WE leave for New York the next day after spending the morning at the Gold Dust, which has made so much progress in one week that to my eyes, it’s ready for the grand opening. I can only assume Landon’s presence had something to do with the speedy progress, as the opening night is still weeks away.

Landon hardly says a word to me, even on the flight back. Apart from a few polite words, we might as well be strangers again.

What did I expect after last night? We made love then he left, and it was obviously his way of saying goodbye, of telling me that whatever we had, it ended last night.

The truth is, I don’t feel like talking either. The less we say to each other, the less I’ll be tempted to dwell on the things we both said in the heat of our fight, and afterward. I don’t want to hope that maybe, just maybe we have something that can be parlayed into a real relationship. It’s safer to stick with the original arrangement—a short time together then a clean break. It’s what I asked for. It’s what I wanted. Only, now I don’t feel as if I’m getting what I want. I feel like I’m losing something I can never replace.

His driver is at the airport to pick us up, the same one who took me to the airport when I was on my way to San Francisco. God! How different I’d felt that day, excited about what lay ahead and confident that afterward, I’d easily be able to walk away.

How wrong I’d been.

On the drive to my apartment, the silence continues. The knowledge that getting out of the car will signify the end of what we had fills me with something close to panic. It’s unreasonable, and I push it to the back of my mind, concentrating on other thoughts, like how glad I’ll be to see Laurie—anything other than him.

At my building, as soon as the car stops, I reach for the door handle. Joe is already retrieving my things from the trunk to take them to my door. I don’t want to wait around in hope that Landon will say something to change the direction we’re going. The sooner I’m away from him, the sooner I can start to face the fact that whatever it is we had is truly over.

“Rachel.”

I pause, my hand still on the door handle as I turn toward him. It’s hard to look at his perfect face, the sensational body clad in another beautiful suit, and not feel excruciating pain at the fact that I’ll never get to touch him again. My mind floods with all the things I want, making me emotional. I want to him to tell me he wants to see me again. I want to tell him I wasn’t thinking right when I demanded that our arrangement would last only as long as the trip. I want him to tell me we have something that’s much more than just sex. I want confirmation that I’m not the only one feeling something I didn’t plan to feel.

“Yes, Landon?” How I manage to keep everything I’m feeling out of my voice, I have no idea, but I manage to sound like I’m not dying inside at the thought of leaving the car, of leaving him. I even manage a small smile.

His eyes linger on my face. “About this past week…”

I pull in a sharp breath. Here comes the goodbye. This is where he’ll tell me it was great and then dismiss me with a few nice words. There’s no need—he already said goodbye when he left my room last night.

“It was perfect,” I say quickly, interrupting whatever it was he wanted to say. I don’t want to hear the words that’ll tell me he’s done with me. “Last week was exactly what I needed.”

He nods, then turns away from me. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

I open the door then pause, and some instinct makes me turn back to him, lean over, and place a light kiss on his cheek. His hand is resting on his knee, and I notice the fingers flex, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Goodbye Landon.”

“Goodbye Rachel.” When he turns back to look at me, the shutters are down, his eyes impersonal and so remote, I could be a stranger.

I leave him and walk into the building, going up to my apartment, where Joe has set my luggage on the floor by the door.

I give him a small smile. “Thank you, Joe. I can manage from here.”

He nods and leaves me standing there. I let myself into the apartment, and Laurie flies into the living room as soon as I enter, running across the room to envelope me in a warm hug.

“I missed you!” she cries enthusiastically before pulling back to look at my face. “Are you crying?” she asks with a frown.

“No, of course not.” I force a laugh. “I’m not that happy to see you.”

She sighs. “It’s him, isn’t it? What happened?”

My voice is shaking with unshed tears, and suddenly I can’t hold them back anymore. “I don’t know. It went exactly as I planned. I have no idea why I’m so fucking sad.”

“Oh sweetie.” Laurie envelopes me in another hug. “Stop crying. Tell you what? Why don’t I get your bags inside then I’ll make you something hot to drink and you can tell me all about it.”

YOU have feelings for him.

Those were Laurie’s words yesterday, after I told her everything.

I do have feelings for Landon. I’m hung up on him, strung out because of him. It wasn’t part of the plan, but somewhere along the way, the strong physical attraction I felt toward him turned to something else, something that makes me think of little things about him and smile, even as the thought that I’ll probably never see him again leaves me close to tears.

I meet with Mark Willis in the morning, along with a few other people from the features team and the photography and copy people. We do a final walk-through of the article, and then afterward I start the research for my next assignment, trying my best not to think about Landon.

Not that it helps. Every few moments, he creeps into my thoughts, leaving me wondering what he’s doing now, and if just maybe, he’s thinking about me too.

Probably not. More likely he’s busy acquiring another hotel and forgetting he ever met me.

A few hours into the day, I use the office messenger service to send a package to Landon’s office at the Swanson Court Tower. It’s the jewelry he gave me in San Francisco. I forgot to give them back to him before we left, and the staff had packed them with my luggage. I send them back with regret, not because of their monetary value, but because he gave them to me.

I spend the rest of the morning working. At lunchtime, Chelsea and Sonali invite me to join them so I can give them the dish about Landon Court. The office grapevine has been busy, especially since the pictures from the charity gala appeared online. They both plead and cajole, but I politely refuse, giving an excuse about having to finish up some work.

When my desk phone rings a few minutes after they leave, I answer it, and it’s the ground floor reception calling to tell me I have a package being sent up to my office. Almost as soon as I put down the phone, the delivery guy arrives.

The package he gives me contains the box I just sent to Landon’s office. It also includes a note on Swanson Court stationery, written in Landon’s firm slanted handwriting.

Keep them.

Just that. I stare at the words, disappointment flooding me. What was I expecting? Some heartfelt communication to show me I still meant something to him?

Well, I’m not going to keep a gift from a guy who can’t be bothered to expend more than two words on me.

My phone rings just as I’m about to call the office messenger service again. I don’t care that I might have to come up with an explanation as to why I’m using office facilities for personal stuff. I just want to let Landon know I don’t need his diamonds, and I won’t take orders from him.

Keep them indeed.

Too caught up in my thoughts, I slide my phone to answer without looking at the screen.

“Hello,” I say impatiently.

“Don’t even think of returning them. I’ll just send them back, and I can do this all year.”

Landon.

My heart almost stops. Somehow, I had convinced myself I would never hear his voice again, that the delicious blend of perfect timbre and raspy smoothness was lost to me forever. I luxuriate in the sound, wanting to store it somewhere so I can listen to it whenever I want.

“Are you there?”

I recover myself enough to realize I have to say something. “Landon, I can’t keep them. We agreed that they were a loan.”

“And now I want you to have them.”

Why? I almost ask him. Do you need to give me something you can consider as payment for the time we spent together? So you don’t feel like you owe me anything? Well, you owe me nothing. I’m a big girl, and I knew what I was getting into.

Except I didn’t.

I close my eyes, my throat tight. “It’s not enough that you want me to keep them. Maybe you always get what you want, but this time—”

“Rachel, stop. I don’t carry expensive jewelry around in case I’ll need to give gifts to random women. I bought them for you, because I thought they would look great on you.”

I’m silent.

“And contrary to what I said to you a long time ago”—he exhales audibly—“I don’t always get what I want.”

I swallow, suddenly confused. What does he mean? My eyes go to the package on my desk. “I’m not going to keep them Landon.”

“Okay.” There’s a short pause on his side. “Why don’t we talk about it then, face to face?”

The instinct to say no is defeated by my desire to see him, which is so strong that every other thought is instantly pushed out of my head. I have to pause and try to get control of my brain. “I don’t think…”

“Let’s have lunch,” he suggests. “I’ll come to you. Is that okay?”

I want to see him—so badly. “It’s fine. I’m free at one.”

“Perfect.”

In the few minutes before one, I hover nervously by my phone, smoothing my hair and checking my clothes. By the time he calls to let me know he’s close to my building, I’m a mess of nervousness, eagerness, and desire.

Downstairs, he’s waiting on the curb, gold waves windblown, his sensational body clad in another perfect suit. He’s leaning on the gleaming black car like a ridiculously gorgeous model in a photoshoot.

“Oh fuck,” I mumble at the sight of him, a bolt of awareness moving through me. Why does he have to look so good? How am I supposed to stop thinking about him when he insists on reminding me just how delicious he is?

He unfolds himself from the car and faces me, spearing me with his intense blue gaze. Somehow, I manage to walk up to him without swooning. “Hey.”

“Hey Rachel.” His eyes are roaming my face, stormy and intense. The look goes straight to my core, where it starts a slow heat. He opens the door for me then walks around the car to join me, settling into the seat beside me while Joe pulls away from the curb.

I resist the urge to make small talk. I’m feeling too much to pretend I care about things like the weather or traffic. He doesn’t seem to want to talk either. His eyes are in front, his fingers tapping on the armrest between us. When I steal a glance at him, his face looks as if he’s deep in thought.

“How’s your day been?” he asks when the silence has stretched to breaking point.

“Okay, just…work.”

He nods. Then he turns to look at me, and his eyes are blazing with hunger that matches what I’m feeling. Trapped in that gaze, I can’t move. I fully expect him to do something, touch me, kiss me, and I know I won’t resist—but then Joe stops at the entrance of a glass-fronted building and we have to leave the car.

Lunch is at a swanky restaurant close to the top floor of the building. There’s an excellent view of the city from where we’re sitting in a secluded part of the restaurant, shielded from other lunchers by a creative arrangement of furniture and indoor plants.

A waiter takes our order and while we wait, I try to keep my eyes on the table, the view, anything but Landon. I feel drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, like he’s a magnet and I’m a helpless piece of metal.

When I finally get the courage to look at him, his eyes are on me.

I breathe. “You said you wanted to talk.”

He nods. “I did.”

He doesn’t offer more, so I start. “There was no need for us to come here because of your jewelry.”

“Your jewelry,” he replies. “I gave them to you, but that’s not why we’re here. I wanted to see you.”

I swallow, silent, as hope fans in my chest.

“I wanted to see you,” he says again, his eyes burning into mine.

Something is squeezing at my heart. “Why?” I ask, my voice soft.

“Why?” He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a short laugh, but there’s no amusement in the sound. “Because you’ve gotten under my skin in a way I didn’t think was possible.”

I stay silent, not trusting myself to speak.

“I want to keep seeing you,” he continues. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

My heart is beating a staccato rhythm against my chest. This is what I want. I want to keep seeing him, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him either, but now I know that for me, it’s not just sex. Laurie is right—I have feelings for him. If what he wants is just an extension of our arrangement, will I be able to handle that?

Our food arrives, and we’re both silent as the waiter serves us. When we’re alone again, Landon leans forward. “When I asked you to take the trip with me to San Francisco, you insisted you only wanted our arrangement to last for a week.” His eyes hold mine. “I want to know why.”

Because even then, I knew there was a chance I would fall in love with him, and I thought if we only spent a short time together, I’d be safe.

But I still fell in love with him. The realization tears through me like a slice of physical pain. I’m in love with him. I want him, every part of him, everything about him, more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything.

He’s still waiting for me to say something.

“I was in a bad place,” I tell him, remembering Jack and the feelings of heartbreak I thought were real at the time. “I thought a short physical relationship would help to get me back on track.”

“You thought.” His eyes are questioning.

I shake my head. How do I tell him that instead of forgetting Jack as I’d planned, I’d realized my feelings for Jack had been nothing, totally inconsequential compared to the way I feel now, as if not only my heart but my whole being is at stake.

“What are you asking, Landon?”

“I want to know if…” He stops and mutters something under his breath. “What I’m saying is, I want you. I have from the moment I saw you, and I still do. I can’t let you go.”

I stare at him, my emotions running high. I have to make a decision. I should tell him I want more than sex, that I want him to…

To what? Return my feelings? Love me back?

It’s just been a week.

I can’t let you go.

And I don’t want him to. That’s all that matters, at least for now.

“You don’t have to let me go,” I respond, my voice barely audible. “I don’t want you to.”

I hear him breathe, the sound threaded with something like relief. Then he leans back on his seat. “The food is getting cold,” he says. “We should eat.”

Food is the last thing on my mind. There’s a ball of excitement and relief building in my stomach, and I can tell he feels the same way. I smile at him, he smiles back, and I feel as if the weight of the past few days has been lifted from me. There are still so many things to consider—like what exactly our relationship is now—but I push the questions out of my mind.

We talk about different things while we eat—the article, his work, how happy I was to see Laurie again.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asks when we’re almost done with the food.

I shrug. “Nothing. Why?”

“Aidan, my brother, has been working on a play. It’s still in the preview stage, but tonight is a press night, and I’m going to lend my support.” His lips quirk. “Will you come?”

It’s probably the play Sonali was talking about when we went out to lunch what seems like a lifetime ago. “I’d love to.”

“Good.” His eyes linger on my lips, and then he lets out a ragged breath. “Now I’m going to take you back to your office, because if I don’t, I’m going to have to find a place to fuck you.”

I’m shocked at the raw statement, but also, more than anything, I want him to do exactly that. I take a deep breath. “I can get away with another hour or so.”

He stares at my face for a split second then gets up, taking my elbow as I rise from my seat. He leads me out of the restaurant, his urgency obvious even from the heat of his fingers on my skin, and I feel exactly the same way.

“Where are we going?” I ask as we wait for the elevator.

“The nearest place with a bed.”

The elevator doors open and he pulls me inside, not waiting for the doors to close before he covers my mouth with his. His lips are warm and hungry, and his tongue delves into my mouth, making me moan and arch against him.

“My place is closer than your hotel and your office,” I whisper to him when he releases my lips. I’m panting, my words breathy. His hands are on my waist, holding my body flush against his, and I can feel his arousal, hard and insistent against my thighs.

“Your place it is.” He reaches for my lips again and just as he claims them, the bell dings and the elevator stops.

He pulls away with a muttered oath just as the doors slide open. Immediately, he takes my hand and resumes his brisk stride toward the entrance. He’s already calling Joe, who pulls up to the curb just as we exit the building. Landon orders him to drive to my apartment in a curt voice then leans back on the s