“Kylie,” Cade told her softly and leaned in closer. “I’ve known Daphne for years. Ask me how many times she’s promised to give up the drugs.”

“How many times?” she asked, fascinated by the tanned skin of his jawline, his firm mouth so close to her own. They really, really should have been sitting further apart.

“Dozens,” he told her. “Now ask me how many times she’s actually given them up for good?”

“How many?”

“Never.” He shook his head. “It’s always promises with Daphne, but she never follows up on them. Never. And I’m tired of waiting for a day that will never come.”

“How do you know it’s not different this time?” Daphne had seemed sincere to Kylie. In fact, she’d cried for hours and had been so miserable that Kylie couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

“Because I know Daphne,” he told her. “And I’m not interested in seeing her tonight. I wanted to talk to you.” He looked down at her hand on the seat of the limo, and took it in his own. “And about what happened between us.”

A warm flush crept up her cheeks. “You mean our evening of spectacularly bad decisions?”

Cade grimaced, but he didn’t let go of her hand. “That bad? How drunk was I?”

He didn’t know? She tilted her head, considering him. “You don’t remember?”

“Only bits and pieces.”

“So you don’t remember dressing up in my clothes and letting me put makeup on you?”

His eyes got round. “What?”

“Or the part where you cried like a baby and sucked your thumb?”

Cade threw back his head and laughed. To hear his pleasure at her joke made Kylie smile, and she relaxed a little. He shook his head and chuckled at her, then wagged a finger. “For a moment, I thought you were serious.”

“So you really don’t remember? You seemed pretty sober.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Cade murmured. “In college, it used to drive my friends crazy because I’d never really seem that drunk until I fell over and couldn’t get back up again. But I’m pretty sure I was loaded.”

“You must have been if you took me home,” she agreed.

Cade’s brows furrowed and he looked over at her. He squeezed the hand in his. “I’m not saying I don’t regret things—”

And her heart felt like it was about to shatter into a million pieces of hurt.

“But I regret that I was loaded and I can’t remember. Not that I spent the evening with you. And I really, really regret not using a condom. It seems very unsafe.” He grimaced. “I’m not normally one to take risks.”

“Me either,” she admitted. “But you were drunk and then things felt too good for me to protest. I’m on the pill, by the way.”

Relief crossed his face. “I saw my physician yesterday. I’m clean.”

“I am, too. I haven’t had sex in two years, and the last check I had was squeaky clean. That’s one question out of the way,” she told him, and couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “So you really don’t remember all that much?”

“I remember this,” he said, and with his free hand, reached out and touched a lock of her red-tipped hair. “I remember that it looked like bits of flame against your pale shoulders. And I remember the way you looked when you came, and the way your breasts bounced when I fucked you.” The look in his eyes was scorching. “So I remember the important things.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Okay, now she was picturing all that, and getting all aroused, too. My goodness.

“And I think I’d really like to see you again,” he told her, and lifted their clasped hands to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “Sober, this time.”

“I’d like that, Cade,” she began. “But we really can’t. Daphne—”

“Doesn’t interest me any longer,” he said with a small shake of his head. “Last night just reinforced that she’s become someone I no longer know or care to know.”

He might have felt that way, but she was pretty sure Daphne had different opinions on the subject. “Daphne’s still my boss.”

“And she’s an old family friend of mine,” he said lightly. “So when she finds out I intend on dating you, she’s just going to have to get over it.”

Warmth flooded through her, and she bit her lip, considering. Could it really be that simple? “I don’t know.”