“Of course you did.”

Of course he did. And he’d heard of condoms even if she hadn’t. “Let’s not argue. Would you like to have dinner in the bar or in the dining room?”

She suddenly smiled. “I like when you’re being nice.”

“Then I’ll see that I’m on my best behavior for you.”

A sudden, treacherous rush of affection warmed her senses. She almost said, I don’t want dinner, I want you. “Super,” she said. “And the dining room will be fine.”

There was no question Dominic was on his best behavior at dinner. She was tempted to take notes. His manners were so polished, his conversation so agreeable, she marveled at such brilliant composure. It wasn’t until they were having after-dinner drinks that she began feeling guilty. Regardless of his motivation, Dominic was truly sweet and attentive, careful not to make any moves on her, never mentioning their meltdown in Hong Kong. She felt as though she were taking advantage of him and his kindness when she’d decided in the past few weeks that if she just kept on keeping on eventually her life would return to normal. And as much as she wished it weren’t true, she knew that no matter how sweet Dominic was tonight, he would only bring heartache in the end.

Setting down her port glass, she mentally braced herself, then said, “I don’t want to lead you on. I’m not good at pretense. I appreciate your”—she gestured at the largely untouched food on the table, a combination of nerves and desire having stolen their appetites—“hospitality, but you and I are looking for different things. You want me wrapped up neatly, tied with a bow, packaged up, and shipped to you whenever you feel like screwing me. I can’t do that. Sometimes I wish I could. You’re far superior to my vibrator. But I can’t. Understand?”

No, because if he was honest, that’s what he wanted. Drinking his port, he set down the glass and pushed it out of the way before looking up. “Would you be interested in an exclusivity contract? Your terms.”

Her jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

“That sounds like a no,” he said calmly, already moving his next chess piece, too smart to take offense.

“I cried too much and too long after Hong Kong,” she said, the misery still raw. “Why would I want to relive that?”

“I drank too much and slept too little after Hong Kong. I’m trying to reach some compromise with you so neither of us has to relive the last month.”

“So you propose a compromise about sex?” She tried to keep the rebuke from her tone; after all, she’d been a willing participant in Dominic’s sexual games.

“Partly,” he said, careful not to respond to the unmistakable censure in her voice.

“And the other part?”

He merely shrugged. “I don’t know. You have to admit, after knowing each other only a few days, full clarity wasn’t likely. At least for me.”

“So you ran,” she said, each word bitter and metallic.

There was a hard flash in his eyes. “Don’t start. You ran too.”

He had new hollows under his cheekbones, faint shadows under his eyes, a coiled restlessness beneath his disciplined façade. Was it possible he’d been as wretched as she? That he really had been celibate? She was suddenly drained of anger, as if a timer had run down on some monumental struggle and she was left weak but alive. “Have you really not slept with anyone since Hong Kong?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t.”

“I don’t know if I can believe you.” But the most amazing wave of endorphins washed over her like a fresh breath of sea air.

“Believe me. Ask Max. I’ve been a total ass to everyone at our Paris office.”

“Because you missed me.”

“Like crazy.” That at least was true; all the rest was pure anarchy.

The word crazy bulldozed away the entire devastating wreckage left behind from those photos, the bloodlust for vengeance, the flood of sadness that had swamped her life. It characterized the turbo-charged intensity of their relationship. “How crazy,” she whispered.

He smiled, knowing what she meant. “Almost—but not quite—that crazy. We’ll buy some condoms.”

“I haven’t said yes yet.” But her breath was coming fast.

He saw it, heard it, saw as well her bright green eyes that held the sunshine missing from his world, her lush red mouth that offered the promise of pleasure he’d come halfway around the globe to possess, the beauty of her pale face that had filled his dreams. He leaned forward, reached across the small table, and took her hand. “Say it.” A low, hushed command. “Say yes.”

She pulled her hand away, his touch electric, her body responding like Pavlov’s dogs. Her mind, fortunately, was still partially open for business. “Tell me what you mean by exclusivity,” she said, with a willful jut to her chin.

He sat back, gratified and relieved, understanding that it was just a matter of negotiation now. “It means anything you want it to mean.”

“Then I want a mutual exclusivity. One that either of us can revoke by e-mail.”

A soundless whistle. “That’s cold.”

Low-stoked anger glowed in her eyes. “You’d know about cold.”

So not interested in renewing the argument of who left whom, his voice was smooth as silk. “We should be able to manage that.”

“I should hope so. What’s the point otherwise? You do what you want and I wait for you? That would be stupid of me.”