After moving around while they talked, changing spots on the couch, the coffee table, or standing by the windows, they sat together again for a five-fork lunch of snacks and soda from the vending machines. Then Silvia retreated to the end of the couch and curled up there with a cigarette, watching Jay speak.

She wanted to remember as much of him as he could. Because, in a very straight and non-dramatic fashion, he'd saved her. His company had allowed her to take the first step to leave the hurt behind and start moving on. He'd given her something to recall on her long way home, other than that insane, violent episode that had shattered all her dreams for good.

He patted her feet, pointing at his own legs. "Rest them here before your knees cramp," he said.

She squinted—what? Jay's smile could've melted the iceberg to save the Titanic. In minutes.

"Hey, we've already slept together, right? No need to be shy."

Silvia could only chuckle, and did what he wanted. They talked for another thirty minutes, Silvia's feet on Jay's lap while they discussed something light like the worldwide swing to rightwing populism.

Until he leaned back in the couch, both hands behind his head, and smiled up at the ceiling.

"So? Have you made up your mind? Are you coming with me?"

"Thank you, Jay, but I'd rather stay here," she replied softly. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"I know. I just think you don't need to spend the rest of the day and yet another night here, like a fucking hobo, all alone, just outta pride." As to underscore his disagreement, he patted her feet for her to move them away and stood up. "Toilet," he said with a quick smile. "Just think about it, okay?"

He headed to the restroom in no hurry, wondering why on earth he would care. She was nobody. He hardly remembered her name—Carmen, right? It was just a whim. A wise, sensitive whim, no matter how odd it sounded, especially coming from him. But nothing more.

Actually, it was closer to a match of prides. One he kept losing, this fan who looked at him without really seeing him. And without the slightest trace of desire, but rather the other way around. To the extent that she wanted to stay there by herself, instead of taking the chance of leaving with whom she'd called one of the most beautiful and talented men alive.

Seriously.

He washed his hands, smiling to his own reflection on the mirror.

No way.

Nobody said no to him.

Not for long.

Especially not women.

Unaware of his silly private gamble, Silvia was standing before the windows again.

Jay threw his cap on the couch and approached her from behind, to put his arms around her chest and rest his cheek against hers.

"So? You coming with me?" he whispered in her ear.

She stiffened and tilted her head away from him, but he held her tighter when she tried to step away.

"Let go, Jay," she grunted, even though she didn't try to reject him more forcefully.

His voice was velvet caressing her skin. "C'mon. Picture this: nice hotel room, hot shower, tasty dinner, comfy bed. Me."

Silvia chuckled, trying to hide a chill. Jay smiled to himself. So she wasn't made of stone after all, and her glands worked fine.

"Cut the crap, Jay," she said. "Why do you keep insisting?"

"Because." His lips brushed her ear and he felt her shiver again. His inner bastard was supposed to start his vacations that morning, but the whole situation was just irresistible.

Nobody said no to him.

Not for long.

Silvia tried to shrug his arms loose and turn to step away from him. Bad thing she was so close to the window. She ended up with her back to the cold glass, her face inches away from Jay's. He rested his hands at each side of her head to keep her in place, his lips pursed in a little smile, mischievous and inviting at the same time.

Silvia wondered what was with him all of a sudden, because it was so damn evident he didn't want anything with her. And even in an acid-trip reality in which he did, he'd never need to put up all that crap, 'cause he'd had her at his first smile the night before.

She saw his liquid eyes slide down to her lips as he tilted his head slightly. What the hell? Now she could feel his breath on her skin.

"Say yes," he said like purring. "Say you're coming with me."

In a titanic display of will, she managed to frown. "What the hell are you doing, Jay?"

"Say it." He smiled a little wider. "You know I can make you." He leaned an inch forward as he spoke, closing his mouth almost against hers.

He knew he'd won. She was struggling to breathe normally, and her glance at his lips was exhibits A through Z.

Because nobody said no to him.

Not for long.

Especially not women.

Silvia breathed deep. Why didn't she just push him back and away? And maybe she should kick his crotch too, to make sure he got the notion of personal space. But the whole situation was just captivating. This guy, this boy, hot enough to start a fire under water, pushing her like that just for the kicks.

He got her hooked with his silly selfish games, feeding the only line that kept her on her feet and a whole, oblivious to what she'd been through. But she'd already had her fair share of hot gringos toying her around.

"You don't wanna kiss me," she said.

"Then don't make me."

She looked down at his inviting lips, still pursed in his little smile. He didn't move. Her defenses had melted down and she would kiss him any minute now. As to prove him right, her hands came up to rest on his chest.

And she pushed him a whole step back.

"Okay! I'm going!" she said, laughing.

Jay swallowed his surprise to laugh with her. And when she walked by his side on her way to the couch, he threw his arm around her neck and brought her against his chest for a moment, kissing her hair. Man, this woman. He loved hating her guts.

She patted his arm. "Enough already. I said I'm going." She went on to the couch, keeping her back turned to him to add, "Now stay away, 'cause you're not in the menu, you hear me?"

"What?"

Silvia had to make up her mind about what she wanted to do first: light a cigarette or scoff. The smug bastard! He sounded truly surprised! And his next words made her roll her eyes.

"Really? I was supposed to be the icing on your cake!"

"Sure you're Jay, not Aitch for humble?"

They laughed again, letting all the tension between them dissipate.

"Do you know what I hate almost as much as drug dealers and beaters?" she asked, trying to sound serious, and pointed an accusing finger at Jay. "Pity sex."

He tried to argue that he was kidding. Honestly, having sex with her had never crossed his mind—it never would, even if she were the last woman on earth. But he wasn't about to say that. His inner bastard knew where to stop before turning into a full-out son of a bitch. So he threw up his hands—your loss—and went to sit at the other end of the couch.

They kept silent for a whole minute, until their eyes met. A heartbeat later they were laughing out loud again.