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"I had time to kill before you got here. So I set up an appointment."
"Oh." Sabrina felt a wave of relief. "In that case, would you mind if we pushed dinner back a half hour or so? I'm running late."
A slight hesitation. "Not at all. Finish up what you're doing. If I'm through first, I'll get us a table."
"Perfect. Thanks. I'll see you in a little while." Sabrina hung up, then inhaled sharply. Okay, good. She'd bought herself some time.
"Merlot, right?" Dylan was still standing there, watching her.
She nodded. "I'd better fortify myself, and fast." She stood, glancing down at her disheveled state. "I'd also better make myself look presentable. I'll use the adjoining bathroom over there, and meet you downstairs." A rueful look. "The living room is safer ground than the bedroom. Under the circumstances, I think it's better if we have our wine there."
"You're right about that." Dylan looked grim. "Then again, I'm not sure any ground is going to be safe. Not as long as we're together in the same room."
When Sabrina came downstairs five minutes later, Dylan was standing at the living room bar, polishing off a glass of merlot. He glanced up when she walked in, gesturing at the other filled goblet on the counter before reaching for the bottle and refilling his own. "There you go"
"Thanks," Sabrina said. She picked up her glass, frowning as she saw how unsteady her fingers still were. Her hand was trembling enough to make the merlot swish around a bit, and she tried to remedy that—and to calm her nerves—by taking a good hard swallow.
Dylan wasn't even pretending. He downed his second glass of wine as if it were water, then turned toward her, still looking as grim as he had upstairs. Not just grim, but upset and worried, maybe even guilty.
Those were the last things Sabrina wanted.
"We're going to have to deal with this—and soon," he informed her. "Although I have no idea how. But tonight's not the night to get into it. You've still got another chapter of family drama to get through, and a pile of paperwork to read before you go to sleep. Not only that, but tomorrow you're starting an enormous new project—and a whole lot more, as we both know. So let's shelve this for a day or two."
Sabrina inclined her head, studying him intently. "I agree. But in the meantime, I want to clear up a few things, just so we're on the same page. I'm fine. Really fine. I realize that last night I told you I had limited experience with men. So my guess is you're afraid I'll read too much into things, or that I'm fragile and I'll fall apart. I won't and I'm not. So stop looking so freaked out."
Dylan shot her a look, then refilled his glass yet again. "I'm glad to hear you're fine. I'm not."
"Why?" she asked, her lips twitching a bit. "Are you inexperienced, too?"
"Very funny." Dylan took a gulp of merlot. "The problem is, I'm too damned experienced. I grew up on the streets. That means discovering sex when the only part of you that understands it is the part of you that's having it. It means getting what you want, when you want, and as often as you want; knowing just where to go to make that happen."
"Sounds great," Sabrina noted, swirling the wine around in her goblet. "You're lucky you didn't end up with a disease."
"You're right. I am. Then again, I wasn't stupid. Or careless. Not after the way I was conceived. I used condoms. No exceptions. That was one of my three cardinal rules."
"What were the other two?"
"Number two was no virgins."
"Really?" Sabrina's brows rose, and her voice dripped with sarcasm. "How gallant of you."
"Not so gallant. I didn't want the responsibility, or the hassle. Too much potential baggage. Not my thing."
"I see. And rule number three?"
"No emotional attachments. I needed to know I was always in control. Caring strips you of that control." Dylan finished his third glass of merlot, stared into the empty goblet. "Funny thing about cardinal rules. They die hard. Even when you get older and more mature, even when you've left behind the reckless kid you once were, those cardinal rules go with you. They become part of the person you grow into."
"Well, thanks for the lesson. It was fascinating." Sabrina set down her glass. "Now, I'd better be getting over to the hotel. Keep the limo. I'll catch a cab."
"I don't need it. My apartment's three blocks away. I'll walk."
"Stagger, you mean," Sabrina amended pointedly.
"You just guzzled three glasses of wine."
"I've got a high tolerance. I'm not drunk, at least not nearly as drunk as I need to be. So, the limo's yours."
A shrug. "Suit yourself." She headed for the stairs.
