“I thought so, too. That was until I checked the airfares this morning.”

She gave him a wan smile.

“Hemingway’s house is still on my bucket list,” he said, “but I may not make it down there until I publish.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for discount fares and alert you to them.”

“Definitely a benefit to having the MVP of travel agents living next door.”

The grin he flashed was too attractive, too rakish, too…too everything.

She looked away from him toward the bank of elevators where a car had just opened up. A group flowed out, another filed in. The building was full of people, yet they had the seating area to themselves, making it feel as though they were alone.

It occurred to her then what an odd coincidence it was that he had turned up here.

She regarded him with misgiving. “What are you doing here, Drex?”

“Downtown, you mean?”

“I mean in this building. Why are you here?”

“I was in search of the main library. Got turned around. Saw the sign for the coffee shop, came in for a shot of espresso and to get my bearings.” He dismissed all that with a shrug, then his eyes sharpened on her face. “Still feeling woozy? You gonna be okay?”

“The latte worked.”

“You didn’t drink it. Not one sip.”

It disconcerted her that he had noticed. It made her uneasy to wonder what else he might have observed that would be much more consequential. “I should go.” She slid the strap of her handbag onto her shoulder and stood.

So did he. “Did the dentist give you any pain pills?”

“A prescription. But I doubt I’ll need it. It was just a filling.”

“Get the pills. Take one before you need it. Head off the pain.”

“I think all I really need is a nap.” She moved away. “See you around, Drex.”

“Where’s your car?”

“Parking garage.”

“This building?”

“Third level.”

“I could escort—”

“No, thanks.” She raised her hand in a halfhearted wave, then turned and walked quickly toward the elevators.

Drex watched her progress across the lobby.

He wasn’t the only one who did.

From his vantage point on the bench facing Talia’s, Drex had looked beyond her shoulder and spotted the do-gooder in the coffee shop. He had claimed a table just the other side of the glass wall, which gave him a view of the seating area. For the duration of Talia and Drex’s conversation, the guy had been eyeing them as though poised to rush to her rescue if necessary. It galled Drex no end.

Now, while the good Samaritan was watching Talia board the elevator, Drex ducked into the fire exit door that opened into the seating area. Leaping over the treads two or three at a time, he took the stairs down to the third level of the parking garage.

It smelled of motor oil, gasoline, and rubber. It was ill-lighted. The ceiling was low and foreboding. It could have been a parking garage in any city, anywhere in the world. Except that in this one, Talia Shafer was leaning against the driver’s door of her car, crying.

Not wanting to frighten her, Drex made sure she heard him approaching. She came around quickly, and, upon seeing him, anger shimmered in her eyes along with unshed tears. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you. I was looking for the public library, got turned around—”

“You’re lying!”

“So are you,” he fired back, taking a step closer to her. “There aren’t any dentists on the top floor. It’s devoted to gynecology and obstetrics.”

Seeming to deflate, she clamped her lower lip between her teeth and turned her head away. A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek all the way to her jawline, where she wiped it off.

Drex swallowed the knot in his throat. He didn’t want to know, but had to ask, “Are you pregnant?”

She shook her head, then said a husky no.

Relief made his knees go weak, although five minutes ago, he wouldn’t have credited that physical phenomenon. Then, a worse thought struck him. “Is something…” Awkwardly, he motioned toward her middle. “Wrong?”

“No.” When he looked at her doubtfully, she repeated no. “And even if there were, I certainly wouldn’t discuss it with you.” She rubbed her fists across her eyes, bolstered herself by standing up straighter, and looked directly into his face. “You followed me here. I know you did. Tell me why.”

“I was a butthole last night.”

He stopped there, and, when he didn’t continue, she said, “Are you waiting for an argument from me? If so, you’re waiting in vain.”

He gave her a wry half smile. “I saw you leave your house. I followed you in the hope of getting an opportunity to apologize.”

“For beguiling Elaine?”

“For all of it. The manuscript, the smirks, the innuendos, the setup. I staged a scene for you to walk into and draw a conclusion.”

“Well, I did.”

“I know.”

She gazed at him with bewilderment. “But why did you do it?”

“To see if you’d be jealous.”

She took swift breath, then, lowering her head, stared at the gritty, oil-stained concrete between their feet. “I can’t be jealous, Drex. I’m married.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s all I think about. You being married. You being married to him.”

She raised her head and looked into his eyes. “You don’t have cause, or the right, to think about it.”

“But I do.” He extended his arm and braced his hand against the roof of her car. He pressed his forehead against his biceps and expelled a long breath. “I think about it all the goddamn time, and it’s making me crazy.”

For the longest time neither of them moved. They scarcely breathed. Did she share his fear that something as negligible as a blink could cause a cataclysm from which they could never recover or escape? He couldn’t read her thoughts. All he had to go on was her stillness.

Until finally, he heard her hair brush against her shoulder as she turned her head toward him. “I’m sorry, Drex,” she murmured. “I don’t know what to say.”

He lifted his head from his arm and turned it toward her. Their faces inches apart, he focused on her mouth as she added, “I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“Don’t say anything.” By the time the last whispered syllable had passed his lips, they were brushing hers.

She yanked her head back. He slid his hand off the roof of the car and raised both in surrender as he stepped away and continued to back up. “Out of line. Way out of line. I’m sorry.”

He turned and took several steps away before he stopped and came back around. He looked at her for a count of five. “Bloody hell,” he growled. “If I’m going to be sorry, I’m damn well going to make it count.”

He covered the same distance in half the number of strides. When he reached her, he took her face between his hands, tilted it, and kissed her. But good. Without sweetness or timidity. Deeply. Boldly. Sexily. Pouring into the kiss all the frustration, anger, and lust she had aroused in him.