His absence was deflating, and she curled into a tighter ball. She felt inappropriately raw. What an inconvenient time to discover she might not be any good at casual sex.

But there was nothing casual about what happened. She might feel unsure about almost everything else in her life, but she felt certain about that. They hadn’t committed to anything, and they had been very clear they were going their separate ways, but this lovemaking hadn’t been casual.

He was fully clothed when he strode back in. Desire stabbed at her again, and this time it was stronger than ever. Now she knew what those sophisticated clothes covered.

His gaze burned as he looked at her, and a muscle flexed in his jaw. He said tonelessly, “I won’t be coming tomorrow. I’ve got too much to do, and I can’t develop predictable habits.”

Something dark pulsed in reaction. Disappointment? She sat up, holding the sheet up to her chest. “I understand.”

“Two of my colleagues will be delivering your new car tomorrow. They’ll park it at the end of the lane. I’ll have them leave a cooler with supper in it.”

“There’s more than enough food,” she said drily. “You brought two Cobb salads, and it looks as though you’re leaving—and how many sandwiches did you bring? I think there’s six now in the fridge.”

“This was unplanned.” The muscle flexed again. “Now it’s grown late, and I can’t stay.”

“Josiah, I wasn’t complaining,” she said in a gentle voice. Because we both know what this is. “I was simply pointing out there’s already more food here than I can eat.”

His expression clenched. He strode forward, clamped one hand at the back of her neck, and his mouth crashed down on hers. After a long, blistering kiss, he tore away.

“We’ll have your documents day after tomorrow,” he said and walked out.

God. She felt as if something inside tore away to follow him when he left. A moment later, the back door slammed. She touched her mouth with unsteady fingers. Her lips were shaking too.

She whispered to the empty house, “I’m leaving Wednesday.”

Sometime later, she roused herself enough to open the wine and pull out one of the salads. As she sat cross-legged on the bed and mechanically picked at the supper, flashbacks of the evening played through her mind.

His face, his hands. The sensation of his body moving over hers, in her. Her inner muscles were already sore. How he had stilled when he said, The condom broke.

Thank God she was not just on the pill. Because of the upheaval, she carried the container in her purse. She always took it first thing every morning without fail, except…