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creating at least a little distance between them even though his rip-cord arms still held her close. She’d been a fool to let things get this far. They had to stop. Now. Before he saw her scars and started pressing for answers she wasn’t ready to give him.
    “I’m sorry, Nick. I can’t... We can’t...”
    She braced for the explosion, the anger, the name-calling and blame. That’s what she would have gotten from Clark. Instead, Nick loosened his hold and let her slide to the opposite end of the couch. With that little bit of distance, the pressure that had been building inside her like a fast-rising river released.
    “Don’t be sorry.” His lips curved into a smile, and his eyes, still dark with passion, met hers. “I’m not. Horny as hell, yeah. But not sorry.”
    “Thanks.” She shook her head, bemused. How could he stay so cool and calm on the surface? Weren’t his insides churning like hers? “I think.” She started to get up, feeling shaken. “I should go now.”
    He stood and offered her his hand. “I’ll show you out.”
    “My purse?” She scanned the room, her eyes finally landing on a slip of sliver poking out from under the sofa.
    He bent, picked it up and walked her to the door. “Like I said earlier, it’s nice seeing you.” He handed her the purse with a cheeky grin. “Again.”
    “Same here.” She squared her shoulders and opened the door, trying to regain some semblance of composure. Not easy with her outfit stuck to her flushed skin and her throat as dry as a Thanksgiving turkey. “Thanks for meeting with us. And don’t worry about the play. I’m sure we’ll find someone wonderful for the part.”
    He rested his big, beautiful frame against the wall. “I’m sure you will, sweetheart. I’m sure you will.”
    The door swung shut behind her, putting sex god and heart-stopper Nick Damone in her past once and for all.
    Holly took a few careful steps on wobbly sea legs, then collapsed against a column. She touched her lips, still swollen from Nick’s kiss, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.
    From the other side of the door she heard a low chuckle.
    Relieved, she thought, striding down the hall with renewed determination. Definitely relieved.
    And disappointed.

5
    “ T HIS IS ALL your fault.” Holly stabbed at a lettuce leaf and glared from Ethan to Noelle. Why had she agreed to meet them at the Westway, one of her favorite city restaurants? She couldn’t scream or throw things at them without risking getting thrown out. Or worse, banned. So instead, she had to be satisfied with massacring her poor innocent gorgonzola chicken salad.
    It was a poor substitute.
    “You.” She fixed her eyes on Noelle. “Dolling me up for him. And you.” Her gaze shifted to Ethan. “Sending me to his hotel room like a lamb to the slaughter.”
    “Wait a minute.” Noelle turned on Ethan. “You told me it was her idea to go to Nick’s!”
    “I never said it was Holly’s idea. I said she agreed to go.”
    “But you made it seem like she was a willing participant.” Noelle eyed her sister across the table. “She doesn’t look so willing now.”
    “It doesn’t matter whose idea it was,” Holly interrupted. “What matters is that I went. And it was an unmitigated disaster.”
    “It couldn’t have been that bad.” Ethan sipped his mineral water. “Unless... Oh, my God. You slept with him, didn’t you?”
    “She did not! She’s my sister. She doesn’t put out on a first date.”
    “It wasn’t a date,” Holly pointed out.
    “Even better. She’d never put out on a nondate.”
    “Date, nondate.” Ethan shrugged. “We’re talking Nick Damone. Walking sex in jeans and oxfords. It’s more like fate. A gimme.”
    “Thanks for the bad golf metaphor. And for thinking I’d throw myself at him, given the chance. I went there to talk, remember?”
    “Don’t get mad, Holls.” He grinned at her over his burger. “We just need details.”
    “Yeah. What was the