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She’d given his pride an out. He could have claimed to have been coerced as she’d clearly been, but Matteo was always honest, usually as most people would agree, to a fault. He shook his head. “No, I chose to join.”

Pink color flushed her cheeks so that they matched the pink hue of her glossed lips. Her voice soft, she repeated her apology, “I’m sorry.”

And he was compelled to challenge her. “You don’t seem like the type of woman who could be talked into something she didn’t actually want to do anyway.”

Her brow momentarily creased before she chuckled, apparently at herself. “Toccato...again...”

He wanted to touch her instead; he wanted to use his hand to reel her into his arms, up against his body, which was beginning to pulse with desire. But they were probably already late, and she’d made it clear that he was to have no expectations about how this evening would end. At the moment he hoped that it wouldn’t.

So he forced himself to escort her from the elevator. It was only as they were walking across the lobby that he realized she still hadn’t told him her name.

Why was she so reluctant to share her identity with him? What was she hiding?