“I’m saying if I make love with you, I’ll feel like I cheated.”

“There’s a way to cheat?”

He reflexively squeezed her tight. “I cheated, and you never had a chance.”

“As in, I don’t know my own mind?”

“Is there an answer for that that won’t get me in trouble?”

“Not really.”

He ruthlessly ignored the feel of her in his arms. He wasn’t willing to risk that she might regret it in the morning.

“You’re tired. You’re vulnerable. And we haven’t thought this through. We turn that corner,” he continued, “we can’t turn back.”

“I know,” she acknowledged in a soft voice.

He leaned around her, placing a lingering kiss on her temple. “I’ll see you at the office?”

“Sure.”

He forced himself to let go of her. Then, using every ounce of his strength and determination, he stood up and walked away.

By 7:00 a.m., Sinclair was in her office.

After Hunter left last night, she’d lain awake, remembering his soft voice, his easy conversation, and the massage that had all but melted her muscles. She would have willingly made love with him. But, he was right. They hadn’t thought it through. It was hard enough ignoring what had happened six weeks ago, never mind rekindling all those memories.

Hunter was a thoughtful man. He was also an intelligent man, and she’d spent some time going over his professional advice. He saw Chantal as her competition. And he saw Roger in Chantal’s corner. Sinclair realized she had to do this, and she had to do it right. It was time to stop fooling around.

So, she’d arrived this morning with a plan to do just that. She submitted an electronic leave form, rescheduled her meetings, plastered her active files with Post-its for Amber, and left out-of-office messages on both her voice mail and e-mail.

She was working her way through the mail in her in-basket when Roger walked in.

“What’s this?” he asked, dropping the leave form printout on her desk.