"I'm sorry I didn't appreciate you standing up for me the way I should have."

"Good enough. Now are we done with it?"

"No."

"Oh, man."

"I'll get you a cold drink, then you'll tell me what you said to Baxter, and what he said to you. Reverse the situation. You know d.a.m.n well you'd want to know."

"You want me to replay the back-and-forth?"

"I absolutely do."

"c.r.a.p." Details, he thought. Women always wanted them. "Okay, but if I do, I want makeup s.e.x."

She got him a cold c.o.ke from the refrigerator, smiled. "That's a deal."

He could take the time, he calculated as he dropped down on a stool. It felt good to get off his feet for five minutes. It felt good to look at her, up close, to catch her scent, to hear her voice. He could tell her about the deal with Wickham. He didn't see why he needed to tell her they'd run into each other right outside because he'd dropped what he'd been doing with the intention of coming just where he'd ended up-with her-and having it out.

He'd had enough, that's all, enough of giving her time to cool off and the s.p.a.ce to do it in. Enough of thinking about her all the G.o.dd.a.m.n time to the point he'd lost sleep.

He never lost sleep over a woman.

And he'd had enough of trying to figure out what the h.e.l.l she wanted him to do since his ever-reliable flower gambit had gone down in flames.

So he owed Lizzy a favor for maneuvering things so he was where he wanted to be. Better than, he admitted, because he was sitting down with a cold c.o.ke and Hope was sitting beside him, waiting. Watching.

And there was a bout of makeup s.e.x in his future.

"Well?" she said at length.

"I'm thinking. How long do you figure before the blonde blasts the a.s.shole she married, tossing you in his face?"

"I don't know her that well. Probably not long," Hope admitted.

"And being a gutless a.s.shole, how long would it take him to turn it around so you made the moves, came onto him, that kind of thing."

"Immediately."

"Yeah, I figured. You still have contacts down there, people in the business, or people who like to travel, to stay in nice places, unique places."

"Yes, I do. In your scenario, to protect themselves from someone who doesn't even give a d.a.m.n, and to protect their pride, they might try to damage my reputation. They might spread lies and gossip about pitiful, scheming Hope who slept her way in and out of a job, and now into another."

"Not good for business."

"So, you were thinking about business."

"It's a factor." Maybe minuscule in the big picture, but a factor. "A bigger one is they-neither of them-deserve any shot of getting off easy. Kicking his a.s.s? Owen's always worried about arrests for a.s.sault and criminal trials."

"It's a factor," she said dryly.

"But to my way of thinking, it's mostly worth it, until you think about how bruises and broken bones heal. And some people knee-jerk toward feeling bad for the a.s.s that's been kicked, no matter how it's earned. So I liked the idea of longer-term benefits. The a.s.shole's d.i.c.kless. Plus, you take one good look at him, and the one he married, you can see what drives them is money and show and status. You've got to have money and opportunities for the show and the status. Old man Wickham's still running things, so he's the power source. He could cut off the money-or channels leading to it, and shut down opportunities."

She'd come to all the same conclusions, but could admit-a little shamefully now-she hadn't given Ryder credit for doing the same. "You thought of all this?"

"It's a long freaking drive down there in a lot of freaking traffic. Plenty of time to work it out. Anyway. It's a good-looking hotel."

"Yes, it is."

"I could see you there."

"Could you?"

"Suits you, all the shine of it."

"It did. Once."

He studied her in silence a moment. "I guess you could say I looked a little out of place, going straight from the job. They were polite, I'll give them that, and probably would've politely booted me out if I hadn't suggested pending charges of a.s.sault if Wickham didn't see me."

"a.s.sault?"

"She slapped you."

"Yes, but-"

"It's f.u.c.king a.s.sault. If I'd've punched the a.s.shole, you can take it to the bank there'd have been cops and lawyers. Maybe we don't handle things around here by running to cops and lawyers over a slap or punch, but I figured those kind do. Owen's got that right."

"You did a lot of thinking in freaking traffic."

"It's that or buy a gun and shoot somebody. He had his security guy bring me up to his office."

"Jerald?"

"Yeah, that's what Wickham called him. Once I started laying it out, Wickham gave Jerald the signal to step out. I figured it was going to take a while, a lot of moves, countermoves, defense, offense. But it didn't, not really."

"What did you tell him, Ryder?"

"That Jonathan came here, uninvited, unexpected, and unwelcome, claimed his father had an offer to make you if you came back to work. And that Jonathan made one of his own, if you'd hook up with him again. And that you weren't interested. He wasn't happy to hear it, Wickham. That's when I got the sense he had some guilt where you were concerned. Some regrets. But when I got to the second act, told him about the blonde coming here-that's when he sent security out of the room," Ryder remembered.

"I imagine so," Hope concurred.

"He got the picture, and we came to terms."

"What terms?"

"He makes sure they leave you the h.e.l.l alone, and that includes spreading lies. Then we're square. Either of them comes here, takes any kind of hit at you, they'll pay for it. That's it."

"That's it?"