He could tell he caught her off guard by the slightest hint of her shoulders straightening. Was it in awareness of him? Or was she just squaring up for the next round of battle?

“You’re safe with me, Gage. I promised your father you would be, after all.”

They settled back into sparring roles, and if he were being honest, he was more comfortable seeing her as the enemy than a woman out of options after a well-publicized divorce. It spoke volumes about her financial position—and, perhaps, her personal confidence—that she was selling stories to the tabloids. The Elena he’d known had been a fierce businesswoman.

“And you’re not seeking some sort of misguided revenge.” He stated it as fact, wanting clarification on that point.

Or perhaps he just needed to rile her.

A light trill of laughter bubbled up from her throat. Rising from the couch, she paced closer to the fireplace, peering back over one shoulder at him. “I’d have to feel something for you if I wanted revenge, Gage.”

She said it so coolly, he almost believed her. But at the last moment, a hint of something else flitted through her gaze. The look was fleeting, but it had been there before she quickly turned away. In that moment, he’d glimpsed something more than cool detachment.

Getting to his feet, he closed the distance between them to join her beside the sleek stone hearth. Eyes locked on her subtle curves as she stared down into the flames, he remembered a thousand other times he’d touched her. Tasted her. Made her moan with pleasure.

The past simmered around him, hotter than any blaze.

“I don’t believe you.”

Gage’s words, spoken while he stood far too close to her, stopped her short.

Her breath caught. Her pulse stuttered for a protracted moment.

Thankfully, her back was to him. So she closed her eyes and steeled herself against the tingling in her nerve endings that reminded her of how hot they’d burned together, once upon a time. That hint of bourbon she’d sipped danced in her veins, seeming to warm her everywhere.

But she wasn’t here to play games with him. And she couldn’t afford to let her guard down for a single second. She needed this story to shore up her finances. If she happened to inconvenience Gage Striker in the process, all the better. Revenge? She preferred to view it as a reminder to him that a Striker couldn’t pay his way out of all life’s inconveniences.

“It hardly matters whether you believe me or not.” She shrugged and traced a pattern in the dark gray stone of the fireplace surround with her finger—anything to delay facing him.