"Nothing I didn't deserve."

"Still. I didn't mean to suggest you sleep with all your female guests."

His lips twitched upward. "Are you saying you don't think I do, after all?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm sure I don't know what you do, or don't do."

"Well, just so you know," he said, giving her a slow, heated smile, "I don't have a policy against it or anything."

He got a kick out of the way her lips curved, her face flushed. "Thank you for keeping me informed, Nick."

"Anytime." Sophie easily picked up on the implication that he wasn't just talking about keeping her informed.

She tried to clear the lump of tension from her throat as surreptitiously as possible. "I'm curious as to how you came about owning this place." She was curious, and eager to bring the flirty banter down a notch or two. She didn't think her nerves could handle it.

It was several moments before he replied. "Life takes you to some pretty unexpected places."

When she realized he wasn't going to elaborate, Sophie remarked, "That's not exactly an answer."

"I bet you make a great lawyer."

"You see, you have me at a disadvantage. You know so much about me and I know essentially nothing about you." "Women like men of mystery, I'm told." His enigmatic smile made her wonder who had told him so. More specifically, which woman or women had told him so. "Besides, I hardly know anything about you, either."

Sophie crossed her cutlery over her plate and started counting things off on her fingers. "You know my name, my occupation, my home address, my credit card number, my relationship status..."

He held up a hand, a plea for mercy. "Alright, lawyer lady, you win. My name, proper name, is Dominick Albert Dufour."

"It's French, right?"

"The family tree's a little vague but yeah, I'm one-quarter French. Three-quarters mongrel." His lips curled with wry humor, taking the sting out of that last statement. "Occupation you know. Home address, you're looking at it. Credit card number-I don't have one. I've always been partial to cash myself. As for relationship status... I'll remain silent, lest I incriminate myself."

Sophie rested her chin on her hand, enchanted by the way he'd managed to talk about himself without imparting much in the way of tangible information. He would have made a great lawyer himself. Or maybe a politician, although it was impossible to imagine him in a suit and not the floral bula shirt and cargo shorts he was wearing. "I'd be willing to bet money you don't usually concern yourself too much with incriminating yourself."

"Au contraire."

Sophie's smile widened because his distinct Australian twang rendered his French accent abominable. "Are you sure you're one-quarter French?"

"Are you making fun of my accent?" His expression of mock offense was the last straw. Sophie's smile gave way to laughter, real laughter that she felt all the way to the pit of her stomach. She used her napkin to dab at the moisture gathering in her eyes. When at last she recovered her sobriety, she glanced across the table to see Nick watching her with an intense gaze that made her smile stumble and fall.

"Christ, Sophie," he breathed at last. "You're beautiful."

The trio playing guitar and singing island songs finished their set and a smattering of applause broke out. Sophie couldn't have torn her eyes away from Nick's if she'd even had the wherewithal to applaud. Her breath backed up in her throat, her heart sledgehammering. Oh, how she wished she could believe he was delivering a well-practiced line. Somehow, the suspicion that he was merely being straightforward was doubly frightening.

"I'm not sure I'm up for this, Nick," she burst out.

He didn't ask what she meant. "Why not?"