There was enough work to be done between the two of them that Amber couldn't fault Eric for not answering her right away; even if he had, she might not have been able to spare him the attention. By the time they'd reached the classroom, she'd half-forgotten the question.

When he finally did reply, he might as well have pulled a rug from under her.

Amber's face flushed. She couldn't help it. She hadn't expected that at all. After their parting on Friday, she'd assumed he'd regretted having seen her face before Monday morning. And after their spats today, she'd have thought he’d be sorry to know her, in or out of work. That'd been her own feelings. Meeting, and having gone out with, Eric had only complicated her life. Once she'd realized she could lose her job for sleeping with him, she couldn't see what good could come from their fling.

Was he serious? He could be sweet-talking her, trying to fool her again. His expression and stance certainly were sincere. And, aside from messing with her, he had no reason to lie about this. He might really mean it. That having met her was a form of victory.

It was hard to stop the smile tugging at her lips, at that thought.

Not that she really believed him. It was simply too over the top, like holding the door open for her. And even if he did mean it—so what? She still couldn’t afford being close to him.

“You,” she said as nonchalantly as she could manage, running a hand through her hair, “have very strange notions of ‘winning.’”