In downtown San Francisco, Ethan's navy hoodie and designer jeans are not code for rock star hanging out on his day off but rather another young tech millionaire. Nobody stops him or looks at him sideways.

We have the day off today. Tomorrow, the band is playing a sold-out show at some big amphitheater. Then we head to Portland, then Seattle, then Chicago, then New York.

There are a few days off and another few in transit. That gives me nine more days in Ethan's company.

Nine days with my body screaming give me Ethan.

The back of his hand brushes against mine. Immediately, my body responds. My stomach flutters. Heat spreads to my cheeks and chest. I allow myself a moment to check him out—tight jeans, wide smile, navy eyeliner making his blue eyes look bluer.

He's hotter than he was when we were together. How is that possible?

"It's right this way." He nods to a packed corner.

It's the middle of a work day. Downtown is packed with a mix of business types in suits and tech types in hoodies, jeans, and canvas shoes. I try to cut through the crowd but people don't part the way they do in New York. They stare at their phones, bumping into me or shooting me dirty looks.

Then Ethan's arm is around my waist and he's leading me through the crowded street. I should object to his arm out of principle, but it makes me feel warm and safe.

I move closer, until I can smell his soap. It's the hotel soap, the same one I used. And under that, it's Ethan. I can't explain it but the smell of him is familiar.

I get lost in the proximity of his body until we arrive. We're in a small, clean park sandwiched between skyscrapers. It's an oasis in the middle of the city.

The restaurant isn't quite in the park. It's a level higher, outside a convention hall.

It's a small place with a quaint vibe. The walls, tables, and chairs are shades of bronze and copper.

We take seats at a corner table. Ethan glances at his menu then he sets it down. He has that look on his face—he already knows what he wants. Still, he waits patiently as I take my time poring over the menu.

"Are you happy you're in grad school?" he asks.

I stare back at him curiously. "You really want to know?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because… when I told you I was going, you…" I bite my lip. "You asked me to choose between you and grad school."

His eyes turn down. "That's not how it went."

What the hell is he talking about? Maybe, technically, I left Ethan, but he didn't give me a choice.

I spent our entire relationship supporting him. Hell, I was practically his sidekick. Then the second I wanted something that wasn't easy for him, he pushed me away.

Even through clenched teeth, my voice is irritated. "How did it go?"

He stares through me. "That doesn't matter anymore."

Of course it does.

I stare back at Ethan. His blue eyes give nothing away. I have no idea what he's thinking, but he looks sincere.

He really believes what he's saying.

My lips are dry. I wet them with my tongue, but that only makes my mouth feel drier.

Was our relationship that meaningless to him?

I don't know what to think here.

I hold his gaze. "It matters to me."

His expression gets intense. "It's not gonna be a quick conversation. Let's table it. I want to know your life, Vi. I'm glad you're doing well. Are you doing well?"

"Yeah." I slide my fingers over the menu. It's coated with slick plastic. How can he suggest we table the conversation? He must not think much of my feelings. "I love New York City."

"Even the weather?" He raises a brow.

"No. I hate rain. And snow. And wind. And humidity." I chew on my bottom lip. I want to have a nice lunch with Ethan. Maybe it is better to move on from the subject of our breakup. We're stuck together for nine days. "We have two weeks in the fall where the weather is perfect."

"I miss the sunshine when I'm away." He looks into my eyes. "I'm glad school is good."

"Really?" I raise a brow.

"Yeah. You're the smartest person I've ever met, Vi. You're gonna go on to great things. Hell, you're probably wasting your talent working on our books."

"It's a different skill set, but I don't mind. Accounting is mostly about regulations and being organized."

"What's the verdict?"

"There's something off about your books. I'm not sure about the details yet, but there's definitely something off. It could be that I'm doing something wrong-"

"I doubt that." His voice is confident. He really believes in me.

That doesn't make any sense.

I stare into Ethan's eyes, trying to find some sign he's full of shit. There's nothing. He's hanging on every word. He trusts me.

He cares about me.

I clear my throat. "I should probably talk to Mal about it."

"Going over my head? That's low." He shakes his head with mock incredulity.

"Well." I lean closer and shoot him a look of faux suspicion. "Did you embezzle money from your bandmates?"

"Not sure I should tell you."

"How can I convince you?"

"I'm sure you can think of something." He raises a brow, shifting into character.

"Hmmm." I miss playing this game with Ethan. It's always fun. I arch my back to push my chest towards him. "There must be something I can offer you. In exchange."

He leans back into his chair, spreads his legs wide. "Whatever do you mean, Ms. Valentine?"

I shrug, feigning innocence. "I'm not sure, Mr. Strong. I'm new to this whole bookkeeping thing. I'm sure a powerful, handsome man like you could point me in the right direction."

He laughs, breaking character. "Keep this up and I'm getting you off in the bathroom."

My cheeks flush. "Are you telling me to stop or telling me to keep going?"

"It's a data point. Do what you want with the information." His eyes go wide with desire.

God, I can practically feel his hands on my skin, his breath on my neck. I want his body pressed against mine. I want him getting me off in the bathroom.

But I'm not ready for that. Not yet.

I lean back on my seat and pull my legs onto my chair, so I'm sitting cross-legged. "I don't think it was you. You would have no idea how to embezzle."

He laughs. "Vi, that hurts. I can't believe you doubt my knowledge of criminal activities."

"Not all criminal activities. I know for a fact that you're quite experienced in matters of public indecency."

His voice drops to something low and seductive. "Do you?"

Damn, I'm not steering the conversation back to platonic territory very well. But then, I don't want the conversation in platonic territory. The look in his eyes is making me hot all over. "I could be reminded."

He's about to say something when the waiter interrupts to drop off waters and take our orders.

Ethan holds my gaze for a moment. Something passes between us. Something I can't explain.

Then it's gone. He orders the Russian tea service.

I order a sencha tea and an avocado sandwich and hand the waiter our menus. Then he's gone and it's me and Ethan alone.

"How about I remind you after lunch?" he asks.

I meet his gaze. "What do you have in mind?"

"That part is a surprise. Do you have a swimsuit?"

"Not with me, no."

"I'll buy you one."

"You're not buying me anything." Even if the thought of trying on swimsuits with Ethan just outside the door is making me hot all over.

"It's a trade. I buy you a swimsuit. In exchange, you trust me to lead you right for the rest of the day."

"Who's buying lunch?"

"Me."

"Dinner?"

"I have money now. You don't. I'll buy."

I chew on my lip.

"You can pay me back after Mal pays you for working on our books if it will make you feel better."

It will. But I'm not sure I believe that he'll accept my money.

He smiles as he extends his hand. "We can get tacos for dinner."

The man knows my weakness.

I shake. "You have a deal."