She stiffened. "Who told you that?"
"Let's just say I heard it. So what's this guy doing all of a sudden saving U.S. high-tech industry? He's already cost this country tens of thousands of jobs and literally billions of dollars."
"I don't believe it. I know Ken. Sure, he works for MITI, but his job is overseeing Japan's own research in supercomputers. He's very proud of their progress."
Oops. I swirled my snifter. "Whatever you say. If that's really true, then excuse me. I take it all back."
She looked up—probably not believing my diplomatic reversal—and watched as I casually slipped my arm around her waist. I couldn't tell if she wanted it to happen or not.
Thinking I might have some momentum going, I reached back and pulled a couple of wide cushions off the couch, stationed them by the fire, then eased us both against them. I tried to do it with naturalness, finesse.
It wasn't happening.
"Matthew, underneath all that unnecessary bluster, which is just as I remember, you're still a half-decent guy, which I also remember. But I don't really think this is a good idea." She looked at me, her face highlighted in the orange glow of the embers.
"I hope it's not because you have other commitments." I heard my voice harden. "Like maybe in Japan."
"I'm just a little distracted tonight, that's all." She watched as I trailed a finger around the hard tip of a nipple beneath her shirt. Gently she moved my hand away. "Don't start."