Understanding came slowly. She remembered what she had whispered to him, how she had told him not to stop no matter what she said. She remembered his twisted relationship with Valerie, and as it all came back to her, her relief was so sharp a bubble of hysteria rose in her throat.

He sank down on the corner of the bed, propped his forearms on his splayed knees, and gazed glumly out toward the living room. “Maybe it’s divine justice. When I was in my twenties, I took part in so much kinky stuff with all those groupies that now I can’t seem to manage something simple and uncomplicated.”

She drew the spread to her chin. “Dan—uh— Could I say something?”

“Not if it involves whips and dog collars.” He paused. “Or more than two people.”

The bubble rose higher in throat She gave a choked sound. “It doesn’t.”

“All right, then.”

She spoke to his back, picking her words carefully. “I didn’t mean what you thought I meant. When I told you not to stop no matter what I said, I was talking about kissing. You’re really an—uh—an excellent kisser.” She took a deep breath, pressing on even though she knew she was making a muddle of it. “I get— Well, I have a couple of hang-ups. Not hang-ups, really; hang-ups is too strong a word. More like—like an allergy. Anyway, sometimes when I’m kissing a man, I have this sort of reaction.”

She knew she was babbling from the way he turned his head to stare at her. His chest distracted her. Cast in bronze and sitting in the front window at her old gallery, it would have made them a fortune.

She swallowed hard. “I was just trying to tell you that if I had it—this reaction—you could sort of . . .”

“Ignore it?”

“Right. But the other— When we weren’t kissing. When you were touching me.” The bubble dissolved. “When I said stop, I meant stop.”

His eyes darkened with regret. “Phoebe . . .”

“If I ever say stop to you, I mean stop. Always.” She drew a deep breath. “No questions. No second-guessing. I’m not your ex-wife, and sexual violence isn’t a game I play. With me, stop means stop.”

“I understand, and I’m sorry.”

She knew she would burst into tears if she had to listen to another basket load of regrets from him that would only make her feel even more inept.

“About this kissing allergy.” He rubbed his chin, and she thought she detected amusement in his eyes. “What if the two of us decide to kiss each other again. And you have this allergic reaction, and you say stop. Am I supposed to stop then?”

She looked down at the bedspread. “Even then, I guess. I’m not going to send out any more mixed signals.”

Reaching forward, he brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Promise?”