“You’re the one who called me in here,” she reminded him, and waved the green personal memo in the air. “Just what was it that you wanted to discuss?”

The petrified smile fell from his face and a darker, more volatile expression took over. “I wanted to ask you to dinner tonight.”

“You’ve got to be kidding! First you call me in here. Then you nearly throw me out. And now you expect me to go out with you?” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “Not a chance!”

“Why not?”

Erin sighed wearily, tired of the argument. “For the same reasons that I spelled out to you yesterday.”

There was a pool of darkness in his eyes. “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?” he suggested, and then continued. “Or is it yourself who scares you?”

“It has nothing to do with fear, and you should know it! It’s just that I don’t think it would be good for either of us, professionally that is, to be the subject of office gossip or speculation.”

“Don’t you think that you’re putting the cart before the horse?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she sighed.

“In order for there to be any gossip, there’s got to be a glimmer of truth. Someone has to start the rumors, and since I’m not one to ‘kiss and tell,’ I’ve got to assume that you are. Otherwise, there would be no cause for concern, would there?”

“You don’t understand,” she accused with a vehemence that interested Kane. “Gossip…it can be vicious—ugly! It can ruin your life!”

“Only if you let it—the same as anything else. Now, why don’t you be honest with me—no, make that honest with yourself—and tell me what’s really bothering you. I can’t believe that a little innocent speculation about what you do after-hours is all that traumatic. For God’s sake, Erin, you’re a thirty-year-old divorcée, not a whimpering virgin! What kind of lily-white reputation are you trying to create?”

Her eyes narrowed and she planted her hands firmly against her hips. “The point is that I like to keep my personal life just that—private! And even though you and I won’t go around telling anyone that we’re seeing each other, believe me, the word will get out.”

“And everyone will just naturally assume that because we’re dating we’re sleeping together, right?” he surmised, elaborating on her logic. He threw the neatly stacked reports down into an unruly pile on his desk and covered the floor space that separated them in long, swift strides. He didn’t touch her, but he was close enough that she could feel the delicious warmth of his breath as it fanned against her hair. She stood her ground, not moving an inch, but every nerve ending of her body was rigidly aware of him and his nearness. “And even if some of the people around here think that we sleep together”—his fingers touched the silken skin of her cheek softly—”what’s so bad about that? What do you care what other people think?”