“You got a reservation at the Aerie?” He could hear wonder and guilt in her voice, which mollified him slightly.

“And had my jet gassed up to take you there.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was low. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to put a damper on this evening. I should go.” She stood up.

He pushed out of his chair, his fists clenched as he worked to control his anger. “Stay. Please.”

She padded over to him on her bare feet and laid her hand on his arm. The sweetness of her touch made him want to groan out loud. “We both knew this was going to end. It’s just ending one day sooner than we expected.”

Temptation clawed at him. He didn’t want to say good-bye. He wanted to have that rich-as-cream voice surprise him with her different perspective on the world. To tangle his hands in the dark waves of her hair. To make her come in every way he could think of. To curl around her soft, warm presence in his bed. His chest ached with yearning, and he actually lifted a hand to rub at it.

But you’re not getting any younger. Junius’s words steamrolled through his brain.

“You’re right. I’m being unrealistic.” He saw a flash of hurt in her brown eyes and knew he sounded like a jerk.

“I thought . . . hoped we could say good-bye on a positive note,” she said.

“Yeah, me, too.” He grimaced. “It’s harder than I expected.”

She looked stricken, and he realized she’d misunderstood him.

“Saying good-bye is harder than I expected.”

“Oh, good.” She shook her head, making her breasts move under his flannel shirt. He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. “I don’t mean good . . . never mind. I’m not doing this well.” She looked him straight in the eye. “These last few days with you have been an experience I’ll never forget. I expected a celebrity, but I got to know an incredible human being.” Her voice quavered. “I hope I’ll see you at the Pinnacle every now and then.”

She put one palm against his bare chest, sending a rope of arousal straight to his cock. Raising herself onto her tiptoes, she wrapped her other hand behind his head and pulled his mouth to hers for a soft, sad farewell kiss.

Before he could respond, she broke contact and bolted for the kitchen door.

“Miranda.” He followed her.

“Please don’t come in here.” He could hear tears in her voice from the living room. “This is hard enough as it is.”

He stopped in the doorway, his heart contorting in his chest, while she walked swiftly through the room where they’d just had mind-blowing sex.

She gazed around, looking confused. “Where are the rest of my clothes? Just tell me. I’ll get them.”

That galvanized him into action. “I’ll bring them to you. And I’ll call my driver.”

“I can get home on my own.” Her back was still turned, as though she couldn’t bear the sight of him.

His anger kicked up again. “What the hell kind of man do you think I am? You’re taking my car home.”

Without waiting for her agreement, he strode toward his bedroom, where he’d stashed her clothing. It would give him time to think of the right thing to say.

He scooped the little heap of lace and satin off the chair where he’d dropped it, bringing it to his face so he could imprint her scent on his brain. But he could think of no words that would bind her to him.

He strode down the hall to find her standing in front of the elevator, already wearing her jeans and boots under his shirt. Her handbag sat on the floor beside her feet. The thought of her going out into the night without panties made him crazy with both arousal and the desire not to let her out of his sight. But he had no right to feel possessive. It was his decision to let her go.

He held out her clothes, the garments so small he grasped them easily in one hand. She accepted them with a contained dignity. “Would you mind if I take the elevator alone?”

He minded a lot. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and take her back to his bedroom and make her scream his name as she came underneath him.

“Miranda—”

She held up her hand and swallowed hard. “Nothing more.”

“I have to say this.” He rolled his shoulders. “A lot of people count on me to be at the top of my game. It takes everything I’ve got to stay there. I wish it were different.”

He saw understanding mix with sorrow in her brown eyes. She nodded as she hugged the clothes to her chest. When she spoke, her voice was shaky. “Would you mind if I wore your shirt home? I’ll return it tomorrow.”

“Keep it. I like knowing you have it.” Stupid but true.

“Thank you,” she whispered, picking up her bag.

He reached past her and pressed the button. The elevator door glided silently open, and she stepped into the car, keeping her back to him. She reached out blindly and fumbled at the control panel for a second before finding the right button. The door began to slide closed.

He’d never been at such a loss. His brain seemed frozen—his tongue felt thick and inert. All the clichés he used in interviews skittered through his brain, blocking him from finding anything real to say.

At the last minute, she turned to face him, and he saw the glisten of tears on her cheeks.

“Miranda!”

The door sealed her away from him, and the well-oiled whir of the car’s descent filled his ears.