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He asked, amused, “Are you implying I’m a selfish male?”

“I’m just saying your mindset is different than mine. I don’t know if all men treat sex transactionally or not.” She shrugged. “Frankly, you treat everything as a bargain, not just sex.”

“Do I, now?”

Interestingly enough, he didn’t seem offended. Thoughtful, maybe, but not angry. They finished the meal, and Alex ordered chocolate mousse for her without having to ask if what she wanted. The creamy dessert was, bar none, her favorite food on earth.

He let her get well into the mousse before he commented, “Sex has traditionally been a transaction for me. I pay a hooker: she gives me exactly what I want, whether she likes it or not.”

Katie waved her spoon at him. “You don’t want them to like it. You went out of your way to make sure they didn’t enjoy themselves.”

“You’ve been talking to my past escorts, have you?” he asked, sounding amused.

“I don’t need to. I know you.”

“Indeed?” he blurted, sounding surprised.

“You reveal more about yourself than you think you do, Mr. Strong and Silent.”

Alex arched an eyebrow at her in mild warning that she was treading on dangerous ground. But she’d had one glass of wine too many to heed his eyebrow.

She took another spoonful of the sumptuous mousse before declaring, “I think you were taking out your anger over your mother’s abandonment on your hookers.”

Whoops. Predator Alex surged to the fore as he went perfectly still. Alert. Ready to attack. The scale of her mistake finally cut through the wine buzz to register on her.

“Are you finished?” he asked. His voice was cold. Precise. Controlled.

Crap.

“Remind me to stop one glass of wine before I think I need to next time.”

His silence was brittle. Tightly controlled.

You are such an idiot,she chided herself. She kept forgetting what kind of man Alex was. It was easier to pretend he was the kind of man she wanted him to be than constantly walking the tightrope between love and danger with him.

She trailed after him in silence to their room when he didn’t slow down to wait for her. He grabbed a couple mini-bottles of whiskey out of the refrigerator and moved over to the big plate glass window-wall, where he sprawled in an armchair, staring at the ocean and tossing back whiskey.

Was their uneasy truce over, then? She knew how much Alex hated the idea of her going with him on this trip. But thankfully, he’d been mature and quit fighting with her and André about it when it became clear he was going to lose the argument. But she by no means thought he’d made peace with the idea.

God knew what else was rattling around in his head and messing with his mind after the past year. She’d read enough spy novels and seen enough spy movies to have an inkling of what he’d been through.

She waited until he’d downed the last whiskey and the tension had left his shoulders somewhat to go stand behind him. “I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Nothing.

She might as well not have been in the room with him.

While she could deal with him being mad at her for saying something he didn’t want to hear, she wouldn’t stand for him ignoring her. That was just rude. She marched around in front of his chair, wedging herself between his feet and the cold glass at her back.

“Alex Peters, that is quite enough sulking out of you. It’s not nice to ignore people when they speak to you. So shake out of this snit of yours, right now. Got it?”

His gaze lifted to hers. Had she not already been plastered against the window at her back, she would’ve staggered back a step from the utter emptiness in his eyes.

Where had her Alex gone? This man was…dead.

Remorse and fear roared through her as she fell to her knees in front of him and flung her arms around his neck. She hung on to him as if a tornado was trying to tear them apart.

At first, he didn’t respond at all. But eventually, his arms came around her. He pulled her into his lap. They sat like that for a long time. Long enough for the city to grow quiet below them and the rainy streets to empty of cars.