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Sipping her wine, she follows with a small smile. “I’m conflicted.”

“About?”

“This is easy between us. How much do we want to complicate it?”

It’s a valid question, one I’ve asked myself many times. “I was under the impression we would walk away unscathed that night, but that wasn’t the case when morning came. I thought I’d get another chance.”

“What would you have done with it?”

“I would have made sure I could contact you again. If we’re really being honest, I was left in worse condition than you found me.” I could have kept joking with her all night and continued this farce we’ve been willfully writing since we met to protect ourselves from getting hurt. But guess what? It didn’t work. The biggest distraction these past few months hasn’t been the pressures of my career or my family.

It’s Natalie.

Straightening her back, she slips her legs over the edge of the seat again. “Because of me?”

I sit forward, resting my forearms on my legs. This is that second chance I’ve been wishing for. “I made a mistake and let you go last time without telling you how much I enjoyed that night on Catalina, and I’ve thought of you every day since.”

Her eyes lower to the glass she set back on the table. When her gaze finally latches onto mine again, she leans forward, and whispers, “I was wrong for leaving. I’ve regretted it every day since I left.”

My heart beats against my chest. This is what living feels like, a reminder of how my life used to be. The music is louder, the lights brighter. The world awakens around us as if we’ve turned up the volume and are hearing our song for the first time, our confessions the melody we’ve been blocked from hearing. Until now.

She finishes her wine, tipping the glass back as if that will ease the reality of what she just said. When she sets the empty glass back down, questions rush from her lips, “What kind of business do you have in the city? How long are you here? A day? Maybe a few, at best?”

There’s an unexpected tremble to her tone. It’s not that I’ve been evasive to hide some secretive life, but hearing about my family and their desire to expand the firm isn’t exactly exciting stuff. Not compared to hearing that Quokkas don’t actually throw their young at predators.Who knew?

Natalie.That’s who.It’s a defense mechanism. She hides in humor, so this side is revealing of how vulnerable she really is. I won’t be the one to rip the carpet out from under her. Not looking to tear down walls she’s carefully constructed, I let her reside inside her fortress.For now.

Anyway, since I’ve learned of her distrust in the entirety of the profession I’ve chosen for my career, I think it’s wise if I don’t push my luck. “Trust me when I tell you that it’s boring. You’d literally fall asleep on this table, and then I’d have to carry you out of here. I have no idea where you live, so that would leave me no other option than to take you to my hotel.” I smirk. “And you remember what happened the last time you came to my hotel room.”

I’m greeted with a smirk of her own. “I do. I remember very well.” Her eyelids dip closed, and she whispers, “Is this asleep enough?” Squinting one eye open, she adds, “Or maybe we can skip a few steps forward, and you can just tell me what will lead you to carrying me back to your room.”

She’s going to do me in.

I can already tell.

Just like in Catalina.

If given an inch, this woman will take a whole damn mile of my time and willpower. “I think I approached this from the wrong direction.”

She sits up, her blue eyes wide open. Man, I could lose days staring into them again, not losing a second to other distractions. “Oh, yeah? Is there a better route? Or do I get options again? I know how much you love a plethora of those. Hit me with the options, Nick.”

“One. We can part ways on the sidewalk with a goodbye until the universe brings us together again.”

Her eyes roll, but it’s undermined by laughter. “So very Californian of you.”

I shrug because she’s right. My mom has a directional life coach.Need I say more?“Two. We go to your place, play some backgammon until you’re tired, and I leave,again, going my own way.”

She shakes her head in disapproval. “Although a rousing game of backgammon is tempting, I’m holding out for option three.”

“We stop playing games of any kind and go back to my hotel room.”

Her eyes go wide, and her hands clasp together against her chest. “Don’t leave me hanging. What happens when we get there?”Hook. Line.“I mean, if no games are involved, which is no fun, by the way, then what’s on the agenda?”

“We could have sex?”

Her grin grows. “You’re asking me?”

I nod.