She held up her hands. “I don’t get it. I don’t get the whole ‘let it go’ thing.”

He shook his head as if her words didn’t compute. “What whole ‘let it go’ thing?”

“The whole let go of control.”

“Is this about cake?”

She shook her head.

“Yeah, I didn’t think it was about cake. What’s it about?”

She took a deep breath, grateful she’d had a glass of champagne tonight to take the edge off her own inhibitions. Her drinks from this afternoon had worn off as she’d returned to the hotel, finished some other work, taken a shower and then slipped into a flouncy dark pink skirt and a silvery silk tank for their dinner. She’d refueled though, and the little dose of liquid courage was what she needed to forge ahead.

“We’re friends, right?”

“Obviously.”

“And you know about Scott.”

He nodded resolutely. “The douchebag,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Is Scott Nixon really a douche?”

“He let you go. I’m going to assume that makes him a douche.”

She couldn’t help it. A smile took over her features at his sweet words. Instinctively, she reached out her hand, and rested it on his arm. A friendly gesture. But it was odd that he hitched in his breath as she touched him. His muscles tensed under her hand. “You know what I mean. You know what he said to me when we broke up.”

“That you were too headstrong,” he said, a touch of anger in his tone. For some reason, that anger felt protective, and she kind of liked it.

“He also made it clear he wasn’t that into the sex. That I was nothing special,” she said, looking down.

“Again, the guy is a complete and utter ass,” he said, acid in his tone.

“Be that as it may, you know I’ve kind of had bad luck with men for that reason. The whole too headstrong thing.”

“I disagree about the reasons. But go on.”

“And I know all about you and your women.”

He threw his head back and laughed.

“I don’t mean Joanna,” she said quickly, and he looked away at the mention of his ex-wife. She’d never met Joanna, but she’d have to be an idiot not to know how deeply the woman had hurt Nate. He didn’t talk about her often, but Jack had shared some of the details from their marriage and then their divorce four years ago. Joanna’s betrayal was the reason Nate played the field like a professional ballplayer. The man practically had a three-dates-and-out rule. He had a more meaningful relationship with his regular dry-cleaner than he’d had with a woman since Joanna. “I mean the fact that you are . . .” she paused, considering her words, “the opposite of me. You’re very lucky with the ladies.”

He blushed, a sliver of a smile appearing on his face.

“My point is we know each other,” she said. “We trust each other. We have no agenda.” She took a deep fueling breath, then ripped off the Band-Aid. “And that’s why I need you to give it to me straight. Am I too controlling? Do I need to learn to let go? Am I just too alpha?”