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tired. She couldn’t put them all back on a plane today. Maybe tomorrow.
    “A motel for tonight,” she said wearily. “Tomorrow we can go home.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    Everything suddenly seemed wrong. Her whole damned life. She had never wanted anything like the elegance of this apartment, but only because it was beyond the humble dreams she had nurtured for Brent’s and her future.
    So why did it feel so terrible, a yawning emptiness that could never be filled, that she realized she could never have this? Or a man like him? She hadn’t even been able to hold the interest of Brent, pudgy, owlish, safe .
    Joshua Cole had the baby stuffed under his arm like a football, and was looking at her with what could very easily be mistaken for genuine concern by the hopelessly naive. At least she could thank Brent for that. She wasn’t. Hopelessly naive. Anymore.
    “Obviously, I can’t stay here with the children. They could wreck a place like this in about twenty minutes.” The fantasy was about being pampered, enjoying these lush surroundings; the reality was the children wrecking the place and her being frazzled, trying to keep everything in order.
    Reality. Fantasy. As long as she could keep the two straight, she should be able to survive this awkward situation.
    “That’s ridiculous,” he said, but uncertainly.
    “Dic-u-lous,” Susie agreed, her eyes lighting on a pure crystal sculpture of a dolphin in the center of the coffee table.
    Dannie took a tighter hold on Susie’s hand as the child tried to squirm free. She could already imagine little jam-covered fingerprints on the drapes, crayon marks on the sofas, wine being pulled out of the cooler.
    “No,” she said. “It’s obvious you aren’t set up for children. I’d have a nervous breakdown trying to guard all your possessions.”
    “They’re just possessions,” he said softly.
    Of course he didn’t mean that. She’d already seen what he drove. She’d seen him eyeing that bowl in his office with grave concern every time Susie had even glanced in its direction. It was time to call him on it.
    “You’re less attached to all this than the bowl in your office?” She congratulated herself on just the right tone of disbelief.
    “I can move anything that is that breakable.”
    “Start with the wine,” she said, just to give him an idea how big a job it was.
    “The cooler locks. I’ll do it now.” As he moved across the room, he said over his shoulder, “I’ll send for some toys as a distraction.”
    She had to pull herself together. She had to make the best decision for the children. The thought of moving them again, of cooping them up in a hotel room for the night suddenly seemed nearly unbearable.
    They would stay here the night. One night. Rested, she would make good decisions tomorrow. Rested, she would be less susceptible to the temptations of his beautiful world. And his drop-dead-gorgeous eyes. And the brilliant wattage of his smile.
    Which was directed at her right now. “What kind of toys should I get?” he asked her. He came over and gave her the key to the wine cooler, folded her hand around it.
    She desperately wished he had not done that. His touch, warm and strong, filled with confidence, made her more confused about reality and fantasy. How could a simple touch make her feel as if she’d received an electric jolt from fingertip to elbow?
    She’d given him an out, but he wasn’t taking it. She could see he was the kind of man who made up his mind and then was not swayed.
    There was no point in seeing that as admirable. It was mule-stubbornness, nothing more.
    “What toys?” he asked her again. He was smiling wickedly, as if he knew the touch of his hand had affected her.
    Of course he knew! He radiated the conceited confidence of a man who had played this game with many women. Played. That’s why they called them playboys. It was all just a game to him.
    “Princess Tasonja!” Susie crowed her toy suggestion. “And the