Dammit.
Irritation flared all over again, first at René for vanishing without warning, then at Dominic for inserting himself into a carefully balanced rhythm, but mostly at myself for caring at all. I shifted my weight, scanning the street, forcing my breathing back into something steady. Observe. Don’t spiral.
A few minutes later, Dominic reappeared like the bad penny he often pretended to be. Two coffees. Two pastries. Victory written all over his face.
He slid one of the cups in front of me, set the second down in front of his seat before he put the pastries on the table between us.
Then he paused.
Glanced down at his collar.
With deliberate, unbroken eye contact, he loosened his tie.
He pulled it free, balled the silk in his fist, and tucked it into his jacket pocket, abandoning formality to be here with me.
“There,” he said. “Much better.”
“You’re impossible,” I muttered.
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You say that like it’s a flaw.”
I took a sip of coffee. Damn him—it was perfect. Exactly how I liked it.
“So,” he continued, settling comfortably beside me like he belonged there, “what are we looking at?”
“We,” I said pointedly, “are not looking at anything.”
“Ah,” he said. “Solo mission.”
“Yes.”
He nodded, then immediately leaned closer. “Okay, but hypothetically—if youwerelooking—what would you be noticing?”
I shot him a look. He grinned back, entirely unrepentant.
“This,” I said, gesturing between us, “is you not letting me work.”
“Au contraire,” he countered, “this is me being supportive.”
I laughed despite myself, short and frustrated. “You flew across an ocean.”
“Correct.”
“To be supportive.”
“Among other things.”
I closed my eyes for half a second, collecting myself. He was warm beside me, familiar in a way that had nothing to do with Paris and everything to do with memory. The first dinner. The way conversation had snapped into place so easily it felt inevitable. The way inevitability had followed us all the way back to bed.
Dangerous territory.
I opened my eyes and looked at him fully. “If,” I said carefully, “I agree to go out with you tonight?—”
His attention sharpened instantly.
“—will you go away,” I finished, “and let me work?”
He blinked. Once. Then he laughed, low and delighted.
