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  “Pretty much.” Min shoved the bread toward him. “Take this bread basket away from me, I’m making a fool of myself.”

  He pulled the basket toward his plate. “Then why did you give me such a hard time?”

  Min snorted. “You think that was a hard time? You must not get much grief from women.”

  “Well, not in the first five minutes,” Cal said. “They save that for the future.”

  “Yes, but we don’t have a future,” she said, looking longingly at the bread. “I had to be proactive.”

  Cal pushed the basket back to her. “Why don’t we have a future?” he said, even though he’d come to the same conclusion about thirty seconds after he’d said hello in the bar.

  “Because I’m not interested in sex.” Min tore off another piece of bread and bit into it, and Cal watched while the pleasure spread across her face.

  You lie, Cal thought.

  “And that means you’re not interested in me,” Min said when she’d finished chewing.

  “Hey,” he said, insulted. “What makes you think I’m only interested in sex?”

  “Because you’re a guy.” She picked up the bread again. “Statistics show that men are interested in three things: careers, sports, and sex. That’s why they love professional cheerleaders.”

  Cal put his fork down. “Well, that’s sexist.”

  Min licked a crumb off her lip, and his irritation evaporated. She was fun to look at when she wasn’t scowling: smooth milky skin, wide-set dark eyes, a blob of a nose, and that lush, soft, full, rosy mouth. . . .

  “Yes, I know,” she said. “But it’s true, isn’t it?”

  “What?” Cal tried to find his place in the conversation. “Oh, the sports and sex thing? Not at all. This is the twenty-first century. We’ve learned how to be sensitive.”

  “You have?”

  “Sure,” Cal said. “Otherwise we wouldn’t get laid.”

  She rolled her eyes, and he picked up the bottle and filled her wineglass.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I had too much to drink at the bar.”

  He slid her glass closer. “I’ll make sure you get home okay.”

  “And who’ll make sure I get away from you okay?” she said and he put the bottle down.

  “Okay, that was below the belt,” he said, more sharply than he’d intended.

  She met his eyes, and he thought, Oh, hell, here we go again. Then she nodded and said, “You’re right. You’ve done nothing to deserve that. I apologize.” She frowned, as if thinking about something. “In fact, I apologize for the whole night. My boyfriend dumped me about half an hour before you picked me up—”

  “Ah ha,” Cal said.

  “—and it made me insane with rage. And then I realized that I’m not even sure I liked him anymore, and that the person I’m really mad at is me for being so stupid about the whole thing.”

  “You’re not stupid,” Cal said. “Making mistakes isn’t stupid, it’s the way you learn.”

  She squinted at him, looking confused. “Thank you. Anyway, this evening is not your fault. I mean, you have your faults, but you shouldn’t pay for his. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” he said, confused, too. What faults? “Now drink your wine. It’s good.”

  She picked up her glass and sipped. “You’re right. This is excellent.”

  “Good, we’ll come here often,” he said, and then kicked himself because they weren’t going anywhere again.

  “Another line,” Min said, without venom. “We’re not going anywhere again and you know it. What is it with you? You see a woman and automatically go into wolf mode?”

  Cal sat back. “Okay, was that because of the ex-boyfriend, too? Because I’m usually not paranoid, but you are definitely out to get me.”

  “Don’t be a wimp,” Min said as she tore the bread. “You’ve got that gorgeous face, and a body that makes women go weak at the knees, and then you whine.”

  Cal grinned at her. “Do I make you go weak at the knees?”

  Min bit into her bread and chewed. “You did until you whined,” she said when she’d swallowed. “Now I know. The magic is gone.”

  Cal watched her lick her full lower lip, and two months of celibacy plus a lifetime of habit kicked in. “Give me a chance,” he said. “I bet I can get the magic back.”

  She stopped with the tip of her tongue on her lip, and her eyes met his for a long, dark, hot moment, and this time that glint was there, and sound faded to silence, and every nerve he had came alive and said, This one.

  Then her tongue disappeared, and he shook his head to clear it and thought, Not in a million years.

  “I never bet,” Min said. “Gambling is a statistically impractical form of generating income.”

  “It’s not a method of generating income,” Cal said. “It’s a way of life.”

  “Could we be any more incompatible?” Min said.

  “Can’t see how,” Cal said, but then her eyes went past him and he watched while she drew in her breath.

  Cal turned and saw Emilio, this time with a fragrant platter of chicken marsala, golden-brown filets and huge braised mushrooms floating in luminous dark wine sauce.

  “Oh, my Lord,” Min said.

  Emilio beamed at her as he served. “It’s a pleasure to serve someone who appreciates food. Taste it.”

  Min cut into the chicken and put a forkful in her mouth. She looked startled and then she closed her eyes and began to chew, her face flushed with pleasure. When she’d swallowed, she looked up at Emilio, her eyes shining. “This is incredible,” she said, and Cal thought, Me, look at me like that.

  “Try the mushrooms,” Emilio said, happy as a half-Italian clam.

  “Go away,” Cal told him, but Emilio stayed until Min had bitten into one of the huge mushrooms and told him with heartfelt passion that he was a genius.

  “Can I get some credit for bringing you here?” Cal said when Emilio was gone.

  “Yes,” Min said. “You are a genius at restaurants. Now be quiet so I can concentrate on this.”

  Cal sighed and gave up on the conversation for the rest of the meal. There was a skirmish at the end when Min tried to insist on separate checks, but Cal said, “I invited you, I pay. Back off, woman.” She looked as though she were going to argue for a moment, and then she nodded. “Thank you very much,” she told him. “You’ve given me a lovely meal and a new favorite restaurant,” and he felt appreciated for the first time that night.

  When they left, she kissed Emilio on the cheek. “Your bread is the greatest, Emilio, but the chicken is a work of art.” Then she kissed him on the other cheek.

  “Hey,” Cal said. “I’m right here. I paid for the chicken.”

  “Don’t beg,” Min told him and went out the door.

  “Morrisey, I think you just met your match,” Emilio said.

  “Not even close,” Cal said, grateful to be without her for a moment. “This was our first, last, and only date.”

  “Nope,” Emilio said. “I saw the way you looked at each other.”

  “That was fear and loathing,” Cal said, opening the door.

  “God, you’re dumb,” Emilio said, and Cal ignored him and went out into the dark to find Min.

  Chapter Three

  “Infatuation is the fun part of falling in love,” Cynthie said to David when they were ensconced in Serafino’s and the waiter had brought their very expensive filets and departed.

  David smiled at her and thought, I bet Min isn’t talking psychology with Cal. God knew what Min was doing with Cal. Whatever it was, he was going to have to find a way to stop it.

  “Infatuation triggers a chemical in the brain called PEA,” Cynthie said. “Your heart races, and you get breathless and dizzy, you tremble, and you can’t think. It’s what most people think of when they think of falling in love, and everybody goes through it.” She smiled a lovely, faraway smile. “Our infatuation was wonderful. We couldn’t resist each other.”

  “Hmm