck and keep on fucking.”

“Jesus, Katherine, I’m ten kinds of sorry, if it helps. Everything was moving too fast. I couldn’t handle it. I wish I’d done things differently, but I didn’t. And you were leaving too, so don’t pretend you were looking for some long-term relationship. You even put it in writing, babe. Never do that. It’s always a mistake.”

A cocked brow. “Advice from an expert?”

He started to say something, then stopped himself. “I don’t know. But I do know my fucked-up life isn’t yours. You’re not one of those people who deliberately hurt someone just for the hell of it. And your reasons for leaving”—he ran a hand over his hair, sighed—“well, I’d probably do the same. But I don’t want you mad at me. I’m doing my pathetic best to apologize. So stop glaring and talk to me. Let’s work this out. I’m not a complete prick.”

A tiny smile formed on Kate’s lips, half rueful, half real. The tightness in her shoulders eased. That was major conciliation. “You look tired,” she said.

“No shit. I’ve barely slept in weeks.”

A small silence. A slow exhalation. Her first impulse was to say: Come, I’ll hold you; sleep. But she’d suffered too much heartache in the past weeks, cried too many tears. “I suppose now that you’ve gotten rid of Johnny I might as well have dinner with you,” she said, not entirely sure she was doing the right thing. Not entirely sure about anything, with Dominic close enough to touch.

His smile was instant, the dazzling one that always made her feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

“Would you like dinner at the trading station? Or anywhere. Literally. My plane is ready to go.”

“Jesus, Dominic, you could turn a girl’s head.”

“If it’s yours, I’m good. Otherwise, I don’t give a damn. And I mean it about going anywhere you want.” He took a small breath, started to say something, thought better of it, stopped, and said instead, “It’s really nice to be with you.” He shifted slightly in his chair, a quick up-glance, the blue of his eyes shot with happiness. “Really, really nice.”

She could barely breathe. Everything she wanted was hers for the asking. Weeks of wretchedness erased if she only said yes to the blissful fantasy he offered. She’d live happily ever after if she said yes. Or more likely the dream would bleed away and the world would turn cold when he left again. Because he surely would.

He leaned forward, his butane-blue eyes suddenly dead serious. “Could we go somewhere else? Anywhere else.”

She tried to rearrange the chaos in her brain but her overtaxed mind had slowed to a crawl. She said, “Where?” When she didn’t mean it. Her subconscious had rashly spoken. He reached for her hand; she jerked it back.

“Sor—” He stopped himself; she’d accused him of meaningless apologies the night of the party in Hong Kong. “We could go”—a flick of his finger—“you name it. I don’t care where it is. We’ll just talk. No strings, no agenda, you can tell me to go to hell and I’ll listen.”

“How about we stay here.”

She hadn’t told him to go to hell. Things were looking up. “Fine. Dinner here then.”

“I’ve missed a few of my birth control pills lately so I’m really not available for anything but dinner,” she said, giving him an expressionless green stare, needing to ink in the boundaries for her own peace of mind.

His bland gaze hid the bombshell exploding in his head. “Not a problem. Dinner’s fine. I had no expectations.”