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“Yes.”

She was still in his arms, but he could sense walls going up around her, and for the first time it occurred to him that what he hadn’t felt comfortable asking over the phone wasn’t going to be any easier to ask now, especially while they stood on a busy street in a rainstorm.

“Look,” he said, “how about getting get out of the rain before we discuss this? We can grab a taxi. My hotel is only—”

“Your hotel?”

Uh-oh. Talk about walls going up…

One quick step and she stood free of his embrace.

“It’s been nice seeing you again, Lieutenant, but I don’t have time for chatchit.”

Chatchit. He remembered that quirk of hers, the way her English got twisted when she was upset.

It was not a good sign.

“Bianca. Honey—”

Her eyes narrowed. Her chin rose. She gave him one of those I-am-the-queen looks he remembered all too well.

The only thing that ruined it was the rain dripping from the tip of her nose.

“I am sure an invitation to your room works with all of your women, Lieutenant, but I assure you, it does not work with me. Goodbye.”

She turned and started to walk uptown. He cursed and went after her.

“Wait a minute,” he said, catching her by the arm. “Wait just one damn minute…What are you doing?”

“Your jacket,” she said, as she worked at the buttons.

Chay grabbed her hands in his. “Forget the jacket. Add it to your collection.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “A true gentleman. Thank you for the reminder.”

“Bianca. I came three thousand miles to see you. The least you could do is give me an hour of your time.”

“Do not tell me you ran out of available females back home.”

Now it was his eyes that narrowed. Maybe he hadn’t put on a stellar performance the last time they’d seen each other, but he deserved better than this.

“Trust me, baby,” he said coldly. “I didn’t come all this distance to get laid. ”

She flinched. Okay. It had been a stupid thing to say—and the truth was, he hadn’t meant to reduce that night on the beach to a four-letter word. He’d never once thought about it that way. And, dammit, he thought about it all the time.

“I came to talk,” he said. “Just talk.”

“I cannot imagine about what.”

“Give me an hour and you’ll find out.”

She stared at him. He was drenched. He couldn’t have been any wetter if he’d just stepped out of a shower. The only difference would be that he’d be naked then—although he was amazing to look at even with clothes, considering how the rain made his pale blue T-shirt cling to his shoulders and torso, delineating what she knew were ridges of taut muscle. She could still remember spreading her hands over his chest, feeling the race of his heart beneath her fingertips.

Heat swept through her.

She imagined getting into a taxi. Going to his hotel with him. Walking into his room. The anonymity of a hotel room, a hotel bed…

Bianca! Are you insane?