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sad. Not sad in the least. Shewould never know what it would feel like to kiss Dax Girard. And that was fine. It was right.
    She had made her choice and she was at peace with it.

Chapter Three
    T he next week, on Thursday, Faye showed up again.
    That time, Zoe acted fast. She jumped up and blocked the way to Dax’s door. “Let me just check.”
    A slow sigh and then the sexy, husky voice. “If you insist.”
    â€œHave a seat. This won’t take a minute.”
    Faye made an impatient sound low in her throat, but then she did go over and drop into one of the chairs by the enormous potted snake plant in the corner. Zoe turned and tapped on Dax’s shut door.
    â€œWhat?”
    She opened it and stuck her head through. “Faye is here.”
    â€œFaye,” he repeated blankly. Then he blinked. “Oh. Where?”
    Zoe tipped her head toward the chair by the snake plant. “I’ll show her in.”
    â€œNo.” He rose and came around the desk. “I’ll come out there.” Zoe moved aside and he emerged from his office. He aimed a practiced smile at the brunette. “Faye, I wasn’t expecting you.”
    Faye stood up. “You ought to check your voice mail now and then.”
    He went to her. She reached to embrace him. He smoothly slid from her grasp, simultaneously taking one of her hands and tucking it around his forearm. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”
    The Bambi eyes shone with tears. “Oh, Dax…”
    He led her to the elevator. They got in and the doors slid shut. Zoe heard the faint whoosh and lurch as the car started down.
    Was he dumping Faye? It sure looked like it.
    Zoe didn’t know what she felt about that. A little sorry for Faye, maybe, which surprised her. A little annoyed with Dax.
    How old was he anyway, thirty-five or thirty-six? Old enough to stop jumping from one woman’s bed to the next. If he didn’t watch it, he’d end up ancient and wrinkled, wearing a satin bathrobe, with a blonde young enough to be his granddaughter on his arm.
    That image made her wince. And then she couldn’t help but laugh. Dax was Dax. A woman was only begging for trouble if she started expecting him to change his ways.
    Â 
    Dax really hated it when a woman cried.
    When a woman cried, it made him feel crappy and powerless. Tears were the one thing a man had no idea how to fight. You couldn’t win an argument with tears. You couldn’t punch a tear’s lights out.
    You just had to sit there and try to think of the rightthing to say, try not to make promises you had no intention of keeping.
    He took Faye to a bar not far from the office. A nice, dark, quiet place where few of his associates ever went. He guided her toward a booth in the back.
    Business was pretty slow. The bartender came over and took their drink order. Faye wanted a Cosmopolitan; Dax just had club soda. He had work to do back at the office and he couldn’t afford to be fuzzy-headed when he returned.
    The drinks arrived. The bartender went off to mind his own business.
    Faye sipped her pretty pink drink and sobbed. She told him she loved him.
    He felt like a jerk.
    He probably was a jerk, but that wasn’t the issue right now. The issue was Faye and how it was over with her and how he had to get her to see that, to look on the bright side, to remember what a good time they’d had and realize she was ready to move on.
    Faye kept on sobbing. He didn’t have any tissues handy, so he passed her a cocktail napkin.
    She delicately dabbed her wet eyes with it. “You’re such a jerk.”
    He wasn’t offended. It was only what he’d just been thinking himself. He spoke gently, “Come on, Faye. Don’t. It’s going to be all right.”
    She sniffled and delicately dabbed at her eyes some more, trying to mop up the tears without smearing her makeup. “I knew. From the beginning. It’s not as if I