He smirks, as if he knows the affect he has on me and enjoys it a little too much.

I’m not going to get any clear answers from him so I continue walking. He keeps up and we move in silence down a side street that will take me to my apartment—the opposite direction of Jude’s house near the university.

We sidestep a youngish couple taking their dog out for a walk. They wave and exclaim, “Beautiful night, isn’t it?” as they pass, holding hands in domestic bliss.

“They seem nice,” Jude says once we’re out of earshot.

I snort.

“We could have a dog together one day,” he continues.

I hold back a laugh. “I would not purchase any kind of canine with you. Ever.”

“You’re right. Felines are definitely better, and I’m not sure Mr. Bojangles would appreciate having to compete for my affections.”

“No competition here.”

“So I take it you haven’t reconsidered my offer of dinner?”

“Answer is still thanks but no thanks.”

“Just checking. I had thought all of the hostility and avoidance of my general person might indicate a rekindling of your prior interest.” Humor tinges his voice.

I stop walking and turn to face him. “I’m not going to change my mind. I’m not interested in a relationship. If you want to pursue a physical relationship . . .” I run my eyes down the suit. Dammit, he’s even hotter up close. It doesn’t help that I know what’s underneath. I take a step closer. “Those are terms I might be amenable to.”

A relationship with Jude would be a threat to my sanity. But a nice roll in the hay? That I could handle.

My bravado falters.

Maybe.

I hope he says no.

Because the truth . . . the truth is Jude probably wouldn’t want anything serious with me. Not if he knew the real me. I’m an unworthy imposter, undeserving of his regard, but I tuck the thought away like a secret diary slipped beneath the mattress. Or porn.

He searches my eyes, his mouth set in a line until one corner pops up. “I’ll keep waiting for you to come around to my way of thinking.”

“It’s gonna be a long wait.” I spin on my heel and march away.

I need to breathe in air he doesn’t penetrate, but he follows, keeping up the pace until I’ve reached the corner where the sidewalk turns into my apartment building.

“Y’all take care now, ya hear?” I say in the best, politest, stickiest-sweet voice I can muster, the one I learned to use on cranky teachers and customers, and turn to go, but he stops me with a word.

“Annabel.”

His voice is deep and rough and I turn and face him, like I can’t even control it. He’s standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes bright even in the dying light, and as inscrutable as ever.

He opens his mouth, shuts it. Opens it again.

It’s a move so unlike the self-assured and confident Jude I’ve come to know that I’m momentarily shocked.