CHAPTER 11

WHEN HIS cell phone rang Saturday evening, David actually jumped in his seat, and not just because it was clipped to his waist and set on vibrate—he’d turned off the volume during his earlier meeting with Filcher’s right-hand man. The good news was that Nate Filcher, Digi-Dial’s CEO, had not officially signed with AGI’s competitor…but they were discussing contract options. David needed to meet with the man again, but Nate himself was out of town for the weekend.

Now, David was racing back to his apartment, which he’d planned on unpacking today, at least enough that he and Serena could have a nice, relaxing evening. And sheets. But Nate’s second-in-command was long-winded, and David hadn’t realized how late it was. So it was with extreme guilt and trepidation that he answered his phone.

Please don’t let her have beat me to the apartment. “Hello?”

“David! It’s your father.” If Blake Grant’s physical appearance had become slightly less powerful in his sixties, his voice certainly hadn’t. It radiated the same immediate authority as always.

“Dad, this is a surprise.” When David had called home with his new address and pending phone number, the housekeeper had informed him that his mother had decided last minute to join David’s father on a business trip abroad. “Tara said you were in Paris.”

“They have phones in Paris,” his father said matter-of-factly.

In the not-too-distant background, a female voice urged, “Find out if Tara was right. Does he have a roof over his head now?”

“I don’t think he was living on a street corner in the meantime, Lily,” Blake muttered to his wife.

“Still, I did not raise my boys to be transients.”

“We raised them to work hard, and David does that. It comes with some sacrifices.”

“Benjamin’s going to be in Congress,” Lily pointed out, “and he makes it over for an occasional Sunday dinner.”

That was because David’s older brother lived right there in Savannah. He’d never particularly struck out on his own. And why, David wondered, had his parents placed an international call if the bulk of their conversation was going to be with each other?

“Dad, I appreciate your checking in, but—”

“Wait. Your mother wants a word.”

Of course. “Hi, Mom.”

“I’m so excited you finally took the time to find a place! Can’t wait to see it. We purchased our tickets for the banquet, and Tara says they arrived in the mail. I was really hoping that you’d have time to come down to Savannah some time before the charity event, but—”

“It’s been crazy, Mom.”

“I know.” Her voice softened with maternal affection. “Just don’t work yourself too hard. Benjamin wants us all to do some family pictures for the media before his campaign gets into full swing, and he’ll be crushed if you look skeletal with dark circles under your eyes.”

He laughed, knowing she was needling him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. Then we’ll see you later this month. And for pity’s sake, try to unpack before then. I’d rather not discover you’re still living out of boxes.”

A frisson of anticipation went through him. “Actually, Serena’s coming over to help with that.”

“Ah. The mysterious Serena. We’ll finally get to meet her, won’t we?”

“Definitely. The auction is really her baby as much as mine.” But a cold shadow passed over his heart as he answered. He’d like to introduce Serena as the woman in his life, but if she was to be believed, their affair would be over by the night of the auction. There’d been moments during the last few days when she’d looked at him with so much emotion in her eyes that he’d held his breath, certain she’d finally realized that what they shared was stronger than her fears, only to have her dance away, out of reach—emotionally, anyway.

Her deadline loomed nearer. If Serena was worried about their differences, intimidated by his upbringing or position, he would just try harder to show her that she could fit into his world.

* * *

SERENA RESISTED saying anything to the doorman about the suspicious glances he kept sending toward her and her red canvas tote bag, but really, what did he think she was going to do? Steal the ugly and uncomfortable mauve-and-gold-striped chair she’d been waiting in?

But she’d made good use of the last fifteen minutes, coming up with a few choice words for one David Grant. After the sky-diving ceremony she’d spent most of the day orchestrating, she’d headed as quickly as possible for her apartment to change into something casual enough for unpacking and old enough that she wouldn’t care if it was ripped off her and pack a few things in case she stayed the night again. She’d missed David last night with such fervor that she’d been in a lust-motivated rush to be with him.

She wouldn’t have hurried if she had known he wouldn’t even be here.

The security in his building was such that she could come inside, but to use the elevator, guests either had to have a key pass or be buzzed up by the resident. When there had been no response from David’s apartment, she had explained to the doorman that David was expecting her.

The man’s already skeptical expression had turned positively disdainful. “Mr. Grant,” he’d informed her, “has been out since noon.”

He had invited her to wait in the lobby, then proceeded to glance her way every few minutes as if she was a psychotic ex-girlfriend he should perhaps protect Mr. Grant from. If David ever bothered to show up, she could show them psychotic. Where was he? The man had promised to get a head start on his apartment today, so that they could spend time together this evening, not that she minded helping with the unpacking. She had fun with him no matter what they were doing…as long as she didn’t get preoccupied with wondering what would happen when their affair was over. It would hurt, she knew that, but she didn’t regret the decision she had made in his office. Sexually speaking, they had already opened Pandora’s box; Serena was just giving them some time to enjoy it, to satisfy their craving and move on.

Unfortunately, being with him had been more like feeding an addiction. But right at the moment, she was annoyed enough to think that maybe she would be able to move on with her life and find another man. One who didn’t stand up his dates. Sure, it was only fifteen minutes—going on twenty, now—but what really angered her was that she had no way to gauge how much later he would be. He couldn’t have called to let her know? She had a cell phone, for God’s sake! When she’d tried his, she had only received his voice mail, so his phone was either busy because he was talking to a client, or it was turned off because he was with an important client. Either way, it wasn’t hard to see where Serena fell on his priority list. Knowing the hours he kept, she wondered if this was standard modus operandi for how he treated his girlfriends.

But you’re not his girlfriend.

Just as she was reminding herself of this, David strode into the building, nodding and already waving off the doorman who approached to tell him he had a visitor. Her tardy date was wearing Saturday business attire, khaki slacks and a dark golf shirt, but his face was slightly flushed and his hair fairly disheveled, considering its length. Man, she was a sucker for him when he looked tousled. Cut it out, she told her hormones, we’re annoyed, remember?

“Serena, I am so, so sorry. I lost track of time, but then I was hauling ass back here, trying to decide if I should call you or not and my phone rang.”

She pressed her lips together. “An important business call, right?”

“No, actually.” He held out his hand to help her up, and she thought about not touching him, since he was sure to win her over faster that way, but there was no reason to be petty. “My parents. From Paris. I couldn’t just hang up on them.”

If either of her parents thought to call her from abroad, she wouldn’t just brush them off, either. Of course, she probably wouldn’t be able to carry on a conversation because she’d be so shocked to hear from them, but that was another story. To be fair though, her mom had sent her a hastily scrawled postcard a couple of weeks ago to inform her that Bolivia was wonderful, as was Antonio (who’d apparently replaced Miguel).

David took her tote, shrugging it over his shoulder. “Mom was going on about me finally finding a place to hang my hat, it’s a miracle, hallelujah, and then talking about family portraits for Ben to use in his campaign press kits. You understand, right?”

Only in the abstract, she thought as they walked to the elevator. She suspected if Meredith’s son, for instance, were to run for office, no one would phone the stepsister in the art district to request her presence in family photos.

Suddenly David glanced from the bag he carried to Serena, and a broad grin lit his face. “Does this mean you’re staying over?”

The pull of attraction was far stronger than the grudge she’d been trying to work up. “I was thinking about it.”

“You mean before I kept you waiting?” He pulled her into his arms as the elevator moved up. “Stay with me. Then I’ll have all night to make it up to you.”

What woman in her right mind could resist an offer like that?

* * *

SERENA never would have guessed that her “perfect place” could be an overpriced apartment suite that was home to a talking coffeemaker (a gift, he’d sheepishly explained) and enough business suits to open a men’s clothing department. But, lying on her side Sunday evening across David’s king-size bed with him snuggled against her back, one strong arm locked around her bare midsection, she was feeling dangerously content. Happy, sexually sated—for the moment—and perhaps more at peace than she’d felt since she’d learned David was moving to Atlanta.

David nuzzled her shoulder, his weekend version of a five-o’clock shadow brushing her skin. “You asleep?”

“Uh-uh. You promised there’d be food later.” She turned to grin at him. “I don’t want to waste away to nothing, you know.”

His blue gaze ran over her body. “Nope, can’t have that happening.”

He seemed so relaxed that her smile widened. Even though he’d been happy to see her last night and had lived up to his promise to make her waiting worthwhile, for the first hour or so she’d been here, he had obviously still been tense about his work dilemma. It had been gratifying to see his preoccupation replaced by desire.

“You look good like this,” Serena observed. Nicely rumpled, grinning, with a manly hint of stubble along his hard jaw. “You’re one of those guys who somehow makes scruffy very sexy.”

Although one of was a ridiculous way to put it, because David was in a class by himself.

He kissed her knuckles, then dropped another kiss at her collarbone, slowly turning his head so that his cheek scraped over her skin. “It doesn’t bother you? Not too scratchy, or anything?”

“I like it rough,” she teased.

His eyes glinted with wicked mischief. “Definitely filing that away for later. The way you’re looking at me now, it’ll almost be a damn shame to shave again. But somehow I doubt AGI would share your appreciation for the scruffy image.”

She snorted. “Like facial hair really impacts a person’s job performance.”

Sitting up, she glanced around for her shirt, or one of his. Anything she could wear while rummaging his badly stocked kitchen for food. “Did any of our clothes actually make it back to the bedroom?”

They’d made love in several other places first, before showering together and falling into his bed.

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You don’t have to get dressed on my account.”

“One appetite at a time, slugger.” She glanced at the floor again. They’d unpacked a fitted sheet and slept under his comforter, but the matching ivory bedsheet was still lying at the top of a nearby open box. She reached for that and wrapped it around her. “I have this fantasy that I’ll get to the kitchen and little elves will have left groceries.”

“Hmm.” He knelt by his side of the bed and retrieved a pair of shorts from somewhere. “I was sort of hoping for a starring role in your fantasies. I’m disappointed to hear it’s elves instead. Don’t worry. Assuming they didn’t stock the pantry, we’ll order out.”

“Again?” She recalled his apartment in college—a considerably cushier place to study than the library or her dorm, but he’d never had anything edible on hand. He’d generously sprung for countless pizzas, though, pretty much the staple of David’s university diet. “You know it would be cheaper if you ever just bought groceries.”

“Cut me a break. I may not have the assortment of fresh produce you’re always replenishing, but I’m in the middle of a move here.”

“And you do more cooking when you’re not midmove?”

“Well.” He glanced down sheepishly. “They say time is money, and I work a lot of hours, so when you look at…What?”

“Nothing.” She tried forcibly to smooth away the scowl she could feel on her face. Why was she feeling cranky all of a sudden? The reminder of his scheduling priorities, the reminder that they had a different perspective on money? Or just low blood sugar? “Let’s go see what we can get delivered in this neighborhood of yours. Unless you want to pick something up.”

“I hadn’t planned to leave the apartment. That requires your really getting dressed.” His gaze trailed over the bed-linen spooled around her body. “I’d be perfectly happy for you to wear even less than that for the next two weeks.”

Her laugh was strained. “That might make Dad’s wedding awkward.” Correction, more awkward.

The wedding! As David padded out of the room, she realized she’d never followed up on her rash promise to Meredith to find a suitable escort. Invite David. He more than qualified.

Not a chance.

But why not? In times past, she would easily have asked him for the favor, assuming he didn’t already have social plans with some coiffed heiress sorority chick. She tried to picture him among Meredith and James’s guests—her dad’s workaholic younger brother, Meredith’s supersuccessful kids, tons of country-club members Serena wouldn’t know. David would fit in effortlessly.

What a depressing thought.

Heaving a sigh, she joined him in the kitchen, where he’d pulled an assortment of brochures, menus and other literature out of a black folder. She raised her eyebrows. “One day in the apartment and you’ve already amassed all that information? I mean, I knew you were organized, but…”

“It was in my welcome packet.”

Ah. Of course. When she’d first moved into her loft, she’d been given two keys and a warning that the tattoo place on the corner overcharged.

“What are we in the mood for?” he asked. “Seafood? Barbecue?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Barbecue tends not to be vegetarian-friendly.”

After they finally decided on pizza, she laughed, thinking that some things never changed. And some do.

While physically, this newfound freedom to explore her attraction to David was the ultimate in sensual enjoyment, emotionally it made her feel helplessly vulnerable. Growing up, she’d often felt distanced from others. Unlike most of her classmates, she’d had no siblings, her grandparents had all lived out of state, her mother was caught up in starring in her own life movie, and James fretted whenever his daughter laughed too loudly in an inappropriate situation or wanted to run barefoot.

Serena had had friends, sure, but she’d gotten used to a certain distance in her relationships. As close as she and David had become, they’d kept things platonic until now and had dated other people, which provided a feeling of safety. Was that why she’d never consciously acknowledged how drawn to him she was in college?

She stared out the glass sliding doors on the other side of his sunken living room. The skyline twinkled in the growing darkness, making her somehow feel small and overwhelmed. While David placed their order, she wandered onto the balcony. The air was so soft against her skin that she didn’t even mind the warm humidity. Being outdoors had always made her feel more balanced. She had a little patio at her place, too, but it was a concrete slab that looked out onto the parking lot. Certainly not a generous deck with enough space to house a state-of-the-art gas grill and a padded rattan chaise longue.

A few seconds later, she heard David’s footsteps behind her as he disconnected the call. “Isn’t it great out here?”

“Beautiful.” She propped her elbows on the brick privacy wall, enjoying the breeze at this altitude. “Nice place for cooking out.”

He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her against the lean length of him. “I’ll have to invite you over as soon as I dig up some killer veggie kabob recipes.”

She smiled but didn’t answer as she angled her head back into his chest, enjoying the familiar scent of him, the tickle of his chest hair.

He nuzzled her neck, running his teeth lightly over the corded muscle then traveling up toward her ear. Warmth suffused her, needing very little encouragement to turn from small sparks of pleasure to an actual burn to make love to him. She welcomed the hunger, the physical need that blurred the edges of her unwanted thoughts.

“Know what else the balcony’s good for?” David asked just before touching the tip of his tongue to her earlobe.

She shivered at the erotically delicate sensation. “Hanging flowers?”

He slid his hand over her collarbone, loosening the sheet wound around her, finding her breast and plucking at her already erect nipple until her body shuddered. “Guess again.”

She turned in his arms, craving his kiss and hoping he wasn’t planning to stop with just foreplay. “Aren’t we expecting the pizza soon?”

“That’s why quickies were invented.” He took her hand and led her to the lounger. “Unless you object to that idea.”

Object? She was already letting the sheet fall to the ground even as he spoke, tugging his head toward hers, darting her tongue out to catch the corner of his lips. It was a catch-22 situation—every time they made love, she felt a little more vulnerable afterward, but having sex with David was the only thing that drowned out the clamoring thoughts in her head about family, work and whether or not she was risking extreme heartbreak with him.

She sat on the edge of the adjustable seat, but when he started to press her shoulders back to the thick padding, Serena dropped her hands to his waist, pushing with just enough resistance that he straightened.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his voice husky with the need they stirred within each other.

She shoved down his shorts. “Nope. Just something I wanted to do first,” she explained as he kicked free of the material.

So often when they made love, he seemed to be lavishing her with attention. It was amazing, but at times overwhelming. Besides, a man with a body like David’s was meant to be explored. She might have to wait until later to do a more thorough job, but for now…

She ran her fingernails up the back of his muscled thighs, over steely buttocks and around to the front where his abs were clenched as his body waited in tense anticipation. Meeting his gaze, she brought both her hands toward the erection jutting from the nest of dark curls, first tracing over the soft sacs beneath, cupping their weight and feeling him tremble with restrained passion. He stood still, with noticeable effort, as she continued her sensual exploration. His shaft was thick and smooth, and he moaned when she wrapped her fingers around it. Her heart fluttered, her own pulse seeming to escalate in sync with his arousal, and she bent forward to brush her tongue up and down the length of him.

Slowly, she drew him between her lips. He was hard velvet and tasted earthy, like salt and desire. The way he rasped her name was empowering. When he tangled his hands in her hair in wordless encouragement, she increased the speed and pressure, tightening her mouth around him, swallowing once experimentally. His hips jerked at the convulsive movement. With one hand wrapped around the base of him and the other clutching the back of his thigh, she slid her mouth over him again and again until he was rocking to meet the pace she set.

Though he never left any doubt as to how much he wanted her, sometimes he seemed too in control, so invulnerable. Now he seemed only like a man swamped with need—for her. His obvious pleasure magnified her own wanting. Her nipples were tight aching points, and her body teetered close enough to the fiery brink of orgasm that she didn’t want to wait much longer.

When she stopped to reach for his discarded shorts, their mingled breathing was much louder than the sounds from the street below. David was always prepared, and she knew she’d find a condom in one of the pockets. The man didn’t disappoint. She rolled the latex over him, noticing that her hand trembled slightly with eagerness. Reclining on the lounger, she pulled him down with her.

She planted one foot on the patio, wrapping the other around his hip, giving herself balance to thrust her pelvis up toward him as he drove into her. Her muscles clenched greedily around him, and she wondered if she’d ever stop being amazed at how perfectly he filled her. Almost distantly, she heard the protesting creak of the recliner beneath her as her hips flexed and raised rapidly.

“Not yet,” David ground out. “I don’t…want this to be over yet.”

Did the man not understand the concept of a quickie? But she couldn’t form words well enough to argue right at the moment.

He shifted off of her until he’d regained his footing, then lifted her right calf, tugging her toward him and farther down on the chaise. With a quick kiss along her instep, he hoisted her leg against him as he lowered himself. She hooked her foot over his shoulder, gasping when he surged unerringly inside her, so deep she could have wept with joy.

But her new position didn’t leave her with a lot of maneuverability. Where she would have continued their pace fast and hard, David drew out each tantalizing stroke in a way that left her unsure whether to swear with frustration or praise his technique. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, wiggling her hips to no avail. She could do little more than let the sensations crash over her, with such perfection they were almost piercing.

When lights began to glitter behind her lids and her heart felt as if it would explode in her chest, she wanted to cry out that her body couldn’t take any more of the prolonged ecstasy. Why did he always seem to want more from her, spurring her relentlessly on to limits she felt unable to handle? Mercifully, the steady unyielding rhythm began to finally blot out all thought, liberating her to lose herself completely.

He tilted his hips with each thrust, pressing against her in just the right way to increase her pleasure. A tingling started in her fingers and toes, a warning for the impending explosion. The glittering that had sparkled behind her eyes became a red-orange haze, and her orgasm coiled within her, shooting outward through her body like a sonic boom, almost devastating in its intensity.

There was a slight cracking sound that suggested the lounger had surrendered under the onslaught of such vigorous activity, but Serena was too stunned to move, dazed emotionally as well as physically. How would she be able to walk away from this? From him? She became gradually aware that David was peering at her with an expression of concern.

“You okay?” he asked. “That wasn’t too—”

“It was incredible. And I would be content to lie here for about a year if it weren’t for the promise of food,” she teased, trying to focus on her body’s immediate needs instead of her misgivings.

The reminder that they were expecting a knock at the door soon sent David into motion. Moments later, Serena reflected from where she rested inside on the sand-colored couch that the timing had worked out well. David had pulled on his shorts and was hunting for his check book when the doorbell rang.

He paid for entirely too much when they were together, she thought, pulling a twenty from her purse. “Here. I got it.”

“In my home? When it was my idea to order out? Forget it.”

“David—”

Walking away before she could argue, he beat her to the door. Not that she was much competition, considering she still didn’t technically have on clothes—there was something to be said for the easy accessibility of a sheet. Plus, she was so languid she could barely move.

But the smell of food motivated her. Hungry even before the balcony interlude and now ravenous, Serena followed David to the kitchen as soon as he closed the front door, her stomach growling at the aroma of warm peppers and savory mushrooms embedded in a blend of melted cheeses. He set dinner down on the granite-topped black island that matched the lacquered cabinets. Good thing he probably wouldn’t be spending much time cooking in the colorless, contemporary room—he’d depress himself.

David turned to one of the dark cabinets and pulled out a disposable plate.

“What do I need that for?” Serena asked, winding a stretched piece of mozzarella around her finger.

David laughed as he sat on the low-backed stool next to hers. “You’re just going to eat it out of the box?”

“My way’s better for the environment.” It was tough to sound righteous while you were cramming the pointed end of a pizza slice into your mouth.

“You’re so uncivilized,” he teased.

So she’d been told. “Can’t take me anywhere.”

“That’s a shame.” He smirked in her direction when he caught her licking some tomato sauce off her hand. “I was about to ask what you were doing for dinner Friday night and whether you’d like to join me at a fine dining establishment.”

“Really?” Like a date? The thought unsteadied her, which could be viewed as ridiculous, considering all the meals they’d had together over the years and the fact that they’d just made raucous love on his now broken chaise longue. They should really be past first-date jitters.

“Well, it would be me, you and a few other people.”

She set down the second piece she’d grabbed, a sudden knot threatening to form in her stomach. “Which people?”

“Me, Lou Innes—”

“Your boss?” Egads.

“One of them. He and his wife, Donna, will be in town the second half of next week.”

“You want me to have dinner with your boss and his wife?” She flashed back to one of the rare weekends in her childhood spent with her father. He’d taken her to a company picnic, along with one of his supervisors and his little girl. She’d felt like a rent-a-child and had been acutely aware of every small thing she’d done all day that James had disapproved of. He’d obviously wanted a family that would make him look good. It had taken decades, but soon he’d finally have one.

“And the CEO of Digi-Dial, Nate Filcher, and his wife,” David finished. “I haven’t been able to meet with him any sooner because his youngest daughter’s graduating from a private school up the coast, and the Filchers won’t be back until Thursday. Since it turned out Nate hasn’t actually signed with our competitor yet and is just considering it, this dinner could be crucial to my career.”

No pressure. “I don’t think I’m the girl you want for this.”

“You’re the girl I want, period.”

Her heart thundered. Two-week fling, she chanted silently. This was a two-week fling before they resumed their regularly scheduled friendship—just sex on balconies and showering together, not company business dinners and significant declarations. Was he welshing on their agreement?

“Come on, Serena. Don’t make me go alone. I’ll feel ridiculous there as a fifth wheel, and after all the great work you’ve put into the auction banquet, they should meet you.”

Her shoulders relaxed somewhat. “So I’d be going along as…?”

“My friend. And the girl genius behind Time for a Cure.”

Put in that light, how could she refuse? Of course, she could still bargain. “Woman genius. And if I agree to do this, maybe you could do a favor for me.”

“For instance?”

She ran her hands over her eyes. “I-need-a-date-for-the-wedding.” The words came out in a panicked rush. A business dinner and a wedding in one week? As if that didn’t scream relationship.

Vividly recalling the feel of him inside her earlier, with the wind rustling over them and the sounds of the city below, she decided that there was no social occasion that could make her feel any more intimately connected to him than she already was.

David frowned. “Not sure I caught that.”

“I told Meredith I’d bring a date to the wedding, but I don’t actually have one,” she explained. “I was wondering if you…”

“Next Saturday?”

She nodded. “At four.”

“I’m there. I can’t believe you looked so nervous about asking.” His smile was gentle, making her even more nervous. “This is me.”

“Yes. I know.” She stood suddenly. It would have been a good time to clear dishes or tidy up, if she’d used a plate or if they’d done any actual cooking in the mammoth kitchen.

A drink. Neither of them had poured beverages. She swung open a few cabinet doors, realized that would be useless, and turned to one of the boxes on the counter.

“Serena, are you nervous about my going to the wedding with you? We’ve known each other for years. Surely Meredith and James have heard of me.”

Actually…James and Meredith had heard far more about Craig and Alyson and other members of Serena’s acquaintance, now that she thought about it. Why hadn’t she mentioned more frequently the one person they’d find the easiest to relate to and approve of?

He’s mine. Unlike her business, her relationships, her artsy friends or even her defense of her mother’s “embrace life” ways, David was not fair game for the well-intended but critical conversations her father instigated. David was a little corner of her life she kept to herself, and with him in Boston, there hadn’t been much to discuss, anyway.

“Well, sure they’ve heard of you,” she said, unwrapping two cups and rinsing them with hot water. “James knows we went to school together. And he might know we’ve kept in touch.”

“Might?” David looked surprisingly wounded by this.

“Keep in mind, he’s not someone I talk to often.”

“You’re right. And I guess it doesn’t really matter.” David slid off his stool to pull a two-liter bottle of soda out of the brushed stainless-steel refrigerator. Despite his words, his tone was still strained.

She tried to get him to look at it from the inverse perspective. “Do you have that many conversations with your parents about me?”

His eyebrows lifted. “Sure. I mean, maybe not ‘that many,’ but they knew when I was visiting you on my past trips to Georgia and that you’re working on the auction with me.”

“Oh.”

“Then again, I’m close to my family.” He smiled ruefully. “But not in a cut-the-strings-already-you-nancy-boy kind of way.”

She rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to comment. Despite his determination to be independently successful, he was close to his family. It was one of the things she’d been reminding herself in the last few weeks—if she and David ever got truly crazy enough to try a real relationship, she’d need to win over his parents. What were the odds of that, when she couldn’t even win over her own?

“They’re looking forward to meeting you,” he added.

She shuddered, suddenly wishing for something stronger to drink than the still-fizzing carbonated soft drink she’d poured. When he touched her arm, she actually flinched.

“Serena…”

Feeling suddenly very claustrophobic in the tomblike darkness of the kitchen, she pulled away. “I had a great time last night, but I should probably go home. Work’s picked up some, which is wonderful, but I should get some actual rest in my own bed before the week starts.”

“What if I promised to be on my best behavior and not pounce on you?”

Even worse. She liked the clear categories: that they were together as friends, as had been the happy case in the past, as two people working together on a big event, or as two consenting adults in the midst of a torrid fling. If she woke up in the morning in David’s arms and couldn’t tell herself that staying the night had been a sexual thing… “Nah. I don’t trust myself not to pounce on you.”

He followed her out of the kitchen, cajoling as she gathered up her scattered clothes. “Have they fixed your air conditioner yet? I wouldn’t want you to be too hot to sleep. You know you’re always welcome here.”

Why did he have to push these things? Why couldn’t he just let her retreat! “I happen to be very comfortable at my apartment,” she snapped. “And I’m not sure I could ever say that about this place.”

His mouth tightened into a grim line. “Go. But be honest about why you’re leaving.”

She wanted to refute the accusation in his azure eyes, but found she couldn’t. Instead, she sighed. “I don’t really expect you to understand why I’m leaving. You go after what you want with single-minded determination, and I think obstacles just spur you on to try harder. One of us has to be realistic.”

His tone softened. “I know you and I are different in a lot of ways, Serena, but we’re also different from your parents. For one thing, were they ever friends to begin with?”

The question gave her pause. “I think it was more a case of instant sparks.”

He traced his hand over her cheek. “You and I know each other, have been there for each other. We have a friendship. Something real and special.”

“I know.” She managed a sad smile that felt as if it was tearing her in two. “That’s why I won’t risk it.”