“I don’t cheat,” he repeated when there was some privacy. “After watching my parents, I learned more than enough about what not to do in relationships, and that’s pretty much rule number one.”

Marie-Terese held out the sugar to him, and when he stared down at the bowl like he didn’t know what it was, she said, “You know, for your coffee. You put sugar in yours.”

“Yeah…I do.”

As he doctored up his java, she said, “So your parents’ marriage wasn’t a good one?”

“Nope. And I’ll never forget what it was like to watch them rip each other apart.”

“Did they divorce?”

“No. They killed each other.” As she recoiled back in her seat, he wanted to curse. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t be so blunt, but that’s what happened. One of their fights got really out of control and they fell down the stairs. Didn’t end well for either of them.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You’re very kind, but that was a long time ago.”

After a moment, she murmured, “You look exhausted.”

“Just need a little more coffee before we go.” Hell, on that theory, he’d keep drinking the stuff until his kidneys floated if it meant they had more time together.

The thing was, as she stared across at him, her warm concern made her…precious. Utterly precious and therefore susceptible to loss.

“Are you safe on the job?” he blurted. “And I’m not talking about from violence.” During the long pause that followed, he shook his head, feeling like both his loafers had just served as pancake chasers. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business—”

“Do I practice safe sex, you mean?”

“Yeah, and I’m not asking because I want to be with you.” As she jerked back again, he cursed himself. “No, I mean, I want to know because I hope you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Why would that matter to you?”

He stared into her eyes. “It just does.”

She turned away and looked out over the river. “I’m safe. Always. Which makes me very different from loads of so-called ‘honorable’ women who sleep around without using anything. And you can stop searching my face like you’re trying to solve some deep mystery. Anytime. Now would be good.”

He resigned himself to staring down into his mug. “How much do you cost?”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to be with me like that.”

“How much?”

“What, because you want to pull a Pretty Woman and buy me out of my horrible life for a week?” She laughed in a short, hard burst. “The only thing I have in common with Julia Roberts in that movie is that I get to pick who I’m with. As for how much, that’s none of your business.”