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her out of this remorse or embarrassment, or whatever was making her uncomfortable. He wanted the passionate girl up against the door back. “Would you mind clarifying this , because that felt like a mutual experience to me. What exactly would jumping me entail?”
    Her eyes roamed over his body briefly before she smiled and stared down at her hands folded in her lap.
    Now he was getting somewhere. He leaned closer. Close enough for his breath to ruffle the fine hairs at her temple. “Would it involve kissing me again? Because that would be okay by me.”
    “Me, too, which is the problem. I’m not ordinarily like this.”
    Her muscles tensed when he placed his palm on her knee. “Like what?”
    Staring at her lap, she shrugged and remained silent, while a furious blush crawled up her neck and face. Such a genuine reaction—he loved it. As it had with him, their instant physical attraction had thrown her and he totally got that. He needed to put her mind at ease.
    Keeping his hand motionless on her knee, he leaned in. “So what is it you’re not usually like?” He nuzzled her ear. “Beautiful? Interesting?”
    She squirmed and smiled.
    Good. He was breaking through whatever doubts were nagging at her. He brushed his lips over her shoulder as he spoke. “Or hot, perhaps. Because Claire, you are very, very hot.” She shivered as he ran his lips up her neck to her ear. “Oh, I know what it is that’s troubling you. You’re not usually horny.”
    She gasped, then made a squeaking sound. Bingo.
    He chuckled. “That’s the biggest compliment you could give me.” He moved her still-wet hair aside and kissed her nape, and she shuddered. “If you think being horny is a bad thing, you’re dead wrong.”
    She trembled, but not from any residual doubt. She wanted him, too. “If it’s any consolation,” he continued, “I’m not like this either. I don’t usually kiss a woman on the first date.”
    She met his eyes. “Well, then you’re way off schedule. We haven’t even had a first date. That’s tomorrow.” She bumped his shoulder teasingly with hers. “Unless you’re seeing Sparkle Jeans instead.”
    “Sparkle Jeans?”
    “Leggy supermodel from the Italian restaurant today?”
    “Ah, her. Like I told you, it wasn’t a date. Old friend. Bad idea. Nothing happened, Claire. Nothing will.”
    “How do you know that?”
    He took her face in his hands. “Because I don’t want her. I want you.”
    Heat flared in her eyes, but she turned away. “Look, I’m not a dating candidate. I’m also not a”—she made a wild gesture to him and the front door and back to herself again—“a whatever that was candidate either.”
    Just like him, she was afraid. He was terrified of being burned again, but for some reason was unwilling to let this particular box of matches go. What was it she feared? “So, what makes you a bad dating candidate?”
    “I’m gone. I’m leaving the country in two weeks.”
    Alarm bells went off. But they were nothing compared to his utter disappointment. Still, he didn’t want a relationship, right? This should be great news. “Leaving for where?”
    “First to Egypt, then, I don’t know. Anywhere but here. I’m going to travel for a month and see the world I’ve missed my whole life. After that, I have an internship in Cairo lined up that I hope turns into a permanent gig.”
    “Okay, so that puts you out of the long-term dating column for sure, but what makes you think you aren’t a candidate for…” He mimicked her gesture of pointing to himself, the door, and back to her. “Because I’d really like to do a little…” And he made the same triangle gesture again.
    She laughed at his silly pantomime, which made him grin. This girl was so open. No way was she double-crossing his company. Nobody was that good an actress.
    He laid his hand over hers. “Again, I apologize for the misunderstanding at the restaurant.”
    “Already forgotten,” she said. “I’d have