“Mari? You’re not listening.”

She sent her father an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I have so much on my mind. What were you saying?”

“I was asking what this place has that the city doesn’t.”

Besides Ian Quinn? “Well, Papi, right across the bay is Newport. I have several clients who summer there and they’ve promised to introduce me to their friends. And Sascha is still showing my work at her gallery in SoHo. I’m just expanding my clientele. Besides, it’s quiet here. No distractions.”

No David, she thought to herself. He’d been the sole reason she’d had to escape New York. What had begun as a wildly passionate affair had ended horribly. They’d moved in the same social and business circles so it had been nearly impossible to avoid running into him-and his new paramour, a twenty-one-year-old Brazilian model, lithe and leggy, and completely brainless.

He was supposed to have been the one, the man she could spend the rest of her life with, a passion that would never die. David Barnett was an art dealer and their careers had meshed perfectly, as perfectly as their bodies and their hearts had-or so she’d thought. She’d come home one day and found the Brazilian naked, in their bed, with David. And just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Now, as Marisol looked back on it, she wasn’t sure whether she’d loved David at all. Maybe she’d just been swept away by the need, by the way he touched her body and piqued her desire. Perhaps she’d confused those feelings with something deeper and more lasting.

She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. She’d learn to separate desire from emotion. And what better way than to test herself on Ian Quinn? He had almost everything she could possibly want in a lover-he was tall and dark, sexy and charming. It remained to be seen whether the sex would measure up, but that question could be quickly answered the next time they met.