Chris shook his head.

“I just don’t want to spend the rest of our lives not knowing the truth.”

“Kassidy. I’ll go see him if it will make you happy. But you gotta believe me–I don’t want to lose you.”

“Go see him.”

“I’ll…think about it.”

“He’s leaving Tuesday morning.”

Pressure built inside him. “I’ll…maybe tomorrow.”

How was she supposed to concentrate on work?

Kassidy almost considered going home sick Monday morning, but she’d missed so much time lately because of her mother she just couldn’t do it. The project was already behind schedule and she had a million things to do, not to mention check on her mother. Mom had another doctor appointment this week and she needed to make sure her dad was able to take her, and she had training proposals to review and…she couldn’t focus on any of that because she kept going over and over in her head her conversations with Dag and Chris.

And Chris, the big stubborn jerk, was sitting in his office pretending their life hadn’t just fallen apart, procrastinating on going to see Dag, and Dag was leaving…leaving! Tomorrow!

“Kassidy, did you sign off on those invoices?” Her boss, Paul, appeared in her office door.

“Um. Yeah. I gave them to…no, they’re right here. But I signed them…” She handed them over.

“No. You didn’t.” He frowned at them.

“Oh. Sorry! Here, I’ll just…” She reached for them.

“Did you review them?”

“Yes, of course. I mean, I think I did…”

“Kassidy, are you okay?” He squinted at her.

“Of course! I’m fine.” She flashed a smile.

“How’s your mom doing?”

“She’s doing okay. It will be a while before she’s…before…” To her horror and embarrassment her throat tightened on a huge sob and tears started running down her face.

“Oh Jeez.” Paul backed up a step. “Uh, Kass…you want…you should…why don’t you go home.”

“No.” She snatched up some tissues from the box on her desk. “No, I can’t go home. I mean, I’m fine.”

“But…”

“I’m sorry.” God, how unprofessional, breaking down in tears in the office. “I’m just a little stressed right now. I just need a minute.”

“I’ll send uh…Laura to check on you.” He disappeared.

She laid her head down on the desk. God, all she needed was to fall apart at work and get canned right now. She had to get a grip. It took all she had to get the tears under control, repair her makeup, and then head to the elevator to go see Chris.

He was in a meeting.

“Tell him to call me when he’s out,” she said to his admin assistant with a smile. Jessica was looking at her oddly, no doubt observing her swollen eyes and red nose, which she’d tried to camouflage with powder. In a couple of hours, rumors would be winding their way through the office grapevine that she and Chris were having “problems”. She knew how it worked.

Ha. If people only knew! The thought of the grapevine getting hold of the real juicy scuttlebutt almost made her laugh as she took the elevator back to her own office.

Chris didn’t call her.

She refused to go back to his office and add more juice to the rumor mill, so she called him and left one voice mail message, sent him one text message. Goddammit, he was ignoring her.

He was going to ignore this problem until Dag was gone and it was too late to do anything about it. Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn!

But why was she pushing him? She knew the risk she was taking. Maybe whatever happened, happened, and it would all be for the best. Impotent anger rose inside her, though, and in a stellar display of passive-aggressiveness, she left the office half an hour early and took the train home. Without Chris.

Dag had polished off the better part of a bottle of Scotch provided by room service–not one of those useless little bottles out of the mini bar–and was thinking about going down to the hotel restaurant for something to eat when he heard the knock on his door.

Who the hell was that? He hadn’t ordered any more booze, although that wasn’t a bad idea. He climbed to his feet from where he slouched in the chair, lurched across the room. Without bothering to check through the peephole, he yanked the door open.

Chris.

His heart stopped.

He stared.

Then his heart slammed in his chest like a sledgehammer. “What are you doing here?”

Chris stood there in a damn suit and tie and stared back at Dag through baleful, shadowed eyes.

“Oh fuck,” Dag groaned, shoving a hand in his hair. “She told you.”

“Yeah. Let me in, asshole.”

Dag stepped aside. Chris walked by him, filling the hotel room with his presence.

“Look,” Dag began. “I told her not to tell you. I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. I’m fine. I’m always fine. I—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Dag snapped his mouth closed. Chris stood there, body tense, hands clenched. He didn’t exactly look happy about all this, but that definitely wasn’t pity shining in his eyes.

Dag narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he snapped. “You kicked me out, now it’s my turn. Get out.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. Jeez.”

“So what? I felt like getting shitfaced. What’s it to you?”

Chris rolled his eyes.

“And why’re you here anyway?” Dag planted his feet apart and folded his arms across his chest, frowning at Chris.

“Kassidy made me come.”

Great.

“She has this fucking weird idea that—” He stopped.

“Yeah. I know. She told me. I know she’s wrong. Don’t worry, Chris. I dealt with this a long time ago.”

“I hate this shit.”

“I know.”

Chris sighed. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. All last night too. Thinking about how I’d feel if I lost Kassidy. I love her, Dag.”

“I know.”

“It would kill me.”

“Yeah. Oh, goddammit, you do feel sorry for me. Jesus Christ, Chris…”

Chris took three steps across the carpet and was in his face, his fist grabbing hold of Dag’s T-shirt. “I don’t fucking feel sorry for you, all right? Would you get off the damn pity train?”

Dag thrust his arm up between his body and Chris’s, dislodging his grip of his shirt. He shoved Chris away from him.

“Hey!” Chris stumbled but came back at him, shoved him back. Dag grabbed hold of him, fury and frustration boiling up inside him, boiling over, out of control, and he swung at Chris’s face, connecting with his jaw. It wasn’t the hardest punch, Chris holding on to him too, but Chris grunted and swore.

They wrestled, shoving, trying to land punches, a haze of red in front of Dag’s eyes, until Chris hooked one foot around his leg and took him to the floor. Hard. Stars sparkled in front of his eyes, his breath whooshed out of him. “Fuck you!” He drew back to pummel Chris, and then realized Chris had him pinned beneath him on the floor. Chris outweighed him, not by much, though their strength was probably evenly matched, but Chris was looking down at him, his face only inches from his, breathing heavily. His pupils exploded, his lips parted.

They stared at each other.

The world shrank away, Dag’s awareness narrowing to the face in front of him, the hard body pressed to his, the heat of Chris’s skin scorching him, Chris’s eyes burning him.

“Fuck you,” Dag whispered. He reached a hand up, grabbed Chris’s tie and yanked his head toward him until Chris’s mouth smashed into his. Chris made some kind of sound, something deep down and agonized, and then Dag’s heart nearly exploded as Chris kissed him back.

Their mouths moved against each other, hard, grinding, teeth knocking, opening wider. Dag’s tongue plunged into Chris’s mouth, bringing another tortured sound from Chris’s throat.

This couldn’t be happening. Dag’s head spun, his hands tightened on the other man. Chris. Chris. Oh god, it was Chris, kissing him, and fuck, it was heaven.