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you?”
    “Apparently not.” He waited, but there didn’t seem to be more. “And?”
    “Oh, well.” She paused in her careful selection of a piece of cheese and scrunched up her face, thinking hard. “I do love Walmart for the prices, although I don’t have much of a chance to go since I live in the city. And basketball. I love college basketball games. And Manhattan, of course. No other city’s like it.”
    “Thanks for that,” he said grudgingly, watching her eyes roll closed with delight as she savored the cheese. “Anything else?”
    “Yes, actually.” Her expression turned wistful. “Don’t laugh, but I really want to rent one of those giant RVs one day and drive across the country, seeing all the sights. The Grand Canyon, the national parks, the sequoia trees— I told you not to laugh!”
    “I’m having a tough time picturing you trekking through the canyon in your black leather on a mule. I’d love to see it, though.”
    “Oh, that. A woman’s got to have her corporate armor.”
    “What do you do?”
    “Rare books. If you want one, I’ll find it for you.”
    “Oh, yeah? Keep your eye out for an early edition of A Tale of Two Cities for me, okay?”
    “Dickens, eh? You can’t be all bad, then, can you?”
    “I’ve been telling you that all night.”
    “No comment. By the way, that book’ll cost you a pretty penny—”
    “Just keep a lookout.”
    “And anyway, as you can see, I’m perfectly happy to shed all corporate armor and just relax every now and then. What are you looking at, sir?”
    Marcus caught himself giving her an admiring once-over that may have been a bit too frank. He thought about schooling his features, but it was way too late now. “I’m trying to decide which version of you I prefer. They both have their pluses.”
    “Is that so?” she asked tartly. “I can hardly wait to hear this.”
    “You’re not fishing for compliments, are you, Claudia?”
    She bristled, a vivid flush reddening her face. “I am not—”
    “But I’m glad to hear the U.S. is good for producing something other than—what was it?—bad rashes?” This change of topic seemed to take her aback. She raised her brows, and he took advantage of the silence. “You’re good at attracting men, aren’t you? And giving them the kiss-off.”
    She recovered quickly, grinning as she tucked her feet under her again, getting more comfortable. “My so-called skills did fine with the other guy just now, but they don’t seem to have worked with you, have they?”
    He shrugged. “The other guy just wanted a quick hookup.”
    “And you don’t?” she asked incredulously.
    “Don’t get me wrong,” he admitted. “If you’re in the mood for a quick hookup, I’m your guy.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Good to know.”
    “But there could be more here than that, and I think you know it.”
    She stared at him, her smile fading away. “Maybe I simply need to be harsher with you. Like I was with the other guy.”
    He turned to face her more fully and rested one knee on the seat. They leaned closer to each other, sinking more fully into the cocooned privacy of their world in front of the fire. Unsmiling, he brushed his knuckles across her cheek, sweeping a wayward curl back from her eyes as he held her gaze. This connection of their skin was subtle but electric, and he felt her tiny shiver of awareness as though it were his own.
    “Maybe you don’t really want to get rid of me.”
    There was a long pause.
    “Maybe I don’t,” she admitted softly.
    This gave him the permission—and the courage—he needed to be bolder about touching her again. He took his time coming closer, giving her plenty of warning and the chance to back away, but she didn’t. Her gaze was direct. Inviting. So he traced his fingertips over her silky brow and down the sweetly curved angle of her cheek, stopping at the edge of her mouth.
    “If you keep looking at me like that,” he murmured, “I’m going to kiss you. Just