Finally, Craig understood from experience why Braden Carmichael had looked at him like he wanted to deck him for the first few months of his relationship with Joss. If Craig had had to watch Rain kiss Angus like Braden had had to watch him kiss Joss . . .

For the first time ever he felt a little guilty about the whole incident with Joss.

Not that he’d ever admit that to Braden of course.

Strangely he found himself in a similar situation to Braden—wanting a woman who stubbornly refused to let him in.

And even after Rain’s attempt to scare him off (and he bloody well knew that it was an attempt to scare him off), Craig had no intention of going anywhere.

Honestly . . . aye, her warning about her craving for affection at once worried him and motivated him. Right now he was absolutely sure he was up to the challenge of showering Rain Alexander with affection.

However, Craig wasn’t a psychic. He didn’t know if they had a future or not. How could he? And he didn’t know if he’d ever hurt her or if she’d ever hurt him. All he knew was that he would never intentionally hurt her. The feelings she inspired in him—tenderness, thrill, lust, possessiveness—meant something. No woman had ever inspired this desperation, this mounting need to be around her, with her, and, yes, inside her. He liked to think he was a smart man, and that a smart man wouldn’t run away from this kind of extraordinary. A smart man would stick around and fight for it. Even if he couldn’t promise a happily ever after.

But what man could promise such a thing?

Frustrated, Craig practically growled under his breath. The problem was he had two things working against him: Rain’s preoccupation with Angus, and her bloody romantic nature. Craig had to divert her attention from the whole revenge scheme, and he also had to convince her that there was being romantic and then there was being impossible. He wouldn’t ask her to change her romantic nature—he actually found it fucking adorable considering how straightforward and businesslike she could be—but he would ask her to see sense. No one knew what the future held. You just had to take what you had right now and make the best of it. He could offer her that. He could offer her everything she was asking for and a certainty that what was between them was worth exploring. But he couldn’t promise the certainty of their future together and he didn’t think that made him a bad guy. It just made him a realist.

Could a realist and a romantic ever work together?

Rain stepped out of the ladies’ restroom, her gaze instantly zeroing in on him. Just the sight of her caused this pang of wonder in his chest and desire to pound in his blood. He remembered the mind-blowing kisses they’d shared and how the encounter differed from his encounters with other women. The passion between them wasn’t just something he felt in his dick . . . it was something he felt in his blood, in his skin, and in the needful tug in his gut.

Fuck yes, he thought, a realist and a romantic can definitely make it work.

So he would offer friendship in the hope of wearing her down.

He grinned at the thought, secretly hoping that wearing her down wouldn’t take too long at all.

“What are you grinning at?” she said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You look like you’re planning something.”

At that moment the staff member returned with the coffee and green tea and Craig noted he studiously avoided looking at Rain. An inner growl of satisfaction didn’t surprise Craig. He’d gone caveman after years of not giving a shit.

Rain picked up her cup of tea and sipped it. “You really do mean to interfere with my plans today, don’t you?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

He felt pleasure roll through him as she tried to suppress a laugh and failed.

“What am I to do with you?” she sighed, shaking her head at him like he was a naughty schoolboy.

“Take a walk with me,” he said, taking hold of his own coffee. “We’ll finish up here and then just stroll about. It’s a nice day out. Unless”—his gaze dropped to the floor where he saw her heels peeking out beneath the table—“you can’t walk too long in those sexy-as-fuck shoes.”

She ignored his purr of flirtation. “Sweetheart, I’ve been wearing heels since I was fourteen. I could run a marathon in these bitches.”

Craig laughed. “I like that.”

“Like what?”

“You calling me ‘sweetheart.’”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion again. “I thought we were just going to be friends?”

“Friends flirt.” He shrugged.

“Only the kind that fuck.”

Lust hit him in the gut and traveled straight to his dick. He shifted uncomfortably, taking in a slow breath.

Obviously seeing the heat in his eyes, Rain leaned back in her chair as if to distance herself from it. “Seriously? I can’t even use that word without it turning you on?”

“Considering the sight of your mouth wrapping around that word makes me picture said mouth wrapped around something else, then no . . . Unless we’re somewhere I can do something about my hard-on, then please don’t say that word.”

Her eyes widened at his brutal honesty before her gaze flew around the room. When it came back to him she looked annoyed. “You can’t speak like that in public. Someone might have heard you.”

“Coming from the woman who just used the word ‘fuck’ in relation to the actual act.”