“Jamie! What the hell?” I make a motion with my hand that vaguely indicates her outfit.

“I’m just going next door,” she says.

“Douglas?” I hear my voice rise. She is not going over there again. Especially since I know the only reason she’s popping over to Mr. Mark On Her Bedpost is because our apartment is now too crowded by one.

“Just a friendly chat,” she says. “Cross my heart,” she adds, then makes the appropriate motions. Like that’s going to make a difference. But she yanks open the door and slips out before I can stop her, and I blurt out a curse contemporaneously with the sound of the door slamming shut.

“We don’t like Douglas?” Damien asks.

“Douglas is bad for her,” I say. I look him in the eye. “Please tell me that’s a concept you understand.”

“It is,” he says. “I’m also familiar with a number of corollary concepts.”

“Such as?”

“Maybe Douglas isn’t bad for her at all. Maybe there’s just something about him that frightens her. Or you.”

“You’re very smart, Mr. Stark.”

“Thank you.”

“But that doesn’t mean you know everything.”

His mouth twitches, and I feel a little trill of pleasure. I’ve managed to zing Damien Stark. I wonder how many people can say that?

The humor in his eyes fades quickly, though. “Nikki,” he says, his voice as soft and soothing as velvet. “What are you afraid of?”

My stomach twists into knots as I turn away from him and use a hand towel to dry the already dry dishes in the drainer. “I don’t know what you mean,” I say to a coffee cup.

“Yes, you do,” he says. He moves like a cat, so I don’t hear him come up behind me. But I feel the change in the air even before he speaks. Even before his hand rests lightly on my shoulder. “You bolted.” Gently, he turns me around, then brushes my cheek with his fingertips. “Do I scare you?”

God yes, and in so many ways. Not the least of which is that Damien Stark terrifies me precisely because I feel safe with him. And I can’t become complacent. It’s when those walls come down that your heart gets shattered.

“Nikki?” His brow is furrowed. He looks miserable, and I can’t stand the thought that I’m the cause.

“No,” I say, and even though it’s not the truth, it’s also not a lie.

“Then why?”

“I … I was embarrassed.”

“Were you?”

I glance at the floor. The pull of Damien’s touch is so intense that I’m having a hard time thinking. And this is a danger zone. I need to keep a clear head. “Yes,” I insist. “I said no, but then you made me so hot that I forgot myself, and when I was able to breathe again I just ran.”

“Bullshit.” There’s disappointment in his voice. And, I think, a little bit of anger.

I swallow.

He takes a step toward me, and I take a corresponding step sideways, easing away down the length of my kitchen counter. Clear head. I need a clear head.

He exhales, and I can sense the exasperation. “I don’t like seeing fear in your eyes.”

“You’re going to be my knight in shining armor?”

The corner of his mouth lifts into an ironic smile. “I think I’m a bit too tarnished for the job.”

I can’t help but grin. “I guess you’ll have to be a dark knight, then.”

“I’ll fight whatever dragons you want me to,” he says with a seriousness that belies my teasing tone. “But you don’t need a knight. You’re strong, Nikki. Hell, you’re exceptional.”

I conjure up the Social Nikki smile. “Is that a line you give to all the women you date?”

“Date?” I hear the hardness creeping into his voice. “I’ve escorted a lot of women around this town, and I’ve fucked a hell of a lot of them. But I didn’t date them.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure if I’m surprised or angry or sad or relieved. True, I need to end this with Damien; I need to protect myself and my secrets. But that implies that there is something to end, and now I fear that I was right all along—I’m just a conquest. A fast fuck before he moves on. And all that bullshit Jamie said about him wanting me was exactly that—bullshit.

Damien is watching my face, but I can’t get a read on his expression.

I turn back around and pick up an already dry bowl and start attacking it with the dishrag I’m still holding. “So that’s it? You just fuck them and dump them?”

“That’s a bit harsh,” he says. “Dump suggests they wanted something more, and I’m quite certain that all they wanted was to be photographed on my arm and have a bit of fun in my bed.”

“All of them?” I keep my back to him. This conversation has turned surreal.

“I’ve gone out with a few women who wanted more. I disentangled myself from those women. And no, I didn’t sleep with them.”

“Oh.” The dish is bone dry, but I’m still moving the rag over it. “So you just don’t do relationships?”

“Not with them.”

“Why not?”

His hand closes gently on my shoulder and I feel the now-familiar heat. “Because none of them was the woman I wanted,” he says as he turns me so that I have no choice but to look at him. His eyes are dark and intense, his voice is like a caress. My heart pounds in my chest, and breathing has suddenly become difficult. I think about the way he looked at me six years ago, that one glance that inspired so many fantasies. But that’s not what he means; I know it can’t be.

“But you did date someone not too long ago,” I say, then immediately regret the words when I see his expression darken. Nice turning to ice.

For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to answer. Finally, he nods. “Yes,” he confirms. “I suppose I did.”

So was she the woman you wanted? The question seems to hang in front of me, but I can’t say it out loud.

The silence thickens and I feel like an idiot for mentioning the woman in the first place. Finally, I lick my lips. “I heard that she died. I’m so sorry.”

His face is hard, his jaw tense with the effort of holding in a strong emotion. “It was tragic.” His voice sounds unnaturally tight.

I nod, but I don’t pursue it any longer. I don’t know why he told me that he didn’t date at all when it’s so clear that this woman meant something to him, but I’m not going to push. Considering the secrets I’m keeping, I can hardly fault him for holding on to a few of his own.

I’m tired now, though, and I want to be alone. I want to find Jamie and go to the corner store and get ice cream and cookies. I want to watch sappy old movies and sit on the couch and cry.

I want Damien Stark out of my head.

Mostly, I want to try to forget the way his touch makes me feel, because I need to abandon even the fantasy of Damien Stark. It’s too raw, too real. And despite the fact that I know I have to, the thought of pushing him away rips right through my heart.

I pull out Social Nikki and smile brightly as I toss my dish-towel on the counter. “Listen, it was nice of you to come by to check on me. But I’m fine. Really. And I’m actually in a little bit of a hurry. I don’t mean to be rude, but …” I trail off, looking meaningfully at the door.