Kate couldn't control her response to what she'd just heard.

"You are the most despicable human being who has ever stalked the Earth," she said in a tone that was not just judging but passing sentence. "I want to take a bath just being in the same room with you."

As she spoke, he'd already begun scooping the last of the chicken and rice onto her plate on the table. He scooted a little closer and held the plate patiently before her. "Every bite of chicken, every grain of rice," he said evenly. "And you've got another hour and a half before bedtime in case there's anything you need to do."

"I'll finish it all," she grumbled as she took the offered plate, "but I refuse to enjoy it."

She took a couple of healthy bites—the chicken was good, even cold—and Eli sat back and took another sip of wine, a faint smile playing on his lips in the rooms limited light. The couch faced the broad windows at the back of the house, and from the darkened room, there was an exquisite view of the city below. For the first time, it dawned on her how beautiful and romantic it was ... and that she hadn't thought of the Flying Guy for at least an hour. Something else dawned on her, and she now wanted to tell him she didn't believe a single word he'd just said.

But when she spoke, it was around a mouthful of chicken, and it was something else entirely. "If Hitler and Stalin were walking down the sidewalk and saw you coming the opposite direction, they'd cut across the street just so they wouldn't have to share the air you breathe, you ... wicked, wicked man."

"What would you like for breakfast?" he asked.

"Three-egg-white omelet, onion and cheese ... onions diced fine, shredded gouda melted on top ... half a grapefruit with a sprinkle of brown sugar, bread lightly toasted, no butter, small orange juice, green tea with lemon on the side and three drops of honey ... you horrible beast."

"I'm a little curious," he said in a sweet voice. "If you actually did decide to judge me, what would that sound like?"

"How could you do that to that poor woman? She loved you. And to her sweet mother?"

"I can't defend my behavior toward Tamara and won't try, though I strongly suspect she knew exactly what her mom and I were up to, and it didn't seem to put her off her oats. As for her sweet mom, that woman could have kicked me out of the house that first day. The only thing I can say in her defense is that she seemed to be under the misapprehension that her daughter was still a virgin. Riding me like a Missouri mule just might have been her eccentric way of shielding her daughter by diverting my unnatural carnal urges, pending the long-awaited nuptials—at least that's what I gathered from things she said. I think she was just horny."

Liar, she thought. Was his story nothing but a fabrication to trick her into a square meal and a night's sleep? It would be like him. And she thought she'd gotten a good read on Eli, couldn't imagine him capable of the scandalous behavior he'd just related.

But hadn't she also established what an abysmal judge of character she was? Even if she wasn't, his story was set twenty years ago, when he was still a lad. Perhaps he was a different person then? Perhaps the story was true. He'd regaled her of the tawdry events with such relish and in so much vivid and lurid detail.

You fucker, she thought with an inward laugh. She didn't know if any of it was true, but one way or the other, he was a fucker ... not a butt-fucker, but definitely a fucker.

But there was something else.

Down deep, in a way she scarcely would admit even to herself, she'd enjoyed his wicked tale. It was exciting, wild, and passionate as much as it was coarse, scandalous, and just plain wrong. Those first were all things that had been so painfully and desperately lacking in her life. Wasn't that what youth was for? To live wild and make crazy, heedless mistakes? She'd lived in Hollywood for most of her life, and there'd been countless opportunities for her to plunge into such debauchery, to drown herself in such uninhibited excess. She'd never wanted it before, but now? No, not now. But maybe she wished she'd let more such madness into her life before.

And you did demand something appalling, she reminded herself. At least he'd been considerate enough not to turn those words back on her.

Before she knew it, she finished the chicken and rice ... and thoroughly enjoyed it. She sat back against the arm of the couch and sipped her wine. Eli had wandered off to inspect the kitchen. Even if his silly and depraved story were true, which she wasn't convinced it was, she was happy, deeply happy, he was there, and not just because she felt so alone. She would have wanted him there even if the people to whom she'd felt closest in life hadn't ended up being false friends. Even if he didn't find her attractive, he was a good guy.

Friends take care of one another, she thought as she drifted off to sleep some minutes later.