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you’re furious with the other person, ask yourself, would your life be better without them? If the answer’s yes, then climb out of that bed and leave. If the answer’s no, give them a big kiss. Talk about what’s gone wrong, make up, and get over it and move on.”
    Damien grinned at her. “Sounds like wise advice.”
    “It does.” Theresa’s voice sounded a little sad, and he wondered if she was thinking about her own marriage. Had it been her or her hubby who’d climbed out of that bed? Did she regret it? She’d said she didn’t intend to get married again. Was that because she was disillusioned with men, skeptical about marriage, or still in love with her ex?
    “How long have you been married?” Theresa asked the older woman. “If you have a great-grandchild, it must be going on fifty years?”
    “Ha! Trev and I are almost newlyweds. We married two years ago. The family in Vancouver is mine from my first marriage.”
    “Well, congratulations,” Theresa said. “On the new addition to the family, and on finding happiness a second time around.”
    “Thanks. And best of luck to the two of you.” She pushed her glasses up and went back to crocheting something so tiny it was clearly for the baby.
    Damien turned to Theresa and raised his glass again. “To a happy wedding, and a happy marriage,” he said loudly. Then he mouthed, “For your sister.”
    “I’ll drink to that.” She touched her glass to his.
    They both took a swallow, then she said softly, “I want to ask you something.”
    Had she put two and two together about his name? Warily, he said, “What?”
    She glanced past him. “Can anyone overhear us?”
    He shook his head. “Not if we speak quietly. The seats are too far apart, and the cocoon effect insulates them. What’s your question?”
    “What did Carmen do wrong?”
    “Huh?”
    “You were flirting, encouraging her. Then you decided you weren’t interested. What did she do?”
    “Her? Nothing. It was you, Theresa.” What the hell, why not go with honesty?
    “Me? I don’t follow. And how did you know my name, anyway?”
    “All work makes Theresa a dull girl? You said that, remember? Anyhow, I don’t think you’re dull. Fact is, I’m more interested in you than in her.”

3
    H ad this very hot man—Day—really said what I thought he had? Flustered and skeptical, I asked, “Interested? In what way?”
    He gave me the sexiest smile imaginable. “The usual way.”
    As in, the usual way a man was interested in a woman. Usual for him—that was a no-brainer—but definitely not for me. My skin heated as if I had a fever, and a pulse fluttered in my throat. Another throbbed between my legs. My dormant sex drive seemed to have woken up.
    No man had ever looked at me that way. Jeffrey’s interest had been immensely flattering and seductive, but his eyes had never held the heated gleam Day’s did. With my ex, I’d of course learned that his interest lay in appropriating my research, and the sex we’d enjoyed was merely a side benefit for him.
    And Jeffrey had, let’s face it, been a short, prematurely balding prof who on his best day could be called cute. Not stunningly handsome like the man who was gazing at me with such intensity. A man who couldn’t possibly be interested in my research.
    Day seemed sincere, not that I was any judge of male character. But I still didn’t understand. What did he want from me? I swallowed against that fluttery pulse in my throat and forced words out. “The usual way? What does that mean?”
    His eyes burned even hotter. “It’s a long flight, Theresa Fallon. Bet we can figure out some interesting ways to pass the time.”
    What ways did he have in mind? A more experienced woman would have known, or at least had a playful way of finding out. All I could manage was bluntness. “Day, if you wanted sex, you could have had it with Carmen.”
    The corner of his mouth kinked. “True. Not saying I don’t want it, but if I did, it’d be