Roman’s stern expression when he’d returned to the table last night flashed in her mind. She might not have been able to understand his words, but there’d been a growled urgency in his message. While she’d quick-stepped her exit from the bar to avoid any further awkwardness or embarrassment, she’d spent a good ten minutes letting herself cool down in her car. Roman and Kir had left all of three minutes behind her. “Does this have something to do with you and Roman leaving right after me last night?”

“I have many responsibilities. You’d be surprised how many times my employees call me away.”

An answer, but not a direct one. Which meant she’d either at least brushed the truth, or nailed it entirely. She pushed her tray away enough to mirror his pose. Helping him after the way she’d treated him would be a far better apology than mere words. Then again, being around him would be a delicious torture, and God only knew what would happen if people found out she was working with him. “A lot of people trusted me with their thoughts and emotions in those follow-up stories. Why would I risk their trust by sharing those thoughts and emotions with you?”

His grin was instant, and his eyes glinted with the satisfaction of a man who knew the fish was nudging his hook. “Because one never knows when and where they’ll pick up a new story.”

Well, she’d give him one thing—he certainly knew which button to push. At the rate she was going story-wise, she’d be fighting Bonnie for a spot behind the reception desk. If he was going to at least open up some new avenues for ideas, she certainly wasn’t going to let a good chance slide by.

She checked her watch and snagged the to-go bag from the edge of the table. “We can have an initial talk and see how things go, but we can’t do it now. I’ve got to get back. How about if we meet at a coffee shop or something?”

“I’d rather our conversation take place someplace private. I’ll meet you at your house.”

“No.”

The calm, yet firm directness of her answer seemed to take him aback. “Why not?”

“Really?”

For a moment he truly appeared to struggle with her response, but then comprehension registered behind his gaze and his lips curved in a pleased grin. “You’re afraid of being alone with me.”

“Ha!” The sharp bark of laughter paired with the annoying snort she was prone to bounced off the windows, drawing several stares. She straightened her spine then stood, but lowered her voice. “You wish.”

His smile never wavered. Not for a second. But there was also a dangerous curiosity growing in the way he studied her. “Perhaps I do. And with the flush creeping up your neck, I don’t think I’m the only one.”

He stood and motioned her to the door.

Cassie took the out and reached for the bar across the glass door to push it open, but he beat her to it and held it wide. She probably should have let the whole topic go, but her pride wouldn’t cooperate. “Not having you at my house has nothing to do with sex.”