He smiled. ‘I could do that.’

‘You’re different,’ she abruptly said, giving him a searching look.

‘I am?’

‘Normal, happy.’

‘Probably drunk. You haven’t seen me drunk before.’

‘Are you drunk?’

‘Not really.’ He tapped his thigh. ‘Hollow leg. It’s a real advantage at a Chinese business dinner where there’s a toast every five minutes. Or in Moscow where vodka’s consumed like water.’ His brows flickered up and down briefly. ‘I never sign the wrong contract.’

‘I’ll bet others do.’

‘Sometimes.’ He grinned. ‘Have I gotten you drunk enough to sign the wrong contract?’

‘I come from a town with ten bars on the two blocks of main street. What do you think?’

‘Maybe we should do shooters.’

‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Could be.’

‘For?’

‘For you to make a move on me. I’ve been trying to behave.’

‘And I’m trying not to make a move on a man who’s got so many notches in his belt, I’d fade into oblivion a second afterward.’

A quick smile. ‘After what?’

‘I’m not going to say it.’

‘Should I?’

She looked around at the stream of humanity swirling past them.

‘No one cares,’ he said. ‘We’re just an impediment in their way. So let me be clear. I want to sleep with you, Miss Hart, despite your earlier indecision and mine. I’ve wanted to since the first day I met you. Maybe you could take pity on me before you leave. I promise to be gentle, if that helps.’

She didn’t say he was the last man on earth who was a candidate for a pity fuck. She said instead, because she was a woman and wanted the words, ‘Why me?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said in the typically male way. ‘Maybe it’s because you’re so smart.’ He grinned. ‘Or smart alecky.’ Or maybe you remind me that wild, urgent feeling still exists in the world and even someone like me can feel hope. Now tell me to shut the fuck up. Seriously.’

She smiled. ‘So you’re not all bad-ass and ripped edges and cut-throat after all.’

‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ he gently said. ‘I’m ninety percent irrevocably damaged.’

‘Maybe I don’t think so.’

‘And maybe that’s part of your disobedient personality,’ he said, more softly than necessary, his long lashes partially hiding his eyes. ‘You haven’t learned to agree with me yet.’

‘That’s probably not going to happen,’ she warned.

He looked at her with a slightly wry smile, his gaze thoughtful. ‘Sure, kill all my dreams.’ The sharp rise of his cheekbone twitched, his smile appeared.

And she suddenly saw him through a raw, unfiltered lens—he looked bulletproof, self-sufficient, not damaged, broad-shouldered enough to hold the world on his shoulders, unadulterated male of such obvious beauty, she said without thinking, ‘I’ll bet women never say no to you.’

His lashes dropped slightly. ‘It’s a mercenary world, Miss Hart.’

‘Please. They don’t all want your money.’ She knew better. Money or not, he wouldn’t lack women in his life.

‘Let’s just say it’s a trade-off. I want something, they want something.’

‘So I should ask for something. Is that what you’re saying?’

His smile was breathtaking. Moving into her space, he slid a finger under her chin and gently lifted her face so the blue of his eyes glittered in the neon lights. ‘Name it, Miss Hart.’

She caught her breath. He meant it. ‘Anything?’

Ignoring the crowd, he slid his free hand down her back, pulled her into his body, bent his head until his mouth was hovering a hair’s-breadth from hers. ‘Anything at all,’ he whispered.

She could feel his erection hard against her stomach and her response was intense. And it had nothing to do with any monetary quid pro quo. ‘How gentle is gentle?’ The website video was still vivid in her memory.

Her question was swallowed up in the noise of the street.

He turned his head so his ear brushed her mouth and when she repeated what she’d said, he swept her up in his arms and said loud enough to be heard above the tumult. ‘It’s up to you.’

She grinned. ‘No orders? I don’t believe it.’

‘I have my moments.’

‘When you want sex.’

‘When I want sex with you.’

The virtual traffic gridlock aside, his car was waiting at the kerb near the restaurant, and despite Kate’s protest, Dominic slid into the back seat, still carrying her. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he murmured, settling her on his lap. ‘You don’t know anyone here.’

‘But everyone knows you.’

‘Are you kidding? In this crush.’ He dropped a quick kiss on her nose, then spoke to the driver. ‘We’re going back to the Ritz. Try not to run over anyone.’

The driver understood, and leaning on the horn, he slowly forced his way through the stalled traffic, until they finally broke free two blocks from the harbour.

‘God, you feel good in my arms like this,’ Dominic said, husky and low. ‘There’s something about you …’ His voice trailed off. Full disclosure was always a mistake.