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it. She and George had worked together for eight years, and he’d never even asked her where she lived, let alone gotten to know her. This was an interesting side of Richard. “All right.”
    She answered his questions through the soup and the pork. By the time she was finished, she knew why Richard was so successful. He asked the right questions and, this time, listened to the answers. Midway through her life story, she realized he was piecing together the things that made her the person she was; he was doing in-depth research on his latest project—her. It was intensely flattering and not a little disconcerting.
    But at least he was listening.
    He was also charming, intelligent and polite. Emily relaxed and enjoyed herself with him, and the more she relaxed the more he opened up, so that by the time the pork was gone, there was a vulnerability in him she hadn’t seen before. It was devastating. Emily found herself fighting against falling in love with him. And losing.
    Don’t be a fool, she said, and then she looked into his incredible blue eyes, eyes so plainly adoring her, and fell some more.
    “Mongolian beef, princess prawns, su-san shan,” the waiter said, putting the dishes on the table.
    “Great.” Richard ladled Mongolian beef onto her rice.
    Emily looked at the stuff. She didn’t care for beef in general, and she hated beef cooked in oil. The onions looked like worms. Richard added several spoonfuls of vegetables, also glistening with oil. Then he served her prawns, and she began to eat, carefully avoiding the beef and vegetables.
    “You’re not eating your beef.” Richard frowned. “Is there something wrong? Should I send it back?”
    “I don’t like Mongolian beef.”
    “Why didn’t you say so?”
    “I did. You didn’t listen.”
    He looked at her plate. “Su-san shan, too?”
    “Yes. The waiter heard me. That’s why I got plum sauce on my mu-shu pork.”
    “You like plum sauce?”
    “Yes.” Emily sighed, patient to the end. “I mentioned it.”
    “I don’t listen.” He looked at her with eyes like a scolded puppy’s.
    “No, you don’t.” She couldn’t bear to see him so unhappy so she smiled at him. “Work on that.”
    “I will,” he promised.
    “Good. Now it’s your turn. Tell me about you.”
    He hesitated, but she was a good researcher, too, and by the time the fortune cookies arrived, Emily knew everything about his past. They had a lot in common. They both agreed, for instance, that Walt Disney should have been shot, instead of Old Yeller, because they’d both been traumatized by the movie. They’d both been president of their senior class in high school. They’d both been at the head of their classes at business school. They both truly enjoyed their jobs. They’d both had disastrous relationships in the past. They were both determined to have a better one, perhaps a permanent one, in their future.
    Emily forgot his high-handedness and was happy again. He was so sweet, so bright, so kind, so vulnerable, so obviously dazzled by her. So sexy, she thought.
    So right for me.
    So when he took her home, she invited him in.
    She closed the door behind them and turned, and he kissed her. He moved slow enough to give her time to say no if she wanted to, fast enough to give her the feeling of being swept off her feet.
    Nice timing, she thought as his lips touched hers. Then she stopped thinking.
    He hadn’t spent all his nights studying to be the Budget Hun. His lips were firm on hers, moving against hers, and she felt the warmth he always generated start again. She kissed him back, sliding her arms around his neck. She opened her lips and touched his with her tongue, and he slid his tongue into her mouth, tangling with hers, stroking inside her. The heat was everywhere in her now, and she clutched at him, leaning into him. He brought his hand up to the back of her head, lacing his fingers into her long dark hair to hold her close.
    When he moved his hand down again, her