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“Yes.”

“It is a problem that you are female.”

“Sexist, much?”

“It is inconvenient.”

That was worse. “Sorry that my vagina inconveniences you.It didn’t last week.”

He frowned. “The other four people scheduled to go on this mission are all male.”

“You sure about that? Any of them named Chris, or Andy, or Charlie, Skylar, Frankie—”

“Two of them are old friends of mine from boarding school. I’ve known them for twenty-five years. Both are cis-het males, Alfonso de Borbón y Grecia and Isaak Yahontov. They’re tech guys, engineers, and venture capital.”

“So, that’s two. How about the others?”

“One is a translator, and we asked specifically for a male person. His name is Batsa Tamang. Batsa means ‘son,’ like a male offspring, in the Nepali language, so I’m going to guess he’s a guy.”

“You never can tell with names,evidently.And there are trans people in Nepal.”

“We’ll cross that rickety, swinging suspension bridge over a raging river when we come to it. Speaking of which, there will likely be several of those on our journey. If you don’t like heights—”

Her words came out as almost a sneer, but he was being an ass. “My cousins and I used to go rock climbing up cliff faces with nothing but Keds sneakers and prayer. You can’t scare me.”

He cleared his throat. “You haven’t seen some of the bridges that I’ve crossed in Nicaragua and Argentina. The other guy is purported to be a Jesuit, so he’s probably a man.”

“Heh.Maybe.”

“Right, but it’s likely you’ll be the only woman on the trip.”

“I’m fine with that.”

“I’m not. I might not be around every moment to protect you. I have connections to make, business to do, while we’re up there.”

“Do you seriously think that some of these guys might be Rapey McRapists? If they are, should you be taking them way out in the middle of nowhere, where maybe the police aren’t particularly reliable?”

“Alfonso and Isaak are fine. They would never force a woman or do anything untoward. I’ve never met the translator or the Jesuit.”

“I got alongjust finefor twenty-five years before I met you.”

“The night I met you, it looked like you were notfine.”

She eye-rolled at him. “I promise not to get smashed at the Buddha Bar in the Nepali outback and make stupid pronouncements.”

He shrugged. “That did seem like a one-time event. Is there anything else on that napkin bucket list of yours that’s going to get you into trouble?”

Dree poked around in her purse and pulled out the napkin she had been writing her craziest goals and ideas for the future on. One corner was limp and becoming frayed. She should laminate it or something. “I promise not to do any of the ones that involve getting naked while on the mission. Going to Nepal is on the list, so if you hand me that pen, I’ll just cross that one off right now.”

He handed over a slim pen that had been sitting on the coffee table between them, holding it by one end.

She took the other end of the pen, pinching it carefully, leaving as much space between their fingers as possible.

The heat from his skin warmed the air around the pen, and when she grabbed it, their eyes flicked up and met.

Magic.

Magic like a spark and a crackle and anticipated warmth washed over her, and the dark depths of his eyes pulled her in.