City girl. “We all have our own techniques to start fires, and each woodstove has its own quirks.”

“Huh. Who knew?” As she curled up in a corner of the couch in the boneless way shared only by women and cats, her gorgeous breasts wobbled enticingly.

Fuck, he really was trying not to notice them. Or that her hair looked like she’d just had headboard-slamming sex. But, hell, he was only human.

Human or not, he wouldn’t act on his urges. That wasn’t why he was here—and even if things were different, he was her boss. He didn’t mess with his employees.

She took a sip of her coffee, then lifted an eyebrow at him. Her husky voice held a slight taunt as she repeated his order, “Spit it out, Bull.”

He really did like her sense of humor.

It still wasn’t easy to talk about Paisley. What had he said in the parking lot that night? He mostly remembered being irritated to hell and back. “You called her my lover.”

“Well, yes. She talked about you loving her touch, kissing, making love…” Frankie’s face darkened with a flush.

A modest New Yorker? Oh, he liked that.

But now he remembered what he’d said. “I can see how you might think we were lovers.” Bull watched the fire gain height as the flames moved from kindling to thicker sticks. “What you’re missing is this: she’s not a current lover. She was my wife. We divorced two years ago.”

Frankie’s expression changed from surprised to appalled. She lowered her cup. “Two years? But surely… She acted like…” She flushed.

He knew what she hadn’t asked. “We haven’t been together since the divorce. I saw her in passing a year ago at the symphony. We were both there with other people.”

“Oh, che stupida che sono.” Frankie tapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. A man did have to enjoy how her emotions played out in her expressions, showed in her big brown eyes, came out in her very Italian gestures. “She played you, and I was the one who fell for it.”

“So, it seems.” As his tense muscles relaxed, Bull extended his legs. “She wanted to get back together, and I lost my temper.”

“Um, it’s not my place to say anything, but maybe she misses you? People do reconcile sometimes.”

“I wouldn’t have her back on a bet,” Bull grated out.

Frankie blinked, obviously startled at the growl in his voice.

“Before we married and while we were married, she told me she was all about loyalty and faithfulness. That people who cheated were scum. I believed her until she gave me an STD.”

Frankie’s mouth dropped open.

“She was fucking her clients when showing houses.” He felt like a fool. Why the hell had he shared that with—

“Showing houses?”

“She’s a realtor.”