This statement cuts through my sexual fog. “Wh—what are you talking about? You haven’t asked anything of me.” I wrack my mind trying to figure out why I’m being deprived of what we both so obviously want.

He takes my face in his hands, giving me a hard look; gone is my passionate, would-be lover. “I told you to quit the job, Lia.” As his words sink in, it’s the equivalent of ice water in the face. I stiffen and pull out of his arms. I’m suddenly furious with the bastard in front of me.

“Fuck you!” I whisper-shout as I poke my finger into his chest for emphasis. “Some of us regular people actually have to work for a living. I may go to an expensive college, but I don’t come from or have money, Lucian. If I quit this job just to sleep with you, then I wouldn’t have a place to live, food to eat, or books and supplies for school. Is that what you really expect from a woman? Are you so good in bed that I would give up everything I have, everything I am, just for a roll in the sack with you?” My chest is heaving, and I am fighting the urge to slap his arrogant face as he studies me intently.

When his lips curve up into a grin, I give into the urge to slap him, and my hand is flying toward his face before I know what is happening. A mere inch before it makes contact, his hand snaps up and halts my progress. I’m horrified over this uncharacteristic show of violence on my part. This is not me, and I’m stunned by the strong feelings that this man—this stranger—brings out. “You’re full of fire, aren’t you, Lia? It appears I owe you an apology. You are correct; I had not thought out the consequences of my demands on your life. In my defense, I’ve been too caught up in my desire to have you. Normally, I would have thought things through more thoroughly. It won’t happen again.”

I am surprised by the disappointment I feel. So, that’s it? He’s giving up his pursuit of me. Did he think that I was working as an escort for Date Night just for fun? Of course, someone like him probably never had to ponder the money challenges a poor college student has. I suddenly just want away from him. I need to clear my head of all things Lucian Quinn. I can’t breathe when he is near. Without meeting his eyes, I mumble, “I’m sorry I tried to hit you. I just…lost it for a minute.”

Lucian laughs; the sound is almost musical. I look into his smiling face, and my mouth drops as he says, “Sexual frustration will bring out the animal in most people, baby.” He strokes my hair gently before using its weight to pull my head back. I find that even the small prickle against my scalp is enough to send tendrils of desire racing through my sensitive body. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I’ll book it through Date Night, so you’ll be paid.”

I raise a brow at his question. “It’s okay to pay for a date with me, but not sex?” I cringe when the question is out. It sounds as if I’m whining about the lack of sex tonight, and I’m not…am I? Oh, hell, who am I kidding; we both know I am.

I stiffen as Aidan steps into view. He takes in the close embrace between Lucian and myself and another of those odd looks crosses his face. Am I really so beneath his boss that my very presence confuses him? Clearing his throat, he says, “Luc, you need to give your speech while everyone is still here and mostly sober.”

Lucian runs a finger across my bottom lip, tugging it lightly before stepping away. “We can talk tomorrow night.” Before I can answer, his larger hand engulfs mine and leads me past Aidan and back into the party. I try to pull away as he walks straight to the podium at the front of the room, but he keeps me firmly at his side and only drops my hand when he reaches the microphone. I take the opportunity to step behind his large frame and out of the spotlight. Curious looks are thrown my way, but I ignore them and focus on the man in front of me. He speaks with the ease of someone familiar with being the center of attention. Again, he is charming and polite, but I sense the public doesn’t see much of the real Lucian Quinn. Maybe it takes someone such as myself who has spent years putting on a public face to recognize a kindred spirit. Even as he woos the crowd, I see the hand at his side digging into his thigh. It gives me no pleasure to know I’m right. Being haunted by my own demons for most of my life has given me nothing but sympathy for those who suffer, as well. Maybe I’ve made this whole thing up in my mind, and Lucian is simply a person who hates public speaking…but somehow, I don’t think that’s the case. Before I can ponder this further, he finishes to a round of applause and immediately turns as if seeking me. I hold my hand out for his, helpless to do anything else, and it’s immediately taken. Some part of my body is once again joined with his, and it’s far too natural of a feeling for strangers. Who are you, Lucian Quinn, and what are you doing to me?

With his speech over, Lucian keeps a firm grip on my hand and silently makes his way toward the door. It appears our evening is almost over, and I find myself hesitant to end my time with him. He nods a goodbye to a few people near the doorway, but all too soon, we are on the sidewalk, and he is leading me toward the car idling at the curb. I recognize the sleek, black Mercedes from our previous evening together. “Lucian, my car is here.” I feel compelled to object even though I know it will be pointless. The driver is before us, opening the back door, and I am bundled inside before I can issue another objection.

We sit in silence for several moments, and I’m startled when his hand suddenly makes contact with my knee. Without turning in my direction, he says, almost absently, “I enjoyed tonight with you there far more than I would normally have.”

I am filled with pleasure at his words. “I…thank you. Your speech was brilliant,” I add shyly.

He sighs and admits what I had already suspected. “I hate those fucking things. I’ve done it a million times, and a million times I’ve detested every moment of it.” I want to offer him comfort, something I suspect few people are allowed to do. Instead of saying the words, I lay my hand on top of the one that rests on my knee and squeeze lightly. We remain this way until we reach my apartment. As I start to pull away, he tightens his grip and pulls me forward for a hard kiss on the lips. My mouth tingles as he says, “I’ll pick you up for dinner tomorrow night at seven.” I nod in agreement, and as I’m pulling away, I hear him whisper, “Think of me tonight, sweet Lia, and know I’m thinking of you.”

I stumble getting out and am grateful for the driver’s assistance. As we reach the door, I turn and smile at him. “You’ve walked me to my door twice, and I don’t even know your name to thank you.”