“Mind telling me what you did with my date?”

“I told him he wasn’t right for you and if he left quietly with no fuss, I wouldn’t snap his neck like a twig.”

Irene looked up at Van Holtz. “Are you serious?”

“Very.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head.

“Don’t understand what?”

“Why you’re here.” She leaned in closer and so did he. It almost felt as if they stood completely alone rather than boxed up with a room full of people. “I’m very honest with myself, Van Holtz. I’m not beautiful. I’m not nice. Most people go out of their way to actively avoid me. I don’t have much of a sense of humor. I’m not charming and if people suddenly disappeared off the planet, I probably wouldn’t even notice. You, however, are cultured, wealthy, and blindingly arrogant. You have more than enough beautiful women who are convinced you are as amazing as you believe yourself to be and would have no problem telling you how amazing you are every day until the end of time. Plus you never have to worry they’ll say something inappropriate or rude. Or that they’ll ever be smarter than you. We have nothing between us except surprisingly good sex, but based on what I’ve been told, the allure of that won’t last very long. So, then . . . what is it? What are you expecting from these little romantic displays?”

Irene stared at him, waiting for his response. And she kept staring. Finally, she snapped, “Well? Aren’t you going to answer me?”

“Answer you about what?”

“About everything I just said to you.”

“Oh. That. I stopped listening and just stared at your lips instead, which are quite beautiful, by the way. But I could tell you weren’t going to say anything I wanted to hear, so I just ignored you.”

She had absolutely no idea what to say to the man. For once, someone had left her speechless and . . . slightly amused.

“Is ignoring me supposed to endear you to me somehow?”

“No. That’s the job of my thighs and my get-lost-in-them-forever dreamy eyes.” He leaned in even closer and blinked his eyes several times. “Mesmerizing, aren’t they?”

Irene couldn’t hold it back anymore. It flooded out of her and she couldn’t stop it. Even when everyone turned and stared at her, including Jackie and Paul, she couldn’t stop. And she tried.

Because laughing this much really would only exacerbate his ego even more.

He knew he wasn’t playing fair but he didn’t have a choice. If he’d asked her to go to dinner with him, she would have automatically said no. So he invited her friends and assumed she’d come along. Which . . . she did.

If he’d asked her to come home with him, she wouldhave said no. So he used the fact that Paul and Jackie were just mated by arranging for them to get a night in the honeymoon suite at his cousin’s five-star hotel downtown before they took off for a few days in Mexico. Then he had his limo driver take them to said hotel. Which kinda, sorta left Irene stranded.

Van waved at the limo one more time before turning around. She stood there in that scintillating red, full-length gown, one foot tapping, arms crossed over her chest, not looking nearly as annoyed as she probably wanted to be.

“Well?” she snapped.

“Well, what?”

“How am I getting home?” She held up her tiny purse. “I have all of five dollars in this bag because Paul was going to pay for the taxi.”

“You should always carry more money on you than that.” Her eyes narrowed and Van held his hands up. “Sorry, sorry.” He shrugged. “I thought maybe you’d want to see my apartment. It’s just down the street.”

“Why would I want to see your apartment? Are there zoo animals there?”

She asked the strangest questions. “No. No zoo animals.” He grinned. “Except me, of course.”

“Would I have to pretend I like it even if I don’t?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because my first response is usually my most honest but I’ve actually lost the university charity money because my first response insulted someone important. Your family gives a lot of money to the university; I need to know if I should plaster on that fake smile that makes my face ache.”

“No. I always want you to be honest with me, Irene. Even when the honesty sucks.”

“Will we have sex again?” she asked the same way someone might ask if the IRS was about to give them an audit.

“If you want to.”

“Do you want to?”

He groaned. “You have no idea.”

She glanced around the empty street. “I have work to do.”

“You always have work to do. It can’t be healthy, Irene. You have to take some time for yourself.”

“Well . . . I would like to have sex with you again.” She looked at him with that brutally honest face and said, “It was much more enjoyable than I thought it would be.”

Knowing she wasn’t in any way joking, Van replied, “Yes. I enjoyed it a lot, too. Maybe you could spend the weekend with me.”

“I should work.”

That definitely wasn’t a “no.”

“You can work in the afternoon.”

“And the rest of the time we’ll have sex?”

Van cleared his throat. “Yes, Irene. The rest of the time we’ll have sex.”