"I am here for a tacky little affair." "That's not true," Adam said tightly. "It is," she insisted, too miserable herself to be surprised at the vehemence of his denial. "I came to Sunny's party—I'm here now—with the express intent of having an affair with you. If that's not tacky, then I don't know what is." She flashed him a quick, guilty look. "Marcia was right." "Marcia doesn't know what the hell she's talking about." He came across the kitchen in one long stride and grabbed her by the shoulders. "And, obviously, neither do you." Daphne winced at the tone of his voice. "Are we going to fight now?" she said, head down as she stared at his sweatered chest. "I don't know." He gave her a quizzical look, bending his knees a bit to peer into her face. "Will we end up in bed if we do?" he asked hopefully. Daphne gave a resigned sigh. "Probably." His hands slipped from her shoulders to her back, drawing her against his chest. "All right," he said agreeably. "Then let's fight. Who starts?" "Oh, Adam." She gave a helpless little half laugh into his chest.
