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games?"
    Visualizing the number of women she'd seen draped on his arm in newspaper photos, Lindsey slowly shook her head. "None of the above. I'm just stunned. Then again, I shouldn't be. I might not be your usual type but, then again, maybe that's the appeal. A conquest from the other side of the tracks; variety is the spice of life, and all that. I guess it's ridiculous for me to be surprised. Picking up women is standard operating procedure for you."
    For the first time he looked rankled, tiny sparks of anger darting in his eyes. "Thanks for the assessment. Do you know, for a woman who keeps herself at arm's length so no one will get too close, you have no trouble inserting yourself in other people's lives. You don't want to be judged, but you're pretty quick to judge others."
    Lindsey was taken aback, not only by his annoyance but by his appraisal of her. It was true she kept herself at arm's length, but she normally wasn't intrusive or judgmental. Yet here she was being both. And as for the touchiness he'd picked up on... "What makes you think I'm concerned about being judged?"
    "The fact that you're so incensed by the Falkners' reaction to you. The defensive way you're responding to the knowledge that you're Harlan's daughter. The way you're sheltering your mother like she's some eighteenth-century mistress who's being whispered about at quilting bees. This is the twenty-first century, Lindsey. No one cares that your mother had a child out of wedlock, or that that child happens to be Harlan Falkner's. The tabloids will have a field day, sure, but they have a field day with everything concerning the Falkners. It'll blow over. It always does."
    Lindsey drew a slow breath and turned away, feeling unnerved and off-balance, and not totally certain why. "You're probably right. But I'm a lot more provincial than the crowd I assume you're used to. My values are different. So are my priorities. I'm not used to being the center of a scandal, or to subjecting my mother to one."
    "I guessed as much."
    Lindsey stared at the ground, pondering his original admission. "With regard to the manor, I'm not going to change my mind. It's not for sale."
    "I guessed that, too. But I'm a good businessman. I had to try." A whisper of a pause. "As for the rest, don't be so shocked. Okay, so I'm frank. I don't like playing games any more than you do. Yes, I want you. That shouldn't come as a surprise. You're a beautiful woman - a very beautiful woman."
    "Thanks - I think." She'd be lying if she denied being pleased by the compliment. It wasn't one she heard often. By her own choice, she didn't date much. She had neither the time nor the trust when it came to men. Being admired by a charismatic guy like Nicholas Warner felt surprisingly good.
    Maybe too good.
    "Just to clarify those values I mentioned, I don't jump into bed with a stranger, no matter how charming and well-known he might be," she announced, setting the record straight for both their sakes.
    "At least you think I'm charming." He didn't sound put off by her clearly stated boundaries. To the contrary, he sounded warm, teasing, whatever anger he'd been feeling having dissipated. He took a step closer, until she could smell the woodsy scent of his cologne. "As for being a stranger, I'd like to change that. So, tell me, am I charming enough to have lunch with?"
    "As long as lunch is served in a public place and I'm not dessert," she heard herself quip.
    My God, she'd just agreed to have lunch with Nicholas Warner. She must have lost her mind letting him get to her like this. But the truth was, it was more than his compliment, more than the knowledge that he wanted her, more even than his natural charm. None of those things would have been enough to sway her. There was something surprisingly real and down-to-earth about Nicholas, neither of which she'd expected and both of which she found appealing.
    Laughter rumbled in his chest. "Fair enough. A busy restaurant and seven-layer-cake for