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otherwise, she was lying. She was trying to change the rules, and I didn’t want them changed. End of story.”
    Angel contemplated for a couple of seconds before she continued. This was a man who always wanted to be in control. “How long was the, um… affair?”
    “About a year and a half. So what? Are you going to tell me that everything has to be hearts and roses? That no woman can have sex, for sex alone? If so, it’s a great disservice that you’re doing to your own sex. Or, is that just how you are ?” he challenged and his voice dropped two decibels. “Do you get all moist and gooey, Angel?”
    She sat back in her chair, starting to get pissed off. Who in the hell does this asshole think he is?
    “This isn’t about me, Alex. It’s about you, so, my gooey-ness, or lack thereof, is not up for discussion,” she retorted shortly and then took a deep breath to calm herself. She needed to remember that she was the one in control of this call, not the arrogant prick on the other end of the phone. “I’m just telling you that for most women, sex is physiological. It’s a bond; a chemical reaction, if you will. Yes, it can happen just for the sake of physical release, but I feel if the affair continues for any length of time, some form of emotional feelings will develop. Sex, especially good sex, is a connection, and intimacy on that level has consequences. I’m not saying you’ve been dishonest, Alex, but, even if Whitney had a clear picture of your expectations in the beginning, she came to care about you, which changed her expectations.” Dickhead, she added mentally.
    “And I’m telling you , it wasn’t like that.” His voice was cool and unemotional, which grated on Angel’s nerves. “Whitney isn’t the type to care about anything other than shopping and material things. She cared more about who made her drapes than she did about me. Trust me. We fulfilled needs for the other and nothing more. Good sex isn’t a fluttery heartbeat. It’s coming hard—and often.” The amusement in his voice was palpable. He was baiting her and it was working.
    “How utterly irresistible,” she shot back sarcastically. “Did you leave some money on the nightstand when you blew through the bedroom?”
    “No, but she had everything she needed. I was the one left wanting. All she did was nag and complain. Talk about dousing a fire. She made the reason I was with her at all vanish.”
    “You gave her money but no love. You clearly have a deep-seated phobia of intimacy.”
    “ That’s a load of crap! ” Alex paused to gather his thoughts and then continued. “At best, love is overrated. It’s a pipe-dream pumped into little girls’ minds by Disney movies and fairy tales. You just don’t get it. Let me tell you, lady, intimacy has never been my problem.”
    Angel smiled, glad she was finally able to ruffle his feathers. Whatever, dude. “There are many levels of intimacy, and clearly, you are clueless.”
    “Clearly , you are closeted,” he huffed in disgust.
    The skin on Angel’s face began to flush with heat as her anger grew, and her hand clenched around the pen she was holding. She cleared her throat and continued as if Alex hadn’t commented.
    “Hardly. Men have to have sex to become emotional and get their protective vibe on. Women, and I’m not saying all the time, but in general, have to feel emotionally connected to really enjoy sex. It’s an ageless conundrum. Blame evolution, if you will. Men want to bang their chests and, in effect, impregnate as many women as possible to make sure that the species survives, while women are the nurturers. Their emotions run amok, kicking in, so that the family and the children flourish.”
    Her caller burst out laughing at her analogy. Darian was doing a good job of keeping it in, but his shoulders were shaking violently and his hand was covering his mouth.
    Angel couldn’t help but join in, laughing softly. “Before the phone lines go wild, I feel I