Listening to him, she wanted to give him everything he’d been denied as a child and wished she had it to give.

“Anyway,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “someday hopefully I’ll have my own family and it won’t matter anymore.”

And that, she thought, is my cue to go. She sat up and reached for her clothes at the foot of the bed.

“It’s only seven. You’ve got time yet.” His hand slid from her shoulder to land on her hip. “I could make you some breakfast.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got to go home, take a shower, get changed, check in at HQ,” she said as she jammed her arms into her shirt and dragged it over her head. Air and space, she thought, and we’re not talking about the museum. That’s what I need. Some air, some space, some perspective. Distance.

Twirling her bra on his index finger, his full, sexy mouth twisted into a grin. “Forget something?”

She snatched it away from him and jammed it into her pants pocket.

Laughing, he reclined on the big pile of pillows.

She felt the heat of his eyes on her as she ducked into the bathroom. Re-emerging a few minutes later, she found him out of bed and wearing just the sweats he’d had on the night before. The pants rode low on narrow hips, and that chest of his… It should’ve been gracing the covers of erotic romance novels rather than spending its days hidden behind starched dress shirts and silk ties. Tragic. Truly a waste of good—no, great—man chest.

“You’re staring.”

“And you’re hot. Seriously. Hot.”

“Well, um, thanks. I guess.”

His befuddlement amused and delighted her until she remembered that she’d been plotting her escape. Suddenly, morning-after awkwardness set in, leaving her tongue-tied and uncertain as she tugged on her sweater. “Good luck with your staff. Today. In Richmond.”

“Thank you.” He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips. “Will you tell me what happens in Chicago?”

“If I can, I will. That’s the best I can do.”

“That’s all I can ask.” Releasing her hand, he caressed her cheek. “When will I see you?”

Before she knew it the words were tumbling from her face as if her mouth was on autopilot. “There’s this thing tomorrow. Family dinner at my dad’s. If you want to come.” All but stuttering now, she added, “I’d understand if you didn’t want to because there’re so many of us—”

He stopped her with a finger to her lips. “What time?”

“Dinner’s at three.” Her cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. “But if you want to come earlier, we could take a walk. Check out the market. If you want.”

“I want.” He slid his arms around her waist and brought her in snug against him. “I really want.”