“Because…?”

He scooped up the forks and shrugged. “Maybe I just wanted you to know because I wanted you to know.”

I watched him as he dropped the forks into the garbage, his hand hovering there a moment even after the forks had thumped into the bottom, as if reluctant to turn toward me, dragging the distraction out as he tried to think of what to say next. His jaw tightened and relaxed, as if practicing a line.

My gaze slid down to his arm, muscles so tense I could see the tendons against the fabric of his shirt, and I had to fight the urge to slide over there, put my hand on the dip between his shoulder blades, rub away the tension. I resisted, but not because I was afraid where that would lead, because I was pretty sure where it would lead and, at that moment, I was almost as sure I’d let it. I held back because I couldn’t tell him it was all right, when I wasn’t sure that it was. But there was one thing I could say, and honestly, so I did.

“Thanks,” I said. “For telling me.”

A half-smile and a nod, then he moved back onto the bed. As he did, his hand brushed my foot, stopped, and squeezed in a slow rub.

“You might not want to do that,” I said. “I spent half the day in boots.”

A burst of laughter, not-I’m sure-because it was terribly funny, but just because it gave him something to laugh about. He took a better hold on my foot and kept rubbing.

When I arched my brows, he laughed again.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t step one to seduction. I meant what I said earlier. I won’t push.”

“No, you said you didn’t have any ulterior motives.”

“And I don’t. There’s nothing at all secret about my motives. I think I’ve made them perfectly clear.”

“Ulterior motive doesn’t mean ‘hidden agenda.’ It means planning to do more than you let on. In other words, bringing me here for more than dinner.”

“Damn.”

I smiled and shook my head. When he let his hand wander up my calf, I gave another head shake, then another smile.

“Not that I’m averse to the idea in general…” I said.

“But this isn’t the time or the place. I know that, despite what Jack thinks.”

“He said something to you?”

“With Jack, it’s not what he says. It’s all about the body language, which has been screaming ‘don’t even think about it.’” He moved back. “This is probably a dumb thing to ask, because even by bringing it up…But I have to, because I know how it probably looks, me chasing you when I have a beef with Jack, and I wouldn’t blame you for thinking this is all part of that, another bit of the…you know, rivalry.”

“Well, if it is, then you’re wasting your time because there’s nothing going on between Jack and me. Like I said, to him, I’m a partner, maybe a student, but that’s it.”

“Yeah, I knew you two weren’t…well, I didn’t know, but I figured if there was, he’d be doing more than shooting me nasty looks. And I can’t imagine-You don’t seem the type who’d be here if there was someone else.”

“I thought I was just here for dinner.”

“And talking.” He slid over to me. “Talking’s good.”

“And dinner was good.”

“Wasn’t bad. Not exactly the victory meal I had in mind…”

“Better than McDonald’s.”

“That’s good.”

He leaned over and kissed me. The first touch was soft and light, his lips barely brushing mine, ready to move back fast at any sign of rejection. I hesitated and, for a moment, we seemed to hover there, lips touching, looking at each other. Then I closed my eyes. His arms went around my waist, mouth pressing against mine, lips parting.

He leaned into me, not squeezing, not pulling me closer, just…kissing. A very nice, sweet kiss. No pressure, no urgency. Like embers in a campfire, you can see the glow, feel the heat, but there’s no danger there, not unless you want it.

When that first spark ignited, Quinn’s tongue darting into my mouth, testing, hands sliding to my rear, a low, almost inaudible groan rumbling up from his chest, I knew if I wanted to stop it, this was the time. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to close my eyes and drop…and I couldn’t.

I didn’t break the kiss, but I must not have reciprocated the way he’d expected, because he pulled back his head, eyes glazed and hooded.

“No go, huh?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I said, disentangling myself.

“Not your fault.” He sat up, concentrating on tucking in his shirt. “If you don’t feel it, nothing you can do about that.”

I gave a ragged laugh. “Oh, I feel it.”

His gaze shot to mine, lips curving slightly. “Yeah?”

I kissed him lightly. “Trust me, that’s not in question. But our timing really sucks.”

He laughed, put his hands around my waist and pulled me onto his lap. “The others wouldn’t appreciate it if we showed up tomorrow too tired to pull this thing off.” He nipped my earlobe. “And something tells me, if we start this, the night’s not going to be over anytime soon.”

I shivered and tried hard-really hard-not to think too much about that. He ran his teeth up my ear, and I ducked away.

“Enough.” I laughed. “I’m trying to be responsible here.”

“One of us needs to be.”

He slid his hands under the hem of my sweatshirt, tickling my sides, his grin threatening to take his hands farther north. I scrambled backward. He grabbed my hips, toppling me down on my back, then moved over me, on all fours above me, crouched there, grinning.

“Not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

“That depends. Am I close to getting a yes?”

“That depends. Can I be upstairs in about thirty minutes? Before Jack comes looking for me?” I arched my head back and pointed at the suitcase on the floor. “And before Felix wants his room back?”

“Shit. Forgot about that.” He tickled his fingers across my belly, where my sweatshirt was riding up. “Hmmm. Part of me is screaming to take what I can get. But there’s that other part that’s saying if I do, that might be all I get. Thirty minutes isn’t really enough to make a lasting impression…” He met my gaze. “And I want to make a lasting impression.”

Something inside me flip-flopped and I’m sure I blushed.

His lips lowered to my ear. “We could just make out for a while. Hands-over-clothes rule?”

I sputtered a laugh. “I haven’t heard that since high school.”

“I have maturity issues, in case you haven’t you noticed. Is that a yes?”

“Hands over clothes it is.”

“Does it still count if I take mine off?”

I put my hands on the back of his neck and pulled him down.

Quinn did manage to get his shirt off, but I didn’t complain. Otherwise, he stuck to his rules-just kissing, a relaxed, sensual intimacy that, in some ways, I needed more than sex.

After about ten minutes, Felix unlocked the door, but the chain stopped him from opening it. He must have figured out what was going on and called that he’d be in the lounge, and for Quinn to come get him when he was “un-occupied.”

We lay there for another minute, Quinn’s hand resting on the curve between my waist and hip.

“When this is over…” he began. “I know I can’t exactly ask you out to dinner and a movie, but I would like to keep in touch. It doesn’t matter how. Cell phone, e-mail, whatever you’re comfortable with. I just want…I’d like to stay in touch, whether anything comes of it or not. It’d just be nice. To talk sometimes.”

I smiled. “It would be. Nice, I mean.”

“Good.” A light kiss, then he pulled back.

“I should go,” I said. “Jack’s probably pacing by now, figuring I’ve done something stupid again and wound up in a ditch somewhere.”

“More like figuring I’ve put you in a ditch somewhere. Go on then. Get a good night’s sleep.”