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sleep with a man, then it would be at her discretion, not his.
    “I’ll give it some thought, Phillip.” His name came out in a sultry drawl.
    “Now, that’s better. But don’t think too long, gorgeous, because I intend to blow this party before coffee and dessert.”
    Seneca rested a hand atop Phillip’s much larger one, recalling Booth’s statement that Phillip was very particular about the women with whom he consorted, which led her to believehe wouldn’t do anything to tarnish his good-guy image. “Let me leave first, then follow twenty minutes later,” she said sotto voce. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
    If he was surprised by her suggestion, nothing in his expression indicated it. There was little doubt that Phillip Kingston was used to women coming on to him. But Seneca wasn’t coming on to or flirting with him.
    Was she attracted to him? Yes.
    Did she want to know more about him? Yes.
    Would she sleep with him? No.
    Seneca had had one serious relationship, and unfortunately it ended badly. It was also unpleasant enough to make her very wary of the opposite sex.

Chapter Three
    S eneca wrote her address and telephone numbers on a cocktail napkin before passing it to Booth. “Call me and let me know when you want to meet.” She pushed back her chair, Booth and Phillip rising together.
    Booth placed a hand at the small of her back. “You’re leaving now?”
    “I have another engagement. My driver is waiting for me.” She’d mentioned the driver because she knew it would make her departure a smooth one.
    She curbed the urge to stiffen when his fingers moved to the curve of her waist, then lower to her hip. She didn’t want to believe he was attempting to feel her up, not only with his girlfriend looking on, but a room filled with other people. “Call me, Booth.”
    He dropped his arm. “I’ll walk you out.”
    Seneca wanted to tell the man she could find her way to the door without his assistance, but didn’t want to create a scene. Even if she had been interested in the agent she’d seenfirsthand how he’d disrespected the woman who appeared as if she was going to burst into tears at any moment.
    “No. Please stay and entertain your guests.” Not giving him a chance to react, she turned on her heels and walked out the dining room.
    A woman in a pale-gray uniform led the way to the door, opening it while inclining her head. “Good evening, miss.”
    Seneca angled her head, smiling. “Thank you. Good evening to you, too.”
    The elevator arrived seconds after she’d pushed the button. The doors opened. She hesitated when a couple sprang apart, the man turning his back while adjusting the front of his slacks. It was apparent they’d been engaged in some form of sex play. They weren’t old enough for retirement, but Seneca thought them too mature to make out in public.
    “Sorry about that,” said a deep male voice behind her. Soft laughter followed the apology.
    “Whateva,” Seneca drawled, using Electra’s favorite rejoinder. Opening her purse, she removed her cell phone and business card. When the elevator reached the lobby she’d called the driver to tell him to pick her up in front of the building.
     
    Phillip wasn’t able to depart until half an hour after Seneca had taken her leave. Booth had picked the wrong time to want to talk business. He thanked his agent and host for his hospitality and practically ran out of the apartment to the elevator. During the ride to the building’s lobby he couldn’t stop thinking about the beautiful woman who’d enthralled him. Since joining the NBA Phillip had found himself constantly bombarded with female attention, and not having Seneca batting her lashes or draping her body over his was not only welcome, but refreshing. He always preferred doing the chasing, not the other way around.
    Nodding to the doorman on duty, he walked out into the warm night, glancing to his right, then his left. Yellow taxis swerved in and out of