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dessert.
    Settling back in her chair, she turned toward him. “I love to write about things that make people feel.”
    He laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you make people feel, all right.”
    Seven smiled with a quick nod of her head. “Good. I want to give them a visceral and intellectual and emotional experience. I want to give them fireworks.”
    Blake took in the sincerity and determination in her gaze. “That’s a tall order.” She was completely serious. And he could respect her work ethic and passion, because it mirrored his own. She was a nice surprise when most professionals he came across were pros at maxing the min. The least amount of work they could do and still get paid somehow made them happy. He never understood that mentality.
    She nodded. “That’s how I like it.”
    The waiter had long since delivered their drinks, but Blake had been so caught up in the discussion his beer remained full. Seven circled her finger around the top of hers as she watched the singer on stage, then sipped from it with long, slow swallows. Every now and then she’d touch the tip with her tongue to catch drips that threatened to run down the neck.
    Clearing his throat, he pulled from his own beer. She did everything with such intensity, which would be quite something if it lasted, if she maintained that same focus and didn’t lose any of it when new became known, like most people did.
    Which was one reason he’d never get married. Promises like that didn’t last, and good intentions only mattered until something better came along. If his father had taught him anything, it was exactly that. Hell, his dad was on his third business, fourth wife, and God knows how many children. The man couldn’t focus if his life depended on it, or even if his wife’s had.
    Cancer. She’d gotten treatment, but they could have done more. Dates had gotten pushed and readjusted for his schedule, and less aggressive, less disruptive treatments had been chosen. His father’s life had always taken precedence. Meetings and negotiations and trips to wine and dine clients. He needed her there. Clients always found a married man much more trustworthy.
    Blake’s mother had told him no one could have known just how aggressive the cancer was. No one was to blame. But his dad hadn’t batted an eye. Simply moved on. Blake found blaming him pretty fucking easy.
    He finished off his beer.
    Seven slid her hand down to his palm. “What’s going on?”
    He locked eyes with her, challenging her to look away. She refused, and the heat of her thigh resting against his pushed at his senses with insistent force. A smart man would go back to his room, get a little space and clarity, especially with his change of mood, but something about her made him want to stay. Which was a good reason to go.
    He blinked first. Fuck.
    She blinked. “Something’s going on here.”
    Shaking his head, he pushed in his stool. “Nothing more than me saying good-night. I have to get up early. I’ll meet you before dinner tomorrow.”
    Seven bit her lip. “Dinner? You’re forgetting a few meals. Are you really heading up?”
    He jerked his head in a nod. “I’m here on business, too. I can’t let that slide.”
    She nodded. “I understand that.” Digging into her purse, she pulled out a room key and stepped toward him. He could feel the heat of her and stilled.
    Laughing, she handed him the card. “Relax, I’m not going to bite. Not hard, anyway.” She ran her tongue over her lush lower lip.
    It made him think of cherries. What he wouldn’t do for a bowl of the Rainier cherries he’d grown up with. Blake clenched his jaw. He held up the card. “What’s this?”
    Pulling the strap of her purse onto her shoulder, Seven looked around the room, almost as if she was unsure of something. “We have limited time for our little game, Blake. This will just make it easier.” Her brazen words would have sounded much bolder if she’d been able to hide the slight waver in her