“Bull.”

“Well, I’m not doing it here, that’s for sure.”

At least the doing it part was no longer at issue. Softly exhaling, he swiveled around, surveyed the direction from which they’d come, then turned left and walked down another corridor. After passing two closed doors, he stopped, scanned left and right, then pressed the levered handle with his knee, pushed the door open with his foot, and stepped inside a green marble bathroom. Setting Kate down, he locked the door, turned back to her, and smiled. “Private enough?”

He watched her survey the large, luxurious room: marble walls and floor, decorative fixtures in crystal, a tub large enough for a family, a glass shower stall that overlooked a private courtyard, the whitest towels and rugs she’d ever seen.

She swung back to him, her lips pursed. “Whose bathroom is this? It’s too far away to be your sister’s, it’s too palatial to be the children’s.”

The pause was less than a blink in time. “It’s just an extra.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

It was vaguely irritating—her peculiar way of looking at him sideways. Although it was obscenely sexy too, as if she were offering something besides her opinionated judgment. “It’s Mrs. B’s.”

She groaned. “You should have lied.”

“Christ,” he said, “give me a hint if that’s what you want. I’m trying to be a fucking Boy Scout so you don’t get pissed.”

She smiled up at him, looking triumphant. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be doing any more ass-kissing.”

He grinned back. “Sometimes ass-kissing is useful.”

“Manipulative bastard.”

“Whatever it takes, baby. You keep changing; the game plan keeps changing.” But he liked when she smiled like that—all dew-fresh sweetness so natural it should have a sell-by date on it. “I’m open to suggestions. We have twenty minutes. More if you want. There isn’t one single party guest who interests me. The only person I want to see is right here,” he said quietly, reaching out, curling his fingers around her shoulders, pulling her into his body. Bending his head, he touched her lips with his in a barely there sensation.

A young boy’s kiss, she thought, her romantic sensibilities not entirely abandoned. Then he colored her romantic vision in pastel shades of perfect when he whispered, “You’re the only person I ever want to see—in the morning, at night, and all the hours between.”

“Good,” she whispered back, because if she said any more, if she said what she really felt, his expression would turn blank, he’d shut down, and her vacation would be over.

Good? He bares his soul and he gets, Good? It struck him suddenly that her reasons for leaving him in Hong Kong could still be an issue, that his screwing around in the past had come back to bite him. God knows she wasn’t like other women who would have swooned at his feet if he’d said as much to them. But he wanted what he wanted; he always had. So he raised his head and said with unprecedented sincerity, “I can make it better than good, Katherine. I can make it anything you want.”

She smiled, understanding she was gambling with her life just being there, understanding as well the quiet power of her addiction. “I know. You’re my Svengali. You can do anything.”

That was better. He didn’t realize how much it mattered that she smiled like that—like she had on the Glory Girl. Maybe the time had come to retract his cardinal rule against emotional entanglement; admit his obsession with Katherine might be more than a temporary affair. He took a small steadying breath before he relinquished everything that made him feel comfortable, and he couldn’t quite disguise the reluctance in his voice. “My doing anything includes waking up with you, seeing you at breakfast, knowing you’re beside me during the day, holding you close at night.” His voice dropped to a hush. “Come live with me, work for me if you like. Or, better yet, just be with me, don’t work, make me happy.”

She wanted to stop this moment in time. His reluctance aside, Dominic had offered her paradise. An unthinkable paradise, unfortunately, for mere mortals who didn’t live in Dominic’s rarified world. For people who couldn’t just reach out and take whatever they wanted. For people like her. “Could we leave the big decisions for later and just make each other happy now?” she asked with forced calm.

He half smiled. “This bathroom’s not romantic enough for you?”

“I’m just kinda shaky right now—that’s a big agenda.” And a huge gamble for someone who wasn’t a complete risk taker. She wasn’t a master of the universe who had the world at her feet. She had wanted this more than anything, but the fact that Dominic had left more women behind than she could count was a scary reality. “Could we talk about it later?” Intent on ending a conversation that was likely to end in heartbreak for her, she slid her hand to his zipper and began opening his fly.

Sex was their unambiguous connection, safe from scruple or doubt.

Dominic almost insisted on a better answer because he was a master of the universe, who fought for what he wanted. But before he could take issue with her response, his voice of reason whispered: She just saved you from yourself, dude. Then any further thoughts were eradicated from his mind when Kate pressed her warm palm against the gap in his unzipped jeans and his erection spiked. Automatically moving his hands down Kate’s back, he grasped the hem of her blouse and lifted.