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she was against the press. Her breathing still erratic, she folded her arms in front of her and strove for composure. He stepped forward as if to follow her but halted immediately when she raised a hand, palm out, to prevent him. “If I were younger,” she said, “I’m sure I’d feel flattered by your interest. Well, flattered and then indignant. I suppose slapping you in the face would be the right thing to do in this situation. I’m guessing, though, that no young lady could resist your charms.”
    “Why do I get the feeling you do not mean that as a compliment?”
    “Oh, certainly. You seem quite the expert on seduction, and I expect you’re generally successful.”
    “I am not an ‘expert on seduction,’ by any stretch,” he replied dryly. “This definitely would not be a good example of seduction, at any rate. ‘May I see how your printer works?’ is, after all, so flirtatious it must be used in ballrooms across the land.”
    She smirked but maintained her original conclusion.
    “Then why did you do that?”
    “Do that ? You mean, kiss you?”
    “Yes, that. What did you hope to accomplish?”
    “I rather hoped we would both enjoy it. I know I did, and I suspect you did as well. Am I wrong?”
    She kept silent but felt a telltale blush spread up her neck. Prevarication would be futile; her response was obvious. She’d long ago dismissed the passionate embraces in fiction as just that: fiction. So she had no way to catalog the sensations she’d experienced. He smirked in return but said nothing.
    “Really, it was . . .” All the words she couldn’t say came flooding back to her . . . conflagration, explosion, heaven . “It was . . . unusual. It was also unacceptable and entirely inappropriate. I’m sure you’ve got fresher prey available.”
    “Again, what flattering imagery. Do you really imagine I see you as prey?”
    “Don’t you? Perhaps as a trophy to boast to your chums about. Widows are so frequently assumed to be easy pickings . . . desperate for affection, free of entanglements, already experienced.... I know how men like you view women like me. I’ve fended off enough attentions from men bound and determined to convince me that being their mistress is my right and my due.”
    He bristled. She wasn’t far off the mark. Several of his friends at the club had boasted of such conquests. Widows made convenient mistresses and tended to cost less to maintain than actresses and opera singers because inheritance made them self-sufficient. Being lumped in with such a tawdry lot didn’t sit well with him, though. He didn’t target women; they came to him freely or not at all.
    He gave an undignified yelp as something orange and furry leapt onto his shoulder.
    “Jupiter! That’s uncalled for.” She reached for the striped tabby and carefully disengaged its claws from Devin’s fine coat.
    “Jupiter? Can I assume there must be a Janus nearby as well?”
    Surprised, she responded, “Why, yes, but he usually stays in the back room. He seems to find the printer comforting.”
    He reached out to pet the now-sedate cat in her arms.
    “I assure you I am no cad, dear lady. I do not collect women, which sounds like a troublesome and unpleasant sort of diversion. And I have never had to force my attentions on a woman. I have never had to convince her to entertain my affections. Do not mistake me for all the cads who have thrown themselves in your path.”
    She patted his cheek with her hand, a gentle pacifying act that had the opposite effect. So he already was furious when she said, “Not so obviously, perhaps. But you are accustomed to getting your own way. I don’t believe you’ve been truly tested. Yet. You wouldn’t force an unwilling woman, of course. You’re a gentleman. But how far would you go, or perhaps have you gone, to twist a woman’s No into Yes ?”
    Her words distracted him, confused him. He’d never forced a woman, never coerced a woman. Women didn’t just fall into his