Foreman tilted his head, his smile not quite fading, but a puzzled note entering his expression. It'd been a joke. Amber's Mae West act could've been light-hearted teasing in return, but it rang false, like she was waiting for him to screw up. There was something dangerous under the seductive tone in her voice, and the way she dumped her armload of folders in front of him with a splat didn't bode well either. Foreman sat forward, abandoning his moment of relaxation, and leaned his elbows on the desk. "Actually, I wanted to grab a coffee with you," he said. He studied her, a little wary of what she might reply, but it'd be better to get it out in the open. "Look, did I say something wrong?"

He'd hate for them to get off on the wrong foot--again--only two seconds after Amber had walked into the room, but it seemed like however her afternoon had gone, it had probably included a few second thoughts. They'd planned the coffee this morning. Had something changed her mind? She seemed to be acting on the assumption that he wanted sex. Foreman wished he could get through to her that the sex was amazing--he loved being close to her then--but it wasn't all he was around for. There was a time and a place for it, but he wasn't always going to be ready for it, and he didn't like Amber's implication that it was the only reason he'd tried to make up with her after their fight.