She took a calming gulp of air and reached for her reticule, rummaging through it until she found her notebook. There was no telling when he would surface, and during her mental edit she’d come up with a couple clever quips she thought would work well in the book. Perhaps it was a little unusual, to come to a man’s room and end up getting some work done, but the atmosphere was cozy, the bed was really quite comfortable, and the room provided plenty of grist for her mill. She took off her hat, removed her jacket, scooted up to the pillows, and began to write.

The next time she looked up, the city outside was dark, with twinkling, wavering lights forming constellations of avenues and neighborhoods. There was a fire in the small cast-iron fireplace—one of the few details she’d allowed to stay—and Sam was sprawled in his desk chair, watching her.

She closed her notebook. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he said, his lips twitching upwards. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re going to wear that compliment out,” she said, but inside she preened.

“You’re beautiful, and you’re in my room.”

“I am,” she agreed.

“On my bed.”

“You put me here.”

“Did I? What a terribly clever fellow I am.”

She opened her mouth to say something rude like You’re terrible, at least, or maybe You’re certainly terribly something, but nothing came out except a little puff of air. He was looking at her as though she were the most interesting and wonderful person in the entire world. As though he liked her, through and through.

He was the only person who had ever looked at her that way.

If she was going to go through with this, though, there was something she had to establish first.

“You said I had to trust you. Last time we—after we were intimate. I said we should have an affair, and you said you would just wait until I trusted you.”

“I remember the battle lines,” Sam said, his grin turning a little wry around the edges. “Although now that you’re sitting on my bed with an entire article of clothing already off, I’m having trouble remembering why I was so damned adamant about it.”

A little bubble of laughter rose in her throat, which made it a lot easier to continue. “I guess I’m here to say that you weren’t wrong. I still don’t know if I can offer you everything you want, Sam, but I trust you. As much as I can trust anybody, I trust you.”

He stared at her for a long while and nodded. “Good enough,” he said, standing and swiftly crossing the room to her in two long strides. “Good enough.”