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greeted them both with a polite, professional smile. “I hope you’re finding everything in the apartment to your liking. Do either of you have questions so far?”
    Emily shook her head. “I’m sorry to be taking so long. Were you trying to wrap up?”
    “You’re the last, but please, take all the time you need. It’s a stunning property.” She turned her full attention to Victor. Handing him the information packet, she said, “This outlines the building’s amenities. If you haven’t had a chance to see this unit’s private rooftop terrace, I’d be happy to show you its features.”
    “I’m still analyzing the features here in the kitchen,” Victor replied, his gaze drifting back to Emily, leaving no doubt as to his meaning. He set the packet down on the counter and told the agent, “I’ll be sure to find you if I have any questions about the terrace. Thank you.”
    The dark-haired woman glanced from Victor to Emily, then back again. “Of course. I'll be in the den whenever you're ready. It’s located just inside the front door.” Though the woman's demeanor remained professional, Emily suspected the agent thought she'd interrupted a romantic encounter.
    “I believe you’ll have time to finish your explanation now,” Victor said once the sound of the agent’s footsteps faded. He didn’t move to trap her again, yet the way he crossed his arms over his formidable chest left Emily no doubt about his determination.
    Choosing her words with care, she said, “As soon as I realized our season finale was in jeopardy, I had the staff start calling around, trying to come up with other possibilities. That’s when I remembered the ad I’d seen circled in your newspaper. It stood out because it was beneath a huge picture of this building. I decided to come here on the off-chance you registered for the showing.”
    “I said no.” The firm set of his jaw left no doubt he was a man who meant the word when he said it.
    “I realize that, but I had to try. And I thought that, even if you weren’t here, perhaps I could talk to the real estate agent afterward and get a lead. It’s a gorgeous building, exactly what we’d like for the finale. And if we don’t start shooting by tomorrow morning, everything we’ve worked to accomplish is lost.”
    “Lost?” A dark eyebrow arched. “Isn’t that a bit dramatic?”
    She shook her head. “We supposed to wrap by the end of next week. The expense of keeping the staff in Buenos Aires until the Winstons return from the United States will blow the season’s budget. If I ask the network for an extension and a budget increase, they’d likely say no and cancel the episode. Without a great finale to cap off the season, they’re almost certain to cancel our series.” There. She’d said the words aloud and managed not to choke on them.
    “I’m sorry to hear that.” His expression softened for a moment. Turning to look out the window at the end of the kitchen, he said, “There are views from every room in this flat. I can even stand at the cooktop and see parks. The botanical garden. The city skyline. And because it’s higher than the surrounding buildings, with glass that has been specially treated, no one can see inside. It’s completely private. And it’s a one-bedroom unit. No guest room, no guest bath.”
    He turned back to face her. “It didn't occur to you after I explained that I had no desire to appear on television, and after you read the description of this flat, that what I’m seeking is privacy?”
    “Of course, but” —how could she phrase this?— “when we met...well, I can’t put a finger on it, but you struck me as someone with a lot of warmth.” No man who kissed her hand the way he had, with such fire in his gaze, could be as coldhearted as he wanted her to believe. “When our plan for the finale fell apart, I thought I might be able to talk you into helping me out of a jam. That’s all.”
    “In my experience, women who use