And after all, what the hell were we doing here? He didn’t want this any more than I did! There was no reason for me to feel guilty. He was an empty, loveless workaholic who got his needs seen to by fuck buddies. My heart was racing again. I left the shower on shaky legs—and only because my fingers and toes were starting to shrivel.

You aren’t going to sleep with him in St. Lucia, are you? Heath’s words came back to me like a sharp slap. I froze, placing my own addendum to Heath’s admonition—because that would be a big mistake. I shook my head—it was too late for self-recriminations.

But I still had a choice. We could enjoy our last day and a half here and call it quits after. I was no longer getting paid for the job but I had enjoyed it nonetheless. There was nothing wrong with enjoying another day of it.

When I dressed and went out to the main room, almost dreading to see him again, I could tell by his quiet demeanor that similar thoughts had run through his head. He was dressed in khakis and a red T-shirt bearing a Star Trek logo and the word “expendable” printed across his chest. His feet were bare and he sat in front of the open laptop, typing away at that maddening pace, the glow of the screen falling across his handsome features.

Without looking up, he asked, “You hungry? I was going to order room service.”

I didn’t answer, but walked over to the menu to look it over. Nothing looked appetizing but I knew—I knew—that if I didn’t order, he’d think I was pining or regretful or whatever. The key was to act natural. Act like nothing had happened.

Fuck. As if.

“It all looks froufrou.” I said by way of excuse.

He looked up. Maybe he felt insulted. He was an owner here, after all. “You can order whatever you want. It doesn’t have to be on the menu. You want a steak or something? That’s probably what I’m going to order. I’m famished.”

I shrugged. “Sure.” But the thought of a heavy steak in my stomach right now made it twist with disgust.

He went back to typing. “I’ll send the order in right now through the web page.”

I hesitated, hit with a wave of irritation. “Are you working?”

He didn’t look up. “Yup. Just thought I’d peek in at what’s going on with the progress our European launch.”

I frowned. Work hadn’t been on the schedule for this evening. Yet he’d logged in the first chance he could get after we’d—after…

What was this heavy feeling in my chest? I shot a glare at him. He was pulling away from me, and he was using work to do it. Just like he had with everyone else in his life—his friends, his beloved family members. Why did I think I would be immune from this treatment?

His behavior stung. He went back to typing, clicking away on his keys, never pulling his head away from his work, giving his complete attention to it. I wasn’t the type of person who needed someone’s undivided attention all the time. In fact, since I’d never desired a relationship, I was pretty low-maintenance when it came to that.

But given what had just happened between us for the first time, and my first time ever, I would have thought he’d be more attentive. Or at least, that’s what I would have liked. Instead, I got a wall of silence. He was a tortoise retreating into the hard, impenetrable protection that was work.

The worst came minutes later, however, when dinner arrived. The majordomo laid it out at our table just at the edge of the patio overlooking the bay. Adam ignored both of us as he continued to work. I busied myself by trying to get my e-mail to finally download on my phone. Nothing from Heath at all.

When the majordomo left, I sat down at the table and looked at Adam. “Your food’s getting cold.”

He typed for just a minute more and then approached the table. “I’m starving,” he muttered. Then he picked up the plate and his utensils and took them back to his desk, leaving me there to eat alone.

My jaw dropped but he didn’t notice because he cut a piece of steak, popped it into his mouth and returned to his work. From my angle, all I could see on his screen was a bunch of incomprehensible symbols and commands. He was working on some kind of program.

My gut burned. I tried to examine the reasons behind my anger. I felt brushed aside, used. He’d gotten what he’d wanted and moved on. I was a nonperson now. Couldn’t I at least be a friend? Why shower all this attention on me and then the minute we were intimate, ignore me? It made me wonder if that’s what it had been like with my mom and the Biological Sperm Donor. He’d used her, too. And then he’d set her aside like she’d never existed when he had no further use for her.