

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014

TL Alexander

Published by TL Alexander

tlalexanderauthor.com

Cover design by Robin Ludwig Design Inc.

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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems--except in the case of brief quotations in articles or reviews--without the permission in writing from its publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, are coincidental and not intended by the author.

All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. We are not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

The Layers series is written for adults, by an adult (this is questionable). It contains adult language (lots of f-age) and adults doing adult stuff (like hot sex and drinking scotch). It's also written for those who have a sense of humor and like to laugh (this is optional, but highly recommended). If you are reading this book and you did not purchase it, shame on you. Support this indie writer by purchasing wherever e-books are sold.
Table of Contents

Title Page

About Layers

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-six

More Layers

Other Books By TL Alexander

About the Author

Copyright

_Alexia Keith, self-proclaimed nerd and potty-mouth, is a beautiful, scotch drinking, complicated mess. In other words, she has issues, and the last thing she needs is her boss, Jaxson Ryan, CEO of Ryan Acquisitions, messing with her issues. She finds him hard and even harder to resist, but she must, he's off limits._

_One of New York's most eligible bachelors, Jaxson Ryan, is the poster boy for the tall, hot, conceited, self-proclaimed manwhores. The only thing he wants is Ryan's, Risk Manager, Alexia Keith._

_What happens, when a man with a bedpost-notching waiting list, a man who thought he had it all, wants the only woman he can't have? Read the smexy, LOL Layers Series and you'll find out._
To Rick, my husband and best friend.

Thanks for never complaining about all the days and nights of cereal--again. Without you, life would truly suck.

Love, TL

#

My name is Alexia, and this is my complicated, crazy-assed story. I'm going to start my story in the middle. Why, do you ask? Because if I start at the beginning, we'll be here for a freakin' decade, and if I start at the end, what's the fun in that? But most importantly, it's where the head-over-feet in love part began. So here's my story...beginning in the middle.

#

"I can't believe we're still auditing this freakin' Sims account," my assistant, Dale Adams, says. "We sent the freakin' ass thing to Frankie five freakin' times while you were basking in the freakin' Tuscan sun."

Dale says freakin' a lot. Don't you think? It's a testament of having worked with me, the "Slang-Slinging Master." Freakin' just happens to be one of my favorites. It's freakin' awesome.

"Tuscany's in Italy, you idiot. I was in France."

He sets his laptop down on a small conference table; pulls up a chair and sits. "Whatever."

"Let's just fix the damn audit and hand it over to legal on Friday. If the asswipe rejects it again, I'll talk to Ryan when he gets back from Korea."

"Boss-man returned last week."

I look up from my laptop. "He did? Why?"

"Don't know, but I've heard tons of ridiculous rumors."

"What rumors?"

"He contracted bird flu and was rushed out of the country. He ate contaminated oysters and acquired mercury poisoning. And, my personal favorite, his client kicked him out of the country for getting soused on saké and then sleeping with his daughter. Or was it his wife...or both? Shit, who knows? You know what it's like around here; rumors spread faster than flesh-eating bacteria."

"You're right about that, but I think they drink soju in Korea."

"Whatever. Like I said, ridiculous rumors. However, I did run into his PA's new assistant, Claire. She said he was called back for an emergency partners' meeting. She also said Ryan hasn't left his office suite in four days."

"I hope he's okay. Hell, nobody wants bird flu, or any other kind of flu. Remember when I got it last year? I was puking, sneezing, coughing, and... you get the picture."

Dale cringes. "Yeah, I got it."

There's a knock on my open office door. Dale and I look up from our work (okay, we weren't really working) as Janie from Legal waddles into my office.

"Alexia, Dale, sorry to interrupt."

I shut my laptop and lean back in my chair. "Somehow I doubt that."

"How was your vacation?"

"Good."

She frowns at me as her hands meet her hips. "Good? You spend three weeks at a villa in southern France, and it was good?"

"Sorry. It is what it is."

"Oh, pleeease. Three weeks vacationing at a French villa, lounging in the French sun, eating French food, and drinking French wine. And what about the French men?" She raises her brows three times.

I fold my arms over my chest. One of my, _I'm so not going there,_ moves.

With her hands still planted on her hips, she adds an annoying tapping of the foot.

I groan. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"No. So you might as well spill it."

"You should work for the _National Inquirer._ "

She gives me a triumphant grin. Apparently she thinks that's a compliment.

"Okay," I say and raise my arms in defeat. "The French villa--ancient. French sun--hotter than watching a naked Ryan Gosling bake cookies in August." I pause and savor that visual for a few seconds. _Yeah, that's hot._

"Where was I?"

"Food," Janie says, gesturing, go on, go on.

"French food--fucking fantastic. The chef Gram hired for our stay, incredibly talented. And it was obvious that he enjoys his own cooking. The man was...fat. The fattest man I'd ever met."

"It's not politically correct to say _fat_."

"Do I look like I'm politically correct in any way?"

"What do politically correct people look like?" Dale asks.

"I have no idea. You two drive me crazy. Do you want me to finish, or can we just skip this inquest and get back to work?"

"No," they answer simultaneously.

"Okay. The French wine was like having simultaneous multiple orgasms igniting on the tip of your tongue, then exploding in the back of your throat."

"Wow!" Dale says. "I'm for sure stopping by the wine store on my way home."

"What about the men?" Janie whines.

"French men...let's just say mature."

"Mature?"

"Yeah, AARP mature." I roll my chair back and plant my heeled-feet on top of my desk.

"You're so lying."

"Do I need to recap our pre-vacation conversations?"

"No. Maybe?"

"Recap," Dale mocks while his eyes remain glued to his laptop.

I flip him off.

"I saw that."

_So you don't like my recaps, Mr. Adams. Well, too bad._ "My eccentric and possibly psychotic grandmother owns a villa in southern France. She asked me, her _belle petite-fille_ to join her and her _mature_ friends. I begged off numerous times, but Gram was very persistent."

"What's _belle pe_...whatever you said?" Dale asks.

"Oh, sorry, my linguistatardic friend, it means, _beautiful granddaughter_."

"I knew that," Janie says.

I lift a brow. "Really?"

"You so didn't," Dale adds.

"Okay, I didn't. FYI, girlfriend, _tart_ isn't politically correct."

"Well, FYI, girlfriend--eat me."

"It's true, though. I am a linguistatard. Lex has been trying to teach me Spanish for two years. And the only thing I can come up with is, _sí jefe._ "

"I thought you were feeding me bullshit. You really did go with your psycho grandmother and her AARP friends?"

"Yeah, I did."

"That's just fucking sad."

I chuckle. "You haven't meet Gram's friends. When I said mature, I wasn't referring to age. They're batshit crazy. They party like the Rolling Stones, drink like the Irish before Lent, and--they--well, fuck like rabbits."

Dale closes his laptop and leans forward.

Typical male. Say _fuck_ and _rabbits_ and they tune in. Okay, just say _fuck_ and they tune in.

I continue. "Remember ancient, and hot? There's no air-conditioning in a one hundred and fifty year old villa. Every night I would sit out on my balcony for a little heat relief. And every night it was like watching Gram and her mature friends in a Viagra infomercial on a continuous loop. Over and over and over." I gesture this by rolling my hands. "I would have killed for a remote control so I could change the channel, turn it off, or at the very least, mute it."

"Oh. My. God," Janie says, planting her seven-month pregnant ass on my desk.

"Yeah. Oh. My. God." I articulate each word, so they totally get that I was freakin' freaked out. "Two almost seventy-year-olds bonking in a pool on an inflatable island is something you never want to see, or hear. Ever."

Janie wrinkles her nose. "Yuck. The thought of my grandmother doing _it_ in a pool... Oh, God, or anywhere, makes me want to..." She sticks her finger down her throat and mock gags.

"And that, folks, is why there shouldn't be any geriatric porn," Dale adds. He groans and rubs his temples. "Oh, my God, now I can't get it out of my head." He closes his eyes and narrates the scene that's plaguing his psyche.

"A set of dentures soaks in a glass that sits on a bedside table. A mature man lounges in a wheelchair, sporting a Viagra-induced stiffy. Then, with the aid of her walker, a mature woman kneels in front of the man. The man leans his head back and closes his eyes. 'Hell, yeah woman--gum it! Yeah, baby, just like that! Gum it!'"

He opens his eyes. "My new career, geriatric porn writer."

I think for a minute. "Hey, you might be on to something. Isn't like 70 percent of the US population mature?"

Dale shrugs. "I have no idea?"

"You could make it into a reality show."

"Yeah, right. Who would watch crap like that?"

"Oh, come on, dude. Isn't that what reality shows are all about--crap? What's that one, _Honey's Got A Boo Boo_? Oh, and the one my friend, Jules, watches all the time, _Talk To Your Dress,_ or _The Dress Talks_? Who the hell knows? Who the hell cares?"

I bite my lip. I do this when I'm thinking, or when I don't know what the hell I'm talking about. So yeah, my lip has permanent teeth marks. "Let's see, the Amish one, _Amish CSI_ , or is it _Amish SVU_? I haven't a clue. There's another one Jules talks about all the time-- _The Kardoucheians_."

Janie rolls her eyes at me.

"What?"

"That's not what it's called."

"Who gives a shit?"

"I do! I love that show," she shout-pouts.

"Well, I say a Kardoucheian free world is a better world."

Janie stomps her foot. "You are so not with it, girlfriend. I mean you're gorgeous and all that, and you dress great, but you're a...well, you're a nerd."

"Well, thanks, Janie. I happen to think nerds are like way sick. The good sick, not bad, in case you were wondering. I don't know about the gorgeous thing, but the dress great thing. Yeah, I know I'm stylin', chica, because my friends dress me. Okay, they don't literally come over and dress me. They shop for me. My clothes and stuff. My point is, you can't make a reality show people won't watch. So why not, _Dale Adams, Geriatric Porn Writer Dynasty_."

"Yeah. I can see it," Dale says. "After about a year there'll be all-day marathons; not to mention all the additional marketing crap: T-shirts, mugs, key chains, beer... The list is endless. I think you might be on to something, Lex."

"Well, that's one show I'll be missing," Janie says.

"Yeah, right," Dale replies.

Janie slides her ass off my desk, and farts. "Crap. Sorry about that. Pregnant and all."

Dale and I wrinkle our noses. "Don't worry about it," I say, holding my breath. _Yeah, come fart on my desk anytime you want, girlfriend._ FYI--pregnant farts are nasty. Avoid at all costs.

"I'd better get my big, baby-assed self back to work before someone comes looking for me."

She waddles toward the door and stops. Then she turns and hits her forehead with the palm of her hand. "I'm such a raging-hormonal idiot. I almost forgot the reason I came down here." She reaches into her jacket pocket, removes a Post-it Note, and hands it to me. "From the biggest pain in your ass."

I recite the note.

_Your vacation is over!_

_Sims audit on my desk by Thursday._

_Stop screwing around, and do your job._

_Get it done, or I'll report you to Ryan._

"What a pissant," Dale says. "He makes it sound as if we've been sitting on our asses and twiddling our thumbs."

"Don't worry about Frankie," I tell him.

"I'm not worried about him. I just can't stand the man. He's a dork."

"Yeah, I agree he's no legal prodigy. He thinks a legal pad is a place where attorneys hang out, and legal briefs are the tighty-whities that crawl up his crack."

Dale laughs.

Janie gives him a playful slug in the arm. "You wouldn't be laughing if you had to work with the assbag. It amazes me that a guy who can barely tie his shoes could pass the bar. And you." She points at me. "When my ass is bigger than a house, I won't be delivering Post-it Notes, so start answering his stupid e-mails."

"All right, all right." I slide my feet off my desk and onto the floor. I then grasp its edge, pull my chair closer, and rummage through the drawers until I find my Post-Its. I write and recite my response.

_Frankie,_

_Feed your dick through the shredder._

_Then shove your balls up your ass._

_Oh, wait --you don't have any._

_Sims audit by Friday._

_Or whenever it gets done!_

_Comprende?_

Janie grins as I hand her the note.

"Tell the dork I'll answer his e-mails, but no more than three a day. I can't handle more than that."

"I'll tell him, but I can't guarantee he will _comprende._ "

I nod.

"Well, you two, it's been real." She salutes us and waddles out of my office.

I flip open my laptop. "Okay, let's fix this freakin' ass Sims audit."

Dale opens his laptop and we get back to work.

#

Two hours later my jet lag sets in and I yawn.

"Tired?" Dale asks.

"Yeah, jet lagging'."

He shuts down his laptop. "I'll run and get us a Red Bull and a triple espresso."

There are four things in life that I rarely pass up. A hard run, good scotch , coffee, and...well, you know. If you don't know...well, what can I say?

"I'll skip the Bull."

He smirks. "No Bull?"

I shake my head. "No Bull."

"Are you sure? No Bull?"

"Enough with the bull-shit."

"Okay, no Bull, " he says and walks to the door. As he takes his first step past the threshold, he smacks headfirst into The Wall.

The Wall, aka Mountain Man, aka Security Pete, is a bear of a man. Standing at six-five and weighing two-ninety, or thereabout. Pete's a one-man security team. A sweet guy, but someone you don't want to mess with.

"Holy crap!" Dale cries and rubs his head.

"Sorry, Dale, didn't see you _down_ there."

"Well, maybe you should look _down_ here."

Pete grins. "Yeah, sure thing, Dale."

Dale continues to rub his noggin as he steps back into my office.

Pete follows, still sporting his grin.

I close my laptop. "Hey, Pete."

He nods. "Alexia."

"What's up?"

"I'm here...well...I'm here on official security business. I've been asked to escort you to the CEO floor."

I chuckle. "Escort me?"

He frowns. "Sorry, Alexia. I need you to gather your personal items and come with me."

"My personal items? You're serious?"

He nods.

"What the hell?" Dale asks.

"What's going on Pete?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know, Alexia."

_What the hell are you up to, Ryan?_ I shrug it off, and begin to gather my belongings.

Dale plants himself in front of Pete. "Hey, wait a minute. You can't just barge in and...escort."

Pete takes a step back. He towers over Dale by several inches, but Dale is a practiced Black Belt with a badass attitude.

I grab my satchel and duffle then walk toward the door.

Dale grips my forearm. "Hey, hold on a sec. I don't like this." He turns and glares at Pete. "Come on, Mountain Man, explain."

Pete raises his hands in surrender. "Hey, man, I don't know any more than you do. I'm just doing my job."

I pat Dale's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. I'll be fine. Ryan probably just needs an Alexia fix." _Alexia fix --a rare occasion when someone actually misses my sorry ass._

"Well, maybe," he says and reluctantly steps aside.

Pete follows me as we walk through the Risk Management department toward the elevators. When we reach the elevators, Pete punches the _up_ button. We wait in silence for a minute. Sensing breathing bodies behind us, we turn.

My entire department stands before us.

Pete looks at me. "What the hell, Alexia?"

I shrug in response as I scan over everyone's face. I see confusion, concern and a whole lot of anger. Riot anger, lynching anger, raid and pillage anger. _Okay, a little extreme._

They shuffle forward in complete synchronization.

_Wow! Like...way cool._

Pete hobbles back a step and raises his arms. "Hey, guys, I'm just doing my job. I need you all to take a step back."

They look to me for direction. I give them nothing. They look at each other. Decision seemingly made, the Mob Squad, steps back. _Mob Squad? Very clever, Alexia._

Pete punches the elevator _up_ button several more times.

Like that's going to help. Everyone knows that the continuous pressing of an elevator button doesn't make it move any faster, but we all do it.

I stand and stare at the Mob Squad because I don't know what to say. This is a very rare occasion.

Once again, getting nothing from me, they look to each other. Another nonverbal decision seemingly made, they begin shouting questions and comments.

"What the hell?"

"What's going on?"

"Mountain, who authorized this?"

"Alexia, what did you do?"

"Are they going to can you?"

"This is crazy!"

"Security Pete, what the hell, man?"

"Where are you taking her, Mountain?"

"This sucks."

"Did Frankie report us again? We'll kick his ass."

"Wall, who sent you?"

"Did Ryan send you?"

"Yeah, what's going on with the boss-man?"

"Yeah, man, does he really have bird flu?"

Pete looks at me. "Bird flu?"

I shrug my shoulders.

The Mob Squad continues to shout. It's soon apparent that I need to buck up and be a manager. I clear my throat and address the squad. "Okay team, I sincerely appreciate your support or whatever this is, but you need to chill out. I don't have a clue as to what's going on, but I'm sure it's nothing."

Everyone gives me that deer in the headlights stare. _Okay, Alexia, you need to buck it up more._

Jill, one of my team leaders, steps forward. "Sorry, Alexia, we're all a little on edge. Something is definitely going down. Ryan's Korea trip was cut short, the partners have been meeting daily, and upper management canceled all their meetings. There have been tons of rumors and now this..." She waves her hand between Pete and me.

I frown because it seems appropriate. "I wish I could enlighten everyone, but as I said, I'm just as clueless."

The elevator dings and opens. Pete gives me a look of relief as we step inside. He hits the CEO floor button, and the doors begin to close.

Just before they do, Dale stops them with his foot. I punch the _open_ button.

"Alexia, this is crazy. I've been here for nine years. When security escorts you to the CEO floor, you're either being fired or you're...being fired."

"Thanks. I feel so much better."

"Sorry, I just...I don't get it. You're the best manager at Ryan; your department kicks ass. Christ, there's a transfer waiting list for RM."

"Really? There's a waiting list?"

"Yeah," he says, like _duh_.

"Whatever's going on, I'll be okay. Ryan is probably just playing with me." _Do you want to play with Jaxson? Literally? Yes! Okay, maybe._

"Yeah, maybe," he says. "But he's never had you escorted to his office by security."

I think about this for a few seconds. "That's true." _God, I hope everything is okay. Could I...no. He wouldn't fire me. Would he?_ "Well, anyway, you're in charge until I return. Get everyone back to work before they find a rope, and start looking for a high ceiling, rafter or beam."

"I don't know," Dale teases. "This office could use a good lynchin'."

Pete grins, but it's more of a leer than a grin.

Dale gives me one last half smile.

I nod.

He steps away from the elevator and the doors close.

I press the button for the CEO floor and lean back.

Pete exhales. "That was crazy."

"You've got that right."

When we reach the CEO floor, Pete holds the elevator while I step out. We proceed down a short hall that leads to the reception foyer. As we walk past Ann at reception, she gifts me with her customary _fuck you_ look. I respond by gifting her with my customary _go fuck yourself_ look. She hates my guts because she has a thing for Ryan, and he has a thing for me. Enough said.

Just past reception there are two hallways. The hallway to our right leads to the Executive Suite. The suite is sometimes referred to as The Lion's Den, The Tower of Ryan, The Prince Palace, and my personal favorite, The Fuck-n-Chuck Manor. The suite features a PA office, an executive office, and a studio apartment.

We take the hallway to our left, which leads to the Holy Grail of meeting rooms, the Executive Conference room.

When we reach the room, Pete opens its glass doors and we step in. He shuffles to the middle of a table and glides out a chair. "This is your assigned seat."

"Wow. My very own assigned seat." I drop my bags and sink my ass into the soft leather. My chair is placed right smack in the middle of a crackled glass table that could seat the Twelve Apostles and twelve of their guests.

The Apostle table is the only furnishing in the space. The walls are painted a boring beige; I think it's boring, anyway. They're bare except for one large mural-like painting. It's a painting, if you can call it that, of a grouping of bizarrely twisted trees. I think they're trees? Anyway, I like art, even weird abstract art. But the trees in this painting are just plain scary. Even the Lorax wouldn't save them.

The only redeeming feature of the room is a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the Manhattan skyline.

Sitting on the table in front of me is a legal pad, pen, and a bottle of water. I take the cap off the water and take a big swig.

Pete clears his throat. "I'm sorry, Alexia, but I need to ask for your cell, tablet, and laptop."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, I'm sorry."

"Pete, I know you're just doing your job, but it's not happening. I'm not handing over anything. You can tell whomever; you asked politely and professionally, but I respectfully refused."

He gives me a half smile. "Okay, I'll tell Mr. Ryan." He walks to the door and opens it. Before he steps out he pauses and looks over his shoulder. "Alexia, I'm sorry about all this. I'll be right outside if you need anything."

"Pete, don't worry about it."

He nods. "Thanks, Alexia." He exits and shuts the door quietly behind him.

#

My gut tells me this drama has something to do with the emergency partners' meetings.

Thirty minutes pass and I'm going crazy. I'm not one to remain idle. I could never be the queen bee; I'm a worker bee. I need structure and consistency, or chaos and carnage will prevail. _What the hell? Chaos? Carnage?_

Ten more minutes pass and all I can think about is the freakin' Sims audit, and all the other work that has piled on my desk after three weeks on holiday. I take out my laptop, turn it on and type in my password. INVALID PASSWORD. I try again. INVALID PASSWORD. I try again, and again, and then the system shuts me out. Oh, my God, I'm being fired, canned, axed, expelled, dismissed. Any way you put it... Any way you say it. It's bad.

But why? What the hell did I do? And why didn't my manager say, "Hey, Alexia, have a wonderful vacation, and by the way, make it permanent." I could have stayed in France. Stayed at the villa. Okay, not the villa. Maybe Paris. What am I going to do? I'll be jobless, work-less, career-less. I'll be plan less.

I love my job. I love my department. I love my coworkers. Okay, I don't love Frankie, but I love working at Ryan. I lo--like Jaxson Ryan.

I push my laptop aside and take out my iPhone. I'm overjoyed to find my Ryan e-mail account hasn't been shut down...yet. I scroll through my mail, replying to several but deleting most. I then scan my personal e-mail. I notice about a dozen messages from my bank that are marked _Urgent!_ Before I get a chance to check them out, the door opens and Jaxson Ryan, CEO of Ryan Acquisitions, walks in.

He tugs out a chair and folds his tall, beautiful, perfect body onto it.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself."

"You look...rested."

_Really? That's all you got, Mr. Ryan?_ "You look like shit."

He cocks his head. "It's been a long week."

"So I see. When was the last time you shaved?"

"I don't know...three, maybe four days." He lets out a long, tired sigh. "How was your holiday? That's what they call it in Europe, right?"

"It was...good. Okay, it sucked. If Gram hadn't insisted, I wouldn't have gone. She sure knows how to lay on the pressure and guilt."

"How are you?" I stupidly ask.

"Not good, Alexia."

He runs a hand through his blackish-brown wavy hair. I have no clue as to why this one simple act turns me into liquefied Jell-O. Truthfully, just about everything he does turns me inside out. Jaxson Chase Ryan is hands down the most attractive man I've ever met. The poster man for tall, dark, and handsome. Lord knows I could sit and watch him for hours, days, weeks, month, years...

It's not just his physical presence, either. It's the way he holds himself; the way he takes over a room; the way he stands and walks. You get the picture, right? _Okay, Alexia, stop ogling and get a grip._

I push my laptop toward him. "I don't think I'll be needing this."

He closes his eyes and begins massaging his temples in precise minute circles.

"Headache?" I ask, trying my best to sound somewhat sympathetic, and somewhat not scared shitless.

After a few seconds he drops his hands and opens his eyes. "You have no idea."

"Yeah, you're right. I haven't a clue. Care to enlighten me?"

He groans as if I just stabbed him in the heart.

"Sorry. It's just...you had me escorted out of my department by security. You had _me_ escorted." I point to myself when I say _me_ the second time, making sure he gets that I'm taken aback, confused and scared.

He remains silent.

"Jaxson, what's going on? I don't under--"

His phone rings before I can finish. He removes it from his inside-suit pocket, "Ryan," he answers. "Okay. Yes. Thanks, Malinda." He disconnects.

_Malinda?_

"Do you trust me?" he asks, eyes pleading for a _yes._

"Jaxson, I don't understand."

"Do you trust me?"

"I don't kn--"

He slams his hand down on the glass table.

I jump.

"Do. You. Trust. Me.?" he enunciates through clenched teeth.

"I want to, but..."

He shrugs with obvious disappointment.

I wanted to say yes, but trust is not something I hand out, and he knows this.

"Lex, I need you to trust me," he pleads. "I need you to let things play out for a few minutes, and then I'll explain."

"I'll try."

#

There's a sharp knock on glass.

I jump, again.

The door opens and a stout man sporting a prominent square head and body marches in. He drops his briefcase on the table then sits down next to Jaxson.

I blink twice. _Holy Bedrock! It's Fred Flintstone in the flesh. Wilma!_

He snaps his case open and removes a warehouse-sized bottle of hand sanitizer. You know what I'm talking about; the huge bottle that's taking up valuable space in your pantry, linen closet, or under your bathroom sink. The one you just can't get yourself to man-up and throw out.

He squirts a huge glob of sanitizer onto his left palm, then awkwardly onto his right. I assume he manages to do this without spilling or making a mess from years of practice. He brings his globbed hands together and forms a huger glob. Then he squishes it between his fingers and spreads it around, taking his time, making sure he covers every nanometer of exposed hand-flesh.

When he's finally done, he returns the sanitizer to his case and retrieves the following items: laptop, five manila files, two legal pads, three black ink pens, one number two pencil, a stapler, Altoid mints, eyeglasses, a bottle of Evian, and finally, a travel-sized package of disinfecting wipes.

After placing his case on the floor he meticulously scans over each item. Once inspected, he begins to put them in rows. He puts the mints, disinfecting wipes, and water in the furthest or first row. The legal pads, pens, pencil, and stapler are placed in the middle or second row. Finally, the laptop, eyeglasses, and files, are placed in the closest or first row.

_What the hell, Flintstone?_

Just when I think the torture is over, he begins to wipe each item with disinfectant. What's next? Waterboarding? Electric shock? The polka blaring from big badass speakers? I glare at Jaxson, pleading for an explanation, for a rescue. _Is this the trust part?_

He squeezes my hand and whispers, "Trust me."

Okay, so it is the trust part.

"Henry, are you ready?"

Okay, Fred is a Henry.

He slides on his reading glasses and nods. "Yes... Yes, I think so."

The poor man looks as if he doesn't even know his name.

"Alexia, I'd like you to meet an old family friend and attorney for Ryan Acquisitions, Henry Mills."

I nod my greeting but keep my hands to myself; seemingly appropriate after his germ phobia display.

Henry nods and hands me a file. No, that's not true, he drops it in front of me. It's obvious I have germ cooties. With reluctance, I pick it up.

"Ms. Keith, my name is Henry Mills, I'm an attorney for Ryan Acquisitions."

_Okay, Henry-Fred. Been there, done that._

"I usually work on contractual disputes." He sighs and pushes up his readers. "But today I'm representing the Ryan partners."

He drops another file in front of me. I pick it up. What the hell else can I do? I really want to touch him just to see him freak out, but I don't.

"Before I begin my briefing, I want it clear that everything said today is confidential and no formal charges have been made. Do you understand, Ms. Keith?"

I look at Jaxson. "No, I don't understand. Formal charges? What the hell?"

He turns to Jaxson. "Did she not read the files?"

"Henry, you just handed them to her."

"Oh...yes. You're right. She must read them before I can continue."

Jaxson nods. "Yes, I agree."

Henry takes off his glasses. "I need coffee. I'm going to take a break."

"That's an excellent idea," Jaxson says.

"Yes...yes, it is," Fred-Henry says and nods his agreement. He then stares off into space as if he can't remember why he's here or what planet he's on.

"Malinda is waiting for you in my office. I'm sure she'd love to join you for coffee," Jaxson says, giving him a warm, genuine smile.

Henry rubs his chin. "Who's Malinda?"

"Malinda's your wife."

He contemplates for a minute. "Yes, Malinda is my wife," he answers, but it's more than obvious he's not convinced.

I think he's stuck on the planet thing. I feel the need to help Henry-Fred, the poor stone-ager. So I telepathically send out images of earth. I would send out images of his wife, but I don't know what she looks like. Sorry, stone-ager.

After what seemed like hours, but is only a few minutes, Henry says, "After coffee, maybe golf? I'd like to go golfing, Jaxson. Would you like to join me?"

"No, not today, Henry. Rain check?"

"Yes...yes, rain check." He stands. "Goodbye, then." He tucks in his chair and walks to the door. As he's pulling it open, he freezes for several long beats. Then he turns and looks at Jaxson. "What is my wife's name?"

Jaxson smiles. "Malinda."

"Oh...yes, Malinda." He nods and exits.

#

"Oh, my holiest hell. What was--is that?"

"That was me saving your ass."

"What?"

"Open the files and read."

I open the first file and scan over it while he watches. When I finish, I'm so confused, I feel as if I've contracted some kind of mental-contagion from Henry-Fred. "What the hell is this?"

"What does it look like?"

"What does it look like?"

"Did you not just read it?"

"What?" Henry-Fred must definitely be contagious. _Oh, my hell! Maybe that's why he uses huge globs of hand sanitizer?_

Jaxson puts his hand over mine. "Lex, are you okay?"

"Yes. No, not really. I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?"

"Everything. I didn't embezzled twenty million dollars. Is this a joke? Because I don't think it's funny."

"No, is no joke."

I wave a file. "I didn't do any of this."

"Are any of these accounts yours?" he asks, handing me another file.

I take the file and scan over it. "The NYC Bank account, and the Amex are mine but the balances have been altered. The other credit cards, loans, and Belize accounts; not mine."

"I found the report very comprehensive and convincing."

_Well, la-de-da!_ "Just because a report looks credible and thorough, doesn't make it true. And the truth is, I did not skim from thirty company accounts over the last nine months. Why the hell would I? I don't need the money."

"You have twenty million dollars just lying around."

"No...I don't have twenty million lying around. Jax, I didn't do this." I wave a file again. Apparently, I like waving files.

"I believe you."

"Then why...? Wait a minute; the partners' meetings, the camping in your office. I'm guessing the partners disagree and they're considering filing charges."

"Yes, they're more than considering it."

"You have no idea how insane this is," I say and laugh. But it's not a _ha ha_ kind of laugh.

"I agree, it's crazy. The question is; what are we going to do about it?"

"The question is; why am I talking to you and not the DA or the FBI. I believe embezzling twenty million is a felony."

"It is."

"Then why..."

He lifts a brow.

"What have you done?"

He adds a half smile to his brow lift.

"You put up the money, didn't you?"

"Yes. The partners don't know it came from me. I made it look like it came through your attorneys."

"My attorneys?"

"Your fictional attorneys."

"Jaxson, that's just crazy."

"It was the only way. I'd never let you be charged with embezzlement, or anything else, for that matter."

"I appreciate all you've done, Jaxson, but do you think adding more bad apples into a barrel of rotten apples is the way to go? I've been falsely accused of embezzlement. On top of that, you front money through my fictional attorneys. If anyone finds out, it won't look good for either one of us."

"No one is going to find out, Lex. Ryan attorneys wanted to have you met at the airport by the authorities. They doubted you would return from France."

"So, your twenty million bought me some time?"

"For now."

"So, why...whatever the hell that was?" I ask and wave my hand toward the door.

"You mean--"

"Fred Flintstone."

"Oh, my God, you see it too. I've known Henry for years but every time I see him, I expect Wilma, Barney, and Betty to show up."

"You forgot Pebbles and Bam-Bam."

We laugh, even though the Pebbles and Bam-Bam part isn't that funny. In fact, none of this is funny.

Jaxson reclines his sex-on-fire body further back into his chair. Then OMG, he runs his hands through his hair. Yes, I said _hands_ , a two-hander comb through. Holy hell. Now he has just-been-fucked hair. Can guys have it? Well, he does, and it's fine. I shift in my chair. Can a girl get a hard-on? I cross my legs, uncross them, cross them, uncross and finally, cross them.

He smirks.

Cheeky bastard. I know what Jaxson's doing. He knows I'm upset and he's trying to thin the air a bit. I don't know if he's thinned the air, but he's definitely made a certain part of me a bit wetter. I clear my throat. "Henry...you were explaining?"

"Oh, yes, Henry. As I mentioned before, Ryan attorneys have advised the partners to turn you over to the DA. They're out for blood, Alexia."

"Why? What did I ever do to them?"

"Personal agenda. Except for Henry, all of them have egos the size of a house; a big house. They thrive on attention and the media. One of them is vying for the DA's job, and she sees you as a stepping-stone. I've been trying to convince the partners that it's in their best interests to settle things privately. No scandal. Damage control. More money in their pockets."

"But they're not buying it?"

"No, the majority still wants to turn it over to the DA." Big sigh. "Alexia, as the CEO, I'm walking a fine line. I care about this company. Hell, I more than care, it's been my whole fucking life, for ten fucking years. I might have inherited my position, but I've worked my ass off, first keeping it afloat, and then turning it into a Fortune 500 company. Ten years ago when I took over as CEO, Ryan was in trouble. I had two choices. One, I could dissolve a company that my grandfather started. Or two, I could take on partners. I chose the latter. I don't regret my decision, but my plan all along was to buy back shares once things turned around. I've been able to buy back some, but the company is turning out hefty profits right now and no one wants to sell."

"I get it, Jaxson."

"Sorry for the speech, and the language. But then again, you're the biggest potty--"

"Mouth, ever."

He smiles briefly then says, "What I'm trying to say is, I don't have enough shares to override the partners. So, if it comes down to a final vote..."

"I get that you have CEO responsibilities. You don't have to worry, Jaxson. I won't be facing any charges."

"I hope you're right."

Curiosity killing my cat, and still worried about a possible mental-contagion, I ask, "So, what's the deal with Fred-Henry?"

"A few months ago, Henry had a breakdown that led to a stroke. His wife, Malinda, asked me if I would keep this information private and keep him on the payroll until he retires in a few months. I agreed."

"So, none of the partners know about his condition?"

"No. I'm the only one outside of his family who knows. We've managed this because Henry worked mostly from his home before his stroke. Henry has a reputation as a hardass. The partners thought if you met with Henry and me, you just might confess and the whole thing could be settled."

"They believe I'm that naïve?"

"I think they thought you would be that scared."

"I am scared."

He frowns.

"So, you called his wife, Malinda, and...?"

"I told her about the embezzlement mess and she agreed to help."

"So, the partners think that...?"

"They think Mr. Flintstone is tearing you a new asshole."

"I only need one asshole, so thanks."

#

"So, what's next?" I ask.

"We need to figure out who set you up and why."

"The report states that the whistle-blower is unknown. Do you have any clues as to who it might be?"

He shrugs. "Not even one."

"That sucks. That's where I would have started."

"Do you think it was someone at Ryan?"

"Definitely." _Why would you even think it could be an outside job? Duh_. I recline back further in my chair and rub my now aching temples. I've been sitting for hours, and my ass is sleeping. I want to join it. I could use a nap. Hell, I need a vacation to get over my vacation. Then a vacation to get over the post vacation.

"Okay, so we don't know the messenger, but we can narrow down the suspects. Four departments have access to those thirty accounts: accounting, risk management, legal, and tech support. And only a handful of people with the brains to pull it off."

"You being one of them."

I roll my eyes. "Of course."

Jaxson gives me _The Brow._

The Brow is the lifting of the left brow while lowering the right, forcing the space in between to roll and pucker. I hate the brow.

I cringe.

"What?"

"You were doing so well."

"Well?"

"The Brow," I retort, shaking my head with disappointment.

He frowns and rubs over the fading pucker before he continues. "So, who at Ryan hates you?" he mocks.

"Very funny, Jaxson. FYI, not everyone at Ryan hates me."

"I know. Pete told me about his near lynching."

"My team's the best, Jaxson. They're confused and angry. It's not every day they see their manager being escorted away by security."

"All a part of the show."

"I get it."

He grabs my water and takes a big swig. "I have a meeting with Dale tomorrow. I'll do my best to reassure him and your team that I'm doing everything I can to get you back to work."

"Thank you, Jaxson."

He winks.

_Oh, my hell, girlfriend. That was so hot._ I shake my head, clearing smexy thought. "Okay, on to my enemies." I rub my hands together as if I'm relishing the idea of having loads of enemies. "There's Frankie, he hates me and has access, but he's an idiot."

"I agree, not Frankie. Frankie has a crush on you."

"No, way. He hates my guts."

"How many Post-it Notes does he sent you?"

I roll my eyes his way and move on. "There's Rob in payroll. He has access, but he couldn't pull it off." I pause and think for a few beats. "Jim Sharp and Steven Hill in tech support. They could have"-- I shake my head--"no, they're too busy jacking off."

Jaxson's mouth falls open.

I'm so grateful and relieved that he didn't give me The Brow, I almost cry.

"Why are they your enemies?"

"Because they're assholes who like to wave their dicks around. Literally."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"I don't tell you everything."

"You don't tell me anything."

"Hey, I'm not going to come crying to you every time someone makes a pass at me. If I did, I'd spend more time in your office than mine."

He gifts me with The Brow.

And there goes all my gratefulness and relief. I look away until it un-puckers.

"Can you think of anyone else?" he asks, an edge of jealousy ringing loud and clear.

_Speaking of jealousy._ "There are the members of the Fuck-n-Chuck club."

"What? You know about them?"

"Oh, pleeease. I heard about the infamous club my first day at Ryan. Everyone was taking bets on how long it would take before I joined."

"FYI, there hasn't been a new member in..."

"So many, you can't remember?"

"No. I want to be precise. I know how you are with numbers. It's been twenty months."

All I can do is shake my head. "You're lucky no club member has sued your fine ass."

" _Former_ club members."

"Why did it take you so damn long to get it?"

"Get what?"

"The Golden Rule, man. You don't screw the crew, fuck the flock, and you never shag on the rug where you walk."

"Well, Miss Golden Rule girl, FYI, I never pursued any of them; not one. All of them came on to me; I just gave them what they wanted. Besides, I had each of them sign a release."

"Seriously? That's not even legal. It doesn't matter who the pursuer was. You're the CEO."

"My attorney says it does matter, and when they signed a release it became personal and non-work related."

"Well, la-de-da. Your attorney is an idiot."

"Why the hell are we even talking about this? It's in the past."

"We're talking about it because some of the former members are my enemies. They hate me."

"Oh, come on. Why would they hate you?"

I stare at him in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me. Are you really that naïve? Ten or more years could pass and some of them would still hate me. Hell, maybe even twenty years."

"Yeah, right," he mocks. "Name one."

"One! I can name a dozen." I count off on my fingers. "Ann, your lovely receptionist. She can't look at me without giving me her _fuck off_ look. Stacey Ames in payroll. She made a voodoo doll in my likeness about two years ago, and she still sticks pins into it every day."

He frowns.

"You don't believe me, go look on her desk."

"That's only two."

I continue counting. "Jamie Jones in HR. That weird bitch claimed she was your fiancée and followed me home for weeks. She wouldn't leave me alone."

"Why would she follow you?"

"She doesn't anymore. I asked Jules to storm into her office, claiming to be my jealous lover."

He cringes. "Your friend, Jules?"

"The one and only. She was more than happy to play the part."

"Of course she was."

"She marched into Jamie's office with all guns firing. I missed most of the show, but I did catch the part where she threatened to shove a ten-inch strap-on up her ass if she didn't bug off."

"That's why she resigned?"

"Maybe." I grin. "Who's to say?"

"You're cheeky, you know that?"

I smile briefly at his use of one of my well-used adjectives. "Yes, I am cheeky, but I'm also a victim and a survivor of your mess."

"That's only three."

"Sandi in accounts payable, or is it receivables? I think she's worked for both departments. Anyway, she came to my office every day for a month crying and begging me to quit. She said you were _the one_ ; ruined her for all others. She thought if I quit, she could be _your one_. It was pathetic and sad."

"Wait a minute, I don't remember a Sandi."

I frown. "That's why it was so sad. On her last visit to my office, she told me you had bumped into her in the hallway. You smiled and flirted a little, but then you asked her if she was a new employee. She was devastated. I wanted to shake her and say, 'you stupid bitch, what did you expect?' But, I didn't. I sent her flowers and signed your name."

"I'm a real prick."

"Yes, Jaxson, sometimes you are." I continue even though my point is made, and even though I know none of them could have set me up.

"Oh, my God!" I exclaim and hit my head like the V-8 commercial. "The crème-de-la-crème. Hanna Wilson."

"Hanna Wilson?"

"Tech support. Tall, red hair, always wears a sneer."

"I know where she works."

"She doesn't even try to hide her disdain for me. I've had a few run-ins with her. The last one was in the elevator about six months ago. I'd run to work and had my head down catching my breath; she slipped into the elevator just before the doors closed. When I looked up...wham! The bitch _accidentally_ clobbered me on the back of my head with her Jimmy Choo handbag. I swear she stuffed the Choo with bricks. She damn near knocked me on my ass."

I rub the back of my head in remembrance. "Two days later, I had Dale call her up to his office, claiming he was having problems with his desktop. While she was in his office, I snuck into hers and exchanged her twelve hundred dollar Choo with a counterfeit." I chuckle. "Later, after work, I gave her bag to Glenda, a homeless woman who sells jewelry near my gym."

He huffs. And I know...I just friggin' know it's coming. And there it is...The Brow. I.H.T.F.B!

"Eight stitches? That's why you had eight stitches on the back of your head?"

"Yeah."

"I asked you what happened and you told me you ran into something."

"Well, I did. A Choo." I laugh.

He frowns. "Why are you laughing? It's not funny. You should have told me this shit was going on."

"Oh, pooh you. I handled it. Besides, most of your former F-n-C club members have quit or joined some other club. I haven't seen Hanna in months. Dale says she's dating some guy in Accounting."

"Arnold Smith. He told me they're getting married next month."

"Like I said. Most of them have moved on."

"None of it should have happened."

"You're right. It shouldn't have happened, but it did. And I have you to thank. I would get the occasional sneer or cattiness, but the claws didn't come out until the _accidental_ e-mail."

"You're never going to forgive me for that, are you? I swear it was sent out by mistake." He crosses his heart.

_Like that's going to help._ I sit and study his eyes. Yeah, he's still got those lying eyes. But do I need to harp on this any further? Hell, yes! "Jaxson, really? I tell you we can't continue our relationship. Then a few weeks later you find out I went on a date with Tim Howard, in Legal. The very next day you composed a personal e-mail at work in which you expressed in vivid, salacious detail what you did with me, still want to do, and what I can do for you. Then, said e-mail gets sent out by _accident_."

"I told you, I was working out my feelings. It helps to type them out."

I roll my eyes, again.

"It was intended for my eyes-only. Why would I intentionally send it out?"

"Really? I think it's called marking your territory."

"Why are we even talking about this? It's water under the bridge."

"I guess you're right, Ryan, because I no longer work for you."

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant there's nothing I can do about the e-mail. And why would you say you no longer work for me."

"Okay, so the jury is still out on that. Let's move on. We could talk about your club members and other sexual conquests, for months."

He lifts a brow.

"Alright, days. Bottom-line, none of them set me up, and my ass and head hurt." My stomach growls. "And I'm hungry," I cry-pout, sounding like a toddler.

Jaxson cocks his head. "I think I need to feed you before that happens again. I also think a change of venue is warranted."

#

Less than an hour later we're sitting in his office. I'm eating a salad, not because I'm one of those girls who eat like anorexic rabbits. No, it's because I'm a vegetarian and when you don't give specific instructions on what you would like to eat, you get a salad.

As I chomp away on my lettuce, I take in the scene that's playing out before me. Jaxson has taken off his coat, tie and shoes. With shoeless feet resting on the coffee table, he holds the _Times_ in his right hand, his left occupied by a slice of meat-lovers pizza.

You see; Jaxson is a meat man. Don't get me wrong; he does eat the occasional vegetable and fruit. You can't look like a badass underwear model if you don't. But every time he eats a meaty meal, he shows it to me game-show style, and then runs it under my nose. He thinks it's funny. I think it's stupid. Looking at or smelling animal flesh doesn't wig me out, or make me ralph. I've told him this many times, but he continues to annoy me with his idiot meat-eater behavior.

He looks up from his paper, catching me taking him in. "Like what you see?" he asks, raising his brow a couple of times.

I sit my nearly finished salad on the coffee table. "You're such a cocky bastard."

"Hey, I can't help it if I'm hot."

I smile despite myself. "Arrogant much?"

"A little, maybe."

"A lot, maybe."

"Okay, a lot." He grins. "It's come in handy when I'm trying to acquire or dissolve companies."

"Yes, I'll have to agree with you. I've seen you in action, and although what you do isn't pretty, it's pretty damn impressive to watch."

After placing a half-eaten piece of pizza in the box, he studies me with intense eyes.

"What? Do I have lettuce in my teeth?"

He clears his throat. "You've said many things to me, Lex, but that was hands down one of the best. Thank you."

I grin like an idiot. "You're damn good at running this company. Your parents would have been proud. How could they not be?"

He looks away and I know I've gone too far. Crap. From what he's divulged about his parents, I know they were close. It's been years since their tragic deaths in a plane crash, but talking about them obviously remains difficult.

He recovers from his emotional moment and looks at me. "So, who else hates you?"

_Nice change of subject, Ryan._ "You make it sound like I'm Cruella De Vil." I fling my heels off and tuck my feet underneath my ass.

"If the Dalmatian coat fits," he says and laughs.

"Okay, that was lame."

"Lame, but funny."

"Lame and stupid."

He just grins at me.

Then the whole mess seems to slap me in the face, again. "What I'm I going to do? I love my job, Jax."

"Hey, it's not you. It's us."

We sit and look at each other for several long beats. Me thinking, him, I'm not sure.

"Okay, I know that look. What are you thinking?"

"We've been looking at this whole thing wrong."

He removes his feet from the coffee table and sits straighter. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, this isn't about my enemies. You don't set someone up for embezzlement because you dislike them, or for stealing your dream man. You might super glue their laptop shut, or loosen the wheels on their desk chair, or send them flowers and sign the card 'Your Love Slave, Frankie.' Not that I would do any of that."

He shakes his head. "Lex, you are--"

"I'm screwed if I don't figure this out."

He sets the _Times_ down on the coffee table. "You mean, if _we_ don't figure this out."

"Where are the files?"

"On my desk."

I get up, grab the files, and sit back down. I open them and scan the reports again. "We're missing something."

"What are you looking for?"

"I don't know." I think for a minute. "Embezzlement isn't easy to pull off. Other than access to the accounts and brain skills, it takes balls. And if you're going to set someone up, it takes mucho balls. We need to look at this from their perspective. What is my motive? What is the end result of my set up?"

"You're charged for a crime. You might even go to jail."

"Yes, but what would most likely happen, regardless of charges?"

"You would lose or leave your job."

"Yes, out of a job and distracted. If you're thinking about how to save your ass, you're not thinking about your job."

The brick wall crumbles, and a few bricks fall on my head. "Oh, my God." I flip through one of the files until I find the report I'm looking for. "I can't believe I didn't see it."

Jaxson stands. "See what?"

"You might set someone up if they know something they shouldn't. Right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Then you would need to cover your tracks, but maybe when you covered your tracks you missed a small detail."

Jaxson looks at me with a confused scowl. "Okay, I'm lost."

"What do you do if someone has evidence against you, and you have access to that evidence?"

"You get rid of the evidence?"

"Exactly. Not only do you get rid of it, but you also get rid of the person who discovered said evidence."

"I guess."

I hand him the report. "Read the e-mail correspondence, and then look at the date."

He reads it. "Okay..."

"What's it about?"

"It's a confirmation of a wire transfer you allegedly made to an account in Belize."

"And the date?"

"January eighth."

"On January fifth, I found some disturbing inaccuracies with some past outside audits. I documented them and sent an e-mail of my findings to the person in charge of outside audits."

"Will Harris."

"Yeah, Will Harris. He didn't meet with you or send you a report about the inaccuracies, did he?"

"No." He rubs his temples. "I'm still confused as hell, and what does Will Harris have to do with any of this?"

"Do you remember the Smith and Holt Pharmaceutical merger?"

"Sure. It was a mess. Holt blocked access to their accounts and Smith withheld critical FDA reports."

"A mess? More like a complete disaster. Anyway, as the procedure, when I have limited or blocked access to information I make comparisons with similar past audits. Finding no similar past in-house audits, I looked into past outside audits. When I was making comparisons, I noticed inaccurate or altered data on several audits. This was concerning, but what caught my eye was a repetitive pattern. Whenever you see a repetitive pattern--"

"It's a red flag."

I nod.

"But all outside audits are monitored."

"Yes, I know. And who monitors them?"

"Will Harris." He combs a hand through his wavy hair. "So, you're saying, Will, set you up for embezzlement over inaccuracies in some outside audits?"

"Yes."

"Even for you, this seems... out there."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That you sometimes think a little _too_ far out of the box."

I frown.

"Alexia, it just seems extreme."

"Yeah, I agree, but let's look at the facts. On January fifth, I discover the inaccuracies, make a report, and e-mail it to Will Harris. The next day, he makes a personal trip to my office. He has never come to my office, which in itself wouldn't be a big deal, but he was angry, nervous, and adamant about me discontinuing any further inquiries. He said it was his responsibility and his alone. I thought his behavior was odd. Wouldn't you be grateful that someone caught something you missed and they came to you first? He was anything but grateful. He was pissed. Then, two days later I allegedly made an inquiry about transferring funds to Belize."

"We didn't find any report or information about these audits on your desktop hard drive."

"Really? And this surprises you? The report was there when I left on holiday. The whole thing seemed off to me so I'd made a note to follow up when I returned, but--"

"You never got a chance."

"No, I never got a chance, but it's here." I tap my noggin. If it's a number, I'll remember it even if I don't want to. Some people call this a gift. I call it a curse.

"Yes, of course it is," he says and smiles.

"Will would have already covered his tracks and erased or altered the numbers, but it might still give us some insight or direction on what to look for."

He sits at his desk and scans the report. "Alexia, I'm having a hard time believing Will is behind any of this. He's been with the company for twenty years. He's a family friend and a fraternity brother of my father's. I just..."

"Yeah, I get it. You're conflicted. But he has motive, access, and is more than capable of pulling it off. As you said, he's been here for twenty years, and he's a family friend, he knows you'd never suspect him."

"It seems overkill to me. Embezzlement?"

"Jaxson, if my suspicions about the outside audits are correct, you're looking at more than twenty million in losses. I only looked at a few audits out of hundreds. If Will has been overseeing outside audits since the beginning, you could be looking at hundreds of millions in losses. By comparison, twenty million is a drop in the bucket."

"I don't know, Alexia."

I walk over to his desk and pull up a chair. I need him to see that I understand. "Jaxson, if anyone has felt the sting of betrayal, it's me. It burns right through your gut and stabs your heart. But I know in my gut he set me up. You said it's extreme, and it is."

"Why didn't he just get you fired?"

"You're right, why didn't he? I probably never would have linked it to him, or the audits. It's the e-mail?"

"The e-mail?"

"Thanks to your _accidental_ e-mail, the entire company knows how you feel about me, and in lurid detail."

He gives me The Brow. I look away for a few seconds, waiting for it to un-pucker.

"Will knew he couldn't get me fired; you wouldn't have allowed it. He needed to create a situation where you wouldn't have all the say or the control."

"You mean, the partners."

"Yes."

"I don't know, Lex."

"I do. I know Will set me up. Now, all we have to do is prove it."

#

Three days later, I'm showing my trashed loft to one of my best friends, Jules.

We stumble our way through the entry hall and enter the main living area.

All forty-five hundred square feet of my Soho loft has been trashed, damaged, or defiled.

Jules gasps. "Holy hell! It looks like a tornado touched down, or a bomb exploded."

A wave of emotion breaks over me and settles in my gut. I bite down on my lower lip to keep the queasiness at bay.

Jules places her hand on my shoulder. "Are you going to be sick?"

I release my lip and slowly exhale. "I was earlier when I did a walk-through with the insurance adjuster. The damage is overwhelming, but it's the sense of being violated that makes me nauseous."

"How long were you gone last night?"

My head is pounding and as I rub my temples, I go over my night out with my friend Marco and his husband, Henry. "Four hours, tops. I met them at the restaurant. We had dinner and then after dinner cocktails with some of their friends."

We walk further into the mess, and Jules stops to pick up one of many damaged paintings. She frowns. "Look what they did to the painting Marco gave you for Christmas last year. It's been slashed."

Jules and I look at what remains of an abstract painting of a man with three heads and five penises.

I take it from her and rotate it. "I hated it. I told Marco I loved it, and I got it, but I lied my ass off. He so knew."

Jules gives it further study. "I liked it, and I think I got it." She brushes the back of her hand over the only remaining identifiable penis. "Yeah, I think I get it."

I roll my eyes at her and we walk on.

"So, you think the embezzlement set up is connected to this mess?"

"Yeah, it has to be."

"But doesn't breaking in and then trashing your loft make you look less guilty; more the victim?"

"Yeah. I don't get that part, either."

We walk over, or around, slashed couch cushions, broken glass tables and spray-painted area rugs. When we enter the master bedroom, we pause and take in the chaos.

Jules points to a wall. "Lovely graffiti."

I look up at the colorfully spray-painted misspelled slur on the wall. "Die cout," I read out loud.

"What do you think, spray can mishap or public school educated?" Jules quips.

"It's a toss-up."

She half smiles.

"I hate the word cunt. It's demeaning and crude."

Jules smirks. "Oh, come on girlfriend. Are you not a founding member of the Potty Mouth Club?"

"Most likely the vice president, but I never say cunt."

"Cunt is okay with me, but I prefer pussy."

I think for a minute. "Pussy is okay, I guess. But, why not vagina? That's what it is."

"Really?" She moans dramatically. "Oh God, yes, yes...eat my vagina. Oh, baby, I'm going to fuck that tight vagina. I'm all kinds of turned on," she teases.

"All right. I get it. It's a turn-off."

I walk into the adjoining master bath. It's a colossal disaster, almost unidentifiable. After a minute of taking it in, it's just too much; I exit and shut the door. As the door closes, it slides off its hinges, falling into what was once a beloved steam shower.

Steam showers, doors, paintings and the like, are just things, material possessions that can be replaced. But they were my possessions, my things, and I can't help but mourn them, just a little. My eyes begin to cloud over. I wipe them with the back of my hand as I rejoin Jules.

She flips on a light before walking into my closet.

I follow her, wrinkling my nose. "Do you smell that?"

"Yeah, it smells like urine."

I look down and see a large yellow stain on the carpet that I'd missed before. "Some asshat pissed in my closet."

I step over the stain and rummage through a pile of spray-painted clothes. There isn't a stitch of clothing salvageable.

Jules stands in front of the shelves that once held my shoes. She shakes her head and cries out, "Oh, my God, look at your Louis Vuittons! They've been de-heeled." She kneels and picks up a nine hundred dollar pair of heel-less Louis V's. She lowers her head and mumbles. I don't quite catch what she is saying, but I think she's reciting the Lord's Prayer.

I place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Are you going to be okay, Jules?"

She takes a cleansing breath. "Who would dare do this? It's a travesty. Works of art; every last one of them. Now just look at them." She wipes a few tears off her cheeks.

I look down at all my ruined Nike runners and Chucks. All of them have been heartlessly spray-painted in reds, oranges, and greens. I close my eyes and recite my own prayer.

"Alexia." I hear Jaxson shout.

"We're in the master bedroom," I shout back.

Minutes later, I watch Jaxson stumble his way into my once beautiful bedroom. Just before reaching me, he catches the toe of his shoe on torn bedding and almost face-plants. Even in my distraught state, I catch myself smiling. I rarely see him do anything clumsy. I find it oddly sexy.

"Holy shit!" he spouts, as he rights himself. "You weren't exaggerating. This is unreal."

Using my shoulder as a prop, he untangles his foot from the bedding. Foot freed, he looks at the wall with the misspelled expletive. "Die cout," he reads out loud. "A total idiot or a woman."

"What? "A woman?"

"Alexia, every guy knows how to spell cunt."

All I can do is shake my head at him as I begin to make my way out of the bedroom, back toward the kitchen area. He follows me, making several colorful verbal and nonverbal comments along the way.

A minute later, Jules joins us, carrying a pair of de-heeled Louis.

He nods. "Jules."

She frowns.

Jaxson and Jules have issues. Jules loves to freak him out, and he loves reminding her that he thinks she's a freak.

He ignores her frown and walks toward me. "Alexia, do the police have any suspects?"

"I'm afraid not."

I walk into the pantry and step on a crushed box of Cheerios and what I think is pancake mix. Food is everywhere. Even the canned goods opened, and their contents thrown about. I find one intact bottle of water. Opening it, I down half of it, wishing it was scotch.

As I step out of the pantry, Jaxson's strong arms envelop me. "I'm sorry, Alexia."

I plant my forehead into his chest. God, he smells like heaven. And when he holds me it always feels like...home.

"I feel as if I've failed you again," he says, pulling me closer, tighter. "I know you think Will is responsible for this mess. But why? It just doesn't make any sense."

"I don't know what to think anymore," I say into his lapel. I pull out of his embrace and walk toward the entry.

He follows sporting a weighted frown.

"You look worried," I say.

"Of course I'm worried. My God, look at this place." He runs his hand through his thick hair, and despite the current circumstance it turns me on. God, I need to get some.

"Jaxson, this isn't your fault."

"Please tell me what I can do."

"I've taken care of everything."

"Insurance?"

I nod.

"Security?"

"Done. New metal doors with code pads, surveillance cameras, all new windows with sensors...the works."

"Are you staying with Jules?"

I nod. "What am I going to do, Jax? I'm jobless, homeless..."

"It's temporary, Alexia. You'll get your job back and this mess will be made right."

"You know it's not possible for me to work at Ryan."

"Nothing is impossible if you really want it."

I smirk. "You sound like my grandmother."

"That's a little scary. I'm sure she's lovely, but I don't want to sound like anyone's grandmother."

I give him a slight smile. "Well, you sure don't look like a grandmother. That would be scary."

Jules catches up with us, still cradling the de-heeled Louis.

With one final look around, we take our leave.

All three of us stand in front of my loft in seemingly reflective and possibly uncomfortable silence. Jaxson reaches for my hand, and I tuck it inside my jeans pocket.

He frowns.

"I'm sorry, I'm just...overwhelmed."

His car pulls up to the curb.

"Can I at least give you a ride?"

"Jules and I can take a cab."

"Please let me do just one small goddam thing for you," he yells.

I flinch.

"Sorry, Alexia, I just..."

"No, I'm sorry. Things are crazy. We're both on edge, and we're both tired." I give him a half smile. I think my right half. "We would appreciate a ride."

I step to the curb, open the car door and slide into the back seat.

"Hey, beautiful," Lane, Jaxson's driver, says as he turns and looks at me. "You're going to get me fired if you don't give me a chance to open the door."

"I think that's just stupid."

"Boss-man told me about your loft. Sucks balls," he says as Jaxson and Jules slide in.

Jules shuts the door. "I heard sucks and balls. What did I miss?"

I can't help but giggle. "Jules, I'd bet you could hear someone whisper a guy-body-part from a mile away."

"Hearing about them is fine, but I'm a touchy feely kind of girl."

Jaxson coughs and slides closer to me.

Lane smirks.

"Lane, you remember my friend Jules?"

"Could never forget. Hey, Jules," he says and gifts her his cute-as-hell dimpled grin.

"Hey, Lane, you're not so forgettable yourself," she says, raising her brows a couple of times.

"Do you come on to every man in Manhattan?" Jaxson grumbles.

"No. I have never come on to you," she replies, giving him a sideways once-over.

He scoots closer to me.

Lane laughs as he pulls into traffic. "Jules, Jules, Jules," he sing-songs. "You are somethin'."

"Yeah, somethin', all right," Jaxson mumbles.

Lane snickers.

"Just do your job, asshat."

"Yessum, boss-man," he says as we make our way through Manhattan traffic.

I look out the window and take in all that is The Big Apple.

Jaxson puts his hand on my knee. "There are some things we need to go over."

"Okay."

"The voting partners met last night."

"And judging by your solemn tone, it's not good news?"

"More like unexpected. Seven of the ten partners voted to turn things over to the DA."

"Did you tell them about Will Harris, and the outside audits?"

"That was my original plan, but something was off. The seven partners who voted against you wouldn't even talk to me. I think Will has been communicating with them."

"What do you think he's been telling them?"

"I don't know. I suspect he's been telling them he's the one who discovered your embezzlement. He might also be claiming to have additional unreported information. Whatever he's telling them they seem to believe it. You have to remember most of the partners are longtime personal friends of his."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"This morning I met with the only two partners I can trust and my personal lawyer. I told them about Will and the outside audits and my suspicion that he is communicating with and influencing the other partners. They advised me to keep this information confidential and conduct a private investigation. They believe that if we reveal our suspicions without evidence, it will only make things worse."

"I don't know if it can get any worse. You told me yesterday that the partners wanted to settle this privately. It looks like you were wrong."

"Alexia, I won't let them turn you over to the DA. The partners are meeting again in a few days, and I have a plan."

#

Three weeks later Jules and I are mattress shopping.

"I can't believe you've had your loft cleaned, repaired and furnished in three weeks."

"The power of the Internet, baby," I declare proudly. "All I need is a mattress and I'll be sleeping in my very own bed, in my very own room, tonight."

"What about this one?" she asks, as her ass and then body mold into foam.

I lie down next to her and close my eyes. "Oh, yeah, this feels great. These memory foam mattresses kick ass." I stretch out and shut my eyes.

Jules clears her throat. "Did you replace all your clothes and shoes?"

I open my eyes, giving her a sideward glance. "You know I haven't. I dropped three grand at the Nike store, and another grand on Chucks. I'm good."

She groans.

"What? It's not like I need clothes for a job or anything."

She huffs. "You might not be working, but what about when you go out?"

"I'll wear my yoga pants and a T-shirt."

"Yeah, if you're going out for a Big Mac."

"You know how much I hate to shop. If I need anything, I'll order it online."

"You can't do that," she gasps. "What if it doesn't fit?"

"Then I'll return it."

"Have you ever thought about hiring a personal shopper?"

I close my eyes. "Hmm, that's an idea."

She taps my shoulder and I open one weary eye. "What?"

"You were saying...an idea?"

"Oh, sorry, it's a great idea. You don't happen to know any personal shoppers, do you?"

She grabs my hand, giving it a good squeeze. "You're joking, right?"

I laugh. "Why didn't you just ask?"

"I didn't want to be presumptuous."

"Call your partner in crime, and I'll hand over my Amex."

"Only if you insist."

"Oh, I do, I insist."

"How did Marco and I get so lucky? I mean, really. How many girls do you know who have a best friend who's loaded and hates to shop?"

"Not a one. You go and drop till you shop, girlfriend."

"It's shop till you drop."

"Maybe for you."

"This is the best thing that's happened to me in months."

"That's just... sad."

"Maybe for you."

"I have some rules."

She frowns.

"Only two."

"Two I can do."

I hold up a finger. "One, buy yourselves something fabulous."

She grins. "I like that rule."

"I knew you would." I hold up a second finger. "Two, if there is no way in hell I'll ever wear it, don't buy it. I must have had at least fifty outfits in my closet that still had the tags on them."

"Don't worry, we know your style. It's...well; not the most stylish, but we're professionals, darling. Don't you worry; you'll look fabulous. I'm so pumped," she says, and squeals, like a teenager high on Mountain Dew Voltage. "I can't wait."

She sits up, grabs her handbag and fishes out her iPhone. She scrolls her calendar. "Hot damn. I have no court this afternoon. I'll text Marco, and we'll meet for lunch and map everything out."

"You're going to make a map?"

"Of course. Hello."

"Hey, I'm not a fellow fashion ho. I don't know these things."

"That's why you have us. We downloaded the professional shopper's app last night."

_And you didn't want to be presumptuous --girlfriend. _"There's a shopping app?"

"Honey, there's an app for everything."

"I guess." _Who the hell needs an app to shop?_

Jules chuckles and shakes her head.

"What's so amusing?"

"I just remembered the app that came with my cliterator."

"What the hell is a cliterator?"

Jules lies down and starts pointing at her girly part. "It's a vibrator that you attach--"

I put my hand over hers, stopping her demonstration. "Never mind. I think I can figure it out."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Very. Carry on."

"Okay, so I bought a new cliterator and then downloaded its app. The app was supposed to allow you or your partner discreet wireless vibrating control."

"You said _supposed_. I'm guessing it didn't work."

"No, it definitely worked."

"Okay. I think."

"I'll start at the beginning."

"That's a good place to start."

"Smart ass."

"That's me. Please continue."

"I was hired to mediate a settlement for the Bensons, Mark, and Carrie; a divorce attorney's nightmare. They drove me nuts. They argued and fought over everything. For example, they debated for two hours over the cost of damn dog care. They tried to calculate the cost of the care by the amount of time they each spent with their pug, George. It went on and on. He took out his calculator; she took out hers...yada, yada, yada..."

"Were they accountants?"

"No, doctors."

I laugh. "Okay. So what happened to poor George?"

"In the end, they flipped a coin. Carrie won the toss, she got George, and Mark got the Volvo."

"Seems fair, I guess. What about the app and the cliterator?"

"After the dog argument, I could barely keep my eyes open. So, I insisted we take a time out. I needed a power-nap, three shots of tequila, or a Red Bull. I decided on the Bull, it being my only viable option. I was about to exit and hunt one down, when I remembered I'd put my new cliterator in my briefcase. I thought an orgasm or two would wake me up. I mean, you can't sleep through an orgasm, right?"

"Why did you have it--"

"You'll never believe it. I'd left my old one--"

I hold up my hand. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Continue."

"Okay, so after ditching the Bull idea, I popped into the ladies room and put the cliterator on. Once strategically placed and secured, I downloaded the app to my iPhone, then promptly returned to the mediation. Everything was going smoothly until they started a major battle over a fucking toaster that had some kind of sentimental value because it toasted an image that resembled Bob Marley."

"Really?"

"That's what they said. Friggin' Bob Marley. After listening to them fight over the friggin' image-making toaster, I felt the need to increase the vibration speed discreetly. I reached for my iPhone and pressed the app as instructed and the damn thing froze on high."

"Oh, my hell."

"Yeah, after a few minutes on high. I went from clitoral bliss to clitoral hell. I couldn't get the damn thing to shut off. I frantically kept on pressing the stop button. I'd gotten so involved and distracted I didn't realize the Bensons had stopped arguing and were staring at me."

"Oh, my God, Jules."

"Yes, it was an OMG moment, and it got worse."

"Worse? No way."

"Yes, way. As I stood to make my retreat to fix the damn thing--it fucking blew."

"Blew?"

"Yes! Blew...as in blowout. It made this loud farterific sound, then puffs of smoke billowed from under my skirt."

"For hell!"

"Yes, total hell."

Rolling to my side, curling in a ball, I hug my knees, and laugh until I'm crying.

"It's not that funny," she pouts.

"Yes, it is. When did this happen and why didn't you tell me?"

"It happened about six months ago, and I didn't tell you because you always give me _that_ look."

"What look?"

"The look you just gave me. The one that says, _what the hell are you on and what planet are you from_?'"

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was giving you _that_ look."

She lies down next to me. "Anyway, it was embarrassing as all hell."

"I bet. What did you do after it blew?"

"What could I have done? I plastered on a phony smile and said, 'that damn broccoli, it gets to me every time.' Then I made haste to the restroom, ripped off the fucked up cliterator and tossed it in the trash." She looks over at me. "You're giving me _that_ look."

"Sorry."

"No, you're not."

"You're right, I'm not. Jules, why are all your misadventures about sex, or some kind of bodily function or dysfunction?"

She contemplates for a minute. "I don't know. Maybe because I love sex and think about it...a lot."

"Who doesn't--a lot?" I giggle.

Jules stretches out and rolls to her side. "Tell me what Jaxson said about this meeting tomorrow."

"He said the partners met again and decided to postpone formal charges."

"That's great, but for how long?"

"Ninety days."

"Aren't they generous? Shitwads. Just out of curiosity, have you met any of the partners?"

"No, but I did get this weird anonymous e-mail from one of them saying, 'I'm sorry for your predicament.'"

"Pre-dic-a-ment. I like that word."

"Of course you do. It has a _dic_ in it."

She grins. "Yes, it does."

I shake my head because no appropriate words come to mind.

"Did he say anything else?"

"He said they finalized the contract."

"Contract? What the hell is that about?"

"I don't know. He didn't get into it. He also advised me to reconsider consulting an attorney."

"The very same advice I dished out, girlfriend."

"I am consulting an attorney, and I'm bringing one."

"Yeah, a divorce attorney."

"If I don't like this...contract, or if they decide to file formal charges, then I'll have no choice. I'll have to seek help. I'm hoping we can solve this mess quickly and privately."

"I hope so, too. What are you going to do about Jaxson? I mean, this pre-dic-a-ment has put a crimp in your plan to stay away from him."

"Tell me about it. I don't even have the excuse of being on the company payroll anymore. He's been so supportive throughout this whole mess. If it weren't for his belief in my innocence, I'd be in London right now."

"How are you going to keep this from Gram?"

"Lie my ass off. What else can I do?"

"Something you're good at."

"Ouch. That hurt."

"The truth hurts, girlfriend."

"Yes it does, girlfriend."

"I don't know how you do it."

"Do what? Lie?"

"No. Stay away from Jaxson Ryan. That is one fine specimen of a man. I couldn't resist him."

"You mean if you liked him."

"I don't have to like the guy to what to do him."

_Okey-dokey, then._ "It's not easy for me to stay away. Especially after what happened in Dublin. But I can't get involved with someone like him. I'm supposed to keep out of the spotlight, live under the radar. I don't think that's possible with someone like Jaxson Chase Ryan."

"I agree. It's a shame, really. I think that Jaxson Chase Ryan is the _one_."

"The _one_?"

"Yeah. The once-in-a-lifetime connection. The one you would do anything for. Even marry."

"We definitely have chemistry. But the _one_? I'm not so sure about that."

"Well, I can tell you that Jaxson Ryan thinks you're his _one_. Holly hell, woman. The way he looks at you. If a man looked at me like that..."

"Like what?"

"Like he can't breathe without you."

"Wow, that's..."

"Hot."

"I was going to say heavy. But yeah, it's hot."

"Speaking of hot, do you remember his pictures in _GQ_ last year?"

"I don't recall. I just read the article."

"Yeah right, and I'm the Virgin Mary. That spread. Oh. My. God. I've literally licked the picture of him lifting himself out of the pool. I keep that issue in my special desk drawer. Let's just say the pages are well worn."

"Yuck, TMI."

Jules spreads out on the mattress and shuts her eyes. "I can picture it." She raises her right hand. "Dear Lord, I can see it."

I'm not sure what she can see. Can she see Jaxson or the second coming?

"The water," she moans, "dripping from those long, dark, wavy locks." She motions her hand as if she's running her fingers through said long, dark, wavy locks.

_Oh, my hell._

"Then trickling down to those lush, kissable, lickable lips." She gives her lips a thorough licking.

I sit up on my elbows and look around the store.

"Oh, God, yes," she pants. "Pooling into that lightly shadowed deep cleft." Her fingers glide down her cheek, pausing mid-chin.

"And then oh, so slowly, slowly, funneling onto those rock-hard perfect pecs." Her hand runs from mid-chin, down her long neck, to the swell of her right breast.

I look around the store, again.

She moans as the back of her hand skims over her right nipple. "Oh my...then channeling to those...I pray to God, not Photoshopped, abs." Her hand skims from right nipple to belly.

I hold my breath. I don't know why. I just do.

"Dear Lord," she groans. "To be those drops," her hand trails from belly to hipbone, "Of water," she pants, her hand traveling lower and lower.

I can't seem to take my eyes off her traveling hand.

She releases a moan from the back of her throat as her hand hovers over and then lands on her sex.

Releasing my breath, I come out of my trance and grab her traveling hand.

Her eyes pop open.

"For hell, Jules! You need to take that shit home."

"Sorry. Got a little carried away. Being on a mattress and all that."

"Can we help you, ladies?"

Jules and I sit up.

Three young salesmen stand at the end of the mattress, lustfully staring at Jules as they lick their chops.

"You can join us," Jules purrs, patting the space between us. "This is a king size." She raises her brow a couple of times. "There's plenty of room for all of us."

All three of them look as if they're seriously considering her offer.

I cough and clear my throat. "She's just kidding."

"No, I'm not," she whine-pouts.

"Yes, you are," I scold, with my best Sister Mary Margret voice.

She rolls her eyes at me.

Looking at the three horny idiots, I address the one with the name _Drew_ written just below an assistant manager tag. "Drew?"

He slightly turns his body, but his eyes remain glued to Jules.

I clear my throat, again. "Hello. Hello. Assistant Manager Drew."

He turns his head, finally gracing me with eye contact.

"Drew," I say, patting the mattress. "I think this is the one I want."

"Okay," he answers, his eyes floating back to Jules.

"Can you check stock and available delivery times for today?"

His gaping mouth warps into a frown. "Oh...yeah...okay...sure. I'll check on that...be right back." Sighing, he looks at his two companions with obvious envy before taking his leave.

I return my attention to the other two raging hormonal teenagers.

Jules winks, and then slowly leans back onto her elbows, giving them an exceptional view of her ta-tas. Gifting them with a sexy, suggestive smile, she asks, "Are you college boys?"

They grin like idiots. The lanky cute blond answers her. "No...we're in high school--but seniors."

_As if that makes it any better, or even legal._

"Really?" she purrs, tilting her chin, giving them a twice-over. "You sure look like college boys."

They blush like idiots.

I roll my eyes.

"What high school do you attend?"

"Jules," I scold, shaking my head.

She giggles.

"Jeff, Rick. Get over here!" A man shouts.

They look up. "Crap," the blond says. "Sorry, ladies, that's the boss; we need to help other customers. But...could we get your numbers?" They dig out their phones.

Jules grins.

I shake my head. "Sorry," I say.

They give Jules a sad, pleading look.

She pouts. "Sorry, mom won't let me."

"Oh...okay. If you change your mind, you know where to find us." He winks, and they leave.

"Jules," I say, shaking my head. "You really need to get some. A legal some."

#

The next day, Jules and I walk into the office of Jaxson Chase Ryan, CEO of Ryan Acquisitions. Yeah, I know you already get who he is; I just like saying it.

Jaxson shakes my hand and pulls me into him. I breathe him in. I'm not sure it's humanly possible to smell so good. Maybe he's Martian. I run my nose along his suit-clad shoulder. Why, you ask? Because I can't get enough of his scent; it does strange things to me. When I run my nose along his suit, his scent rubs off and lingers under my nose. It's like taking a piece of him with me. If I were sleeping with him, I'd smell his pillow and roll in his sheets. I'm not, so I make do. A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do.

"Alexia, thanks for coming," he says, drawing me out of my olfactory trance.

I nod.

He releases me and shakes Jules' hand. "Jules, good to see you again."

She takes his hand while giving him a once-over.

He gives her a tight smile; releasing her hand, he steps aside. "Alexia, Jules, this is Nick Cain."

"Hello," I say and give a firm handshake to a man who looks like Malibu Ken in Armani.

"Alexia, it's a pleasure. Jaxson talks about you all the time."

"All the time, huh?"

"Yes, every chance he gets. It does get rather tedious and boring," he says, and winks. He turns to Jules and takes her hand. "Wonderful to see you again, Julianne."

She grins like an idiot. "I see you still have the shirt on your back, Mr. Cain."

"Yes, no thanks to you." He smirks.

"I heard you left the DA's office."

"Yes, I'm doing some consulting work."

"So, you two know each other?" I ask even though it's obvious.

"Yes, I represented his ex-wife in their divorce. What? Two years ago?" she asks with a tilt of the chin.

"Yes, two years."

Jaxson directs Jules and me to a leather sofa. We sit and they take the two opposing leather chairs.

"So it's a small world after all," I say trying to be humorous, but they ignore me.

"When Jaxson said Alexia's friend Jules Cunningham would be accompanying her, I was pleasantly surprised. I knew there could only be one Jules Cunningham."

"Thank God," Jaxson says under his breath.

I bite my lip.

Checking each other out, Nick and Jules remain oblivious.

"Are you still practicing family law?"

She smiles. "Oh, my goodness, yes. I'm still representing the better halves."

I look over at Jules, wondering if a hypnotist ran in, put me in a trance and replaced her with June Cleaver.

"I'm not here as an attorney, if that's what you're asking. I'm here as a friend." Jules leans forward, moving closer to Nick. "Are you consulting for Ryan Acquisitions?"

"No, I'm here as a friend and on behalf of the partners."

I catch Nick's eye. I think I might have just met my anonymous e-mailing partner.

"Jaxson and I met at Princeton. We're fraternity brothers."

"Really?" Jules exclaims as if Nick just gave her the answer to world hunger.

I roll my eyes.

Jaxson begins to play with his hands.

"Lex and I met while I was living in London."

Nick scoots closer. "You're lookin' good, Julianne."

"So are you, Nick. It's been way too lo--"

Jaxson clears his throat. "Nick, I have a tight schedule this morning. If we could proceed, I would appreciate it."

Jules turns to me and whispers loudly in my ear. "Someone needs a booty call."

I give her my elbow.

Jaxson gives her The Brow.

We all cringe.

Nick clears his throat. "As I said before, I'm here on behalf of the partners." He looks at me. "Alexia, as you know, the partners have met several times over the last few weeks to review this unfortunate predicament."

Yes, Nick Cain is definitely Mr. Partner Anonymous.

Jules grins. "I really like that word, pre-dic-a-ment. Don't you, Nick?"

He chuckles. "Yes...it's one of my favorites, now."

Jaxson clears his throat again and taps his watch.

"Booty call," Jules whispers loudly.

Jaxson looks as if he's going to give her The Brow.

I shake my head and silently plead mercy.

He mouths, "What?"

Nick smiles and continues. "At these meetings we reviewed the embezzlement report and debated for hours on solutions we could all live with. I know Jaxson informed you that the partners agreed to suspend charges for ninety days."

"Yes, he told me. And he also mentioned something about a contract?"

Nick looks at Jaxson and he nods.

Nick stands and retrieves a file from Jaxson's desk and hands it to me. "Alexia, please take a few minutes to look over the partners' contract."

Jules and I scan over the main points.

"So, if I'm reading this correctly, it says that I have ninety days to prove my innocence."

"Yes. Technically, you're not guilty until it's proven. But this will delay any formal charge and give you and Jaxson time to figure it all out."

"It states that for the duration of these ninety days, I will be placed under house arrest at the Ryan Estate." I look at Jaxson. "Please, explain."

Jules' posture stiffens; a protective hand is placed on mine. I tilt my head and witness her gift Jaxson with the mother of all dirty looks. Her lower lip begins to tremble, her body quake, as she continues to shoot him with razor-sharp poisonous daggers. Snatching the file from my hand, she stands and waves it in front of him. "I know what this is!" she shouts. "It's one of those millionaire-billionaire BDSM kinky fuckery contracts!"

"Jules. What the hell?"

She ignores me, keeping her eyes on Jaxson. After she takes a shallow quivering breath, she continues with her assault. "Holy! Fucking! Hell! To think... Oh, my God. To think I've been encouraging a relationship between the two of you."

Jaxson gives her a bewildered look.

She tosses the file onto his lap and points a quaking finger in his face. "You have one of those fucked up fuckery playrooms. Holy mother of God! You want to tie my best friend up and spank her with some kind of...cat thingy...or paddle thingy." Stepping back on shaking legs, her tears begin to wreck her.

"Jules, calm down. You're not making any sense," I plead.

"I will not calm down!" she shouts. "He's probably into that slave fuckery and he'll chain you up to a radiator and use you as a potty slave."

Jaxson looks up at her, his eyes wide with confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

I stand and pull her back and away from him. "For hell, Jules. Paranoid much? You need to chill out."

Nick looks at Jules. "What the hell is a potty slave?"

She starts to explain. "It's when you...well, when you make--"

I grab her arm and pull her down onto the sofa. "Jules! No one wants to hear that shit."

Nick raises his hand. "I do."

Jaxson gives him The Brow.

Please, not now. My heart is pounding in my ears and I feel the mother of all migraines creeping up behind my eyes.

Jules starts to explain again. "You have a slave and you make--"

I put my hand over her mouth. "Jules, just stop. You're making my head hurt."

She bites down hard on her trembling lip as tears funnel onto her cheeks. "You're clueless, Lex," she cries. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. You've never been to his estate."

I pull her into my arms. "Jules honey, I'm sure Jaxson doesn't have a playroom and if he does, I'm not going to play in it."

Her voice quivers. "You say that now, Lex, but...he could overpower you or brainwash you or something."

I lift a brow. "Jules, really?"

"I've read all kinds of stories, Lex. I know what I'm talking about."

She continues to cry on my shoulder. I look at Nick with pleading eyes.

He nods, walks over and pulls her up and into his arms.

She lays her head on his Ken doll chest and wipes her tears and other stuff on his lapel.

"Julianne, I've been to the Ryan estate many times and I can assure you that Jaxson doesn't have a playroom. And I have never seen any slaves chained to radiators."

"He might not be into the kinky fuckery, but...now I don't trust him. Why would he want her under house arrest?"

I look at Jaxson. "Good question."

He sighs. "The partners' final vote was six to four to turn you over to the DA. Alexia, I told you I would never let that happen."

"But house arrest?"

"I had to come up with a solution that the partners would agree to and I could live with." He exhales. "This whole thing just keeps on getting more complicated and fucked up."

He stands, walks to his desk, grabs a file and hands it to me. "These e-mails were found on your hard drive."

I open the file.

"As you can see, more threats and expletives similar to the one painted on your wall. Die Cunt. Die Bitch. You're Dead, Bitch. There're about fifty of them. Flip to the back of the file."

I flip to the back and pull out several photos.

"Those were placed in your mail box. Sixty photos, all with your face or body X'ed out, and some marked with the same expletives."

"When did you get these?"

"Dale found them the same day your loft was trashed. We think they were delivered when you were on vacation. I didn't tell you because I wanted to do some research first. Unfortunately, I haven't made any progress."

I hand them over to Jules to look at.

Jules pulls several out of the file. "Oh, my goodness, someone has been following you."

June Cleaver has returned.

"These are pictures of you doing everyday things." She thumbs through them. "Entering and exiting work; your loft; the gym; shopping at Whole Foods; coffee at Joe's; running... Who would take pictures like these?"

"A stalker," Nick replies.

"What about this one, Lex?"

She hands over a picture of me standing next to a man whose back is turned to the camera. "That's Garret White. We went out to lunch a couple of times."

"When did you go out with him?"

"The last time, a few days before I left for France."

Jaxson looks at the picture. "Really? Garret White?"

"What's wrong with Garret?" I ask.

"Garret is a friend of mine," Jules adds, and shots him with another dagger. "He's hot and a good man. I know for a fact he's not a Dom."

"I'm not a Dom, Jules. And Lex doesn't have a submissive bone in her body."

"All right, you two, enough with all that crap!" I grab the file from Jules and hand it to Jaxson. "Will has to be behind this, but it doesn't make any sense."

Nick clears his throat. "I think he's trying to intimidate you."

"Or maybe he's trying to make it look like you've planned all of this, to make you look innocent," Jaxson adds.

"It's just... Can we get back to the house arrest issue?"

"Yes, the house arrest," Jules adds.

Nick waves a hand. "I'll explain."

Jaxson nods, clearly relieved he doesn't have to deal with Jules.

"The partners changed their minds about you being a flight risk. So, they reneged on the ninety days."

"But--"

Nick holds up his hand. "That's why Jaxson proposed the house arrest for ninety days or until you figure all of this out. They agreed, but they made other demands; wanted more reassurances."

I look at Jaxson. "What other demands?"

He clears his throat. "If you flee, I resign as CEO and give up my shares."

"You can't do that."

"Are you going to flee?"

"No. But...I haven't agreed to the house arrest. Why does it have to be at your estate? Why not my loft? Why not some other house?"

Jaxson stands and faces Nick and Jules. "Can you give us a minute?"

Jules frowns. "I don't think--"

Nick takes her hand. "Take all the time you need. We'll go grab some coffee."

"Are you okay with this?" Jules asks me.

"Yeah, go with Nick, I'll be fine."

They exit hand in hand.

Jaxson sits on the sofa and tugs me down next to him. "Okay, spill it. Why are you concerned about staying at my estate?"

"It's not just that. It's everything."

"Okay, I get that you're overwhelmed and confused, but do you really have a choice?"

"That's the problem, I feel as if I'm being backed into a corner. Jaxson, are you taking advantage?"

"What?"

"Why do I feel like you're almost happy about my situation?"

"Do you think that little of me?" He gets up, stomps over to his desk and drops his fine ass onto his chair.

I've never known anyone who can switch from hot to cold faster than Jaxson Ryan. I join him and slide my ass onto the edge of his desk. "Jax, you know I don't think little of you." I raise a brow, looking at his crotch. "Definitely not little."

He rolls his eyes at me. "Lex, I'll admit having you stay at my estate makes me more than happy. But your safety is my number one concern. Look, you were set up for embezzlement, your loft was trashed, someone has been stalking and sending you threatening e-mails. What's next?"

I slide further onto his desk. "I get the safe thing. But your home, Jax?"

"Lex, my estate is two hours from the city. It's secluded, safe, and secure. And I know and trust everyone who lives and works there."

"Okay, I get it."

"Lex, if you want to face the DA, I'll help any way I can. If I was in your position, that's what I'd do. But I know you have this thing about the press and keeping a low profile. I don't get it, and you refuse to tell me. So, I thought the best solution for you would be a safe secluded home out of the city. No press...just squirrels and deer."

"Well, why didn't you tell me? Squirrels and deer--I'm there."

"Very funny."

"It is funny. Not the squirrels and deer, but this whole situation. I could make it go away with one phone call." _Damn, did I just say that out loud?_

"What does that mean?"

_I guess I did._ "Nothing really... just thinking out loud."

He tilts his chin. "Nothing, huh?"

"Yes, nothing."

"I don't believe you."

I need to rescue myself from my own big mouth. I'm not ready to get into things with Jaxson. Not yet, anyway. If there is one thing I'm good at, it's distraction.

I glide my ass to the middle of his desk.

He lifts a brow.

With the toe of my Choo, I roll his chair forward and position him just right. Then I kick off my heels and I rest my bare feet on his thighs.

He licks his lips and I follow his gaze as it travels up my bare legs, pausing at the edge of my skirt, which has settled high on my thighs. Biting his lip, his eyes continue to travel upwards. They linger a bit over my ta-tas, before greeting my eyes.

"Are you comfortable, Ms. Keith?"

"No, not quite, Mr. Ryan." I run my toes further up his thighs, planting a foot on each side of his growing erection. "Now I'm comfy." I sigh and lean back on my palms.

He leans back in his chair. "I like that dress you're almost not wearing."

"I like the way you're looking at my dress I'm almost not wearing. I'll have to thank my personal shoppers and their shopping app."

"What?"

"Marco and Jules. If it weren't for them, I'd be sitting on your desk in yoga pants and a T-shirt."

"I wouldn't have a problem with that. My preference would be that you sit on my desk wearing nothing at all."

"You're pretty easy to please, Mr. Ryan. I like that about you."

"What are you doing, Ms. Keith?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think you're trying to distract me from the nothing that is obviously something."

"If I am, it must not be working."

"Oh, it's working." Grabbing my right foot, he rubs it over his very big, very hard erection. "One of these days you're going to have to let me in, Lex. Your little games of distraction are...stimulating, but I want more than...stimulation from you."

"I'm working on it, Mr. Ryan."

He sighs. "I need your decision, Ms. Keith. I have a meeting in an hour and then I'm off to LA for a week."

"Okay, I'll do it. I'll stay at your estate."

"You will?"

"You look surprised."

"Happily."

"I have one condition."

"Okay, so here it comes, the Alexia Keith killjoy bomb."

"Really? Am I really that bad?"

"Sometimes."

"Sorry."

"Go ahead, tell me your condition."

"I run the investigation of the embezzlement without your interference."

"You mean, I don't ask, and you don't tell'?"

"Yes."

He contemplates for a minute. "Okay. I have a condition of my own."

"Okay."

"I handle the investigation of Will Harris and the outside audits. I don't want you involved any more than you are."

"Okay, I'll stick to the embezzlement investigation. You handle the outside audits." I hold out my hand, and we shake on it.

"It's settled then. Now get out of here, I need a minute to...adjust."

I look down at his erection. "Oh, my...or ten."

He looks down at his erection. "Maybe, twenty."

#

As I sit and wait for my dick to deflate, memories of when I first met her flood me.

Alexia Elizabeth Keith. God, even her name tasted like the sweetest of honey on my lips. From the moment she walked into my office and looked at me with those big blue eyes and gifted me with the most incredible smile, from the most kissable lips--that was it. I was done. _Finished. Fini. Finito. Terminado._

Hell, I knew she was major trouble. It was written all over her. And no, I don't mean literally. Don't be an idiot. What I mean is that you could feel trouble in the air around her. She was the calm before the storm, the thunder during, and the flood after. I knew she would change my life, and for better or worse, I was going for it. Everything about her felt right--preordained--fated. I wanted her and I was going to have her.

When I stood from behind my desk to shake her hand, I swear to God my dick shuddered. Yeah, right, you say. By God, it did. It freakin' shuddered. You see, when a guy meets the woman of his dreams, he doesn't swoon or go into cardiac arrest. He instantaneously gets hard--real hard, or as in my case, hard and twitchy.

I believe she discreetly peeked at my crotch. She might have even rolled her eyes or shook her head. I'm not sure. I knew I was making an ass out of myself but I didn't care. I just stood there with a shuddering dick and a dumb, shit-assed grin.

We finally shook hands and I mumbled something, but I don't remember what. I do remember gripping her hand like a vise and when she tried to pull it away, I wouldn't let it go. I just couldn't. Something strange and powerful ran through me and I needed to be stuck to her like Super Glue. I held her hand as if it was my lifeline--my savior. It wasn't until she took her other hand, put it over mine and pried our hands apart that I finally came to my senses.

After she pried our hands apart, we sat down. She said something about her new position, I think. I don't know. I was too busy just taking her in. She completely captivated me.

Alexia Elizabeth Keith was frankly the most beautiful woman I had ever met. Okay, beautiful is a lame adjective; let's say stunningly breathtaking. Because that's how I felt and still feel when I look at her. She takes my breath away.

She was perfection from her long wavy dark blond hair to the tips of her pink painted toes. Her skin glowed like a heavenly soul. Okay, maybe not heavenly, but it did glow.

Speaking of heaven--Christ...those eyes. At first, I thought they were blue. But when I really looked at them, they weren't blue or even green. They were aqua. Aqua like the ocean, and I couldn't wait to swim in them.

And those lips; those luscious, lustful, going-to-lick-every-inch-of-me lips. And dear God, help me, that wide, wonderful mouth. It was made for me to fuck. Please. God. Soon. Now.

I remember thinking she was tall, five-eight or nine, the perfect complement to my six-two. And of course, legs that go on for miles. Can't have a perfect woman without them. And she was thin, but not like a model, more muscular like an athlete, with graceful curves.

Her jacket concealed her breasts, but I knew as sure as my next breath that they would fit my hand perfectly, and my mouth watered just thinking about sucking on her nipples. I'd only gotten a quick peek of her ass but what I saw--oh my.

Our conversation continued, and I do remember her saying something about restructuring or resurrecting the Risk Management department. Who the hell knows--it started with an _r_. I think. I recall smiling and nodding and shaking my head a lot. I didn't say much because I couldn't fucking think straight.

My dick was no longer shuddering, but it remained rock hard. It was a hell of a day to leave my boxers behind on some nameless, faceless woman's bedroom floor and have no extras at my office. I was commando, and my unit was bunkered down hard against the railroad tracks of my zipper. After a while, my dick went numb and my ears stopped buzzing, and the noise coming out of her perfect mouth began to sound like words. We actually started having a two-way conversation. She even laughed at one of my lame jokes. I mean, she really laughed. She even snorted. It was weirdly endearing.

Another thing that was weird was that she never talked about herself. Not even in a professional sense. Most women, and yeah, even a lot of men, never stop talking about themselves. And if they weren't talking, they were fishing for compliments and reassurances. Alexia never fished--she didn't even bait her hook.

I knew she was intelligent and dedicated. I read her resume. She speaks like five or six friggin' languages, and I knew I was definitely going to be taking advantage of her linguistic skills, telling myself I could use an interpreter. Okay, I knew most of my foreign business associates speak perfectly good English, but I thought, a guy's got to do what a guy's got to do.

A few more minutes passed, and she discreetly took a quick peek at her watch. I didn't want her to leave but I knew I had to relieve my numb, yet aching dick before I became permanently disabled. She stood and gave me her hand. Then I thought...shit. I can't stand with an erect tent pole. So I gave her my hand and remained seated like a manner-less horny fuck. We said our goodbyes, and she walked to the door. She opened it and took a step out. But just when I thought she was leaving, she turned and said, "I hope the next time we meet it won't be as painful."

I've learned more about her over the last two years, but it's never enough. She never talks about her past. All I know is that she was born in New York, and moved to Scotland, and finally, London. I asked her about her parents and she said her grandmother raised her and her sister, Sam, after their parents were killed in an auto accident. That's it, that's all I got.

Oh, and get this, she has a photographic memory. I discovered this just months after her employment. I'd asked her to accompany me to Moscow as my translator. I know what you're thinking, but remember, a guy's just doing what he's got to do. On the flight over, I gave her a run down on the Russians and the company I wanted to acquire. She asked to see the company figures. As the head of Risk Management, it's all about the numbers for her. I handed over my laptop and watched as she quickly scanned over the figures and then handed it back.

I assumed the figures had bored her or that she just wasn't interested in knowing more about the acquisition. However, during the meeting the Russians asked about a figure, and before I could look it up she quoted it back to the penny. I remember mouthing, "what the hell?" She just lifted a perfect brow and brushed it aside as if it was nothing. Throughout the meeting she continued to quote numbers from memory.

On the flight back home, I asked her about it. "Alexia, how did you know those figures?"

"I went over them."

"Yeah, like for two seconds."

She shrugged it off.

"You have a photographic memory?"

She looked up from her laptop. "With numbers."

"Just numbers?"

"Sort of," she answered and continued with her work.

"Sort of?"

"Mostly with numbers, but with more effort, text as well."

"That's incredible," I answered in awe.

She just frowned and turned her attention back to her work.

Remember the part where I said I wanted her and was going to have her? I gave her a month to settle in before I made my first move. I had no clue what that first move was going to be. Yeah, right, you say? Well, it's true. I have never pursued a woman before. Well, unless you count Maryann Wilkins in the ninth grade. I was a freshman--she was a senior. I was a virgin--she put out. I'm sure you can guess where this is going. Let's just say, a week later I was no longer living on Virgin Island, and she moved to a chain of islands known as the Multiple Orgasms.

If you've never been the pursuer, you possess little or no pick-up skills. So my first move blew--and not my way. I thought the best way to handle the situation was to just tell the truth, lay all my cards on the table. So I walked into Lex's office one afternoon and said, "I want you and you want me. So tonight, let's say around seven." Brilliant, right? I bet you think she got mad, and threw me out and threatened to sue my ass. You would be wrong, my friend. She laughed her ass off. I mean she all but fell to the floor and rolled around in hysteria. I didn't find it funny at all. I didn't let this show of course. I ha-ha'd and slapped my knee a couple of times. I played along, but inside I was hurt and disappointed. Then she rubbed salt into my wounded ego when she said, "That is the funniest thing I've heard in weeks. Hell, maybe even months. Thanks, Jaxson."

What's a guy supposed to do after that? Well, like most guys, I thought, _no_ _big deal, millions of fish in the ocean._ Then I licked my wounds and fucked some nameless, faceless chick in my office. Stop judging me--this is what all guys do. We bury our dicks along with our wounded pride.

What happened next, you ask? I came up with the brilliant idea that we would become friends first. Friendship leads to bedship, right? So I had her travel with me whenever I could get away with it. When the interpreter excuse wasn't going to fly, I would tell her I needed her to look at the books, or that I needed a fresh pair of eyes to go over a deal. She played along for a while. I mean, she wasn't stupid, she knew what was going down. Then one day I got lucky.

The company jet had mechanical problems while we were in Dublin. Yahoo! We were forced to spend an extra night. I know, so sad. We had just closed on a merger we'd been working on for over a year. I said, "Hey, Lex, let's go celebrate." So, when in Rome, or in this case, Dublin, we went on a pub-crawl. We both got pretty wasted, and by some miracle, we ended up in my hotel room. Okay, I took her keycard out of her handbag while she wasn't looking. I know what you're thinking, what an asshole. But I was a desperate man, and what do desperate men do? Nab keycards from handbags.

So how did it all go down, you ask? Well, I'm about to tell you. Somehow we managed to get our drunk asses back to our hotel. When we got off the elevator, I insisted on walking her to her door. I am a gentleman after all, even when intoxicated. When we got to her door she rummaged through her bag for her keycard.

"Did you leave it in your room?" I asked.

"No, I'm positive I put it in my bag."

"Well," I said. I think I said _well._ I was shitfaced, after all. "Why don't you come to my room and call down to the front desk and they'll bring you up another key?"

She was a tad hesitant, but she went for it. Once I got her in my room, one thing led to another and... Okay, I all but pushed her on the bed and begged her. I was a desperate, Alexia-starved man. I'd dreamt about holding her, being on her and in her for so long. Hell, if it weren't for the numbing effects of the alcohol running through my veins and other parts, I would have come in my pants as soon as I had her bare and sprawled out on the bed.

She was pure perfection. Beyond my expectations and dreams. Her nude body... Holy shit. And those tits... She calls them ta-tas. I call them heaven. We fucked and other stuff all night. I worshipped every single inch of her. I was determined to make her feel so wonderful and well-fucked that she would never want another man in her bed or in her, ever. And she was right with me through every single fuck. I made her come so many times I lost count. Yes, I was counting. It's a guy thing.

When we left Dublin, I was floating on the biggest cloud nine of my life. I couldn't keep my eyes or hands off her. At first, she was into it. I mean really into it. But as the flight progressed she began to physically and mentally shut me out. I didn't get it. I'd just had the most fan-fuckin'-tastic night of my life, and she was shutting me out. After we deplaned and we got into my car, I'd had enough.

"What the hell?" I asked her. Okay, I shouted it but I was mad and confused about her behavior. I knew what we'd shared wasn't one-sided. There is absolutely no way in hell she could have faked our incredible connection. She just sat there. It was as if she wanted to say something but was afraid to. And this wasn't Alexia. She wasn't one to back down or be intimidated.

I was beyond frustrated. I yelled, "What the fuck is wrong with me! I've got the looks, the junk, money, education, and personality. I'm one of the youngest CEOs in the country, for Christ's sake. I've been featured in _GQ, The New Yorker,_ _Money,_ and _Men's Health._ I've never had a woman turn me down. Ever! I'm a fucking catch. What the hell is wrong with you?"

By the time we reached her loft, I'd reduced her to tears. I'd never seen her cry and it unnerved me. She is a master at hiding her emotions. I felt like a shit for yelling at her, but damn it, I was desperate and needed her to open up. I didn't want to lose the little bit of ground I'd finally made.

Then, finally, she spoke to me. Though her tears she said, "Jaxson, nothing is wrong with you, you're perfect. And the chemistry and connection we had, have, is fucking unbelievable."

I looked at her and swam in her ocean eyes; she was afraid. But of what? The whole thing was beginning to really freak me out. I begged her to tell me what was going on. Why was she shutting me out? What the hell was she so afraid of? Had I unknowingly hurt her? Was she hung up on the fact that she worked for Ryan? Was she stuck on someone else?

She just kept on telling me "no." Everything about me felt right; perfect. It was "her," she kept on saying. "This, we, should never have happened."

I asked her to explain to me why. She said she was sorry, but she couldn't explain it. And that's how it ended, for her, anyway. Not for me.

I tried...I really tried to let her go, but I just couldn't. I gave her some time and then asked her out to dinner. She said no, of course, but I wasn't about to let her end us.

I pleaded, begged, sent dozens of flowers, sent her candy and cards, bought her emeralds and diamonds, bought her a year's supply of coffee, wrote her a love letter, wrote her a poem, sent e-cards, sent X-rated texts, bought her entire department lunch for a week, sent her a singing telegram, sent her theater tickets to all the sold-out shows on Broadway.

When none of that worked I gifted her season tickets to the opera, the ballet, the Mets, the Yankees, the Knicks, the Jets, the Rangers, and the Islanders.

I refused all of her rejections. I kept on her until she told me she was going to quit, and then finally, I gave in. I decided it was better to have her as an associate and a friend than not at all. I was so fucking screwed.

Funny, after all these mouths--things haven't changed.

#

Two weeks later, Lane picks me up and drives me to the Ryan estate.

When we arrive at the estate, Lane introduces me to his mother. "Alexia, this is my mom, Mary Frampton."

She gives me a warm hug. "Alexia, I feel as if I already know you. Lane and Jaxson can't stop talking about you."

"Frampton, huh?"

"Yes, and before you ask, no relation to Peter."

"I wasn't going to ask."

She lifts a brow.

"Okay, I so was."

"No biggie, everyone does."

Lane retrieves my luggage from the trunk of an Audi A8 and Mary guides us behind a multi-car garage and up a short flight of bricked stairs.

When we reach the landing, she pauses and turns. "Are you ready to see your new digs?"

"As ready as watermelon."

"Okay..."

"I know, I don't get it either. It's something that my Gram says and I've yet to meet anyone who gets it."

Mary opens the door and Lane and I trail behind. We pass through a brightly lit modern kitchen, down a long winding hall, passing room after room.

"We'll get you settled, grab some lunch, and then I'll give you the grand tour."

"Sounds great."

When we reach the end of the hallway, it opens into a massive marble and mahogany foyer. We walk through the foyer and up a split-grand mahogany staircase.

We reach the second floor, we pause, and Mary points to the right. "The master suite is to the right." She turns and winks. "All the guest rooms are on the left."

Lane and I follow her down the left hall. We pass several bedrooms, and when we reach the end bedroom, she opens the door. "This is my favorite bedroom, Alexia. It's filled with light and faces the west garden."

I smile her way before I walk into a large sun-kissed room dominated by a king-sized metal and wood canopy bed. Flanking the bed are a mahogany-mantled marble fireplace and two overstuffed green and blue floral print chairs. I drop my laptop satchel and duffle on one of the chairs and wander to the window. I scan the west garden. It reminds me of the formal gardens in Europe.

Lane puts my luggage near a dresser and plants his ass in a chair. I walk to the bed and look down at the duvet. "Who is this?"

Mary pops her head out of the en-suite bathroom. "Oh, that's Justin Bieber."

"Beeb bedding. That's creepy." I pull back the duvet. "Beeb sheets, super creepy."

Mary saunters out of the bathroom. "It's a Beeb bed-in-a-bag set."

"That's just wrong."

"Don't look at me. It's Jaxson's idea of a joke. He said something about this being the only other guy you'll be sleeping with in his house."

I can't help but giggle. "The Beeb's a little young for me."

"Not a lion, huh?" Lane says.

Mary and I look at him.

"It's cougar, you idiot," Mary says, shaking her head.

"Whatever," he replies.

"If you think that's creepy, take a look in the bathroom."

I stroll into the bathroom and take in the overwhelmingness of JB. There's a large stack of JB imprinted towels and washcloths. A matching shower curtain, rugs, soap dispenser, toothbrush holder, trash can and toilet lid cover complete the JB ensemble. I sit down on the covered lid.

"I had no idea that they still made these," I say, wiggling my ass.

"Yeah, they still make them."

"I have never understood the purpose of covering a toilet seat lid."

"Me neither. Who the hell knows why?" Mary laughs. "But just think, you'll be able to say you sat on the Beeb's face."

"Not something I'd even confess to."

"I put extra plain white sheets and towels in the linen closet. I agree, all this Beebness is a bit much."

We walk out of the bathroom. "Well, Alexia, we'll leave and let you unpack and get settled. I'll come and get you around noonish for lunch."

"Okay, and Mary, thanks for everything."

"It's my pleasure. We're all excited to have you here." She walks to the door, exits, and shuts it behind her.

Two seconds later the door flings open. "Lane," she calls.

"What?" he answers, giving his mom a cheeky grin.

"Lane," she says, in that _mom voice_. You know that voice, the one that says, _don't mess with me, boy._

"Okay, I'm coming." He hops up and shuffles to the door.

"See ya later, Lex."

I nod.

He winks.

Mary swats his head. The door shuts, and stays shut.

Mary comes and gets me at noonish as promised. She gives me a quick tour of the house, and then introduces me to the house staff. Lester Bing is the cook slash Jack-of-all-trades and Mary's BFF. He's a big man with a bare noggin. Mr. Clean in the flesh. _I wonder if Jaxson sees it?_

"Alexia, it's great to finally meet you," he says, giving me a big bear hug. "I've been experimenting with some new vegetarian recipes and I can't wait for you to try them."

Mary cringes. "I hope you like tofu," she says as we walk out of the kitchen.

"That bad, huh?"

She counts off on her fingers. "Tofu burgers, tofu tacos, tofu pizza, tofu lasagna, tofu-loaf, spaghetti and tofu-balls, sweet and sour tofu, tofu chow mien and several unnamed tofu culinary delights. We've had tofu in every meal for the last two weeks."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. It keeps him out of my hair."

We trek down a hall and out to the back gardens. "That's it for the house staff. I hire additional help when I need it, which is rare. We don't see much of Jaxson, but I have a feeling that will change now that you're here." She winks.

We walk through the west and south gardens, or was it the east and north?

Mary waves her hands and shouts. "Louie."

A short man sporting a Mets cap, a huge grin, and a matching hunormous nose, waves back.

When we reach him, Mary introduces us. "Louie, this is Alexia."

"Oh, yes." He grins. "Jaxson's Alexia." Louie removes his worn garden gloves and takes my hands, giving them a light kiss just above my knuckles.

"Louie is the Head Gardener and the Head Flirt."

"Me?" he mocks. "I'm no flirt; I just love women, especially beautiful women."

"The gardens are spectacular, Louie. The best part of the estate."

"Thank you, my dear. Do you like to garden?"

"I don't know; I've never tried it."

"A virgin. Could my day get any better? It would be an honor to be your first horticultural instructor."

Mary's lips thin in disapproval. "Oh, good God, Louie. Alexia is the same age as your granddaughter."

"But she's not my granddaughter, now is she? Beside, you can't put an age on love."

Mary places her hands on her hips. "In your dreams, Louie."

"Yes, a man can still dream, and even you, my dear Mary, can't control what or who I dream about."

Mary shakes her head. "You're a sick man, Louie."

He laughs. "And you love it."

"Tomorrow we're having a welcome dinner for Alexia. Cocktails will be served at seven. Make sure you're on time and your hands are dirt-free."

He grins. "Yes, Mother."

We say our goodbyes and head back toward the house.

As we walk, I recall some memories and chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Mary asks.

"I was just thinking about the head gardener at my grandmother's estate, Liam."

"Is he a horny toad like Louie?"

"No, not at all. At least I don't think so. He's at least ninety, nearly blind, toothless, and hasn't picked up a rake or spade in years."

"Good God. What do her gardens look like?"

"Her gardens are grand. Fortunately, Liam has loads of help. He drives around the estate in an old tractor mower yelling orders and cursing like a drunk whore."

Mary giggles. "Your grandmother must be quite a character to keep someone like him on."

"Gram is most definitely a character. I believe Liam learned most of his colorful words from her."

"Lane says that your grandmother is Scottish."

"Her estate is in Scotland, but Gram is originally from LA."

"Really? How did she end up with an estate in Scotland, if you don't mind me asking?"

"No, not at all. My great-grandparents were, I guess you would call them Hollywood B-listers. Gram says they struggled for years trying to get a break. She remembers living on PB&J sandwiches and grape juice for months. One night they went to a party in the hills, and one of their actor friends introduced them to a stockbroker from New York. This broker and my great-grandfather hit it off, becoming close friends. Several months later this broker called him and told him to take out all their savings and buy shares in a company called IBM. Well, the rest is history, as they say. They made millions over the years, finally making it, but not in the movies."

I continue with part two of Gram's story. "Years later, Gram went on holiday with her two best friends. After partying for two months in London they set off for Scotland. Gram told me they got bored with the Brit men, but I found out from her friends that they got kicked out of their flat for being loud, lewd, and loose Yanks."

Mary laughs.

"Anyway, they were on their way to some ruins outside of Inverness and got lost. They stopped at a pub for directions. Gram walked in and spotted a handsome Scot sitting at the bar. She went up to him and asked him for directions. He told her if she'd have a drink with him he'd personally drive them to the ruins. She agreed. They never made it to the ruins, but they got married three weeks later."

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow. Gram says they were destined to be together. And that's how she ended up in Scotland."

"What about your parents?"

I frown. "My parents. That's a story for another time."

"I'm sorry."

I wave it off. "Don't be."

#

Two weeks pass and I find myself starting to go a little crazy. This house arrest is going to be harder than I thought. I decide I need a daily routine, structure. So I put one in place, and it helps but...I miss my life in the city, my friends and my old job. But on the bright side, I've made new friends and have learned new things about Jaxson. Everyone at his estate loves him and loves to tell me stories about him. I love hearing them, but with each story, I feel myself grow closer to him, and that scares the crap out of me.

At the end of my third week of house arrest, I receive my first visitor.

"Oh, my God, girlfriend! I've missed you so much!" Jules screams, jumping up and down in four inch Louis. Louis that look very similar to the once de-heeled pair.

"I've missed you too!" I scream, forgoing the jumping.

She gives me a big squeeze. "You've only been gone for weeks but it feels like fucking forever. I've been so worried about you."

Releasing me, she steps back and takes me in. "Have you lost weight?"

"I don't think so."

"You're getting plenty to eat?"

"Yes."

She frowns. "They're not withholding?"

"Withholding?"

"Food."

"Of course not."

"You don't want to lose your lovely ta-tas."

"Don't worry; my ta-tas aren't going anywhere."

She peels off her coat and lays it on my bed, then slowly looks around the room. "Nice digs."

"Yes. What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Not this." Jules takes a stroll around the room, paying particular attention to the baseboards.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for a radiator."

"No radiators, Jules. But just down the hall is a locked room that wasn't on the grand tour. Mary just skipped it, walked past it, as if it didn't even exist. What could be behind that locked door? What do you think?" I taunt. "Maybe whips, chains, fuck-benches, fuck-tables, kinky fuckery toys, and torturous fuckery devices. Maybe even a radiator or two."

"Ha, ha. Go ahead and mock me."

I laugh, and we sit in the matching floral print chairs.

_Knock. Knock._

"Come in," I say.

Lane opens the door. "Are you decent?"

"Not if I can help it, Dimple Boy."

Grinning like a fool, he walks in carrying a box and a bag.

"Where should I put these, Jules?"

She points. "Right here next to the fireplace."

Lane sets them down.

"You came bearing gifts?"

"Of course."

"What did you bring me?"

Lane smirks. "Some very interesting things."

"You looked?" Jules huffs.

"Like you have to ask."

"You're a very bad boy," Jules faux-scolds.

Lane walks back toward the door and his cell rings. He fishes it out of his pocket. "Yo, Boss-man. No. Yes. I don't think so. She is," he says, and winks at me. "Yes. Okay, copy that." He slides his cell back into his pocket. "That was the Boss-man. His plane is just leaving Phoenix. He says he'll see you tonight."

"See you tonight? It sounds like you won't be needing my gifts."

"And what would said gifts be?"

"A waterproof vibrator and a brand new state-of-the-art cliterator."

"What the hell is a cliterator?" Lane asks.

"You don't want to know," I answer.

"Yeah, I do. You did say _clit_ , right?"

"Yeah."

"Then, hell yeah, I want to know. I am a guy, ya known."

Jules gives him a once-over. "Yes, you are. And a very fine one."

Lane gifts her with his signature devastating dimpled grin.

I clear my throat. "Lane, don't you have work to do?"

"No. I'm free until tonight."

"Really? I'm sure I heard your mother saying something about cleaning...something."

"Okay, not a brick wall here. I'll leave you two fine ladies to your clit talk." He laughs, struts to the door and exits.

"If you need any help with the cliterator, just text me," he calls through the door.

"Lane," I scold through the door.

"Lex," he mocks, opening the door. "Okay, I'm going to go clean...something." He shuts the door and we pause our conversation until we hear him walking away.

Jules sits back and sighs. "Lex, how are you? Really? And what's up with Jaxson?"

"I'm fine. Really. Why, do you think something's up with Jaxson?"

"Nick just said he seemed off."

"Nick said, huh? How is Malibu Ken?"

She giggles. "That's funny. He really does look like Malibu Ken."

"I thought so from the moment I met him."

"I hated Barbie and Ken dolls as a kid."

"So did I."

"They just weren't right, ya know?"

"Yeah, I get it. They represent an artificial and unattainable body image that confuses young children."

"That's not what I was thinking. I was thinking they're not anatomically correct."

"Of course that's what you were thinking. Walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"You sure did, sister."

I sigh heavily and lean back into my chair. "So how is everyone?"

"Marco sends his love and kisses. He gave me a book to give you. Some biography or something."

"Were you able to see him and Henry off?"

"No, I was in court. Nick and I had dinner with them the night before. I made sure to give them your card."

"Can you believe they've been married for three years?"

"No, it seems like just yesterday. God, they look hot together, don't they?"

"Yes. Incredibly hot."

"They were pumped about staying at the villa. They love that place."

"I know. That's why I decided to gift it to them."

"Oh, my God, Lex. They'll be over the moon."

"I haven't been there in years, and they go several times a year. I wanted to give them the deed before they left, but the agent I hired in Florence didn't get the paperwork filed in time."

"They'll be thrilled to death."

"I hope so."

"Everyone here seems nice. I met Lester when Mary sent me to the kitchen with Marco's dinners. He looks just like Mr. Clean."

I chuckle. "Yeah, just like. Nice man, but God bless Marco for sending me meals. Lester thinks the only thing vegetarians eat is tofu."

"So, how is your investigation coming along?"

"Good. Better than good, but I don't want to talk about it. I want the dirt on you and Ken."

She smiles. "He's good to me and for me, Lex."

"That's wonderful."

"At first, I thought it would be weird because I represented his ex-wife, and I like her. But he has never brought it up."

"You look happy, Jules."

"I am. When I look at myself in the mirror, I don't recognize myself."

"You're in love, Jules. It's written all over your face."

"Yes, I am. I...I think he's the _one_."

"Really?"

"If he ever asked me to marry him...I just might."

"From the girl who said she'd never marry. Just goes to show you, never say never."

"It scares the crap out of me, Lex."

"Why?"

"Because we've only been dating for a few weeks, and I already feel as if I couldn't live without him."

"Relationships are scary."

She rolls her eyes at me.

"Okay, I'm no expert or anything, but you don't need to be an expert to figure that one out."

She smiles. "I guess not."

So how is the..." I raise a knowing brow.

"Fantastic."

"I want details."

Before she can reply, her phone rings. She digs it out of her handbag and looks at the screen. She grins from earring-to-earring and holds up a just-a-second finger. Her smile is infectious and I find myself smiling along with her as she talks with Mr. Cain.

I love Jules. We're complete opposites but we fit. She's stunning; long blonde hair, big blue eyes, cute little nose, and curves she's proud of. She's always reminded me of a Barbie, and yes, I find it ironic that Nick reminds me of Ken.

Jules thinks, lives, and loves in 3-D color. She's eccentric, daring, and a little crazy. Her misadventures are legendary and, at times, just plain fucked up. That's just Jules.

I think one of the reasons we connect is because we both had unusual and difficult childhoods. Okay, we have issues, parent issues, relationship issues, trust issues, and...

I continue to watch her as she talks to her _one_. She's in love and it looks good on her. Love is wonderful and scary. Okay, what the hell do I know about it? Not much; I totally suck at it.

Gram says you know he's the _one_ when your heart skips beats. When you look at him, it skips, when he looks at you, it skips. When you hear his voice, it skips. When he touches you on your shoulder or you feel his breath on your neck...skip, skip. When he breathes in your scent, skip. When you breathe in his...skip, skip, skip. When I look at Jaxson, hear him, feel him, my heart doesn't just skip beats, it almost stops. Crazy, right? What the hell am I going to do?

#

I'm lying in bed nestled in between my Beeb sheets. I feel something brush against my leg. It tickles, and I kick it away. It returns; I kick it again. Then it speaks, but the words are muddled. It continues to muddle-speak, and I tell it to shut the fuck up and go away. Then it laughs and tugs my hair. I swat at it. Then I hear it speak my name and I open one eye. It's hot. Okay, damn hot, but I'm damn tired.

I was up late, playing poker, drinking scotch, and smoking cigars with my new friends.

It pulls on my hair again, and I open the other eye. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm sitting on your bed, poking your legs and pulling your hair."

"Let me rephrase. What the fuck are you doing in my room?"

"You have quite the potty mouth, Alexia."

"No shit, Sherlock. You haven't answered my question."

He gives me The Brow.

"Don't give me The Brow. I hate it, and it's way too early. Just go away," I say, closing my eyes.

"Why?"

I open my eyes. "Why, what?"

"Why do you hate The Brow?"

"Really?"

"Really."

"I don't like what it does to your face. You're going to have one hell of a wrinkle-bump thingy, in between your brows."

He rubs the space between his brows.

_Sorry, man, that's not going to help._ "So, why are you here?" I ask again and sit up on my elbows.

"I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"I've missed your beautiful face, your sarcasm, and your potty mouth."

I roll my tired eyes.

He smiles. "Okay, I didn't miss the potty, just the mouth."

I rub my eyes. "What time is it?"

"About five."

"Five!" I fall back, grab my pillow and put it over my face. "Can we do this later, I've got a headache," I mumble through my pillow.

"I didn't ask you if you wanted to fuck." He laughs. "Headache, get it?"

"Yeah, I got it. You're hilarious and my head is pounding. Go away."

"Serves you right; you're a bad influence, Ms. Keith."

"How so?"

"You've corrupted my entire household staff."

"Corrupted?"

"Yes, corrupted."

"Hey, it was Lester's idea to play poker. Mary supplied the scotch, Louie supplied the cigars; I just showed up."

"And because you just showed up, Louie invited his crazy cousins who are passed out in my library. Lane got drunk and couldn't pick me up at the airport, forcing me to take a cab and stay in the city. Mary is MIA and Lester is too hung-over to make me breakfast."

"That's unfortunate, but not my fault. And FYI, your household staff was already corrupted."

"FYI, it's weird and rude talking to you while your head is buried underneath your pillow."

"You're not going to go away, are you?"

"No. We need to talk."

"Okay, I'll meet you in the kitchen. We can talk while I fix you some breakfast."

"Go ahead and get dressed, I'll wait."

"No, I'll meet you in the kitchen."

"I'll wait."

"I need to pee, Jaxson, and I'd appreciate it if you would kindly remove yourself from my bed and wait down in the kitchen."

He doesn't move. I kick at him through the covers. "So...if you." _Kick._ "Don't mind." _Kick. Kick._

"I don't mind. Are you afraid I'll see you in your jammies?"

"No. Please, leave. I really need to pee."

"I'm good."

"For hell's sake, Jaxson!" I toss the pillow off my face and fling back the Beeb covers. I get up and march to the bathroom in all my jammie-less glory, and firmly shut the door.

"Fuck me, Lex."

"Potty mouth," I yell through the door.

I pee, brush my teeth, and pull my wild bed-head, cigar-odorous hair into a pony. I reach for my robe that's hanging by the door, but change my mind. This is my room, for now anyway, and I sleep in the buff. And besides, he's already seen the merchandise.

I open the door and again in all my jammie-less glory, march to the dresser. I pull out a bra, matching panties and socks and toss them on the bed. Then I get out a pair of yoga pants and T-shirt and chuck them on the bed. I walk to the closet and grab some runners and walk back to the bed.

I stand in front of Jaxson, whose ass hasn't moved an inch. He stares at me with a cheeky-assed grin that takes up the entire bottom half of his face.

I dress--very slowly. "Miss me?" I tease.

"Christ, Lex," he says and scoots to the middle of the bed, grabs two pillows, shoves them behind his head, and lies back.

"Are you comfy?"

"Very."

I roll my eyes at him as I pull up my panties, and then pull down my bra. "If I'd known you were coming for the show, I would have microwaved some popcorn," I deadpan.

He chuckles. "Hell, if I'd known there was going to be a show, I would have brought my own."

"Next time I'll text you the time and date of the show, so you'll have plenty of time to pop your corn."

I finish dressing and sit on the edge of the bed and put on my runners. "How was Phoenix?"

He swings his lanky legs off the other side. "Good."

I stand and catch him adjusting himself. "You really did miss me."

"You have no idea."

A sizable lump has turned his loose-fitting jeans into tight-fitting jeans. "Are you going to be able to walk with that thing?"

He adjusts himself again. "I think I might need...a minute."

"Or ten," I say and wiggle my brows.

He looks down at his lump. "I'll meet you in the kitchen in fifteen."

I giggle. "Or twenty." Walking to the door, I pause. "FYI, I missed you too."

#

Jaxson wanted to inform me that he's hosting a fundraising dinner for children with learning disabilities at the estate the following weekend. Mary had already told me, but I appreciated him telling me in person.

So, I week later I find myself in the guesthouse where Lane and Mary reside. Lane stands next to me as we look out the window and watch the formally-dressed diners arrive.

"Looks like it's going to be quite the shindig," I say and take a sip of scotch.

"Yep, sure wish I'd been invited," he teases.

"Yep, me too. Can't get enough of black tie charity dinners. So, Mr. Gray, you have the night off. Are you going to Disneyland or on a hot date?"

"I was hoping we could just hang."

"Just hang, huh?"

"Yeah."

We continue to watch the guests arrive.

"More scotch?" I ask, and grab the bottle.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Ms. Keith, so you can take advantage of me?"

I laugh. "Do I have to get you drunk, Mr. Gray, to take advantage?"

"No. You can take advantage of me at any time and in any condition."

"I'll keep that in mind. So what does just _hanging_ consist of? Other than drinking?"

"Anything you want," he says. _Wink. Wink._

I roll my eyes.

"We could get high?"

"Really?"

Forty minutes later...

"Dude, this is some sick cannabis," I say, exhaling. "Maybe we should open a window or go outside. I don't think your mom would appreciate her house smelling like a marijuana bar."

"Let's go out to the garage," Lane says.

We leave the guesthouse and make our way to one of the two car garages.

Lane flips on a light.

We walk around while passing a joint between us.

"How many cars does the Boss-man own?" I ask.

"Twenty cars and three bikes."

"Who in the hell needs twenty cars?"

"A bored millionaire."

"I know a bored billionaire who doesn't own one."

"Maybe it's not a question of need. One doesn't need a vehicle."

I laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"I must be real high because you reminded me of Kung Fu."

"The Carradine dude?"

"Yeah."

"Why do I remind you of him?"

"It's not a question of need, grasshopper, because one doesn't need a vehicle," I say with my best Kung Fu-Master voice.

Lane chokes as he inhales. Or maybe he was exhaling? I remove the joint from between his fingers and pat him on the back.

"You okay, man?"

"You are so high and that was fucking hilarious."

"Thank you, grasshopper."

"Why was he called grasshopper?".

"It...he...I have no clue."

We continue to wander around the garage.

"Which car is your favorite?"

Lane walks over to a cherry red Mustang convertible. "This is," he purrs, and runs his hand over the hood. "Mint condition--1966--all original parts."

"I don't know shit about cars, so I'm assuming that's good?"

He grins. "Yeah, it's good."

We make our way over to a new Range Rover. "This is new."

"Yeah, the Boss-man just got it. You like Rovers?"

"I guess. I learned how to drive in one." I pull on the driver's side door, and I'm surprised when it opens. "Don't you lock the doors?"

"Not usually."

I climb in and sit behind the wheel.

Lane sits his fine ass in the passenger seat. He makes himself comfortable and removes another joint from his shirt pocket. He lights it, takes a hit and hands it to me.

He laughs as he exhales. "Jaxson said we needed to break it in."

I giggle. "I'm sure he didn't mean by replacing the new car smell with eau de cannabis."

We sit and smoke in silence for a few minutes.

"So, you said you learned to drive in a Rover?"

"My grandmother's friend and driver taught me. The steering, of course, was on the other side."

"The UK?"

"Scotland."

"No way, dude. Is it weird on the other side?"

"It wasn't weird until I came back to the States. My first stateside driving experience was driving a Winnebago."

"Why a motor home?"

"Because I had a death wish."

He laughs.

"Marco, Jules and I went on a three-month cross-country road trip a few years ago. Our starting point was DC, and we ended it in LA."

"Dude! That sounds awesome." He pauses. "But...three months with Jules in a Winnie, that had to be rough."

"There were times we wanted to strangle her, but it turned out to be the best summer of our lives, mine anyway. Three months of driving, sightseeing, getting wasted and getting some."

"Getting some, huh?"

"Some in every state."

He raises a brow. "No way, dude. All lower forty-eight?"

"Hell, yeah. Well, okay, not every state. We skipped the Midwest, Utah, Idaho, Wyoming and a few others."

The windows in the Rover begin to fog; I open a door. As I take in the fresh air, I get a little woozy. "Holly crap," I utter and hold my head.

"Are you okay?" Lane asks, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, just a little brain-melt."

He stares at me.

"What?"

"I was going to ask you something, but I can't remember." He pauses for several seconds. "Oh, yeah. I was going to ask you... Crap, I forgot again." His brow wrinkles in concentration. "Okay, now I remember. Why do you say dude and man when you're high?"

I think for a minute. The more I think the more my head hurts. "Shit, dude- man, I don't know."

He smiles. "Fuck, we're high. We need fresh air." He opens his door and hops out.

I follow. "What's next, man?" I ask and hand him the joint.

"Let's go outside, dude." He grabs my hand, and we exit the garage.

#

We walk around the gardens for a few minutes.

I rub my arms.

"Are you cold?"

"Yeah, a little."

As we stroll past the swimming pools, Lane stops and gifts me with a cheeky, dimpled grin.

"Okay, what's going on?"

"That pool," he says, and points to an uncovered pool that's located closest to the house. "It's heated." He raises his brows. "What do you think, dude?"

I bite my lip. "I don't know, man."

"It will warm ya up." _Wink. Wink_.

"Okay, dude. Let's go swimming."

I follow him as he walks back to the side of the garage. He opens a lockbox and takes out a key that has, _Pool Gate,_ written on its tag. "This opens the gate that surrounds the pools."

"Really? I'll be sure to remember." _Dang! You're so high, dude._

We walk to the gate; he unlocks it, and we trek out to the heated pool.

"Okay, you first," I whisper.

"Why are you whispering?"

I cock my head. "I have no freakin' idea. How warm is the water?"

"I haven't a clue, dude. Take your shoe off and stick your toe in."

I pull off a Chuck and sock and toss them near the diving board. Then I walk over to the edge of the pool, and stick my big toe in.

"Well?" he asks with his hands on his hips.

"I'm not sure, my toe is numb."

He shrugs. "I'm just going to dive in."

He strips.

And of course, I _have_ to watch. "Nice chubby you got going on there, Mr. Gray."

"Shut up, Lex, you know you want some." He places his hands on his bare hips and gives me a cocky wave. Literally.

"In your dreams, big boy."

He chuckles as he steps onto the diving board. "Did I just strip down in front of you and wag my junk?"

"Yep, you sure did."

He puts his hands over his face and shakes his head.

"Hey, don't worry about it; we won't remember any of this tomorrow."

"Ya think?"

"No, we'll remember everything."

"Fuck."

"It's rather impressive."

He grins. "It is, isn't it? I've got the junk, all right."

"Okay, enough of being cocky about your cock, just dive off the damn board. Do a front double gamer."

"What? What the hell is a gamer?"

"I don't know."

"You're so high, man."

"Yep, I think we both are, dude."

He slaps his arms and legs as he walks toward the end of the board.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't know. Psyching myself up, I guess."

"Is it, working?"

He shakes his head as he steps to the very edge. "Here goes nothing."

_Splash._

I'm not sure what he was going for, but he ended up face-planting--hard.

He surfaces, holding his face. "Fuck me! That hurt like hell."

I laugh so hard my guts hurt. "Nice face-flop, dude. I'll give you a three for making me laugh so dang hard."

"Three, huh?" he says, still rubbing his face.

"Are you okay, dude?"

"Yeah, just making sure nothing's broken."

"Did you flatten Mr. Chubby?" I pout.

"No. I don't think so, anyway." He checks. _Thumbs-up._ "All's good."

"After that demonstration of _high_ diving, I think I'll take a pass."

"No friggin' way. Get your ass up on that board!"

"All right. You don't have to yell."

I remove my other Chuck and sock, while standing, and damn near face-plant into concrete. I somehow manage to strip myself bare, walk toward the board and toss my clothes on top of Lane's.

"Okay, let's see you beat a three."

"Like that will be hard." I step up onto the board and walk to the end. As I stand near the edge, I stretch my arms above my head and rotate my hips.

"What are you doing?"

"Stretching. You know, loosening the muscles. Aren't you supposed to do that first?"

"I guess it couldn't hurt. Maybe that's where I went wrong?"

"Maybe, dude." _Yeah, right. Even stretching couldn't have helped that dive, dude._

I bend and touch my toes.

"Ten!"

"What? I haven't done anything."

"You don't need to. Just hold that position and I'll be a very happy man."

I straighten. "Yeah right, Chubby Boy." I jog in place; the board bounces. "Dang, it's cold up here."

He coughs and says with a bad and just plain wrong southern accent, "Yes, it is, ma'am."

I look down and follow his gaze. "Hey, eyes off the ta-tas. And FYI, your southern accent is creepy."

"I was going for smooth and sexy."

"Well, you missed that train, by hours."

He continues to stare at the ta-tas.

"Dude, eyes off the ta-tas."

"Yeah, right, like that's going to happen. Your eyes were all over my junk."

I grin. "Yeah, they were."

He swims closer to the board. "Before you dive and possibly render yourself unconscious or worse, I'd like to inform you that I think your ta-tas are spectacular. The best real ones I've ever seen. Well, maybe second best."

"Second, huh?"

"Yeah, Katie Allen. Seventh grade science teacher--best ever."

"How did you see...never mind, I don't want to know."

"Are you sure? It was quite innocent. Well, sort of."

"That's what I thought. Sort of."

"Okay, dude. Quit stalling and dive, already."

"All right. I think I'm going to do a back gamer."

"I believe it's called a gainer, man."

"Whatever." I turn around, step to the end of the board, and place my feet so my heels just hang over. I raise my arms up over my head and position for a back dive. I take a deep breath and think how crazy and stupid this is.

"Okay, back gamer, gainer--whatever. On three. One, two--"

"Before you go," Lane breathes out, "I just wanted to say that your ass is incredible."

I look over my shoulder. "Are you done?"

"Yeah, I'm done."

"Okay, on three. One--"

"Wait!" He holds up his hands. "Sorry dude, but do you know what the hell you're doing?"

I bite my lip--thinking. "Maybe. Does it even matter?"

"Just concerned for your safety, ma'am."

"I'm freezing, so no more interruptions." I hate myself for being so damn competitive even while incapacitated. "Okay, here goes nothin'." I jump back.

_Tuck._

_Twist._

_Splash._

Hooah!

Lane swims up next to me. His mouth is gaping like a fish.

"You look like a grouper, Lane."

"Dude! I think that was a back gainer...or back something."

"It was definitely a back something. So what's my score?"

"A perfect ten."

"Sick."

We knuckle bump.

"That was crazy," he says.

"Yes, and the end of our careers as high-off-our-asses divers."

"I agree, man; once was more than enough."

We swim around and giggle, like two high school stoners in swim class.

I float close to Lane. "I like your eyebrow piercing."

Big grin. "Thanks, dude."

"Is a female dude a dudla?"

He laughs. "Why the hell not? Dudla it is."

I float a little bit closer. "Your tongue's pierced."

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Do you get food caught in it?"

He tilts his head. "No. I don't think so, anyway." He sticks his tongue out and wags it like a dog. "Do you see any?"

I float closer and look over his tongue. "No, looks food free. I don't get it."

"Get what?"

"The whole tongue-piercing thing. I think it's kind of gross."

"The chicks dig it."

I scrunch up my nose. "That's what I hear. Never had the experience myself."

"Really?" He lifts a brow.

"Can I feel it?"

He grins as if he just won the lotto.

"Not down there, you idiot. On my hand." I give him the back of my hand.

"You can't experience it like that."

"I can use my imagination," I say and wiggle my brows.

"Shit, man. Are you trying to torture me?"

"Torture you?"

"Duh, dudla. I'm not going to lick your hand while you're imagining...you know...that."

I grin and lean closer.

He pushes back. "Lex, stop! I'm...well...you know, getting...you know."

"Oh, I get it, Mr. Chubby is getting a bit too chubby." I swim a couple of circles around him. "I have a nose piercing. See?" I point at a small hole on the left side of my nose.

He drifts closer, giving it a good look-see.

I smile.

"Shit, dudla. I need a minute." He swims to the other side of the pool and back.

"Are we good?"

"Yeah, all's good. Just try and keep the tits under the surface."

"The ta-tas gettin' to ya, huh?"

"Somethin' like that."

We swim around for a minute or two, keeping our distance. When a light comes on in the solarium, we freeze.

"Crap. Keep your head down, Lex," he whisper-shouts.

I duck my head and get the high-giggles. Lane joins in and we can't stop. Another light comes on and we sink a little lower.

He swims up next to me and we watch as a heavy-set man in a tux, and a skinny brunette, in a long, red formal walk into the middle of the solarium.

"What are they doing?" I ask.

He squints. "Can't see. Let's get closer."

We wade to the other side of the pool. I try to keep the ta-tas below the surface, but it ain't easy.

We bob at the edge of the pool as we take in the scene. The man removes his jacket and folds it over the back of a wicker chair. He then stands behind the woman, lifts the hem of her dress, and shimmies her panties down to her knees.

Lane and I look at each other, silently debating if we should continue watching.

He nods.

I nod.

We grin.

We carry on.

He places a hand on her lower back; she leans forward and grasps the back of a wicker sofa. He adjusts his pants, un-zip, and they drop and crumple at his feet.

"Oh, my God! That is the hairiest ass I've even seen."

"Yeah, he could use a trim."

I look at Lane, thinking he needs an optometrist--pronto! "A trim? For hell! We're talking serious manscaping here."

The man turns and gifts us with a full frontal.

"Oh, man! That's just nasty."

I shake my head in agreement. "I didn't think it could get worse. Dude, I was so wrong." I shiver. "Poor skinny woman. Take it from behind and don't look back. Ever."

"I've seen worse," Lane says, as if he's an expert on man hair.

"No way, dude."

"Yeah, way, dudla. There was a professor at NYU who used to braid and bead his man hair."

"Yuck!" I pause and think on this for a few beats. "How and why would you know this?"

"He took selfies and posted them on Face Book."

"That's sick; not good sick. Bad sick. I can't even see his dick through that jungle."

Lane squints. "I think...no... Yeah, it's right there." He points. As if that's going to help.

I squint. "Are you sure? That looks like a Vienna sausage."

"Vienna sausage?"

"Yeah, those little flesh-colored sausages that come in a small can."

"Oh, yeah. Do they still make those?"

"I think so."

"Well, I for sure will never be eating one."

"Me neither, dude."

"Poor guy. No junk. That's just sad."

I bump his shoulder with mine. "It's Poor Skinny Woman you should feel sorry for."

We continue with our voyeurism. The man spreads the woman's legs with his knee, and proceeds to finger fuck her. After what seems like an hour to us, and most likely forever for her, he stops, pulls out his fingers, and licks them.

"Yuck, that's disgusting."

"Really? I think it's hot."

"Of course you do."

The man grabs his jacket and removes a condom from the inside pocket. He rips it open with his teeth and rolls it on.

Lane taps my shoulder. "Dudla, do they even make condoms that small?"

"Do I look like a condom expert?"

He studies me. "What does a condom expert look like?"

"Hell if I know."

Gorilla man positions himself behind Poor Skinny woman, and enters her with a grunt. He pulls back and gives her a quick, hard slap on the ass.

I jump. "Crap, that sounded like it hurt."

He starts pounding into her hard, almost pushing her up and over the sofa.

"Who's your daddy?" _Spank. Spank._

I jump, again. "Shit, that's got to hurt."

The woman shouts. "Fuck. You're my daddy! Daddy, please make me come."

I giggle. "Good luck with that, girlfriend; like that's ever going to happen."

Lane nods in agreement.

_Spank. Spank_.

"Oh, daddy, I'm so close. You feel so good. Oh! God, yes, daddy, I'm coming!"

"Yeah, right," we say simultaneously and laugh.

He slams into her one last time, emitting a loud grunt. Seconds later, he removes himself from the poor orgasm-faking woman; she tugs up her panties and pulls down her dress. He pulls his pants up over his gorilla ass (thank God), rolls off the condom, ties it off, puts it into a pocket, and finally, tucks his wee-one in.

"Looks like the show's over," Lane says.

"There is a God."

The man gives her one last slap on her ass. She squeals, the lights dim, and all is well, once again.

"That was..."

"Something we didn't need to see," Lane says.

"You got that right, dude."

Lane swims over to our clothes and pulls his pants to the edge of the pool. He then goes through his front pocket and removes a joint and lighter. He fires up the joint and takes a long hit. He swims over to me and hands it over.

"Thanks, dude." I take a long hit and pass it back. "Dude, this is like our fourth joint."

"And our last. We've depleted my stash."

We smoke and float around for a few minutes.

"Dudla, I'm so high."

"Dude, my fingers are all prunie. It's weird, I can see they're prunie, but I can't feel their pruniness."

"What?"

"Never mind. I think it's time we get out."

"Yeah, I think you're right, dudla."

We take one last hit and swim back toward our clothes. I begin to pull myself out of the pool when a light in the solarium comes on, followed by one outside. I freeze, and Lane grabs me, tugging me back into the water with a _splash._ He takes my hand and pulls me toward the shadowed side or the pool.

The outer solarium door flings open; a woman steps out onto the patio, followed by a man in a tux.

I peek out from our hiding place. "Crap, Lane, it's the Boss-man."

He looks over my shoulder. "And Mia," he hisses.

"Mia? His ex-wife?"

"Yeah. She's a fucking piranha. She'll eat the flesh off your bones."

"So, you don't like her?" I tease.

"I hate the bitch."

I scan over a pretty petite blonde who's sporting extra-large ta-tas. "Sure is a tiny thing. She looks like Tinker Bell with large ta-tas."

"Tinker Hell is more like it."

I giggle. "So you _really_ don't like her?"

"Hell no," he says a little too loudly and we get the high-giggles, again.

They move closer to the pool, and we freeze.

"Why are you here, Mia?" Jaxson shouts.

"Oh, come on, Jaxson. I'm here with a date. When I found out it was your charity dinner we were attending, it was too late for me to cancel."

"You came here to cause trouble, and you have...so now you can leave!"

"Leave? But we haven't finished our dinners," she whines.

"What did you say or do to Anna?"

"I didn't say or do anything to her."

"Well, she ran out in tears. God, Mia. You're such a bitch. Anna is the chair of the charity. And just because she was sitting next to me, you what? Felt the need to Mark your territory?"

She laughs. It's a high-pitched squeal, like a dying cat.

Lane and I wince.

"I was just curious. I thought she was that whore, Alexia; you have living here. I can't believe you talked the rest of the partners into a house arrest. She should be in jail."

I look at Lane and whisper, "Jaxson never told me his ex-wife was a partner."

"Unfortunately, she is."

"Mia, I'm not going over this again. I want you to find your date and get the hell out of my house!"

"Okay. Don't get your briefs in a tangle," she says and scans over his crotch. "You still wear the same brand, don't you?"

"For hell," I whisper.

Jaxson frowns her way.

"At the partners' meetings, you said there was nothing personal between you two, but I knew you were lying."

"Mia, get out of my house or I'll have you thrown out!"

"Okay, no need to get all hot and bothered, I'm leaving. It won't be long before you call me anyway, you always do," she purrs.

And I all but ralph in my mouth.

"Goodnight, my dearest Jaxson." She gives him a wave, and looks our way before walking back through the solarium and into the house.

I wipe a tear off my cheek. "I can see why you don't like her."

"Yeah, she's a real charmer."

I wipe another tear.

"Hey, dudla. Are you crying?"

"It's the weed."

His frown deepens. He's not buying it.

Jaxson paces near the pool for few minutes before walking back toward the solarium.

Lane and I let out our breath.

"Didn't need to hear that."

"Told you; Tinker Hell."

"Who's out there?" Jaxson shouts, stomping back toward the pool.

"Under now," Lane whispers.

We go under. When we can no longer hold our breath, we slowly surface. And thankfully, Jaxson is gone.

"That was close."

"Sure was, dudla."

We wait for a few minutes just to make sure the coast remains clear. Then we climb out, grab our clothes and run to the solarium. Lane grabs a couple of towels from a cabinet, we wrap them around us, and make our way to the guesthouse.

We walk into the kitchen area, wrapped in our towels, and laughing like hyenas.

"That was fun."

"Yeah, real fun. Not," I reply.

I remove myself, walk to the guest bath, get dressed, and return to the kitchen. This is where I find Lane raiding the fridge.

"Are you hungry?"

"Hell, yes," I say and sit down on a barstool.

Lane is pulling food out like the Tasmanian Devil when Mary walks in.

"Where have you two been? I've been looking all over for you." She frowns and puts down a tray wrapped in foil. "Leftovers from the party," she says. "Are you two hungry?"

Lane and I look at each other. "Starving," we both pant.

Lane gets out plates and utensils. We go at the leftovers like ravenous Hannibal Lectors.

Mary sniffs the air. "What's that smell?" She sniffs Lane, then me. "My good God, you two smell like dope. Have you been smoking crack?"

We look at her serious expression, and crack up.

Lane wipes a happy tear with the back of his hand. "Mom, we're not on crack."

She sniffs us again.

"Just a little pot, Mom. You know, weed, grass, marijuana, cannabis."

She rolls her eyes. "I know what pot is, smartass." She gives me _the mom look._ "I expect this kind of behavior from my son, Alexia, but not from you."

"I'm sorry, Mary."

"Well, just don't do it again. That shit messes up your reproductive system." She points at Lane.

I giggle.

"Thanks, Mom, I love you too."

She smiles.

He frowns.

"Well, you two, I've got to get back to the party. I can't stay and baby-sit, so stay out of trouble. What would Jaxson say if he found you two stoned out of your minds?" She shakes her head and walks out the door.

We dig into the leftovers. Lane looks at me and with his mouth stuffed full of mashed potatoes he mumbles something like, "It's a good thing my mom doesn't know I get my weed from Jaxson." He swallows.

Thank God. Because I can't understand him and don't like seeing mashed potatoes swimming around his tongue piercing. Gross.

"She would be heartbroken; she thinks he's a saint."

I smile.

We devour the leftovers and drink a pot of coffee. Then we sit on a sofa, full and sleepy.

"I'm tired, dude. It's time for me to head out. Had fun hanging with you, Mr. Gray. Not sure if I want to remember some of it, but..." I look at Lane, who is sit-lying next to me, fast asleep. I stand, cover him with a blanket and kiss his cheek. "Goodnight, dude-man."

#

The morning after the shindig, I run a quick five miles. Afterward, I sit on my favorite bench in the west garden.

Lane strolls over.

"Good morning, Chubby Boy Dude Man."

He smiles and plants his fine ass next to mine.

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah. Hey, did I fall asleep on you last night?"

"You did, but I was ready to leave anyway."

"How did you sleep?"

"Almost fell asleep in the shower. When my head hit the pillow; out like a light."

"I had the strangest dream."

"Do tell."

"I dreamt that I got real high and swam around in a pool with a beautiful naked woman."

"That is a strange dream. Perhaps you should talk to your therapist about it."

He laughs. "How was your run?"

"Okay. Just a little off my stride."

Lane looks up. "Boss-man, twelve o'clock."

I look to twelve and watch Jaxson approach.

"Good morning. Mind if I join you two?"

"Not at all," I answer and slide over.

He sits.

Lane smirks. "So, Boss-man, how was your party?"

I give him my elbow.

"Okay, I guess. We surpassed our donation goal."

"That's wonderful, Jaxson," I reply.

"Mary tells me that you two had your own little party."

"Yeah, we had a smokin' good time," Lane tells him.

Jaxson scowls. "What did you do at this party?"

I give Lane a sideward glance.

He shrugs his shoulders.

"We watched a movie," I lie.

"What movie?"

"Do you remember the name of the movie?" I ask Lane.

"Hmm...let's see... I think it was called something like-- _Daddy Couldn't Make Me Come_... I mean...go, _Make Me Go_."

I bite my bottom lip.

Jaxson rubs his brow. "Never heard of it. Sounds like a horror flick."

We giggle.

"So it was a comedy, then?"

"Yeah," I reply. "Dark comedy."

"What was it about?"

"Some poor skinny girl hiding with her daddy in the bush."

Jaxson raises a brow. "The Australian bush?"

"Yeah, the deep Australian bush."

Lane's face turns beet red from holding in his laughter. He gets up and blows it out. "I've got to go... I'll see ya later." He walks toward the guesthouse and when he rounds the corner we hear him burst out with laughter.

"Must have been one hell of a funny movie."

"Yes, it...had its moments."

Jaxson sits back and nudges my knee with his. "Missed you last night."

"Sorry, I couldn't make it. House arrest and all of that."

"Would you have come if you weren't?"

"Probably not."

He nudges my knee again. "You and Lane seem to be getting close?"

"Are you jealous?"

"No, just making an observation."

"Yeah, right."

"Okay, maybe a little."

"No worries, he's a bit young for me."

"He's only five years younger."

"The same age as my sister. I've been thinking about setting him up with Sam."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. One less man I'll have to fight off."

"Yeah, you have your hands full with Lester and Louie," I tease.

He chuckles. "Lane and your sister, huh?"

"Yeah."

"But she lives in Portland, Oregon."

"Don't you remember? I told you Sam's moving to New York in a couple of months?"

"I forgot. Got a lot on my mind lately."

"I know you do, and I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." He places his hand over mine and entwines our fingers.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay."

"Sam, she's a structural engineer?"

I nod. "She's been trying to get a job in the city for a years."

"Well, I can't wait to meet her."

"You'll like her," I say and frown. I missed my sister like crazy. But her moving to NYC complicates and already complicated situation.

"Why the frown."

"Sorry, just thinking."

He brings up our linked hands and kisses my knuckles. I return the gesture.

"You're different here; more relaxed."

"Really? Could it be because I'm unemployed with too much time on my hands?"

"And that's a bad thing?"

I give him a hard look. "Oh, my God, I can't believe you just said that. I'm going crazy. Don't get me wrong. I love everyone here and love spending time with them. And yeah, it's been nice sleeping in and having the time to read a few books. But, you know I need to work, just like you do. It's more just a job to me. It always has been. Working grounds me."

"I thought running grounded you."

"It does, but it's not enough."

"Then run more."

"I have been, up to twenty miles a day. I'm starting to count when I run and that's not good."

"What does that mean?"

"Every time a foot hits the pavement I count it."

"That's just weird."

"Tell me about it."

We sit in silence for a few beats.

I break the silence. "So, how is the investigation of the outside audits going?"

"Slowly. And yours?"

"Better and faster than I expected it to go."

"Do I want to know how that's possible?"

"No."

"Have you hired a hacker?"

"I thought you didn't want to know?"

"I don't. I just want to make sure none of your illegal dealings with hackers and the like can be connected to me or Ryan."

I un-entwine our fingers. "Do you really think I'd do that to you or your company? Sometimes I wonder if you know me at all."

"I don't. Not really," he bites out.

_Ouch!_ "Is this going somewhere, or are you just in a bad mood and feel the need to take it out on me?" I stand up. "I'm going to go grab a shower."

"Go ahead and run like you always do," he yells.

I turn. "I'm not running. I'm walking."

"You've avoiding, hiding."

"Where is all this coming from?"

"Who is Zane Black?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"He's a...friend of the family. Why?"

"He contacted me a couple of days ago."

The sweaty hairs on the back of my neck rise. "He called you?"

"Oh, yeah, he called me. He informs me that you asked him for his help with your investigation."

"He... I did. He's playing the point man, so to speak. What else did he say?"

"Oh, he had plenty to say." He starts pulling at his hair. He's mad.

"Zane had no business contacting you. And believe me when I say you don't have anything to worry about where he's concerned. I'll take care of him."

I turn and continue my trek toward the house. Jaxson catches up with me, grabbing my shoulder, turning me around.

"That's all you have to say?"

"There isn't anything more to say."

"Then, fuck you!"

"Jax, why are you so mad at me?"

"You don't get it."

_Obviously, dude._

"I wanted you...here at my home. I wanted to keep you safe. And yeah, stupid-ever-hopeful me..."

"What?"

"I was hoping it would give us the opportunity to... Oh, fuck is," he says and pulls harder on his hair.

"You're going to go bald if you continue to do that."

He frowns.

"Do you want to tell me what's really going on here? Because I don't get why you're so damn mad at me. If it's Zane, please don't worry about him."

"That's the problem, Lex. You don't get it."

"Jax."

"Why do I feel like you're always telling me half-truths? You know what? Who the hell cares?" He takes one last tug on his hair and stomps away.

"Jaxson," I yell. What the hell just happened? When _they_ say men and women are from different planets. _They_ were right. Whoever the hell _they_ are.

#

The man is hot and cold like a faucet, and it drives me friggin' nuts. I've obviously done something to make him mad, but he can't walk all over me, jump down my throat, and then just walk away.

This is definitely not how I wanted the day to go. I wanted to talk to him about us, the possibility of us, not battle over the asshat, Zane Black.

This embezzlement thing has forced me to rethink a lot of my decisions. But it was last night that sealed the deal. Seeing Jax with his ex-wife was upsetting and revealing. I've seen him with other women. Lots of women. And hell yeah, it hurt, and still hurts. But Tinker Hell--she's different. There's something about her that's not right. She has some kind of hold over Jaxson and I don't like it. I've never been a woman who has felt the need to mark her territory, but I am now.

After my shower, I call Zane and verbally kick his interfering ass. I then make my way to the kitchen. I asked Lester to make some of his world famous cinnamon rolls. Mary said they're Jaxson's kryptonite. I figured I'd need all the ammo I could muster up before I faced my Superman. Mary tells me that he's in his office. So, armed with a tray of Lester's killer kryptonite cinnamon rolls and coffee, I march to battle.

_Knock. Knock_.

"Jaxson. Hey, it's Alexia. Can I come in?"

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Jax, I know you're mad and I don't blame you. I... It's... Will you please answer me?"

I jiggle the handle and find it unlocked. I pause briefly--thinking. I decide to go for it. I open the door and Jaxson is sitting behind a large dark wood desk. His office is warm and inviting like the rest of the house. His entire home has a charming old-world feel to it. I felt at home from the moment I walked through the door.

Jaxson is working on his laptop with headphones on. He doesn't sense my presence so I stand and watch him work. I've had many opportunities to observe him over the last two-plus years and he continues to fascinate me. His movements and expressions are subtle, except for The Brow. The Brow is all but subtle. So with the one exception, his expressions are slight and guarded.

He's good at negotiating deals and acquiring companies because it's hard to read him. A slight twitch of the eye means he's nervous or anxious. A quick bite on the lower lip, accompanied by an exhale; he's mad or wants to throttle you. A fast tip up of the chin; he's up for a challenge or he's dismissing you. When he looks or plays with his hands, he's bored. When he looks slightly down and through his long lashes as he rubs his thumb over the tips of his fingers, he's checking you out; he wants you. It's a look that I've become familiar with and never get enough of.

But ninety percent of Jaxson's expressions come from his dark chocolate eyes. His eyes tell it all. I've never seen such expressive eyes. One look can challenge me. One look can make me sad or bring me to tears. One look can make me mad. One look can turn me on. One look can wreck me.

I step further into the room and place the serving tray down on the edge of his desk. He looks up in surprise. A flash of happiness washes over his eyes but is quickly flooded over with sadness.

_Okay, not good, Lex._

He removes his headphones. "This is a surprise."

"A good surprise or bad?"

"You tell me," he bites.

_Ouch._ "Good, I hope. May I?" I gesture toward a large overstuffed leather chair that flanks his desk.

He nods.

I sit and look at his now forgotten laptop. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not anything that can't wait." He closes his computer, pushes it aside, and sits back in his chair.

I nod toward the tray. "Lester made your favorite."

"Yes, I see and smell. A peace offering, I presume?"

"Yes, and ammunition."

"Are we going into battle?"

"You tell me."

He frowns.

_Okay, this is going well. Not!_ I stand and pour him some coffee and place it in front of him. I then place several rolls on a plate and push it toward him. I wait a few seconds before I sit down.

"You're not having any?"

"No. All yours. More ammo, and all that."

"Yeah, I think you'll be needing a large stockpile."

"Large stockpile, huh?"

He nods and takes a big bite of cinnamon roll. I watch as he downs two rolls and bites into his third. He sure likes his cinnamon rolls.

"Jax, we need to talk."

"Ya think?"

"Don't be a smart-ass."

He swallows. "Coming from the biggest smart-ass I know."

I sigh heavily.

"I'm sorry. Please continue."

I nod. "You've always said I don't take you seriously, but you're wrong; I take you very seriously. If I didn't, I wouldn't be living in your home under house arrest and I wouldn't be sitting here watching you...devour cinnamon rolls. Good God, is that your fourth roll?"

"It's my fifth," he mumbles, with his mouth full of roll.

"I think you said fifth. I recommend swallowing before talking."

He grins, looking like a squirrel with a mouthful of nuts.

"You know, Lester made a few dozen of those. I thought it was extreme, but I was wrong."

"I love these things," he says, grabbing number six.

"I could come back later."

He swallows. "No, please stay. We do need to talk."

"Jax, I know you're going through a lot right now; I get it. But I don't appreciate being yelled at. It's not that I can't handle it. I've been yelled at by some of the best...yellers. But if you want to have it out with me, I need to know what we're fighting about. If it's Mr. Black, it's a waste of oxygen. I'm sorry he called you. I can guarantee you that he won't be calling again."

"I'm sorry about earlier. I was out of line. I've got a lot going on and I did let that asshole get to me."

"I figured."

"He...implied, well, he implied a lot."

"Like what?"

"He said he was just a friend but implied a more intimate relationship. I felt as if he was staking his claim and I...well, I made it clear--over my dead body."

I bite my lip to hold off a grin. Two alpha males, marking their territories, over me; I wanted to laugh.

"From there it turned into a pissing contest. Things got real ugly. He was spouting all this shit. I didn't understand most of it. I mean, I got the fucker, and wanker, but the rest of it... I wanted to deck the guy. Hell, I was mad. I'm still mad. If this guy is a friend, then no wonder you're so messed up."

"Ouch."

"Oh, hell. Lex, I'm sorry."

"It hurts to hear it, but the truth hurts, right?"

"It was just one more reminder of how little I know about you."

"You know what's important."

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"You know I would do anything for a friend. I love to laugh. I like to eat cereal for dinner. I'd wear my Chucks and sweats to work if I could. I can't keep numbers out of my head and it drives me crazy. I thrive on organized chaos. I like to people-watch, and make up stories about them. I love unusual and weird facts, and have a soft spot for turtles. I'm allergic to penicillin. And you know the location of my one and only ticklish spot."

He grins. "Those are the important things?"

"Hell yes. It's the little things that make us who we are. So it's the little things that matter."

He sits back into his rolling chair and folds his arms over his, I know for a fact, not Photoshopped chest. "Okay, Ms. Keith, what are the little things you know about me?"

"Okay, Mr. Ryan. I know you secretly enjoy romantic comedies and girl bands."

"I do no--"

I raise a brow.

"Okay, I do."

"I know you like to sleep on the right side of the bed, and you talk in your sleep. You'll only wear one brand of boxer-briefs, and you can't stand it when your sock seams aren't aligned perfectly. I know you miss your parents and think about them every day. You love rollercoasters. You hate for people to stand close behind you."

He grins. "So true."

"Someday you'd like to ride your Harley to Sturgis."

He nods. "Go on."

I do. "When you like a song, you play it over and over. You love the smell of my hair."

"Mmm. I do."

"During boring meetings you draw buildings or play poker on your laptop. And I know of at least five of your ticklish spots."

"I had no idea you knew those things about me."

"I know because little things do matter. You could tell me you loved me and it would matter. But telling me you know I have a philtrum fetish means just as much to me."

He stops eating (thank God), gets up and walks around his desk. He pulls me out of my chair, onto a sofa, and then plants his fine ass next to mine.

"You're weird, Lex."

"Well, thank you, Jax. Messed up and weird. Words every girl wants to hear."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way. I guess I should have said you're not like most of the women I know. You really don't care about all the...fluff, do you?"

"Fluff?"

"Yeah, money, position, looks. The fluff."

"I wouldn't say I don't care. I just don't think they mean anything if you don't have--the non-fluff-stuff."

He takes my hand and entwines our fingers. "I know it's hard for you to be here. But I love having you here. I want you to see this part of my life. To see what really matters to me."

Releasing my hand, he cups my chin and looks into my eyes. "Lex, what are we going to do?"

"You mean, about us?"

"Yes. Things between us have to change."

He un-cups my chin.

I wipe cinnamon from the corner of his mouth. "I agree, and I've been thinking."

He rolls his eyes.

"Hey, thinking isn't a bad thing."

"When it's not you, maybe."

"Smartass. Do you want to know or not?"

He sits back into the leather. "Okay, Lex, tell me what you've been thinking."

"See, that wasn't so hard. I was thinking that maybe me being here could be a _while in Rome_ kind of thing."

"What?"

"For a smart guy, you're pretty dense sometimes."

He thinks for a minute. "Oh. _While in Rome_. We could...?"

"Yeah, we could." I raise a horny brow.

"Hell, yeah, I'm all over that. But..."

"But...?"

"It can't end like Dublin, Lex. It's not going to be a wham-bam-thank-you-man, see ya when I get my act together. I said things need to change, and I meant it."

"I know. I wasn't proposing that it should be a one-nighter. I think you need to understand something, Mr. Ryan. I was just as affected by our night in Dublin as you were. I ended us because I care about you."

"Lex, I--"

"Let me finish. I know you don't get it. And I don't want, and really can't get into it now. All you need to know is, if we do this...I'm committed. I want us. All I ask is that you understand I have issues."

"Yeah, you think and talk too much."

"Jax, I'm serious."

"I know, babe; I'm sorry."

"I need time to work out some of these issues. And I'm scared shitless."

"Babe, I'm just as scared. I'm scared you'll leave me again. I need you to promise not to give up on us. Can you do that?"

"I promise."

"Okay. So we're good?"

"Yeah, all's good."

He grabs my hand and pulls me off the sofa. "Let's go."

#

Jaxson pulls me, no, drags me up the stairs. I take two stairs at a time in an effort to keep up. When we reach his bedroom, he scoops me up and tosses me onto his bed.

I laugh because being tossed on a bed is fun. You should try it. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

"You've got to be kidding me. My balls are so big and blue I could bowl with them. Hell, we could join a league. It was hell knowing you were just down the hall the last few nights. It's been awhile since the best night of my life. I'm not waiting a second longer for it to be the best afternoon of my life."

"Dublin was the best night of your life?"

"Hands down."

My eyes begin to cloud over; I bite my lip.

"Don't you dare cry on me."

I bite down harder. "Okay."

He removes his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and goes through it. "Fuck."

He throws it on a bedside table and stomps toward the en-suite bathroom. He pauses steps away. "Don't go anywhere! Don't move a muscle, an inch, millimeter, a...just don't move."

Before I can reply, he disappears into the bathroom. I hear cabinet doors open and shut. Then drawers being pulled out and closed with a _bang._ "Fuck!" he shouts.

He reappears, tugging on his hair.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to find a condom or preferably...condoms."

"Oh. What about the bedside tables?"

"No. I never have sex in this bed, this room, not even in this house."

Wow. A girl can never hear those words enough. Like never--ever.

He gives me a hopeful look. "What about you?"

"Seriously?" I point out my T-shirt and pocket-less yoga pants.

He points to my bra.

"Yeah, I usually tuck one in my bra. Dang. The one time I forget."

"Don't be a smartass. What about your room?"

"Sorry. Only batteries required for what I've been doing in there."

He starts to pace and then freezes. "Lane!" he yells. "I'll be right back."

He runs out the door and slams it shut. Two seconds later it flies open.

"Don't you dare move...an inch and all that stuff I said before."

"I won't."

"And..."

I cross my heart. "I promise and all that other stuff."

He nods, and the door slams behind him.

A few minutes later the door flies open and he walks--no bounces in, waving his bounty. He dribbles the condoms like some kind of yo-yo basketball.

"He shoots!"

A dozen or so condoms fly through the air and land on the bed.

"He scores! And the crowd goes wild."

I look at the pile of condoms. "You must think you'll be scoring lots of three-pointers?"

He gives me a sexy, suggestive grin. "I plan on shooting three pointers all afternoon, and all night, baby."

I lift a brow. "Lane gave you a hard time, huh?"

"Yeah, the asshat made me beg. So I grabbed every condom he had and ran."

He kicks off his shoes, pulls off his sweater and tosses it on the floor. He nods my way. "What are you waiting for?"

"I don't know. This just feels rushed--fast."

"So?"

"We haven't even kissed."

"So?"

"A little foreplay would be nice."

"That will come later; all I want now is a hard and fast fuck."

"Wow, and they say romance is dead."

"I'll give you romance and foreplay. I'll kiss, lick and suck every perfect inch of you. Fuck first. Play later."

I laugh, because I can and it was funny. "Okay, Tarzan."

He tugs off his T-shirt and I scan his drool-worthy chest. Okay, I'm starting to feel it. He steps out of his hip-lovin' jeans, and then, oh my, his ass-cuddling boxer-briefs fall to the floor and he kicks them away. Oh, yeah, I'm feelin' it. To hell with foreplay! I remove my Chucks and clothes in world record time.

He chuckles. "That's more like it."

I sit on the edge of the bed and take in the magnificence before me. No man has a right to look this good, to be this perfect. My eyes fixate on one particular magnificent part of him. I mean, come on girlfriend; like you wouldn't. My nipples harden and moisture pools between my legs. Holy hell, I'm living on page seventy-five of a romance novel. You know, where the good stuff starts.

He rips open a condom with his teeth and slowly rolls it on. When done, he lifts his right brow and he gifts me with the sexiest grin, ever. Then he prowls toward me. Yes, I said prowls. He is Tarzan, after all.

"Jane like Tarzan?" he purrs, pushing me down onto the mattress.

"Jane like Tarzan. Jane forget. Tarzan hung."

A self-congratulatory grin takes over his face as he nudges my legs apart with his knee. As he leans over me, our breathing pauses and our eyes lock. He slowly enters me; my vision blurs. Holy hell. I'm panty-soaking-page-seventy-five wet, but his cock is an overachiever; it's freakin' huge.

He backs out. "God, you're so fucking tight."

"I was doing okay."

"Lex, that was just the tip."

"Oh. Then you better go slow. Like real slow. It's been a while."

"How long?"

"Dublin."

"Really? Dublin?"

I nod.

"Lex, that's just..."

"I know, baby."

He grins down at me like the happiest idiot and he spreads my legs wider. "Are you ready?"

"I think so."

With chocolate eyes on his prize, he penetrates me; fills me, overwhelms me. I swell around him, encasing him, halting him. It's as if my body is saying, _too much, too big, too fast_. When fully seated, I float somewhere between pleasure and pain. Holy crap. I don't remember him being so long, so thick. Did my vag shrink like five sizes? I've wanted him, us, for so long. Now that I'm here--I can barely breathe.

My eyes flutter.

"Are you okay, babe?"

"All's good."

He pulls out to the tip then plunges back. It takes everything I have to keep my blue eyes, on my prize.

He finds his rhythm; I lose mine. My eyes remain open, but everything blurs. I bite the inside of my cheek as old memories flash in my head. It's as if I'm watching a slideshow of my first time with a guy, the first time I fucked. What the hell? The yearning, the anticipation, the thrill of the unknown; then it happened. The deed was done and I felt cheated. I wanted a redo, a rewind. The thrill was gone, as they say. Where was the incredible connection, the unforgettable, fun-fuckin'-fantastic orgasm? All I got was a disconnected unfulfilling invasion. I'd willingly given myself, but I wanted me back.

I don't understand why the slideshow of memories; why now? On the verge of tears, my vision clears and... There they are, those loving chocolate eyes. Then, I get it, the yearning, the anticipation, and the thrill of the unknown. This is my new beginning, my redo, my rewind. Holy fuck! But this time I won't feel cheated. Hell no! I'll get my incredible connection. I'll get my fun-fuckin'-fantastic orgasm.

"Babe, are you with me?"

"Yeah, I'm with you."

"I thought I'd lost you there for a minute."

Holy hell. This man gets me, reads me, sees me.

"You're so tight. Do I need to slow things down?"

"No...don't. It would be a shame and a major disappointment. I want my hard and fast fuck."

He groans. "You devastate me, Alexia. Do you know that?"

"Yes, I know." I squeeze his ass, coaxing him to move. He circles his hips, sliding over my swollen clit. The pain fades and I moan.

Each time he pulls out, I feel a hollow emptiness. When he pushes back in, I feel an abundant completeness. Our eyes dance in complete synchronization; swaying, dipping, spinning. I'm close. My fun-fuckin'-fantastic orgasm stands at the intersection, impatiently waiting for the light to change.

I groan.

He moans.

I feel his cock inflate and lengthen. How is that even friggin' possible? Then, as promised, the rocking turns into hard and fast fucking.

In a flash, the light turns red, and I run across the intersection. When I reach the other side my orgasm tosses me in the air; I spread my wings and fly. I soar through the clouds, touch the sun, then tilt my wings and prepare for landing. As I'm making my approach, I feel his balls swell and slap into me.

His pupils dilate, his jaw tightens, his teeth clench. Then with a roar worthy of Tarzan, he throws his head back and finds his release.

He continues to pound, circle and grind into me, never losing his rhythm. I know what he wants, and he won't stop until he gets it. I'm one lucky bitch, because he is my stubborn persistent man. _My man?_

Once again, I find myself standing at the intersection, waiting for that damn light. Then he commands me to come.

"Lex. Come for me, baby. Come now."

The light turns red and I run across the intersection, leap into the air, spread my wings, and fly into my second fun-fuckin'-fantastic orgasm. When I land he's there to catch me. His arms envelop me, his grin presses into my hair, mine presses into his chest.

Minutes later, we pull apart and grin at each other like idiots; well-fucked-happy idiots.

"Tarzan fuck. Now play. Jane play?"

"Yes, Tarzan. Jane play."

#

Ten days, four hours, ten minutes, and five seconds later, we've moved on to page seventy-six. It's here that I find myself in a dilemma. Or is it, I'm having a dilemma?

As I lie on my side, I feel something hot, hard and huge (three words we all love) pressing against my crack and lower back.

Now I know you're saying or thinking, why the hell is this a dilemma? So here's the thing. I've just fucked, and performed acrobatic feats never known to man, for ten freakin' hours. Not seeing the dilemma yet? Boy, you're slow.

Okay, I bonked and other stuff with Jaxson Mega Hung Ryan. Now you're catching on. You're a lot smarter than you look.

Remember major man wood pressing against my ass cheeks? Remember fucking said major man wood for ten hours? You got it...I'm hurting. Every bone and non-bone in my body is on fire. I just moved my right little piggy, and now I can barely breathe.

So what do I do? You know, when he wakes up. Because he will wake up--it's inevitable. I could pray for a mini coma, but it's futile. He's going to wake up, and he's going to want to do it, multiple times. I don't want to be a wuss, and I don't what to see the look of disappointment in his beautiful eyes when I say, "Baby, I'm so sorry, but I just can't. Rain check?" I can't do it. I've disappointed him so many times in the past.

Okay, it looks as though I'll need a plan, and fast, because he's stirring.

I feel his warm breath on my neck.

"Good morning," he breathes into my ear, in the most amazing sexy-sleepy-man voice, ever.

Dang! I'm in trouble.

He pulls me into him. Now his hugeness is all but up my butt.

"Good morning," I breathe out.

He rolls me over, and now we're forehead-to-forehead, nose-to-nose, and I'm praying that the fairy of morning mouth has sprinkled some magical, minty mouthwash dust onto my tongue.

He smiles. That's a good sign. Right? Then he presses his lips to mine and he doesn't pull away repulsed. His tongue is now tracing my lower lip, and continues onto my upper before it slides on in. Thank you, fairy of morning mouth. I let my tongue tangle with his. It's lazy and loving and I feel my toes curl. _Ouch!_

Our mouths begin to melt into each other's.

He moans.

I groan.

The pulsing pain between my legs, warp speeds into pleasure, and then the floodgates open. Holy shit.

Jax grabs a condom and rolls it on. Then he glides on top of me, spreads me wide with his knees, and enters me. I suck in a breath and brace myself for the pain. But it doesn't come. My sex endorphins have taken over. Thank God. The entire dilemma, worry and panic, were for nothing. I'm such a spaz. Jax, is right. I do worry too much.

He takes our hands and entwines them. Don't you just love that word? Entwines.

His lips peel away from mine. I look into his eyes. What I see... How can I even put it into words, words you'd understand? Hell, I'm not sure there are any. So I won't, I'll just let you fill in the blanks.

Our eyes never part. There is this overwhelming sense of oneness...one melting into one becoming one. I'm afraid if I blink he'll disappear and I'll be alone, truly alone. It's at this very moment I realize how much power he has over me. I've let him see that place. You know that place, don't you? We all have one. A place so deep, yet so close to the surface, you feel it, but you can't see it. It's a place filled with insecurities, utter confusion and aching need. It terrifies you to let anyone get near it, and if they touch it or enter... You might just die. Or wish you had.

Uttering no words, he begins to move. It's unhurried and gentle, almost to the point of agony. As his pulsating cock slides through my wet and swollen walls, reaching the end, I melt. He's filling me with more than his body, and it's just too much. I close my eyes, breaking the connection, the oneness.

I can let him see, but I can't let him touch. I just can't, not yet. So I keep my eyes shut and just feel his body moving within mine.

"Open your eyes," he whispers. "I need to see your eyes when you come, babe. Open them," he pleads.

Pressing his lips into mine, he gently tugs, and then bites at my lower lip. My eyes flutter open, meeting his cocky happy grin. I untwine our hands and grip his fine ass, pulling him into me. He gets the hint. He's a smart boy, this one. I'll have to keep him around for a while. He circles his hips and grinds into me. I moan.

"Is that what you need, babe? Like that?" he asks and pushes deeper into me.

"Yeah, just like that. Don't stop. God, please don't stop."

He chuckles. "Why the hell would I? I'd have to be one crazy-assed SOB."

"Yes... No. Don't be an SOB. Never stop." I think that's what I mumbled. Did you catch it? Do I really care? Hell, no. I'm floating between pleasure and pain--hell and nirvana (and I'm not taking about the band from Seattle). I just wanted to make that clear, because I want you to get what's happening here. I'm about to come and I wouldn't want you to miss it.

Jaxson picks up his pace. "Oh, fuck," he hisses. "Oh, fuck, fuck."

Yeah, that's exactly what I was going to say. And now I don't have to. I can just lie here and enjoy the ride. Yeah, I'm just going to ride it out.

And holy hell, I do. "Oh. My. God! That feels so good."

He starts to pump into me at a near frantic pace. "Don't stop. Jax. God, don't stop."

"Never, babe. I'll never stop loving you."

And he had me at _never_. Because I come so long, and hard it almost hurt--no, it did hurt.

"That's it, baby. You're so beautiful, but when you come, babe...it's like watching someone touch heaven."

I groan or moan. I think? God, I really don't give a shit. I just touched heaven.

"Again, babe. I need to see you touch heaven again." He bites down hard on his lip. He's delaying his own release, his own heaven-touching.

Crap. Talk about performance pressure. So what is a girl to do? The only thing she can do. She's going to come and come hard. But this girl wants her man to touch heaven first.

I pull him close and bite his shoulder. "Fuck me," he hisses.

And I do. I take over. I lift my hips and grind into him. It's hard, in this position; it's like trying to do sit-ups with a one hundred and seventy-five pound bag of sand pressing down on you. But fuck me; I do it, as if my life depends on it. As if his life depends on it. And even when I come, I don't stop. No, I don't until he throws his head back and screams my name.

"Lexxx! You. Fuckin'. Rock. My. World!"

Not heaven, but close enough.

#

One week later we've moved on to page eighty.

I should be spooning my sleeping lover, or eating a bountiful breakfast from a silver tray whilst drinking tea, or smoking an after-orgasm cigarette. Okay, the last part is just plain-ass stupid; I don't smoke. But I am going somewhere with this. I should be doing anything but what I'm doing. And what am I doing, you ask? Care to guess? No? Okay. Well, I'm pondering the wet spot.

You might be asking yourself, what the hell? Why is she pondering a wet spot? I'm pondering it, because it's not right; it's too big, too wet.

I think I'm an average kind of girl; in a wet way. You know what I'm talking about. When you get all hot and bothered and it pools into your undies. Yeah, that kind of wet--the best kind. By average, I mean I don't overflow and it doesn't drip down my legs. And before you go there, because I know you want to, I'm not one of those girls who can ejaculate. What the hell is that about, anyway? It's definitely not a good thing.

So I'm asking myself, "Self. What the hell? What is running down your legs? What has soaked the sheets?" Self thinks for a minute. Still thinking. Still thinking--then finally, self gets it. The asshat came inside me. Can you freakin' believe it? He knows I'm not on the pill. We talked about it, and we agreed. Until further notice--condoms will be used at all times. I'm clean; he's probably clean, but that's not the agreement. The agreement is, you know it, say it with me. Condoms will be used at all times!

I know what you're thinking. What the hell, Lex? You're twenty-six years old. Shouldn't you have a backup plan? And yes, I agree, I should. But in my defense, it was never my intent to start up a thing with Jaxson. Yeah, I knew it could happen, but I wanted to take care of some things before we started with our thing. But then the ex-wife happened. You know the rest.

I shake my sleeping man. He doesn't respond. I put more muscle into it. He stirs. "Jax, we need to talk."

He opens one eye. "I'm sorry, baby. I just can't. Give me a couple of hours and I'll be good to go."

I evil eye his one eye.

"Babe, just one. Just give me one hour." He turns over.

Okay, I get it. He's wiped, whipped, whacked; he's friggin' worn out. He performed beyond my wildest (okay, not my wildest) expectations. But this is not the time for rest; it's the time for talkin'.

I roll him onto his back and straddle him.

He opens both eyes. At least I'm making progress.

"Babe," he whines. "Please, just fifteen minutes." He closes his eyes.

I lean over him and whisper in his ear, "You'll be lucky if we ever do it again. Dickbrain."

He opens his eyes.

Now I've got his attention.

"What's going on?"

Now he looks worried, as he should. Because I'm about to rip him a new one.

"Jax, baby?" I faux purr. "Did you forget something?"

He raises a tired brow. "What? What are you talking about?"

I sit up on my knees, grab his hand and place it between my legs.

He smiles. The dumbass thinks I want sex. Geez Louise. Isn't it obvious? Do I need to spell it out? Verbalize? What do you think? Yeah, you're right. I'm going to have to use my words, like a good little girl. Good girls use words.

I push his hand further down my thigh. "Jaxson, what is this?"

He gives me the most bewildered look, ever. "Lex, babe, it's all good; everything's going to be okay. Do you know where you are?"

"What?"

"It's okay, babe. We all forget things. I've personally never forgotten a body part, but hey, it's going to be, all right. You're just tired."

What the? I know you're just dying to _what the?_ him, too. Just hang in there. The way things are going you'll get plenty of chances.

I glide his hand back up my thigh, and plant it right over my seeping vagina. "Jax, baby, I haven't lost my mind. I know where I am, and I know the names of all my parts. The thing is, Jax, baby. The thing is, I'm wet. The seeping, running down my legs kind of wet. You make me wet, babe, but not this wet."

The sun has risen--there is light--there is understanding. Finally.

"Shit, Lex. I'm sorry. I got caught up. I'm so, so sorry. You don't have to worry, I'm good...I mean...I'm clean."

Why do men always say this after sex? Does it bug you the way it bugs me?

I roll off him. "I know you are. But we talked about this, Jax." I hop out of bed, grab my panties and T-shirt off the floor and put them on. I then sit at the end of the bed. "It's not very probable, but just in case, I think we need to get the morning after pill."

"Okay," he says, and grabs his jeans and pulls them on.

"I'll call my doctor, but you'll have to pick it up. Or I could go," I say, raising a hopeful brow.

He walks toward the en-suite bathroom. I follow, silently begging for him to give me a get out of jail free card.

"That's not going to happen, babe. You can't leave the estate."

_Dammit. I wasn't even going to pass go._ "Okay," I whine-pout. "I'm going to shower in my room. Meet you there in fifteen."

He kisses me on the tip of my nose. Now how sweet is that? Very. Right?

I return the gesture. Yeah, I'm just as sweet.

#

After my shower, I do a quick dry of my hair and pull on some sweats. Yeah. It's one of those days. No skinny jeans or thong for this girlfriend. What I wouldn't give for some grannie panties right now. I'd give my left nut--if I had one.

I walk out of my closet and Jaxson is sitting on my bed. Crap, I've missed him. Yeah, I'm pathetic. He takes my breath away as always. His hair is wet and he's sporting jeans--only jeans. Oh, my.

"Hey you, did you change your mind about letting me bust out of this place?"

I give him a quick kiss. Well, it started out to be a quick kiss, but those full lips and minty fresh breath; I had to linger. I had to.

"God, you taste good," he moans.

"Ditto."

Our lips part, I groan. _One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three --enough! _My lips are back on his. Pathetic, you say. I'd like to see you try to part from the most incredible lips, ever.

He pulls away.

I moan-pout.

He frowns. "Babe, I could kiss you for days, but we need to talk."

"Okay," I say and pry myself away. "Jax, I'm not mad about the condom thing. We just--"

He places a finger over my lips. "I know you're not. It's... It's just that...we don't need to worry about it."

"Jax, until I'm on--"

He silences me again. "Lex. Please...please let me finish. Stop thinking for a second and just let me talk."

I don't think that's possible. Believe me, I've tried; it's a brain curse, a continuous brain fart. "I'll try."

He sighs. "Lex, do you want children?"

What the! Where the hell did that come from? Isn't this a question you ask when you've been in a serious committed relationship for...well, longer than a few weeks? I'm asking because I don't really know the rules. I've only been in one serious relationship, and I was the only one who took it seriously. So, does that even count?

How do you answer such a question? It's the ultimate trick question. Answer yes, and he doesn't? Then what? Answer no, and he does? Then what? If you were to ask me, I'd laugh it off, and say, "You can't be serious. Do I look like mom material?" But you're not asking, Jax is. The man I just might love to the moon and back. So I'm going for it. I'm going to tell him the truth.

"Honestly. I don't know. I'm on the fence. I could lean either way. The thing is...I don't think I'd be a good mom. I all but raised Sam, but that's different. I don't know if that's the answer you'd hoped for, but there it is."

He gives me a half smile. "The honest answer is always the best answer, babe."

His forehead greets mine. He looks into my eyes. Those chocolate eyes. So, dang sad.

I step back. "Jax. What's wrong?"

He pulls me into his arms, and holds me tight. His entire body quaking.

Shit. Do I want to know? Yes, this is my man. _My man?_

"Jax," I whisper.

He steps away and looks into my eyes. "Lex, you would be a wonderful mother, the best. God, I love you so much."

God, I wish I could tell him, "ditto." I just can't. Not yet.

"I feel like the biggest asshat, ever." He sighs. "Babe, you are the most beautiful woman I've even seen, ever known, inside and out. You deserve the best, in everything and in every way."

"Jax, you're scaring the crap out of me. If you tell me you're dying, or something. I'll... I'll have to kill you."

He smiles. "Lex."

That's a good sign. Right?

"I'm not dying. You think way too much. That brain of yours." He points a finger to my forehead. "That brain of yours needs to chill out. You overthink everything."

"I know."

"Babe, when I first met you, all I wanted was a good hard fuck. I lusted after you, like a teenager on Viagra. I'd look at you and my dick would jump. And the more you rejected my advances, the more I wanted you. You're the only woman that's ever said no to me. Then, one night, in Dublin, you said yes. I'll admit I kind of..."

"Tried to get me drunk and swiped my keycard from my handbag."

"You knew?"

"Of course."

"Of course you did. But the thing is, once I'd had you--I craved you. You were my crack--my heroin. It physically hurt to think about you not being a part of my life. After Dublin, I tried to push you into a relationship you weren't ready for. I still don't understand why you freaked or what I did wrong. I just knew I'd screwed up. But you wouldn't let me fix it. You just put an end to it, to us."

"Jax--"

"Let me finish. You gave me nothing, no good excuse, no explanation. You just ended it and it nearly killed me. I tried like hell to hate you. I avoided you; I traveled more and stayed away longer than I needed to. I fucked more nameless, faceless women than... Let's just say, I'm not proud of my behavior."

"Jaxson, you've told me all this before. You're stalling, babe, and I'm going crazy. Just tell me."

"You know the Pearl Jam song, 'Better Man?'"

"Yeah."

"Babe, I don't want you to feel that way about me."

_What?_ "Okay. Enough! Just tell me!"

"I can't have kids!" he yells.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Yes, I did. I don't understand... Jesus, Jax. You scared me."

"Lex. I'm not joking."

"I never said you were. I just don't know why you're so upset?"

"Did you not hear me? I'm sterile. I can't father a child. No passing on the old DNA, no springing out the offspring."

"I heard you. Compared to the things that were running around in my brain, no passing on the old DNA is nothing. God damn you. You had me worried."

"Babe, I just told you I'm sterile and it doesn't bother you?"

"It doesn't seem to affect your...performance. So, no."

"Really? Lex, I'm not kidding here. I've seen all kinds of specialists. Eighty-five percent of my swimmers are doing the backstroke. The other fifteen percent can't make it upstream."

"I'm sorry, Jax. I get the whole passing on DNA and stuff. But there are a lot of kids out there who could use a good home, and a great dad."

"You would consider adoption?"

"Yeah. Bypassing the whole diaper and throw up thing, I'm all over that. The diaper thing, I think I can do, but the throw up thing. Not so much. I throw up cleaning up throw up. So it would be like double throw up clean up."

He lifts a brow. "Okay, I think."

"Jax, we're talking about way, way in the future. I think you're jumping the gun a little. No, that's not true. I think you're jumping it a lot. You. Me. Us. We're just getting started."

"Yeah, I get that. If not having your own kids is a deal breaker for you, then you have the right to know now."

"It's not a deal breaker."

He blows out a breath. "Thank God. I don't know what I would have done if it was."

"I have one question."

"Okay."

"What was the deal with the Pearl Jam analogy? Do you think because you can't have a kid, you're not the better man?"

"Yes. No. Maybe. It's just, I don't know what I'd do if you changed your mind about me. If you woke up one morning, rolled over, and looked and me, and all I could see in your eyes is regret."

I pull him into my arms. "Babe. You think too much."

#

Six weeks, three days, ten hours, twenty minutes, and ten seconds later we've moved onto page eighty-seven

"Where are you going?"

"For a run," I tell him as I tie my Nikes.

"Come back to bed," Jax purr-whines.

"You're insatiable. How about you sleep for a bit? Then when I return, we can play in the shower."

"How about you just stay and we can play in the shower now?"

"Jax, we've been doing the deed and other stuff for like...eight hours. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. Okay, maybe a little. But if I don't get up and move my ass, it will be bigger than Pluto."

"Your ass is perfect."

"I'm glad you like it. But you won't like it when it starts to jiggle."

"I don't know about that, babe. I like when you jiggle."

"I jiggle? Where?" I look at my ass. I didn't think it had gotten that bad. Not yet, anyway.

"You don't jiggle. I'm just teasing."

I stand and plant my hands on my hips. "Jaxson Chase Ryan, never tease a girl about jiggling. Ever."

He grins. "Okay, I won't ever." He slides out of bed and tugs on his boxers. "I'll join you."

"You're going to run?"

"Yes. Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I don't know. I've just never seen you run. Swimming is your thing."

"Swimming is my thing, but I want to do your thing. Unless you don't want me to join you."

"I'd love you to join me."

"Okay, then I'll meet you in the kitchen in ten."

"There's a park about six miles from here; I thought we could go there."

"Beyond the gate?" I raise a brow.

"Yeah. You're with me. We'll bend the rules, this one time." We jog to the gate and Jax waves at the guard.

The guard nods and the gate opens.

We jog past the gate and down the long, tree lined entrance.

When we hit the road, I stop, bend over and touch the asphalt.

"What are you doing?"

"Just making sure it's real and I'm not dreaming."

"Has it been that bad?"

"It's been over two months since I've been beyond the gates. Yes, it's that bad."

We jog at Jaxson's pace for a few minutes.

"Come on, hairy legs. Let's pick up the pace."

He looks down at his legs. "My legs aren't that hairy!"

All I can do is shake my head. "Yes they are, but I love them anyway."

He smiles and we continue.

We jog for a while in silence.

"Look, I can see the park," he pants. "Thank God. Six miles, my ass."

I look at my runners' watch. "My pedometer reads just under ten. A minor miscalculation."

"I guess my miledar is off."

I laugh. "That's funny, miledar. You made a joke and slang. I'm impressed."

"You're very easily impressed, babe."

"Yeah, I guess so. I am with you."

"Ha, ha."

We continue our run, and soon my thoughts begin to wander. A few minutes pass before I realize Jaxson is lagging behind. I stop and jog in place while he catches up.

I laugh. "Hey, are you going to make it?"

"I'm good," he pants. "You're not even sweating. How is that possible?"

"I am." I look at Jaxson. His T-shirt is drenched, his hair is damp, and his shorts are clinging to his sweaty thighs. "Not like you though."

"It must be like ninety percent humidity," he says and wipes his brow.

I press a button on my watch. It does everything except wash dishes and run for me. "Twenty percent."

"Of course you have a watch that tells you the humidity."

"Well, of course." I laugh.

He gives me The Brow.

I cringe. "I sure wish you wouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"You know what. That thing you do with your brow. It creeps me out."

"It's not that bad. You're the only one that's ever complained about it."

"Others are afraid to tell you because you intimidate them, they don't want to hurt your feelings, or they're just too creeped out for words."

"Yeah, right."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever."

As the park gets closer, Jaxson starts to lag behind again. I stop and wait for him to catch up. "You need motivation."

"No. What I need is to call Lane and have him come pick up my sweaty ass."

"Not possible; he's gone into the city."

"Crap. I forgot."

"Motivation. That's all you need."

"Okay, motivate me."

I think for a minute. "If you beat me to the park, I'll let you shag me against a tree."

"What? No way, you won't do it."

"I promise." I cross my heart.

He tilts his head and studies me. "Okay. You're on," he shouts and peels out.

A few minutes later...

"I can't believe you beat me, hairy legs."

"Motivation, my dear. There is no way I'm going to pass up a shag in the trees." He grabs my hand. "Come on, let's find that tree."

We walk around for a few minutes, cooling down, drinking water and looking for that tree.

"I see the perfect shagging tree," he says and tugs me toward a large oak. "What do you think?"

I look around. "Off the path, wooded, secluded. Yes, I think you found it."

"Forewarning...my junk is sweaty."

"And your legs are hairy; I think I can handle it."

He positions me in front of the shag tree. "Pull your shorts down and lean back."

I giggle. "Horny much?"

"Yes. Very."

I do as he says.

"Okay, turn slightly."

I do.

"No, like this." He repositions me. "Okay, that's good, now just a smidge this way."

"Horny and bossy."

He pulls off his damp shorts and pushes me back and slightly up against the tree. He lets his sweaty junk air for a few seconds. At least that's what I think he's doing.

Junk aired, he lifts my bare ass, and I slide up the tree.

He enters me, but I'm too low. "Hang on to me. I need you higher."

I hang on to him as he pushes me higher up the tree. He tries again; my T-shirt snags on a branch, rides up, and exposes my lower back.

"Ouch!" I say when my skin scrapes against the bark. I push him off me. "This isn't going to work; I'll end up with bark burn."

He steps back. "Okay, we'll try something else."

I step away from the tree and get tangled in my shorts. I reach down to pull them up and face-plant into the dirt.

Jax laughs--no, he cackles hysterically. "Nice one, Lex," he says, wiping away his happy tears."

"Shut up."

He rummages through his pockets.

"What are you looking for?"

"My phone. I've got to take a picture of this."

"Like hell you do." I hold out my hand. "Help me up, dickbrain."

"I do, I need to do this."

I look up. _Flash._ "You bastard. I can't believe you just did that."

He laughs. "Don't worry, I won't show it to anyone. I'll put it in my private photo file."

"What kind of photos do you have in...? No, I don't want to know." I reach out again.

He ignores my hand as he grins down at me like an idiot.

"Some help would be nice."

"Sorry. I was just enjoying the moment--for a moment longer."

"You are so not sorry."

He pulls me up and I pull up my pants.

"What are you doing?" He pouts.

"Practicing safer sex."

I push him up against the tree and kneel in front of him. I look up and catch him grinning down at me like that same idiot.

"I think I like safer sex."

"You're going to love it." I reach for his cock and bring it to my lips.

There's a lot of pre-cum. I look up. "You didn't...?"

He frowns. "No."

I keep my eyes on his and lick it off.

He groan-hisses. "Fuck me, I love safer sex."

"Told you so, " I say before I suck and lick him clean. I pause to lick my lips. "Not as bad as I thought."

"What?"

"Sweaty junk."

He looks up to the heavens. "Thank you, God."

As I take him into my mouth, his eyes close, his head falls back, and rests against the tree. I play with his junk for a bit and then take him in as far as I can.

He moans. "God, that feels good."

Okay, I was going for more than good. I was going for fuckin'-fantastic. I pick up the dick-sucking pace. I give him my best blowjob, adding rolling and light tugging of the balls.

He groans.

I up the ante and massage his perineum. His balls draw up and tighten. Yeah, he likes that.

I go for it. After adjusting my position, I swallow.

He moans.

I gag, choke and pull up. Damn those porn chicks for making the rest of us girls feel and probably look like cock-sucking losers. I do my best, and as long as I hear moaning I know I'm doing something right.

I continue to pump and run my finger over his perineum. With each massaging-pass I get closer to his asshole. When I touch it, he whimpers. The good kind of whimper, not bad. I treat his hole to a mini come-hither and his balls stone up.

He's getting close. Thank God, because my lips and tongue are starting to go numb. Now don't get me wrong, I love pleasing my man. And hell yeah, it turns me on to see him so turned on. But holy crap! His cock is hard for this cocksucker to suck.

He groans. "Babe, I'm close. If you don't want me...oh, fuck, that feels wonderful."

I love that he warns me every time. That he continues to respect my choice. I moan around him, saying it's okay to stay. The taste of spunk isn't a big turn on for me, but I hate the mess it makes in my hands. And no offense and to-each-his-own and all of that, but face-creaming or whatever the hell you call it, isn't my thing.

His cock pulsates against my tongue. He's almost there; his release is just around the corner, and not a moment too soon. I can no longer feel my lips or tongue. I give his asshole a tad deeper come-hither and he begins to fuck my mouth, fast and hard.

"Fuuuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'm coming, babe," he pants, and lets go.

After he comes like...forever. I wipe my month on the sleeve of my T-shirt and stand.

He pulls up his shorts. "Babe, that was heaven," he says and plants a kiss on my forehead.

"Mmm," is all I can muster. I think my jaw is dislocated.

"I wasn't too rough, was I? That last part got a little out of control."

"Mmm." I shake my head in a circle, a maybe.

We walk from behind the shag tree. Jaxson's legs are trembling. "There is no way I'll be able to run home after that. I'll call Mary and have her pick us up."

He pulls me into him and kisses the top of my head. "Not saying much, babe. Are you being shy? Cat got your tongue?"

"Mmm." _Yeah, something like that, babe._

#

A couple of weeks later I'm pumping iron in Jaxson's home gym--sweating my ass off. God, I hope so.

"I better not see you when I get up from this bench. If you dare show your assed self--you big ass, I'll make you run ten more pain-filled miles."

What? What did you just say to me?

_Fuck off._

"Okay, I've had it with you. Should we make it twenty miles, and then twenty laps in the pool?"

_Those are fighting words, you say._

"You bet your big ugly assed self they are. You haven't heard anything yet. So just shut the hell up and be gone before I walk out that door."

_That door? you ask._

"Yeah, that door right over there."

Crap, sorry. Forgot I had an audience. What the hell, you ask? Have I lost my marbles or hit my head? No. I've been talking to my ass. What the hell, you say? Oh, pish posh. Like you don't? Everyone has a body part that needs a little talkin' to.

Okay, so I'm a bit crazy. I talk to my ass. We don't exactly get along, you see. Okay, we have issues. It needs to _lighten_ up, if you know what I mean. It just can't get its shit together. No matter how much, or what kind of therapy it gets: individual, group, rehab, it just can't get it together.

All I can say is, thank the heavens Jaxson loves it. I mean he really does. He likes to massage it, kiss it, lick it... You get the picture. It really is one lucky ass. Maybe all it needs is love.

"Hey, babe."

I look up. Oh my. It's the love of my ass's life. I put down the dumbbell. Okay, the seven-pound, pink, padded girly weight.

"Hey, yourself."

He walks over and kisses me on the top of my head, and then smells my hair.

Is that not the sweetest thing, ever?

I look at my all-knowing, does-almost-everything watch. It's just past noon on a Wednesday. "This is a surprise. Is everything okay?"

He sits his fine ass on the weight bench. "Yeah, why?"

"It's noon, on a Wednesday, and you're home, in Levis. FYI, Mr. Ryan; your ass, those Levis--hot."

He grins like an idiot. So would you if someone put _your ass_ and _hot_ in the same sentence.

"Hot, huh?"

"Yep. Scorchin'."

He takes my hand and puts it over his Levis-clad dick. "I got something else that's scorchin'. Maybe later I could give you a sample."

"Sample, huh? Samples are what you give out when you're trying to entice new customers. I've already tasted the whole enchilada. Samples aren't good enough for me anymore."

"Greedy much?"

"Not greedy, just statin' the facts."

I give his erection a nice squeeze. He moans and pulls me over and onto his lap. I pull up his T-shirt and let my hands do what they do best, roam all over their man.

I rest my forehead against his. "You feel hot." I pull back and place the back of my hand on his hot cheek. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't feel fine; you're on fire."

"Lex, I'm fine; drop it," he says, with a bite.

"Something going on at Ryan?"

"Lex, just stop."

"Okay, don't get all bent." I remove myself from his ornery hot lap. "Will you spot me?" I gesture toward the barbell.

"Sure."

He stands up and I adjust the weights. There's this weird tension between us. Something is up, but if he doesn't want to talk about it... I shake it off, lie down and position myself under the bar.

He walks behind the bench and rolls up the sleeves of T-shirt.

I look up at him and grab the bar. "Okay, five sets of ten."

"Got it," he replies then helps me lift the bar off the stand.

I give him a half-smile and begin. Halfway through my second set his scowl is gone, replaced with a big-ass grin.

"Why are you grinning like an idiot?"

"I didn't know I was." His face kicks back into neutral.

I finish the set and start my third. I look up and he's grinning like that idiot again. I follow his gaze. "What are you looking at?"

Grin disappears. "Nothing."

"Really? You're looking at nothing?"

"Yeah."

He's so lying. I finish set three and start four.

His grin returns and I follow his gaze again.

"You're looking at the ta-tas."

"I'm not looking at the ta-tas."

"Are so!"

"So not!"

The gym door opens and Mary strolls in carrying a basket of towels. Her eyes go big when she sees Jaxson. She walks over and stands next to him. "What's wrong? Why are you home? Are you sick?" She places the back of her hand on his forehead. "You don't feel hot."

He looks down at me.

"Don't even," I tell him.

"I'm fine, Mary. Just taking the afternoon off."

"Why?"

"Because I want to."

"Are you sure everything is okay?"

"Yes, Mary, I'm sure. What is with you two?" He shakes his head and returns to his eye-groping of the ta-tas.

"Okay," she says. "When you two get done with your...workout, lunch is in the kitchen." She walks to a cabinet and begins filling it with clean towels.

I push up my second to last rep, my arms shaky. Crap, they burn. No burn, no return; to hell with that shit.

Thank Christ, my last one. Arms wobbling from fatigue, I go for my last rep. I push up and they all but give out. "Jaxson. Jaxson!"

He's ogling the ta-tas.

"A little help here!" _Geez Louise._

"Oh, sorry," he says, and finally helps me with the bar.

I sit up and grab my towel. "What's with you and my ta-tas? It's not like you haven't seen them, touched them, pinched them, sucked on them, and well...other stuff."

Mary coughs.

"Sorry, Mar."

"It's okay. Just knowing my boy is doing all that stuff to your ta-tas..." She gives me a weak smile.

"I get it. TMI."

"I wasn't looking at the ta-tas."

Mary clears her throat. "Jaxson, dear, you were so looking at the ta-tas."

"All right. I was so looking at the ta-tas. They're mine, after all."

"Oh, really? Your think you own these?" I give the ta-tas an overdramatic squeeze.

Mary laughs.

"What?" Jaxson asks her.

"Just waiting to see how you get yourself out of this one." She folds her arms over her chest.

He looks at me. "I seem to recall you telling me that I own you. So, if that's so...then I own the ta-tas."

Mary looks at me.

Crap, nothing like performance pressure. What can I do? I need to stake my claim. I walk over and stand in front of him. "Well, babe, if the ta-tas are yours, then this is mine." I reach down and give his cock a good squeeze. "And so are these." I cup his balls with a firm hand.

He winces.

"Okay, that was something I didn't need to see," Mary spouts. "I'm out of here."

#

"Why are you home?" Lester asks Jaxson as we all sit around the kitchen table.

"Why is it so hard for everyone to believe I took the afternoon off?"

Mary clucks. "Maybe because it's as rare as Alexia's steak sandwich."

"Alexia's not eating a steak sandwich, she never..."

"Exactly," Mary says.

"Okay, I'll concede; it's been awhile."

"Just out of curiosity," Lane asks me. "When was the last time you ate a steak?"

I finish chewing my carrot. "London. Thursday, June 4, 1998. Seven thirty-five p.m. A restaurant called The Petal. It went out of business Saturday, April 5, 2003. Time unknown."

"How can you remember all that?" Mary asks. "Was it an important day?"

"No. Not that I know of."

"Amazing," she states.

"Not really. It's not like I've found a cure for cancer, or ended world hunger. That would be amazing."

"Speaking of amazing..." Lester quips. "I've come up with the most amazing meatless shepherd's pie. I can't wait for you to try it tonight, Lex."

"Sounds...wonderful, Lester. Can't wait." _I'd rather stick needles under my toenails._

"Bullshit," Lane faux coughs into his fist.

Mary gives him the mother's evil eye. The most evil of all evil eyes.

"I've made plenty for everyone. So, Lex, you can have your very own pie."

"That's so sweet Lester, but a whole pie?" _Thanks, Lester. I'd rather pour honey all over myself and lie on top of a fire ant hill._

Jaxson's iPhone rings. Thank Christ. Meatless shepherd's pie! Holy crap! There is no freakin' way I'm going there.

Jaxson looks at the screen of his phone and frowns. "Sorry," he says. "I've got to take this."

Lane tilts his chin and gives Jaxson a knowing look.

Jaxson glares back at him.

Okay, something is up.

As soon as he's out of sight, we hear shouting. Then _bang._ Something hits the wall. More muddled words, and then silence.

We sit and look at each other for an awkward minute. I clear my throat. "So, Lanie, I heard you had a hot date last night, or should I say, this morning."

He turns and frowns at his mother. "Mom. Really?"

"Hey. I wasn't the one who kept you up all morning, while some woman was screaming my name."

"All morning, huh? Good thing I made Jaxson replace your stockpile of condoms."

He smiles. "Yeah, good thing."

She looks at me. "But you're still the winner."

"The winner?"

"A church mouse, you are not."

For the rest of the afternoon Jaxson holes up in his office, so much for taking an afternoon off. I'm in my room responding to my e-mail when there's a knock on my door.

"Lex? It's Lane," he says through the door.

"Come in."

He steps in. "Am I interrupting?"

"Always, dude," I tease.

He hands me a large FedEx envelope. " _Special_ delivery." He smirks and gifts me with a dimpled grin.

"So you think you're special?"

"It is what it is." He plops down into a chair.

I place my laptop on a side table and inspect the envelope. It's from Zane Dickwad Black. I knew I'd be hearing from him soon. I was expecting an e-mail or fax. Is he trying to make a point by sending it in hard copy? Who the hell knows? Who the hell cares?

I place it on my closed laptop, stand and walk over to a nightstand I've turned into a mini bar. I grab a bottle of scotch and two tumblers. I return, sit my ass in a chair, and pour two fingers before handing one to Lane.

He looks at his watch.

"It's four; close enough," I say and tap his glass to mine. "You have potential, Lanie."

"For what?"

"For me turning you into a Scot. Drinking fine scotch before five on a weekday."

"I'm all for it, but no haggis!"

"God, no. Why do you think I'm a vegetarian?"

We laugh.

"Aren't you curious?" He nods toward the envelope.

"I know what it is."

"And...you're going to keep me hanging?"

"You're dying from curiosity. So yeah, I'm going to let you hang for a bit."

"You bitch."

I laugh. "Okay, I'll make you a deal, Lanie. I'll show you what's in the envelope, if you tell me what went down with Jaxson today at lunch."

"Jaxson should be the one to tell you."

"I agree, but it's not going to happen. He's not disclosing much these days."

He exhales. "Mia."

"Tinker Hell?"

"The one and only."

"They're not...?" I lift a brow. _Please God, let him say no like a million times._

"Hell, no!"

I exhale. "Thank God."

He shakes his head. "He loves you, Lex. No, he worships you. He'd have to be the biggest dickhead ever to cheat on you."

"I agree. Present company excluded, men can be big dickheads. Love doesn't stop them from doing stupid things."

"I'll have to take your word on that. I've never been in love."

"Never?"

"Never."

I smile.

"What?"

"You wear your emotions on your sleeve, Lanie. I would have thought you'd been in love multiple times."

"Maybe that's why I never have."

"You're deeper than you look, Lanie."

He chuckles. "Is that a compliment or a jab?"

"I guess it's what you want it to be."

"Then I'll take it as a compliment," he says, lifting his glass.

"Cheers." I raise mine.

Okay, here's the thing about exes, damned if you do, damned if you don't. You want to know about them, but you don't. Not knowing is light--knowing is dark. So what forces you to cross over to the dark side? When the man you love, but can't tell yet, is withholding information about his ex-wife. And when said ex-wife is a bitch in heat.

"So, Mia?"

"I don't know the whole story; only parts. Has Jaxson told you about what's been going on with the partners?"

"Yeah, he's been trying to buy them out. And no one is selling."

"Well...they're selling, just not to him."

"Tinker Hell?"

He nods.

"Wow. No wonder he's pissed."

"Yup."

"So, what's her game?"

"I have no idea. But it can't be good."

"Should I be worried?"

"No," he says, but doesn't look too sure.

"Anything else going on?"

"Just the embezzlement and Will Harris crap." He peeks at the envelope over the rim of his tumble.

"It's killing you, isn't it?"

He nods.

I throw back the last of my scotch and pick up it up. I open it and take out a packet of documents and scan over them.

Lane sits forward in his chair. "So? Good or bad news?"

I hand him one of the documents and smile. "Lanie, the best. I just got out of jail." I scan the rest of the documents and hand over the pertinent ones for him to look at.

"Oh, my God," he says. "It was Harris."

"I'm afraid so. He, and so far, three outside audit firms."

"So how did this...?" He scans over the cover letter. "Zane Black, manage to get this information?"

"Let's just say Zane has connections."

"Criminal connections?" Lane asks.

"Something like that."

"Wow. Does Jaxson know about him?"

"He knows Zane was helping me, but not that I was digging into the outside audits."

"Don't get me wrong, Lex, I think this shit is great. You're free to go home. But crap, some of these documents are labeled confidential. Did you know this Zane would be hacking into these records?"

"I knew. I told him to."

He picks up the cover letter and scans over it. "He's obviously more than a business associate."

He reads it aloud.

_My Beautiful Lexia,_

_I'm sure you'll find the enclosed documents an interesting read. I've attached, as you requested, information on firewalls, etc._

_I miss you, luv. You promised a visit across the pond. Had a run in with Gram. No worry luv, I told her nothing in regards to your situation. Visit soon my luv or I'll be fueling up the jet._

_Bloody Sincere Luv_

_Z_

"Well, luv?"

"It's not what you're thinking. Zane's an old...friend."

"Okay, if you say so." _Wink. Wink._

I frown. "This _luv_ stuff stays between us, Lanie. Jaxson doesn't need any more shit to deal with. He's going to be bloody mad as it is."

"I won't say anything."

"Thanks, Lane."

"So, it looks like you'll be leaving us soon, luv."

"Smartass."

"Things won't be the same around here without you."

"I know. I'm going to miss you all, so much."

#

Lane leaves and I throw back one more shot. Then another and another. Now don't go all Judge Judy on me. I'm about to tell the man I love (but can't tell) that a close associate and family friend has been screwing him for years.

And when he gets his mind around that, he'll see I had his confidential records hacked. I promised him I'd stay out of his investigation. He's going to be pissed. Maybe years from now he'll forgive me, or at least understand why it was necessary.

When I reach Jaxson's office, I knock on the half-closed door. After several _hello-hellos,_ I enter and find it Jaxson-free. I walk to his desk and place the FedEx envelope next to his opened laptop. I'm about to abandon ship and go look for him when I notice a file on the screen with my name on it.

My curiosity has killed me hundreds of times. I tell myself, _One more death; piece of cake._ I pick up the mouse and place it on the pad and click.

"Alexia?"

I jump up and away from the desk. "Jaxson! You scared the crap out of me. Holy hell. I all but peed my panties."

"Sorry." He walks over and pulls me into his chest. I breathe him in. God, he smells so good, citrus, spice; all man, all Jaxson.

"You smell like heaven, babe."

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"I was hoping you'd stop by," he says, and trails his lips down my neck. "Alexia?"

"Mmm," I moan.

"Do you like when I do this"--his kisses further down on my neck--"and this, to your neck?"

I tilt my head back, giving him better access. "Yes, I like everything you do. And everywhere you do it."

He bites the lobe of my ear and sucks on it. "You like that, babe?"

"Oh, yeah."

A warm hand slides under the front of my T-shirt and glides up my belly.

Jax," I moan.

"What, babe?"

"I think..."

He cups a lace-clad breast and runs his thumb over a rock-hard nipple.

"What do you think, Lex?" he whispers as he tweaks my nipple.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

I feel his smile against my cheek.

_Cheeky bastard._

"Babe," he says as his other hand sneaks into the back of my yoga pants and skims on down my ass. My non-jiggling ass. Thank you very much.

He grabs my ass and pulls me into him. He's big and hard, and I so what him.

"Jax," I say, because that's all I can come up with.

He releases my breast, reaches behind me, picks up his laptop, and sets it on his chair.

_Kick._

The chair rolls over the rug and hits the wall.

_Bang._

He lifts me up and sets my ass on his desk, right on top of... Yeah, you guessed it.

Dammit. I hate FedEx.

I push against his chest. "Jax, no. We need to stop."

"Lex," he scolds, and picks me up again and pushes everything that's on his desk to the floor.

_Crash._

He sets me back on top of his deck and says in a commanding voice, "Off. Now."

_Tug._

T-shirt is tossed.

_Snap._

Bra is flung.

_Thud._

Elbows meet desk.

_Jerk._

Ankles up.

_Yank._

_Yank._

Chucks fly.

_Pull._

_Pull._

Socks lobbed.

_Drag._

_Stretch._

Yoga pants pitched.

_Rip._

"Jax."

"Sorry."

Panties hit the wastebasket.

_Pop._

_Pop._

Love those button flies.

_Pop._

_Pop._

_Pop._

Oh, yeah. Commando. There is God.

_Plop._

Oh my. Is that for me?

_Sink._

_Thrust._

_Grind._

_Moan._

_Groan._

"Lex?"

"Jax."

"Never. Tell. Me. No," he enunciates with each hard, possessive thrust.

"No. Never. Tell. You. No," I enunciate with each hard, possessive thrust.

"God, babe. Look how you suck me in."

Holly Mother. That's hot.

"I need you closer."

_Tug._

Elbows collapse.

_Pull._

Head hits wood.

_Sink._

_Thrust_.

_Pound._

_Throb._

"Babe, look how your pussy grabs on to my cock."

At this angle and this position it's kind of hard not to. And fuck me--it's the Eighth Wonder of the World.

"Do you see it, babe?"

"Yes, Jax. I see it. I feel it."

"I need you deeper, harder. Hold on tight, babe."

"Jax, I don't..."

_Plunge._

_Crush._

_Dive._

"Do you feel me, babe?"

Is that a rhetorical question? I answer, "yes" in my head because my knee is all but in my mouth.

"I'm close," he hisses. "I'm going to come inside you so hard and deep you'll leak for days."

Holy Mother of God.

"Fuck me. I'm coming, Lex, come with me, babe."

He bites the back of my knee. I let go and fly. "Don't you fucking stop."

"I'll never stop. I'll never stop loving you, babe. Never."

I shout his name, I think? "Jaaaxxx!" Okay, now I did.

_Grind._

_Pound._

_Devastate_.

I come again so hard my ears buzz, my vision blurs and then everything fades to sixty shades of black.

When I come to, I'm lying on a leather sofa, covered with a blanket. I shift my body. Crap. I think I have fucklash. Holding my neck, I roll over.

The room is dark except for a lamp on the desk. And sitting behind said desk, is the man who literally bonked my brains out.

I stand and drape the blanket over my bare shoulders, then slowly walk toward his desk. I spy the opened FedEx envelope lying next to his laptop. _Shit!_ I step in front of the desk.

He looks up.

_Dang!_ He's all but happy. He's a hot-mess of mad.

I give him a weak smile. "Hey."

No reply.

I really wanted to explain to him why I authorized looking into the outside audits and the whole Will Harris mess. I know he was handling it, in house. But sometimes in house isn't the best way. I realize it's not my company--not my call. But his investigation team was slower than shit and in way over their heads.

I'll admit that I crossed a bigger line when I asked hackers to hack into Ryan confidential records. But it was the only way to get him to see the full scope of the damage Will and his cohorts had caused. I needed Jax to see that Ryan security, and firewalls suck. It was way too easy for Will to set me up, and way too easy for him to steal and hide hundreds of millions over twenty years. The whole system needs to be chucked and replaced.

I knew this shit was serious. I knew the company his grandfather started and he'd worked his ass off for, might not survive. I also knew our relationship might be damaged beyond repair. All I can do is pray he gets why I did what I did.

His eyes search mine. I pray they find what they need.

He clears his throat. "You authorized this?" he asks, in a controlled icy voice.

"Yes. And I get it if you're pissed with me."

"You get it," he growls. "Alexia, I don't think pissed comes close to how I feel right now. I told you not to interfere. You promised me."

I can't believe the man who bonked my brains out, less than two hours ago, is the same man who's sitting before me now.

"I'm sorry, Jaxson. I did what I felt was necessary. What I felt needed to be done. Ryan is in big trouble. I didn't...I don't think you understand how much trouble. You could lose everything."

I pick up my clothes from a chair and begin my exit. When I get to the door, I turn and face him. "I'll be around...at least for a few days. I'd like to talk to you about this before I leave, if you'll let me."

He says nothing, only frowns.

I pick up the edge of the blanket, walk out the door, and pray he forgives me as I shut it behind me.

#

I've been locked up in my office for days. Sorry, I'm not Alexia. I can't narrow it down to the hour, minute, second, and millisecond. I mean, what guy wants to know he's one hour, four minutes, and five seconds late? Anyway, the company I've worked my ass off for is in trouble--serious trouble. I've been in damage control mode for the last two days: updating partners, strategizing with lawyers, reassuring clients, banks, and staff. And then there's the press--let's not even go there.

The last few hours I've been talking with the DA. Will and his cohorts will be arraigned in the next few days. A total of seven individuals and three audit firms so far, but the list is expected to grow. This whole mess is more widespread than anyone had imagined. So far, eight other companies have been scouring their financial records. When it's all said and done, a lot of lives will be forever changed.

And then there's my girl. I said she would change my life--I had no idea. Change! Yeah right. She's taken it over. I've been hers since the day she walked into my office. It's been a wild ride and I have a feeling I won't be getting off the rollercoaster anytime soon.

Am I angry that she took it upon herself to solve my problems, my company's problems? Hell, yes. I'm furious. Where does she get off? I mean, really. But the sad truth is, I really should be kissing her feet. If she hadn't found problems with the outside audits, Will would still be milking Ryan. Her curiosity, and sharp, crazy brain picked up on something no one had in twenty years.

And, again to her credit, she told me several times the company's security was at risk and I never looked into it. I thought just numbers were her thing, not security. But my girl knows a hell of a lot about running a company. I realized this after reading the report. I went over all one hundred and five pages, and she directed all of it. She asked the questions and when she couldn't find the answer, only then did she seek help from her investigators. And as far as I can tell, Zane Black was just a front man. Who the hell is this Brit anyway? I fucking hate him.

I haven't seen or spoken to her in almost three days. I expected her to either pack up and leave or sulk in her room. No. Not her. Not my girl. She had Jules over, and they had a spa day. A freakin' spa day!

After Mary chewed me out for the millionth time for not talking to Alexia, she informed me that Jules had talked her into a Brazilian. TMI. Oh, and Lester and Lane had pedicures, and Louie had a manicure. For hell! I told you she's taken over.

She's given me space, other than a couple of texts.

_To Ryan -- Staying until we chat._

_To Ryan -- FYI. Still Dripping!_

The second text was almost my undoing. I wanted to find her and take her hard up against a wall. But I held out. I'm a man who's in control of his faculties. Yeah, right. It took all my willpower and...well, you know--four times. Okay, five. And then two hours ago she sent me a nice picture of the ta-tas. And that pretty much sealed it. I've taken care of business, sulked and licked my wounds and now I'm going to lick something...well, you know.

Damn, I smell good. Yeah, I just smelled myself up. Now I know why Lex runs her nose all over me. I just showered, shaved, and manscaped down under, and now I'm looking down at my sleeping girl. God, she's gorgeous. The way the moonlight shadows over her face. The way...shit! Whoa. The Big Guy's twitching and the boys are vibrating. Now hold on, Big Guy. He's about to detach himself and run up those long legs and dive in. Whoa. He just twitched again. Okay, Big Guy, I'm feelin' ya. It's time for action.

I throw back a blanket and crap. Beeb sheets. I peel back the Beeb sheet. Hell yeah! There's my girl. She's a full commando sleeper, gotta love the all skin and no barrier access. I fold in behind her. God, she smells like heaven.

"Babe," I whisper just behind her ear, one of about three hundred of her erogenous zones.

She stirs and opens her eyes. "Hey, you," she whispers.

"Hey."

"It's about time. Assbag."

That's my girl. "Been a little busy."

She turns and rests her forehead against mine. "I'm sorry, Jax...I..."

"Babe, I know. I don't want to talk about it. I've been dealing with that shit for days. All I want right now is to be buried deep inside of you."

She smiles. "So the picture of the ta-tas did the trick?"

"Yeah, it did."

"But..."

"Lex, no more interference, I mean it. Fixing Ryan is my job, not yours. I'm the CEO."

"I know you're the CEO. I just...I just wanted it over and I...well, I wanted you to see it. To see and get how big of a shit storm Ryan is in."

"Well, believe me, I get it."

She kisses the tip of my nose. "Sorry."

"I know you are, babe. Thanks for staying. I mean, just knowing you were here helped."

"Hey, I told you I wasn't leaving. I wouldn't dump all that shit on you and leave."

I kiss the tip of her nose.

"I think the Big Guy missed me. He's all but humping my thigh."

"You think, huh?" She has no idea how much the Big Guy has missed her. All he's been thinking about is how he was buried in his pussy so deep he all but disintegrated.

"Yeah, but I'd rather not think. I'd rather be preoccupied."

"Preoccupied, huh? I'll show you preoccupied."

I flip her onto her belly and straddle her. She giggles. Christ! This back. This ass. One day I'm going to fuck this ass. My ass. Yeah right, you say. It will happen--just you wait and see. I slide on down her thighs, making sure the Big Guy trails pre-cum along the way.

She moans.

Oh, yeah, she feels it. I kiss and lick each perfect ass cheek. Then I nip the right one.

She jumps. "Ouch! That hurt, Jax."

"Good hurt or bad, babe?"

"Good. It hurt so good, Jax."

I sit up and part her thigh with my knees and then run a finger up her crack. "You're soaking, babe."

"Duh."

That's my Lex, such a romantic. I rub and flick her clit.

Her ass flinches.

I grin.

She whimpers.

I grab a pillow and shove it under her hips. No. Not high enough. I grab another. Perfect.

I kneel between her thighs and part her cheeks. I lean in and inhale. Yeah, that's what I said. For hell, you say. Get over yourself. It turns me on. And if you could see this ass...well, you're never going to--it's mine. But if you could, you'd give it a whiff.

Warning: if you couldn't handle the inhaling, then you might want to skip the next few lines. Take a coffee break. Or go and grow a pair. I spread her wide and lick her from clit to asshole. I lick until I have my girl squirming and crying out my name and the Lord's, over and over. Then I rim her tight hole, over and over.

"Fuck me," she cries.

I know she doesn't mean with the Big Guy, but he jumps anyway. I mentally scold him for being so impatient. He replies with a heavy throb against her thigh. Okay, enough. I'm ready. I need to make her come before the Big Guy detaches and takes matters into his own hands. Okay, he has no hands, so let's say, before he takes matters into his own head.

Her asshole quivers around my tongue. "Jax, please."

Okay the pre-show is over. I sit up on my knees and plunge into her pussy.

"Fuck me!" I yell.

And she does. Lex grabs the pillows from under her hips and tosses them off the bed. She gets up on all fours, arches her back, and rocks back into me. I smack up against her backside and grab her hips and set the pace.

"Deeper, Jax."

I don't know if that's even possible but I'll try. I push her shoulders down and lift her ass. I pull out and plunge back into her. Hell yes, it's possible.

"Oh. My. God. Jax." Lex pants as I take her deeper.

My balls are so big and hard it sounds as though I'm spanking her with a belt.

"Babe. Close. Need. You," I grunt.

"Yes," she pants.

I'm done. "Babe. Come. Now." I press a finger into her ass.

Her pussy grips me like a vise and I let go. "Babe. You. Rock. My. Fuckin'. World."

#

"Lanie, thank you for driving me home."

"Like I wouldn't?"

"Well, thanks anyway. And please, please reassure your mom that I'll see her soon."

"I will. She kind of lost it."

"Kind of? For hell, I thought she was going to have a coronary."

"Yeah. Once she starts crying she can't stop."

"Oh, and make sure you thank her for _accidentally_ forgetting to pack up those shepherd's pies."

"I will. She _accidentally_ tossed them in the trash."

"I'd rather eat dirt than one more bite of those pies."

He laughs. "I was going to say I'd rather eat mud pies."

We laugh.

"Are you excited to be back in the city?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"You don't sound so sure."

"The last couple of weeks have been hell on Jaxson. The DA. The press."

"The press has cooled somewhat but there are a few still hounding him. You'd think after two weeks they'd move on to the next crisis."

"You'd think."

"Well, here we are."

We pull up to the curb in front of my loft. It's been fifteen weeks and three days since I've been in the city, and things feel and look surreal.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's feels weird, different. Like I don't belong here anymore."

Lane helps me with my belongings, and as we enter the main room, I smile like an idiot.

"For hell, Lanie. There must be five hundred lilies."

"Just over six. Jaxson had me and every florist in the city tracking them down."

I walk up to one of many arrangements of white lilies, my favorite flower. "They're so beautiful," I say, tears clouding my eyes. "It smells like heaven in here." I wipe a tear off my cheek.

"That's what he was hoping you'd say. Hey, are you crying?"

I nod as he puts his arms around me.

"Happy tears?" he asks me.

"Yes, happy tears. Thanks for everything, Lanie. Helping Jax with this surprise and for being a friend when I really needed one."

"My pleasure, Lex. And remember, if you get tired of the Boss-man and want a piece of Mr. Chubby, I'm only a phone call away."

"I'll remember."

He looks at his watch. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Of course. I know you need to get back to Ryan."

"Things are still pretty messed up there. I don't know how he does it, Lex. You couldn't pay me enough to have his job."

"I agree, but Jaxson is good at it. It's who he is. It's in his DNA."

He looks at his watch again. "I need to run."

"What's he got going on today?"

"More meetings with the DA, then I'll deliver him to you."

I smile. "I'll text him, but will you tell him I loved the lilies, and I can't wait to see him?"

"I will, luv," Lane says, and kisses me on the cheek.

"Smartass."

"That's me." He waves.

He's gone and I'm alone for the first time in months. After I put away my things, I sit at my dining table and enjoy a non-Lester-made vegetarian meal. But I don't really enjoy it. Crap. I even miss Lester's vegetarian cooking; except the shepherd's pie. I wasn't kidding when I said I'd rather eat dirt.

I make some calls, catch up on my mail, and then run a bath. As I watch the tub fill with water, my eyes fill up with tears. Dammit, something is off with me. I'm not getting that hell yes, so-good-to-be-home vibe. I always get the vibe after coming home from a trip.

And there I go, answering my own questions. Home. This is no longer my home. My home is two hours away in a small town in upstate New York. Hell. Did you see this coming? Because I sure as didn't. I'm right smack in the middle of where I'd promised myself I'd never be. I don't believe in the fairytale, no glass slipper for this Cinderella. Cinderella...ha! That's a joke. Call me Pinocchio. My nose is miles long and growing every day.

I turn off the water and add some lavender oil. Then I drop my robe and step in. Ahh. Liquid heaven. I lean my head back and shut my eyes.

"Alexia."

I open my eyes and my beautiful man is standing over me. And crap, my vision clouds over and the tears begin to flow.

"I don't look that bad, do I?"

"No...I...you..."

He kneels by the side of the tub and wipes away my tears.

"Babe, did you miss me?"

I nod. "I...you..."

"Well, I'm here now, and I'll make it all better."

I nod.

"Can I join you?"

"Please." I wipe my tears and watch him strip. I'll never get tired of looking at this man. My man.

As he strips down to his boxer briefs he gives me a cocky shit-assed grin.

"You like?"

I lick my lips. "No," I tease.

He lifts a brow. "No?"

"I've seen better."

"You have? Are you sure?" He slowly peels down his briefs. Stopping just under the tip of his growing erection. "Still seen better?"

"Yup, much better." I bite my lip, halting my own shit-assed grin.

"Really?" He moves them down another inch.

I bite down harder. "Yes. Really."

Down they go, one more inch.

Dear lord, I bite down on the inside of my cheek tasting blood.

One more inch.

"Still seen better?"

"Yep," I croak out.

He pulls his boxers up. "Okay, then. I'm out of here."

"No!" I shout and jump out of the tub, and nearly do a face-plant, and then an ass-plant.

He catches me just before my ass hits the tile. "Babe, I was just kidding. I'm not leaving."

"Thank God." I tug down his boxers, nearly ripping them off his hot ass.

I step into the tub and pull him in behind me. He sits down; I join him and lean back against his chest and beautiful erect penis.

"Ahhh," I sigh.

"Better?" he whispers into my ear.

"Mmm, much." I close my eyes.

He kisses the top of my head; I feel his grin press into my hair.

All's better. All's good.

I open my eyes and find myself under warm covers and lying in strong arms. I turn into Jax's chest and look up into his eyes. "I fell asleep."

"We both did."

He looks so forlorn and worn. "Are you okay? I mean, as okay as you can be?"

"I think so."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Hell, no. I haven't seen you for over a week. Talking is not on my agenda."

"So, you have an agenda?"

"Oh, yeah."

"So what's on this agenda of yours, Mr. Ryan?"

"You," he says and grins, looking like the Big Bad Wolf.

He rolls me on to my back. "Am I going to like being on your agenda?"

"Babe, you're going to love being on my agenda. But first..." He hops off the bed.

"You're going?" I shriek.

He smiles. "You _really_ missed me, didn't you?"

"You have no idea, Mr. Ryan."

He grabs my ankles and pulls me to the edge of the bed. "Before we attend to my agenda, I'm going to attend to yours."

He spreads my legs wide with his knee, and then kneels between them.

I prop myself up on my elbows. No way am I going to miss seeing this.

His eyes are clouded with sleep, but desire shines through like the sun. He gifts me with a sexy-as-all-hell grin.

I bit my cheek.

He could use a shave, and his hair is spiked into a crazy porcupine mess. But he has never looked more perfect. Ever.

He lowers his head and presses his lips onto my sex, his eyes never leaving mine. He licks his lips before his tongue finds and then laps over my clit. I whimper and bite my lip, but remain still.

He grins as he drags his tongue over, and around, and around.

Holy sweet heaven. I bite down harder, but my body remains steadfast, and my eyes locked.

He pauses and inhales my scent. _Bastard!_

I weep, but not from my eyes.

He grins.

I hold my breath, preparing myself for his next assault. He licks me from back door to front then plunges his tongue inside and fucks me with it. My legs twitch, but my eyes never leave his.

He's going to go for the kill next. I can see the determination in his eyes. _Okay, Lex. Think. Think what? Think baseball. Yeah, guys in ass-hugging pants, running around catching, hitting, and pulling on their junk. Bad idea. Now what? Sumo wrestling. Yeah, huge fat, grunting guys, wearing diapers --hair in buns. Okay, now you're talkin'. All's good. All's in control._

He sucks my clit hard. My eyes flutter, and I feel his grin. I force my eyes to refocus, and my body to remain still. Then hell. Teeth scrape over my clit. Then one, two, three, hell maybe even four fingers sink into me. _Sumo wrestling._ _Sumo... Oh, fuck it._

"Bastard," I grumble.

He laughs over my clit as his fingers fuck me crazy-made. I come long and hard.

"You are so stubborn and competitive."

"No, I'm not."

"You are so."

"Okay, maybe."

"There is no maybe."

"Are you mad?"

"Hell no. I love you in spite of it and because of it."

"Babe, are you crying?"

"No...yes."

He stands and leans over me. "Lex, what's wrong?"

"Nothing...everything."

He bends and kisses my forehead. "Babe, talk to me."

"Here...you...fuckin'-fantastic-orgasms."

"You're overwhelmed?"

"A bit."

He sits his sweet ass in the middle of the bed. "Come here." He pats the bed next to him.

I crawl up and sit next to him.

"Babe." He wipes tears from my cheeks. "Hey, guess what my favorite lotto numbers are?"

"2-8-6-9-24-7."

"Oh, I already told you that joke."

"No, I told you."

"Oh, yeah, you did."

"I'm good. No more jokes."

"Okay."

I scoot in front of him. "Lie down, bend your knees and spread 'em."

He complies. "I love when you get all bossy."

"Good, because I'm ready to work on your agenda."

"Thank Christ."

I spread his legs further and kneel between them. Then I drag the back of my fingers up and down his inner thighs until I feel goose bumps. Eyes on my man-prize, I lick my lips dramatically, giving him a taste of his own teasing. Satisfied with my reaction, I kiss and lick my way down one thigh then back up the other, making sure _not_ to touch The Big Guy and his besties.

"You're teasing me, Ms. Keith, and I'm not sure I like it."

"Yeah, right. You love it."

I trail my fingers up, over, and under the besties. While treating them to a friendly squeeze, I flatten my tongue and gift The Big Guy with a hot, wet lick from base to tip.

"I was just thinking."

"No, babe, no thinking."

I ignore him. "I was just thinking about what I want to do, now that I'm out of jail."

He smirks. "You weren't in jail."

"I know. It just sounds more dramatic and dangerous." I wiggle my brows. "Have you ever been blown by an ex-con?"

"No. Can't say I have."

"Well then. Tonight is your lucky night, Mr. Ryan."

I take his big thick cock in hand and bring it to my mouth. I mold my lips around it and work it, up and down, up and down, taking it deeper and deeper.

"Fuck, don't stop," he hisses.

I smile with his cock buried down my throat, which is quite the feat. I give myself a well-deserved mental _you go, girlfriend_ and pat on the back. With renewed confidence, I glide on down and swallow. Holy hell. My eyes tear; I choke and gag, then mentally raise a white flag and make a hasty retreat.

"Please, babe. Don't stop."

_Sorry, babe, not goin' to happen._ I give his cock one last slow lick from base to tip, and then work my way up his perfectness. I kiss up his very happy trail, taking a navel pit stop.

"It's a good thing you're not an outie, Mr. Ryan."

"And why is that, Ms. Keith?"

"Because that's a definite deal breaker."

"It is, huh?"

"Yeah."

I continue my journey kissing up his _GQ_ worthy abs, up and over his perfect pecs, before coming to a stop over a hard nipple. A lot of guys aren't into nipple play, but my guy is, as he should be, because his nipples are lickity-lick-licious. I lick, suck and bite them, until they're putty under my lips.

"Babe," he moans, pulling me up to his lips.

Our lips lock, and our tongues dance as we grin into each other. My clit beats like a bongo over his twitchy cock. I sit up and (look Ma, no hands) slide on down.

"Lex," he groans.

I slowly take him in and pause.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just accommodating."

He smirks.

"What? You think that's funny?"

"God, no. I think it's great. What guy wouldn't want to hear that he's being accommodated?"

"Good to know."

I slide on down, until I can go no more. Then I lean over and lay my ear over his heart, feeling the steady beat against my cheek.

"Lex, what are you doing?"

"Feeling the beat of your heart on my cheek, and the beat of the Big Guy in my vagina."

"Okay..."

I smile.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks.

"Never better."

I sit up and begin my slow ride. I take him unhurried and deep, over and over. Jax tries to roll me off him, but I push him down and shake my head.

"I'm working on your agenda at my pace."

"I need more, babe. Please."

I relent because he said please. He sits up, and I wrap my legs around him. I love loving this way. All my girly parts rub again his manly parts. Holy hell. Do they ever.

He grinds into me; my clit gets all tingly and hard. "Jax," I cry out.

"Wait, babe, I'm almost there." He grinds into me a couple more times. "I'm there babe. Let go."

I let go and feel my orgasm and his rush through me and entwine.

He shivers and lies back, taking me with him.

I lie on top of him for a few minutes.

"Jax, that was..."

"Heaven."

"Yes, heaven."

#

Five hours later, we lie tangled together after one hell of three a.m. roll-the-hay.

"I think you bottomed me out, or I was bottomed out."

"I think it's 'I bottomed you out.'"

I think about this for a few seconds. "Maybe it's only when you do the bottom thing, you bottom out."

"The bottom thing?"

"Yeah, you know. The bottom thing; backdoor."

"Oh, the backdoor thing? You might be right, but I don't think so. Have you done the bottom thing?"

"Yes...once. Have you done the bottom thing?"

He grins. "Yes, of course."

"And you liked it?"

"Lex, I'm a guy--I loved it."

"Just out of curiosity, were they okay?"

"Who?"

"The women you bottomized."

He laughs. "Bottomized? If you mean fucked in the ass, then yeah, I think they were okay. Maybe better than okay."

"Interesting."

"Why?"

"Because if you put your dick into my bottom, I wouldn't be able to sit or walk for a week."

"Lex, there are things you can do to prepare you for the bottom thing."

"I know. Like plugs and stuff. But, Jax, have you seen your dick?"

He chuckles. "I see my dick every day, many times a day. So are you saying no to the bottom thing?"

"Is it a deal breaker?"

"No, but have you seen your asshole?"

I laugh. "No, not lately."

"Well, Lex, let's just say it's mighty fine. The best looking hole I've ever seen."

"I don't know if I should thank you for that, or be kind of freaked that you've looked at so many."

"It's high praise. You should be proud of it. And some day I'd like to fuck it."

"Is it okay if we just do the finger thing for a while?"

"Yeah, it's okay. Lex, you're special."

"Because I have a fine asshole?"

"No, because we fit."

"We fit, huh?" I smile.

"Yes, don't you think so?"

"Yes, I really think so. Maybe it's a Kama Sutra thing. You know, the higher match, the horse and the deer, or is it the horse and the mare or hare?"

"I have no fucking clue; I never read it."

"You've never read the Kama Sutra?"

"I looked at the pictures."

"You only looked at the pictures?"

"I'm a guy; we only look at the pictures."

"I see, like the Playboy thing."

"Yes, exactly. If a guy tells you he's reading the articles, he's a lying bastard."

"You know, Kama sounds similar to come-a. Like I'm going to kama or I'm kaming."

"Lex, no more talking or thinking. Get on your hands and knees."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to fuck your pussy while looking at your fine asshole."

"Will you do the finger thing?"

"Oh, yeah. I'll be doing the finger thing."

"You're the best, Jax."

"I know, Lex."

#

_Later that morning..._

"Lex." I open my eyes and Jax is dressed and sitting next to me with a cup of coffee. God bless him.

I sit up and take the cup from him, and he kisses me on the forehead. I must have killer morning breath. That lazy assed morning mouth fairy.

"What time is it?"

"Half past seven."

"You're going in early?"

"Yeah, Will is going before a judge this morning, and I want to be there."

I take a sip of coffee. Ahhh. Liquid heaven. "That's understandable. I think it's a good idea."

I place my coffee on a nightstand and climb out of bed. Then I walk to my closet and slip on a robe. "Can I make you some breakfast?" I ask as I grab my coffee cup and we walk out of the bedroom and into the kitchen area.

"No, I'm good."

"Are you sure?

"Yeah, I have a breakfast meeting."

"Okay," I say, as I open the fridge. "Hey, I forgot to thank you for stocking the fridge and the pantry. And for all these beautiful lilies."

He sits on a bar stool and moves over several arrangements. "I think you thanked me in ways better than words."

I smile. "Yeah, I did."

His cell rings and he picks it up. "Lane," he says and answers. "What's up? No. No, we haven't."

He walks over to a bank of windows and looks down at the street. "Fuck! No. Yeah. Give me ten, and I'll be down." He disconnects.

He continues to look down on the street. "Fuck," he growls.

"Hey, what's going on?" I ask and walk to the window and look down. "What the hell? There must be one hundred press and paparazzi down there."

"Lex, look at me."

I do.

"There was a leak to the press about your involvement with me and the embezzlement."

"That can't be. You and the partners signed a nondisclosure. I signed a nondisclosure. How the hell did this happen?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to find out."

"No, no, no," I shout. "You told me this would never happen. You said you would protect me."

"Lex, I am...I'm trying to."

"You have no idea of what you've done."

He throws up his hands. "Lex, I didn't do any of this."

"But you're the goddamned CEO!" I yell. "You have to bury this...and fast!"

"I can't bury it. Lane said it's in the _Times_ and all over the Internet."

I start to pace. "Fuck! Jaxson, you knew the only reason that I stayed at the estate and didn't sue your fine ass was because I didn't want this public."

"Didn't sue my ass? What the hell are you talking about?"

"You have no idea of the mess you've made for me."

"Alexia! I didn't do any of this."

"If Gram finds out about this, she'll kill me and bury you."

"What? What does your grandmother have to do with any of this?"

"Nothing, if I can bury it before she hears about it."

"You're not making any sense."

I walk away from the window to the kitchen area and grab my cell. "I'll handle it. You obviously can't."

"Handle what?"

"You don't understand."

"Yeah, you're right, I don't. Care to enlighten me?"

"No, I don't care to."

"If you don't tell me. I can't help you."

"Well, I can't tell you, so I guess you can't help."

"What's it going to take for you to trust me? Why won't you just fucking tell me what this big secret of yours is?"

"Jaxson, it's not...I can't yet. I'm not ready. I need more time."

"What?"

"I'm working on it, you need to--"

"Trust you? You want me to trust you, but you won't trust me. That's not fair."

I put my phone down and sit on a stool.

Jaxson sits next to me.

"You're right, it's not. I can't ask something from you that I can't give back."

"Lex, I don't know why or what you're so afraid of. All I know is that you shut me out. I love you. I've loved you even when I wanted to hate you."

"Jax...I..."

He shakes his beautiful head. "No, Lex. If you can't let me in...then I don't know. I don't know about us."

"Jax, I just need more time."

He leans into me and kisses me long and lovingly. Our lips part and he looks into my eyes. "God, help me...I love you so much. But I need you to love me back. I need to hear the words." He kisses me on the forehead, stands, and walks out the door.

God, help us both.

#

I ring the bell outside Marco and Henry's townhome. The door opens, and Marco steps out and pulls me into his arms.

"Princess."

Marco is the only one I will allow to call me this. So don't get any ideas.

"Marco," I cry--literally.

"Oh, Priss, come here and let me hold you."

Okay, Marco is the only one I'd ever let call me Priss. See a pattern here?

I step inside and he grabs my bags, hauling them into the foyer and shutting the door behind us.

"Princess." He pulls me back into his arms and wipes away my tears. "What's with the tears, babe?"

I start to sob. "Jax...calls...me, babe."

"Okay, no babe then."

"I'm so sorry, Marco. I didn't know where to go. The fucking press. I had to change cabs five times before I lost their tail."

"Well, you're here now, and Henry and I will take care of you, Princess. Let's take your things up to the guest room, and then we'll have a little sit-down."

A little sit-down with Marco means we'll talk and get smashed.

We arrange my things, and then sit in the front room. He goes to the bar and pours us a drink, my favorite scotch, Mossrock.

I love this man. I met Marco years ago when we were both living in London. It was love at first sight for me. When he told me he was gay, I all but cried for days. I know what you're thinking--got gaydar? It wasn't my lack of gaydar, but rather his lack of obvious gayness.

We touch glasses and sit on a soft overstuffed leather sofa.

"I'm so sorry, Marco. I would have stayed at Jules', but she already subleased her apartment. That bitch."

"Yeah, didn't see that one coming. Our Jules shacking up with a guy."

"I know; I think the earth must have rocked off its axis. Tell me your true first impression of Nick."

"Ken; specifically Malibu."

I laugh. "Ditto."

"So how long will Jules and Nick be living in Miami?"

"Three or four months. She wants us to fly down next week."

"I'm game if you are," he says, then taps his glass to mine.

"Are you sure? You just got back from Italy a few weeks ago."

"You know me; I never pass up a trip."

"I'm sorry I missed your anniversary, but I'm happy you two had such a wonderful stay at the villa."

"I can't thank you enough for letting us stay there. You know how much we love Florence. It was the perfect anniversary."

"I haven't been to Villa Lex in over four years."

"One of these days, you're going to have to give it a proper name."

"You don't like La Villa Lex?" I say with a pout.

He rolls his eyes.

"I've missed you, so much," I say as tears fill my eyes, again.

"Princess, I'm worried about you. I've never seen you cry like this."

I wipe my eyes. "I know...I can't stop them. It's so not me."

He refills our drinks. "Okay, girlfriend, let's hear it."

"Marco, I've fucked everything up, again."

He frowns over his tumbler.

"I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Have you talked to Jaxson since we talked this morning?"

"No, I've sent him several texts and voice mails, but he hasn't responded."

"He'll call back. He just needs time. His whole world is whacked right now."

"I know, and believe me, I don't want to add to the mess. I'm just so damn mad about this leak. They all signed a freakin' contract."

"Princess, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think it's time you took care of things. You can't let your relationship with Jaxson go on until you do."

"I know. I shouldn't have let things get so serious until after I'd settled things. When I signed off on the house arrest, I knew it would be hard for us to remain just friends. But I wasn't planning on us getting so involved. Now I have a hard time breathing without him. God, Marco, what if he wants to end us?"

"Jaxson Ryan is head over feet in love with you. He just needs some time to get his life in order."

"And I need to get on with mine. But I'd hoped for a bit more time. I don't think I'm ready yet. Goddamn the press and the Ryan partners."

He stands and grabs the bottle of Mossrock and tops us off. "Things will work out, Princess."

I hear the front door open and shut.

A minute later Henry walks in.

I stand and smile. "Henry," I say and hold out my arms.

"Hey, beautiful," he says, pulling me into him.

Remember when I said I cried when I found out Marco was gay. Well, the entire city of New York wept when Henry married Marco--and not happy tears.

The man is so virile, pheromones weep from his pores. A person could have multiple orgasms from just being near him. Okay, maybe just this person.

I breathe him in as his muscular arms surround me. I moan internally; and let me tell you, this took years of practice to master. We part and he pulls Marco into his arms and they kiss, hard and long. I moan, externally. Okay, so I haven't completely mastered it. They are just so holy-hot-tamale-hot.

Henry picks up the bottle of Mossrock and raises his brow. "It looks like the party started without me. You two do realize it's only half past four?"

Marco and I look at each other. "And that's a problem?" we ask simultaneously, and crack up.

Henry rolls his eyes. "You two must have been twins in another life."

"I've always thought so," I add.

Henry hands me the _Times_. "Marco said you already knew about the paper."

I look at my picture on the second page of the business section. "You'd think they could have found a better picture. My ass looks huge. What do you think?" I hand the paper to Marco.

He looks at my picture. "Definitely...not very flattering."

"Marco," Henry scolds.

"What? If Lex didn't want the truth she wouldn't have asked me."

"He's right, Henry. I count on him to be completely honest with me. If he doesn't, I'll know he's not telling the truth, because I can all but read his mind."

"Freaky, if you ask me," Henry says.

"Whatever," Marco and I say simultaneously, again, and laugh.

Henry rolls his eyes, again. "Dinner?" he asks Marco.

"Leftovers in the fridge."

Henry rubs his hands together. "Yippie, leftovers."

Marco gives him a stern look.

"Okay, leftovers it is."

"Hey, let me look at that picture again." Marco hands the paper back to me.

"I've seen this exact photo before."

"Where?" he asks.

"Remember I told you about the pictures and e-mails that were sent to me at Ryan?"

"Yeah."

"Well, this is one of the photos."

"How did it end up in the paper?"

"Good question. Jaxson told me he put them in his office safe."

"Is he the only one who has access to it?"

"That's what I had assumed."

"You don't think he leaked it, do you?"

"I don't know what to think, Marco. I'm so confused. Something about the whole embezzlement set up just seems off to me. I haven't been able to shake this feeling that Jaxson's not telling me everything."

Marco raises a brow.

"Okay...I know, kettle black and all that. Let's not talk about it anymore."

"Okay, we don't have to? In fact we don't have to talk at all; we can just drink."

"Yeah, let's get smashed."

Henry joins us and two hour later one of us is smashed, the other two--still working on it.

"I'zz neverz knownz twoz peozles zat caz drinz liz yuv twozz," he slurs.

Marco and I smile at each other. Henry's a bit of a lightweight, but we still love him.

"Onz morez ozf yuv weirdz connectionezzes."

"I'm not sure about our connectionezzes, but we do have a weird connection," I tell him.

"I wuv yuv guz."

Marco smiles. "We love you too."

"Oh, I almost forgot your anniversary gift. I better show you before one of you passes out. And you know who you are--Henry."

He smiles.

I walk to the entry closet, grab my handbag and take out an envelope. Then I walk back into the front room and hand it to Marco. "Happy anniversary. I wanted to give it to you in person, so it's a bit late."

Marco gives me a half smile. "Lex, what is this?"

"Go sit next to your man and open it."

Marco sits next to Henry, opens it and removes the documents. They both look at them, or at least Marco does. I watch, as their eyes grow big.

Marco looks up with tears in his eyes. "Princess, you can't do this."

"Hey, I'm a princess and I can do whatever the hell I want. Marco, you and Henry love the villa. And I love you, so the deed is yours. Besides, it's about time it gets a proper name."

"Fucz mez," Henry adds.

And we crack up.

#

_A week later..._

"Are you okay?" Jules asks me as I rejoin her and Marco by the pool. "You've been puking your guts out all week."

"Better, now that I have no more guts." I adjust my lounger, sit and turn on my Kindle.

Marco looks up from his book. "Do you think you have the stomach flu?"

"I don't think so. I think it's a bad case of food poisoning. I ate a spinach salad at the airport, and I haven't felt well since." I look around. "Where did Nick and Henry go?"

"Golfing," Marco answers.

"I didn't know Henry could golf."

They both pull down their sunglasses and give me that _duh_ look.

"Is there anything he can't do?" I ask.

"I haven't found one yet," Marco replies.

"Did you tell Lex that you--"

Marco shakes his head.

"Tell me what?"

"Jules, you have the biggest mouth."

"You are the only guy that's ever complained about the size of my mouth."

I roll my eyes behind my sunglasses."Just tell me. I'm a big girl."

"Jaxson came into Polo yesterday, for lunch," Marco says.

"Well, the man does eat and he likes your restaurants."

"But, there are thousands of restaurants in the city," Jules adds.

I bite the baited hook. "So, how did he look?"

"Good."

"Of course he did. And I don't need to ask if he asked about me. I must have left him a hundred messages and texted him fifty times. He doesn't want anything to do with me, and I don't blame him. He said he didn't know about us, so he's done."

"Well, then he's the stupidest and biggest asswad ever."

"Thanks, Jules. But I'm the asswad."

"I said he looked good. I didn't say happy," Marco adds.

"Let's not talk about him. This is the first morning I haven't woken up with a cry hangover, and if we continue to talk about him, I'll be crying all day, again."

"Okay, princess, we won't talk about him unless you want to."

"Thanks, Marco."

"Jules, my dear," Marco says. "Thanks again for having us. Nick has a beautiful home."

"Well it's not Villa Marco and Henry, but I guess it will do."

"Jules," I scold.

"I'm not jealous or anything," she teases.

She so is.

I pick up my Kindle, and Jules follows.

We read in silence for a few minutes.

"Uggggg," Jules cries and snaps the cover of her Kindle shut.

"What?" I ask.

"This damn book; it's so frustrating. The man is the biggest asswad. Ever. The woman is all but begging him to fuck her. But does he? Nooo! He won't even kiss her. If I wanted to read an Austin novel, I would have downloaded an Austin novel."

"It can't be that bad."

"It is," she says, picking up her Kindle and turning it on back on. "Listen, Jules says, and reads from her Kindle.

_"I'm so mad at you, I can barely see straight," he says and clenches his fists before pacing away as if a caged bull._

_"I'm so sorry, John. Please forgive me. Please, John, I love you."_

_"You love me!" he shouts._

_"John, please, I need you. Please just hold me," she whimpers._

_He gives her a look filled with hate and disbelief. "I can't believe you just asked me that."_

_She falls to her knees. "John, I'm down on my knees. I'll do anything you want. Anything."_

"What a loser. The woman is down on her knees, for Christ sake. Saying she'll do anything. Anything! He must be a gaywad. No offense, Marco," Jules says.

"None taken. I agree. What straight guy would pass up a woman down on her knees and begging?"

"Maybe he's just really pissed," I comment.

Jules rolls her eyes. "Even a pissed guy wouldn't pass up a BJ."

"I have to agree with Jules on this one," Marco adds.

"It gets worse," Jules says and begins to read again.

_"Anything?" he huffs._

_"Yes, anything. Please, John."_

_"Then, crawl to me," he shouts._

_She looks up at him in disbelief. Where is the man she fell in love with? But she would rather die than not have him. So she gets on all fours and crawls to him._

_"You make me sick, down on your knees and crawling on the dirty floor like some animal."_

_She stops crawling and bows at his feet. "Please, John," she begs._

_He looks down on her one last time then walks out the door._

"He's a total prick, and she's a fool," Jules huffs. "I keep on picking out books I never want to finish."

"Did you read the synopsis?" Marco asks her.

"I never read those. I want to be surprised."

"Okay..."

"What about the reviews, do you read those?" I ask.

"No. Why would I care what other people think?"

"Then how do you choose a book?"

She gives me a _duh_ look. "By its cover."

"You pick a book strictly by its cover?"

"Yes. What's wrong with that?"

"Jules," I say and flip my sunglasses down.

"You don't fool me. Behind those enormous sunglasses, you're giving me _that_ look."

I smile. "Yeah, I think I am."

Jules closes her eyes. "Whatever. I'm done reading. I'm going to take a nap."

I flip my glasses back up and continue to read.

"So, what are you reading?" she asks.

_Girlfriend, that was like the shortest nap, ever._ "Are you sure you want to know? It didn't have an interesting cover."

"Smartass. Yes, I want to know."

"It's called _My Life In Pictures._ It's a memoir of a documentary filmmaker. She makes documentaries about the lives of women. How each woman is different, but how we all share common traits and bonds."

She rolls her eyes. "Sounds interesting."

"It is. I'm reading about when she first started. She was surprised and thrilled that she got clearance to film in Afghanistan."

"Okay, I was done at _it is_."

"You asked."

"Yes, I did. I don't know how you read that crap. It's not very entertaining. I was bored as soon as you told me the title."

I pull down my shades.

"Don't even think about giving me that look."

_Too late, bitch, I already did._

Marco laughs.

"Something funny in your bromance?" I ask.

"Yeah, this couple Stan and Tim, just moved in together and they fight over some of the same things Henry and I did."

"Like what?" Jules asks.

"The usual stuff, like drinking from the carton, Sports Center on in every room, using each other's aftershave and soap."

"Why is sharing soap a problem?" I ask.

"Because you don't want to be with, or sleep, with a guy who smells just like you do. You might as well sleep alone, and just jerk off."

"Okay. Noted. What about you, Jules?" I ask. "What do you and Nick fight about?"

"Why would you assume we fight?"

"Sorry, I just think most couples who are intelligent and passionate about each other fight."

"Nice save."

"I thought so."

Jules contemplates for a minute. "It's not what we fight about. It's how we fight."

"How so?"

"It's one-sided. Nick lays it out and leaves before I even get a rebuttal. I mean, for a former prosecutor, that's just wrong."

"Maybe he's tired of fighting because that's what he does in a courtroom all day."

"That's a pretty lame excuse, Lex. I'm his lover, not the opposing counsel."

"You're right. Poor excuse."

"I'll give you an example. A few weeks ago he came over to my place for dinner. Halfway through, we were talking about nothing really, and then he says, and I quote, 'I don't understand how an intelligent woman can be so stupid.' He's called me _silly_ a few times, but _stupid_ was harsh."

"I agree. That was harsh."

"And he just left before you could respond?" Marco asks.

"Yeah. I sat there for a few seconds, stunned. Then he grabbed his plate, set it on the counter and left."

"Did you bring it up later?" I ask.

"Yeah. He apologized, but didn't want to talk about it. I know I'm different. Maybe I'm a savant."

"I don't think you're a savant, Jules. Like you said, you're just you; you're unique. Sometimes you're a little bizarre, but you're not stupid."

"Definitely not stupid," Marco adds.

"Some of the weird and strange things you've done or said are some of my best memories. Wouldn't you agree, Marco?"

"Hands down. Some of the best."

"Really? Wow, thanks, guys. Maybe I have, what is that called...assbugers?"

"It's Asperger. And no, Jules, you don't have it."

The next morning Jules and I are watching Henry do laps in the pool.

Jules sighs. "This is heaven, Lex. Lounging by the pool with my best friend, drinking a mimosa, and watching Henry part the waves."

Big sigh. "Pretty damn close to it."

She puts her hand over mine. "Lex, if Jaxson is worth fighting for, then fight for him. Fly to London, talk to Gram and make things right. Then come back and battle."

"You're naïve if you think it will be that simple."

"Of course I don't think it will be simple or easy. It will be hard and messy. Lex, you've stepped on the line. Now you're either going to have to step back or step over it. I love you, but things are changing for all of us. Marco has a life with Henry; Nick is my life and, well...you?"

"Yes, me."

"Good morning," Nick says, giving Jules a peck on her cheek.

I smile.

"Lex." He nods.

"Nick."

He pulls down his shades and sits in a lounger next to Jules.

"I was wondering what you two were doing out here," he says as Henry turns for another lap. "Can't blame you. If I were a man's man, I'd be all over that."

"Marco is one lucky bitch," Jules replies.

"Yesterday at the club," Nick says, "well, let's just say it was an experience. Even the straight men were drooling. Freakin' unbelievable," he shakes his head. "I never thought anything could be crazier than golfing with Ryan."

Jules elbows him.

"Fuck, sorry, Lex."

"Nick, don't be; he's your best friend."

"Lex, can I be frank?"

"I'd rather you be yourself, but..."

"Walked right into that one."

"Yeah, you did. I'm sorry. Continue."

"Jaxson loves you like crazy. But he's going to mess up a lot because he doesn't know how to play the game."

"The game?"

"You're the only woman he's ever pursued. The only woman who's ever said no to him. Women have always come on to him; he's never had to make an effort. He has no skills when it comes to being the pursuer. He's a rookie, and rookies fuck up."

"I appreciate what you're saying, Nick. But Jaxson being a rookie isn't the problem. The problem is me not wanting to be me."

"Well, I don't really understand what that means, but I want you to know I love Jules, and she loves you and I would never make her choose sides."

"Thanks, Nick."

"Good morning, all, " Marco says, then kisses the top of my head. "Princess, I thought you would sleep in."

"I tried to go back to sleep. I just couldn't."

"Were you puking again this morning?" Jules asks.

I nod.

"For five hours," Marco says and frowns.

"Lex?" Jules asks. "Are you sure you're not pregnant?"

"Positive. I told you, it's impossible."

"Could you have slept with someone and not remember?"

"Jules," Marco scolds.

"Well, it happens."

"Jules, I'm positive that I have only been with Jaxson. He is the only one that has come inside me for years. And he's sterile. So I'm not pregnant."

"Then something else is going on, Lex. I think you should go see a doctor," Marco adds.

"Okay, mom, dad. I'll see a doctor when I'm in London. Promise."

Marco sits back in his lounger.

Henry lifts himself out of the pool.

We collectively sigh.

Marco rolls his eyes. "He's just a man."

"But what a man," Nick, Jules and I say simultaneously, and then laugh.

"What's so funny?" Henry asks, grabbing his towel off his lounger.

"Besides my so-called friends eye-fucking my husband?"

Henry gives us a scolding look, then sits on Marco's lounger and pulls him to his lips. They kiss and kiss. It's the sexiest, hottest kiss I have ever witnessed.

After their lips part, Henry kisses Marco on his forehead. "Babe," he says, "They might be eye-fucking me, but you are the only one that's fucking me."

We all sigh-moan.

My heart actually skips a beat as they look at each other. Then tears stream down my cheeks. I'm a hot mess.

Marco takes my hand. "Princess. Hey, all's good, don't cry."

"I...I'm...just so happy for you two," I blubber. Then I feel my stomach roll and I know I'm about to lose my breakfast. I jump up. "Sorry," I say and run to the closest bathroom.

I ralph my guts out and a lung. Then lie down on the cool tile.

There is a soft knock on the door and Marco peeks in.

"Can I come in?"

I wave him in.

He kneels. "Princess, you need to see a doctor. I don't think you should wait until you get to London."

"If I continue to be sick, then I'll go. But I'd rather wait to see a doctor I know."

"Okay," he says and frowns.

"Marco, I'll be fine. I know it's just a bug." I smile and lift myself off the floor.

"Today is my last day here. Let's go get pampered."

Three hours later we're halfway through our spa day.

"Jules, what is this goo supposed to do?" I ask.

"Hell if I know."

"Marco?" I ask.

"Cleanse, exfoliate and rejuvenate."

"I don't think it's working."

"Just give it time."

"How long?"

"Just relax, already. God, you are the most impatient person I know. Just give the goo some time to do what it has to do."

"Well, I wish it would hurry the hell up. It's starting to burn around the asshole area. I should have listened to the spa lady and waxed after the goo."

"Well, I don't know if you had much of a choice with all that...hair going on down there," Jules spouts.

"It wasn't that bad."

"Like hell it wasn't. I told you at the Ryan estate a couple of weeks ago you needed to wax. I hope you didn't let Jaxson go down on that mess."

"Well..."

"Good God," she huffs.

"He never complained."

"Believe me, he wanted to. No guy likes hairy-pussy-mouth. Right, Marco?" Jules asks.

"Some guys like hairy pussy."

"How would you know, you're a gaywad."

"You asked."

"Yes, I did. Clearly a mistake."

"I kept my frontal region shaved. But the middle and back regions, no way. Been there, done that, never again. There is nothing worse than having razor rash between the cheeks."

"Well, you're right about that, girlfriend," Jules adds.

"Yes, there is," Marco says. "And it's happening at this very moment. I have a goo hair up my ass and it's driving me crazy."

"A goo hair?" Jules questions.

"A hair covered in goo," Marco and I respond in unison.

"You two," she says and shakes her head.

"Try wiggling your ass," I tell him.

"No, flex your cheeks, and then do several kegels," Jules instructs.

He moves his ass around.

"Any luck?" I ask.

"No...still there."

"I'd pull it out if I could reach your ass. They have us so tightly bound it's hard to breathe."

"See if you can flip to your side or back," Jules adds.

"Yeah, right. I'd like to see you do that, girlfriend."

"Well, it can't be any worse than having a hair up your vagina."

"You got me there, Jules. Having no vagina and all that."

"I've had hairs up my vagina. No biggie. I just pulled them out."

She frowns. "If you can reach it. I'm talking about hairs way up."

"How would you even know it was there?"

"Believe me, Lex, you'd know. I had one that drove me friggin' nuts. It felt like an ant was crawling around in there."

"That sounds awful."

"It was insane. I tried everything to get it out. I tried washing it out with a hand shower, douching, dislodging it with a dildo... Nothing worked. So, I made an appointment with my OBGYN. She couldn't find anything. She thought I was crazy. She wrote me a prescription for anxiety medication and referral me to a psychiatrist. I thought hell. Maybe I am going nuts. So I tried to ignore it, but fuck me. I knew something was up there. I was so desperate I called Carl Clark."

"Twelve-inch Carl?" I ask.

"Yeah, that Carl."

"Jules?" Marco asks. "Isn't he the guy that asked you to marry him and you told him you only went out with him because he had a huge cock?"

"Yeah, he's the one. He's not popular with the ladies because of his stellar looks and personality. At least I told him the truth."

"Yeah, after you fucked him for months," I add.

"Hey, I gave you his cell number. I was more than willing to share."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. So you called him because..."

"I was hoping his twelve plus inches and a load of lube would dislodge the hair."

"And he agreed to help?" Marco asks.

"He was more than happy to help. But after two days of bonking like friggin' rabbits, all I got was a UTI."

"Okay, I'll bite. What happened next?" I ask, because I'm a stupid idiot. And Lord help me, I want to know.

"Well, I had to get an antibiotic for my UTI, but there was no way I was going to go back to my OBGYN. So I asked Carrie, my PA, to set me up with her doctor. I went and I told her my story. I even dropped Carl's name thinking I'd owed him for his effort. But she knew all about Carl and his twelve-plus inches. Nice dick, no personality. Anyway, she tells me about this new magnifying scope thingy the office just got in. I made an appointment for the next day and she looks up there and finds two four-inch hairs growing from my vaginal wall."

"Oh, my hell," I say.

"She pulled those suckers out, and I was good as new."

"My God, Jules, I'd never believe that story if it had happened to anyone other than you."

"Yeah, all the good stuff happens to me."

The next day Marco and Henry drop me off at the airport.

Henry hugs and kisses me then gives Marco and me a minute.

"Princess," Marco says, hugging me tightly.

And, yes, you guessed it...I'm crying like an idiot.

"Go settle things and come back to us."

"You know as soon as I step into the corporate jet my life will no longer be mine. I'll have to move to London."

"So then you'll send us your jet and Henry and I will be there in a few hours."

"Promise?"

"Promise, princess."

#

"Thank you for coming."

"Like I had a choice."

"Alexia, could you forego the attitude?"

"Don't think that's possible, Gram."

She frowns.

I walk over to her bar and rummage through her scotch. I pick the most expensive one and pour myself three fingers. She looks at her watch. I lift a brow and silently dare her to say something. She remains stoically silent, but I can tell she's champing at the bit. I sit my holey-Levi-assed self down on her probably million pound sofa, and rest my vintage Chucks on her possibly gold gilded coffee table.

She sits across from me in a velvet Queen Anne chair, looking regal as ever, in a chic designer navy suit. She's accessorized her suit with her usual scarf draped around her neck, and her legendary scowl planted on her lips; the very same scowl that's rendered women to tears, and men to their knees.

"Alexia, you've been out of the hospital for six months. It's time for us, for you, to get your shit together and make some decisions about your future."

"It wasn't a hospital, it was a nut house, a loony bin, a funny farm. You tell me you want me to be honest with you, but you can't even admit your granddaughter went coo coo for coco puffs. You can tell the shareholders, the press, and your friends I went on an extended holiday. But for fuck sake, swallow your goddamned pride, grow some balls, and admit your granddaughter is damaged goods."

She raises a perfect brow, but remains silent. She knows I speak the truth, and the truth fucking hurts.

"Gram, let's just admit that we're from different planets and get this shit over with. I know why you summoned me."

"Before we get into that, I'd like to say something."

"As if I could stop you."

She raises her other perfect brow. "You might not care for me, dear, but I am your grandmother, and I expect and deserve your respect. I bloody well know where you've been. You might not believe me, but I've tried to keep things private because I know the hurt and the damage the press can render. And yes, I've misinformed the shareholders because situations like this make them nervous. Grant stock is down; we've lost millions in the last couple of years. And before you say anything, because I know you're champing at your bit, it's not just about the Grants and the shareholders losing money; it's about thousands of jobs, thousands of lives."

I sit my empty tumbler on the gilded table and rub my aching temples. We've had this same conversation so many times I can recite it verbatim.

"Are you ill?"

"Not physically. Gram, let's just cut to the chase. I'm meeting my solicitor in a couple of hours."

"So, you've decided to file for a divorce."

"I decided the day I found the asshat in bed with my so-called best friend. You were the one telling me to put things off. So let's get to it, shall we? I've gone over the files you sent me. I'll admit to feeling overwhelmed by the whole thing, but a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do, right?"

"When I look into your eyes, my dear, I see nothing. Your body sits before me but the rest of you is still on that bridge."

She pauses as if waiting for me to confirm or deny her statement. I remain silent, because in the end, it doesn't fucking matter. I'm not ready to take over my inherent responsibilities, to become the CEO of the conglomerate known as Grant International, but I really don't have a choice. If it weren't for the thousands of employees and my sister Sam, and even Gram, even though I'd never tell her, I'd make my way back to that bridge tomorrow.

I know things haven't been easy for Gram. She hasn't been the same since my parents and kid brother were killed in an auto accident. When my grandfather died, she was forced to take over as CEO, and I know she was ill prepared and struggled for many years. But she had no choice; she stepped up and did what had to be done. Then when my dad was killed, she took over the helm again.

My family has been around for centuries. And although many things have changed over those centuries, many have not. One thing that hasn't changed, is the set-in-stone inheritance bylaw. Think of it as a monarchy without the crown and scepter. Only an immediate direct descendant can rule, or in this case, inherit all that is Grant and run Grant International.

In the eighteenth century, there was a plague that initiated the only amendment to this bylaw. The amendment states that the helm or head of all that is Grant can be held in guardianship for a period of twenty-five years. Gram held guardianship for my father for eight years and has held it for me for thirteen. So her time as guardian or CEO is nearly done. We'd agreed some time ago that I would take over as CEO before her guardianship time was over, wanting to leave a couple of years for any unforeseen accident or death.

The last couple of months I've learned a lot more about the responsibilities of the Grant CEO and other inherent duties. This knowledge has opened my eyes; I'm awed by Gram and ashamed that I'd almost left such a burden for my sister to bear alone. I'm not ready to be the man, so to speak, but nevertheless it's time.

"My dear, I want to see life again in those beautiful eyes of yours, and don't want to lose you. I'm afraid if you take over as CEO in your current state I will lose you. I've been thinking about this for some time. Thinking about how I could give you time to heal, give you freedom, and give you a true break from the pressures and expectations of being a Grant. So I have a proposal for you."

I stop picking at a hole in my jeans and give her my full attention. "A proposal?"

"I will grant you up to four years to get your head and life straight. Four years to live on your own and not be you."

"What? How?"

"I'm giving you a time-out from being Alexia Grant. You've been saying to me for years that you don't want to be you, so this is your opportunity."

"Like an alter ego?"

"Yes. You can go anywhere and do anything you want, with a few stipulations."

Needing a minute to digest her words, I walk back over to the bar and pour myself another drink and one for Gram. I hand hers over and sit back down. "Okay, what are the stipulations?"

"You must live a low profile life. Stay out of the spotlight, under the radar. If the press or even the shareholders were to find out about this alter ego, the fallout could be substantial. Alexia, I'm not kidding about this. You won't be able to tell anyone your true identity. You'll need to stay out of trouble, keep out of relationships and situations that could draw attention to you."

"Any other stipulations?"

"You'll have to make the occasional trip to London to keep any possible rumors squelched. I'd also like you to put off your divorce for a little longer. Zane is a wanker, but he's a wanker with a lot of influential friends. He's more likely to keep his big mouth shut if you're still paying for his lifestyle."

"Where would I go?"

"That's up to you. You've often told me you'd like to go back to New York. And I know you've missed Marco and Jules since they moved back there. Of course they would know who you are."

"I think that's do-able. I don't really have any other connections there; it would be a good choice."

"So, do you accept my proposal?"

"Is this for real?"

"Would I propose it if it weren't?"

"No."

"So, what do you say?"

"Hell, yeah."

"Okay, then. When you're ready to take over, send for the corporate jet. Just remember, once you step on the plane you will be Alisa Alexia Lizbet Marie Grant, Grant heir, and CEO of Grant International. There will be no going back."

#

Hours later. London City Airport, London, England.

"Sorry, dear. I hope you weren't waiting long."

"No, not too long." I kiss Gram on her cheek then join her in the back of her Rover.

"Hey, Stewart, how are you?" I ask Gram's long time driver and best friend.

Stewart happens to be in love with Gram and they've been on-again, off-again lovers for years. But Gram has a thing for younger men. Enough said.

"Brilliant, lass. Good to have you home."

_Yeah, fucking brilliant._

"You look tired and thin."

_And the bashing begins._ "Nice to see you too, Gram."

"Don't be smart with me, Alexia. I can tell you've lost weight."

"I told you I'd had a stomach virus or something."

"What did you think of your new jet?"

"It was new?" Okay, I knew it was new. I just like yanking her chain. Lord knows she yanks mine.

Gram rolls her eyes at me.

"So, where am I staying?"

"With me until we get your place remodeled."

"Gram, my house doesn't need remodeling."

"I think it does."

There is no arguing with Gram. Even if you're brave enough to try, it doesn't friggin' matter, she always gets her way.

She gives me a once-over. "Are you wearing a padded bra?"

"What?"

"Your ta-tas look...larger."

"Gram, please. Can you wait a few hours before you start picking me apart?"

"I'm not picking you apart. I'm making an observation."

She treats my right ta-ta to a good squeeze.

"Ouch! What the hell?"

"How did that feel?"

"It hurt. What's up with you?"

"Let me see a tit."

"What the hell?"

"Alexia, I don't appreciate the attitude."

_Attitude? Are you kidding me?_ "You handled my breast and asked to see it."

"So?"

"Really? Stewart, make a stop at the hospital. Gram needs her head examined."

"Stewart, stop by Boots, my granddaughter needs to pick up a pregnancy test."

"What?"

"You heard me. You're pregnant."

"No freakin' way."

"Afraid so."

"I can't be pregnant; it's not possible."

"You've been living at the Ryan estate and I believe you and Jaxson Ryan are more than casual friends. So, tell me why it's not possible."

"You...what...you knew?"

"Alexia, really? I said I wouldn't interfere in your life, but I never said I wouldn't be watching after you. I know everything about you and Jaxson. I'm going to have a long talk with Mr. Ryan."

"If you knew this whole time... Wait a minute. You're the one who helped me with my investigation."

"Did you really think it was Zane? He's not the ripest tomato in the garden, ya know."

_Ripest tomato?_ "If you mean he's an idiot, I agree. But he's an idiot with a lot of friends. So how much do you know?"

"It's the only time I've intervened, if that's what you're asking."

"That's part of what I'm asking."

"When you told me you quit your job, I suspected something was up. I know you loved working at Ryan. That's all you talked in France. I did some digging and found out about the embezzlement. I thought you'd contact me. Then the next thing I knew you were living at the Ryan Estate under house arrest. I was upset that you didn't contact me for help. So I asked Zane to call and ask about things. I thought you'd never suspect him of being in contact with me."

"Since you dislike him even more than I do, no, I didn't suspect."

"Why didn't you contact me?"

"Because I didn't and still don't think I'm ready to be Alexia Grant. But I've gotten in over my head with Jaxson, and... I have no choice."

"We'll deal with Grant later. Right now, I'm concerned about your...situation. Why do you insist that you're not pregnant? Accidents happen."

"Jaxson's sterile."

She raises a perfect brow."

"He can't have kids. Pass on the old DNA, procreate, breed, impregnate."

"I know what sterile means, smartass. So who else did you shag? Because you're pregnant."

"I haven't shagged anyone other than Jax. Have you been talking to Jules?"

"No."

"She asked me if I'd had sex without knowing."

"That sounds like something Jules might say. Alexia, if you didn't sleep with anyone else, it must be an immaculate conception, because you're pregnant."

"Gram, let's just drop it."

"Stewart, the druggist first, then home. Frankly, I don't know how you did it."

"Did what?"

"Stayed away from Jaxson Ryan for so long. I'd be all over that. Too bad he doesn't have a younger brother."

_For hell! A younger brother?_ "Gram, you're a piece of work."

"Well, thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I can interpret it any way I want."

Just shoot me, slit my wrists, and hang me.

#

Two hours later Grant House, central London.

Test number three. _Wait three minutes. Display will show pregnant or not pregnant._

"Fuck!"

Test number four. _Wait three minutes. A blue line must be in the control window when you read your results. Control window?_ "What the?" _Pregnant plus sign, not pregnant negative sign._

"Fuck! Fuck!"

"Alexia, the results aren't going to change. You could take fifty tests, and you'll get the same results."

"I'm not giving up, Gram!" I shout through the bathroom door.

Test number five. _Wait five minutes. Okay, five minutes, more time._ _This is_ _good, Lex_. _Two pink lines in the result window --pregnant. One pink line--not pregnant._

"Fuck! Fucker! Fuckery! Fuck!"

"Alexia. Watch your mouth. I'm this close to washing it out with soap."

"You have got to be kidding me. From whom do you think I learned potty mouth?"

"Alexia, come out."

"No, wait! It says on the information leaflet that four out of one hundred women between the ages of forty-five and fifty-five had false positive results."

"Alexia, you're twenty-six."

"Fuck me!" I open the door, feeling utterly dejected and confused. "How did this happen?"

"Well, I don't know the exact position. Missionary? Doggie?"

"You're fucking hilarious."

"Couldn't agree with you more, my dear."

Pregnant. Knocked up. Inseminated. Bun in the oven. Bean in the slow cooker. Breeding. Baby boarding. Marinating. Incubating. Any way you say it. Any way you define it. It's crazy.

"I can't believe this is happening."

"Well, it is, dear."

I pull my fashionable, biodegradable, plastic-paper exam gown closed and then sit my ass on an exam table, that I swear to God, looks and feels as if it's made of concrete. As I sit, I note the following: my head feels as if it wants to self-sever, my heart is racing well over the speed limit, and my stomach is renting space in my throat.

And then there is Gram, who is her usual sophisticated, controlled, calm, crazy-assed self. How can anyone be calm at a time like this? I'm going to bear a child, pop one out of the oven, deliver a bundle of joy, launch an offspring. Okay, I'm getting a little ahead of my situation. But... Holy Mother of God.

Gram stands and holds my hand, my sweaty hand.

"Alexia, you don't look so good."

"I feel as if I might spontaneously combust."

She looks around the room.

"What are you looking for?"

"A fire extinguisher."

"You're a regular comedian."

"I got you to stop freaking out for a few seconds."

"Yes, you did. Tell me about this highly-recommended doctor. You said she's from Boston?"

"Yes. Went to Harvard."

"Why is she practicing in London?"

"Married a Brit. A cardiologist." Gram looks at her watch and frowns. "We have been waiting for sixteen minutes. Highly recommended or not, I don't like to be kept waiting."

We hear a soft knock at the door. Best timing. Ever.

"Hello, hello." The door opens and in walks a woman about my age and height. She's sporting: messy red hair, chunky purple glasses, and Chucks. I love her.

She extends her hand. "Hello, I'm Katie Warren, and unless I have the wrong exam room, you're Alexia Grant."

She shakes my hand and then extends it toward Gram.

Gram takes it. "And you, Katie Warren, are sixteen minutes late. I don't like to be kept waiting."

"Lizbet Grant, a pleasure. Sorry about the sixteen minutes--shit happens."

Okay, she had me with the Chucks. Now she freakin' owns me.

Gram lifts a brow. "So they say, doctor."

"It's a genuine pleasure to meet you," I say.

Dr. Warren gives me a knowing smile. "So, you're both Americans?"

"Yes. Half, anyway," I answer.

"Thank God. These Brits are driving me crazy with their proper English and...their overall properness."

I chuckle.

Gram rolls her eyes.

"Well, it's your lucky day," I say. "Nothing is proper about us."

Dr. Warren pulls up a rolling table and types away on a computer for a few seconds. "Okay, Alexia. I get to ask the questions and you get to answer them."

"Okay."

"When was your last period?"

"Seven months, four days."

"Well, you're not seven months and four days along so I'm assuming your cycle is irregular."

"Yes, very. Unless I'm on the pill."

"When did you last take the pill?"

"Eight months, two weeks."

"No days?"

"Three."

She smiles. "Okay, I just need an _approximate_ date here. How far along could you be?"

"Approximately, twelve weeks."

"Final question. Can you give us any vital information about the father?"

"I can, but I'd rather he did."

"So, he's in the picture then?"

"I hope so." More than hope so. I get down on my knees and pray so.

"Okay, looks like the tech got a blood sample, vitals, and background, so let's take a look."

She pushes back the computer, then pulls up what I'm assuming is an ultrasound machine.

She directs me to lie back and put my legs in the stirrups.

"Cowboy up," she says.

Gram's eyes go big, looking as if she might develop an aneurism.

I laugh.

She probes my vagina and stomach. "All feels and looks good. I think you're close to being twelve weeks. Let's take a look."

She rolls her exam chair over to the ultrasound machine and grabs a tube. She then squints some goo onto my belly and glides something that looks like a computer mouse over it.

"This is an advanced high-resolution ultrasound. It will give us a detailed look. So if you don't want to know the sex, speak up."

"I want to know," I say without hesitation. "I don't think I can take any more surprises."

She types something on the keyboard and moves the mouse thingy over my belly, and pauses.

_Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub._

I smile. "Heart beat?"

She nods. "Sounds good."

Thank God, because it sounds way too fast to me. What the hell do I know? 'I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no babies!'

She moves the mouse thingy around my entire belly before pausing just below my navel. Her brow crinkles. "Hmm."

"Hmm good or hmm bad?" I ask, looking at the monitor.

"Good, I hope."

Gram leans over me to get a better look at the monitor. "You hope?"

"Okay, Alexia, let's take a closer look." She moves the mouse thingy over my belly, pausing several times. "The head, heart, arms, and legs."

"Oh, my God," I spout-cry. "I can so see it now. Amazing."

She moves the mouse a little higher and to the right. "Head, heart, arms, legs, and--penis."

"Are you sure that's a penis?" Gram asks. "It looks like a leg."

She smiles. "Yes, I'm sure."

I grin like an idiot. "It's a boy?"

She continues to smile as she moves the mouse over to the left. "And penis number two."

Gram grabs my hand in a death grip. "The baby has...two...two penises?"

Dr. Warren laughs. I mean, she really laughs. Rolling in the aisle, kind of laugh. Tears rolling down your face, kind of laugh.

"I...don't think this is a laughing matter," Gram stammers.

And alert the media, because I agree with my grandmother.

"I think I'm going to be sick. Holy hell, I'm having a double dicker."

Dr.Warren's laughter kicks up a notch, toward hysteria.

Tears flood my eyes, and not happy tears. What the hell is wrong with her? Having two penises isn't a good thing. It's bad--really, really, bad.

Dr. Warren wipes her happy tears off with a tissue. She grins as she points to the monitor. "One little guy with one penis." She moves the mouse to the right. "Another little guy with one penis. Twins. Alexia, you're having twin boys."

"Fuck me," I say. Then ralph my guts out.

Gram and I ride home in stunned silence. I just experienced--hell, I'm still experiencing the biggest surreal moment of my life.

Stewart clears his throat. "Is everything all right, Lizbet?"

"Two penises," Gram mumbles.

"Pardon?" he replies.

I've never seen my grandmother so lost for words, so quiet, so not bugging the shit out of me. It makes me nervous.

"We're having twins, Stewart. Two boys. Two penises," I say proudly.

"Twins?" He smiles. "We're having boys...two of them?"

"Yeah, two--twins." I laugh because I'm happy, stunned and completely and utterly over my head.

What the hell am I going to do? And what about Jaxson? For sure he'll be surprised, but will he be happy? Will he even believe they're his? I'd have my doubts, wouldn't you? I mean, one day you think you're as sterile as a rock, then...twins. Looks like you have a few swimmers doing the breaststroke after all, Mr. Ryan.

I look out the window, taking in London. Why is everything in my life so complicated?

Gram and I take it easy for the rest of the day. We're in shock. Post-traumatic stress. I've been watching her read her Kindle. Okay, more like watching her stare at her Kindle, for over an hour. She finally gives up and turns it off.

"Alexia, my dear, we need to talk."

I turn off my Kindle. "Okay."

"This turn of events has...is unexpected."

"Gram, I know this puts major kinks in your plans, but I'm still going to take over as CEO. It won't be easy, but lots of women have babies and work. I don't know any, but I see them every day. They're all around us; doing mom stuff. Oh, my God. I don't have a clue about mom stuff. All I know is it must be hard and overwhelming. The moms I see look as if they haven't slept in a decade. I can do this. I'll need to download every parenting book known to man. Hell--you did it. It can't be that hard. Who am I kidding? Fuck me. I can't do this."

"Christ, Alexia, you think way too much. You can do it. You're young, strong, and smart. And it's not like you'll be on your own. Jaxson will be there, and you can hire one hundred nannies if you need to. You're lucky; most women don't get any help."

"You're right, I am lucky. But what if I can't... What if I... Oh, hell, Gram, I'm terrified. What if I can't mentally handle it? I've had one breakdown. What if...?"

"Alisa Alexia Lizbet Marie Grant--buck the fuck up. You're not the same person you were five years ago, not even close. Before you went off on your little tangent, or whatever the hell that was, I was going to say nothing else matters but my great grandsons. Not even Grant International."

"Oh, my God. I think hell just froze over. I never thought those words would ever pass through your lips."

"I'm just as surprised as you are. I don't know what's going on. I don't even know myself at the moment. All I know is, I have this overwhelming need to love and protect those babies. I never felt this with your father or even you and Sam. I know that sounds terrible, but what can I say, it's the truth. After I got over the two-penis thing, something wonderful and unexpected came over me. Maybe it's my motherly instinct finally surfacing. Who the hell knows?"

"I think it's a miracle. Holy Mother of God. The second of the day. Do miracles come in threes, like bad luck?"

"I hope the hell not. I don't think I can handle any more today."

"Gram, what am I going to do? Things between Jaxson and me... Well, they're not good. He knows something is up. But he has no idea how big the something is. If he told me he's not Jaxson Ryan and has some other life, I'd be more than a little pissed."

"Does he love you?"

"He says he does."

"If he truly loves you, then he'll forgive you. Do you love him?"

"Yes, very much. Gram, I'm such a fool. I never told him. I've been too afraid to tell him."

"Why?"

"I'm afraid if I tell him, I'll be giving him the power to hurt me."

"Does your heart skip beats when you're around him?"

"Yes. It all but stops."

"Then, my dear, he already has the power."

"You're right, he does."

"So this is what you're going to do. You're going to settle things with Zane and file for a divorce. After that, you're going to fly back to New York and tell Jaxson there has been a miracle, or two. Then, you're going to return to London, and we'll figure out our next step."

"You're still as bossy and controlling as ever. So much for that third miracle."

#

"Lanie, it's Alexia. I've just landed at Teterboro."

"Okay, I'm about fifteen minutes away."

"Drive to the executive terminal. I should be just outside of the hanger. If I'm not, look for a Gulfstream G650 with Grant International on it. You can't miss it."

"Grant International?"

"Long story, Lanie. I'll see you at the hanger."

"Okay."

A few minutes later, Lane pulls up to the hanger, gets out of Jaxson's Rover and opens the back passenger door.

"What the hell are you doing? Since when do I sit in the back?"

"I forgot. It's a habit."

He grabs my bag and puts it in the back. I get in the front passenger side and we drive out of the gate.

He gives me a sideward glance. "You look good, but thin. Have you lost weight?"

"If you tell me my ta-tas look bigger and ask to see a them--I'll scream."

"What?'

"Never mind. Another long story."

"A story I'd love to hear," he says with a raised brow.

"Maybe some other time, dude."

"Some other time then, dudla."

"How is everyone at the estate?"

"Good. Everyone misses you. Mom wants you to call her when you get a chance."

"I will. Your last text said that Jax is in LA."

"That's what he told me, but I was wrong. His PA called me a few minutes ago to confirm my drive schedule for next week. I asked her when he would be returning from LA. She said he's not in LA. He's been in the city all week."

"You must have misunderstood."

"No, he told me a few times that he would be in LA this week."

"That's weird."

"Yeah."

"I was going to suggest we stop and get a bite to eat, but if he's in town you better just take me to Ryan."

"That's another weird thing. He's staying at the Eventi Hotel."

"Why?"

"I haven't a clue. His PA said that he's been there all week."

"Okay, then take me to the Eventi."

One hour and fifteen minutes later, we arrive at the Eventi Hotel.

"Could you hang around for a bit, just in case he's not in or he refuses to see me?"

"Sure, no problem."

"I'll leave my bag with you. If all goes well, I'll text you and have you leave it with the doorman. You don't happen to know what room he's in, do you?"

"No, sorry."

We hug. "Well...wish me luck."

"Good luck, dudla."

I get out and walk to the door.

"Good Evening," the doorman says, and opens the door.

"Thank you," I tell him and step inside. "Could you point me in the--"

"Front desk?"

"Yes."

"Straight ahead and to the right."

"Thank you," I say and make my way through the lobby toward the front desk.

When I reach it, a man with Clark Kent style glasses and blond purple-highlighted hair greets me. "May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm here to meet with one of your guests; Jaxson Ryan. Could you ring his room and see if he'll see Alexia Keith?"

"Yes, of course. One moment, please."

He rings the room and I step aside.

As I wait, Ms. Doubt raises her hand and waves it in my face. _What if he's still angry, Lex? What if he won't see you? What if he doesn't believe you? What if..._

"Ms. Keith."

"Sorry."

"You can go on up. Mr. Ryan's in the Eventi Suite. The elevators are to your right."

"Thank you," I say, and step away from the desk and begin walking toward the elevators.

"Ms. Keith."

I pause and turn. "Yes?"

"Just wanted to say, I love your purple Chucks."

"Thanks, I love your purple hair."

He smiles. "Thanks."

Yeah, that's me, Grant heir and CEO of Grant International, in holey skinny jeans and purple Chucks.

I reach the elevator and push the _up_ button. It opens, I step inside and push the button for the Eventi suite. As it ascends, so does my stomach. _Don't you dare ralph, Lex._

It's been three weeks, three days since I've seen him. God, I've missed him. Crap, I didn't even check my face. What if I look like crap? Do I really care? Hell no! In the past few days, I've become a CEO, an expectant mother of twins, and filed for divorce. I'm lucky to be standing.

The elevator doors open and I find my way to the Eventi Suite. When I reach the door, I stand and stare at it. Yeah, that's what I do...stand and stare at the door. Why is this so hard? This is the man I love. My Jax. He loves me and he'll never stop.

I take a deep breath, and another, and finally one more. God, I need a drink--of milk. _Okay, buck it up, Alexia. You can do this, you're a friggin' Grant. Pull up your big girl panties and grow some._

I knock three times. No answer. I knock again. Maybe he ditched me. Just when I'm about to knock again, it opens.

_What the?_

A woman wearing a bed sheet is standing in front of me. Yes, I said sheet. A fucking sheet!

We stand and gawk at each other for a minute. Her mouth begins to move, but I can't hear her words. It's as if I'm watching a silent movie, but the musical accompaniment isn't an organ, piano, or string quartet. It's a loud buzzing-ringing noise. She utters more silent words then slowly begins to fade. This must be her final scene, the end of the movie--fade to black. Holy hell. This isn't a movie. I'm about to pass out.

I lean against the door casing, closing my eyes until the buzzing-ringing in my ears ceases. I open my eyes. _Fuck._ She's still there. It really isn't a movie.

"Can I help you?" she asks.

I open my mouth but can form no words. Something has disconnected, unhinged.

"I think you have the wrong room."

God, how I wish that were true. I'd give anything for a wrong room, a wrong hotel, a wrong city. My heart's strings pull me toward the comfort of denial, but my head and gut, are stronger, wiser. You see, I've played this game before. I know the score; I've rolled the dice. I knew Jaxson was a player; he'd scored hundreds of times, made it around quite a few bases. But I never thought he'd play me; he'd score, and then run. I'm such a stupid, stupid girl.

I know this woman, the one who's standing in a bed sheet that barely covers her ass. It's Tinker Hell. Mia. The ex-fucking wife.

"I don't know who you are, but you need to leave."

She so knows who I am. _Bitch!_

She begins to close the door; I push it back. Maybe this isn't what it looks like? Or maybe I'm a glutton for punishment? I need to know for sure.

"Is this...?"

Then I hear him.

My heart skips a beat.

"Mia, who's at the door? Is it room service? I ordered champagne. Dinner's not until eight, so if you're hungry, order some appetizers."

Then it stops.

"Okay, Jaxson, dear," she purrs. "It's not room service; it's just...someone who has the wrong room." She grins as if she's a cat who just ate her canary and I am her mouse.

I want to throttle her Tinker ass. But I rein it in; she's not worth it, and now neither is he.

My mouth moves and I can hear the words I'm saying, but it's as if they're coming from someone else. The words are coming for the new me, the shattered me. "Yes, I...I definitely have the wrong room."

I step back, the door begins to close, and then pauses.

The cat looks sad, for just a second, a snap of a finger, a blink of an eye, and then it's gone. "I almost feel sorry for you. You really did fall for him. I can see it in your eyes. But it wouldn't have worked out. You see, Jaxson strays, but he always comes back to me. Always."

The door shuts, and once again, I find myself standing and staring at a closed door. I just stand and stare, for how long...seconds, minutes, hours, I don't have a clue. I can't think. I can't feel. I can't breathe. I can't even cry. You need a heart to do all those things. I don't have one anymore.

I thought I'd found my hidden Cinderella. I had a glimmer of hope, a flash of belief in the fairytale, the happily-ever-after. But I'm not that kind of girl. There's no glass slipper for me. No Fairy Godmother. No Prince Charming.

Somehow, I make it into the elevator. Somehow, I push the lobby button. As the elevator descends my stomach ascends. Holy hell. I'm going to ralph. I turn and ralph in the corner. Yes...that's what I did. I ralphed in the corner of an elevator at the mod and posh Eventi Hotel. Somehow, I make it through the lobby, and find myself at the front desk.

Purple highlights guy greets me. "Are you okay, Ms. Keith? You look like you're about to pass out."

"Um...no...I'm not going to pass out but...I kind of ralphed in the elevator."

His frowns. "Oh, my. Ralphed as in puked?"

"Yeah, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, don't worry about it. We'll take care of it."

"Thank you. And again, I'm so sorry."

He nods. "No problem.

I walk through the lobby, step outside and I remove my iPhone from my jacket pocket.

"Lane," I mumble-cry.

"Lex. Are you okay?"

"Pick me up."

"Lex. What's going on?"

"Please...can...you pick me up?"

"Okay, I'm not far, I'll be right there."

I disconnect then call my pilot and tell him to prepare to return to London. He sounds concerned but doesn't ask questions.

Lane pulls up in what seems like hours.

He gets out of the Rover. "What the hell?"

"I'm not feeling well. I think I should sit in the back."

He frowns. "You look like you're going to pass out."

He helps me in and I put my head back against the headrest. Soon we're out into traffic.

"Are you going to be sick?"

"I ralphed in the elevator."

"You puked in the elevator at the hotel?"

"Yeah. In the corner."

"Lex. For hell."

"Tell me about it."

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I need to go home."

"The loft?"

"No. The airport."

"Lex. What's going on?"

"Lane, please don't ask. Please... just don't."

He frowns. "Okay."

We ride in silence. Unfortunately, I can't silence my brain. The last few weeks play out in my head. How did I get things so fucking wrong?

"Lex, did you see Jaxson?"

"He...he wasn't in."

His reflection in the rearview mirror tells me he's not buying it.

"Well, he wasn't."

"If he wasn't in, why are you going back to London?"

"Because I realized things between us would never work. I don't belong here anymore."

"Why?"

"I just don't. I should've never come back."

"You're lying."

"I'm not. It's just... I'm embarrassed. I made you come and get me and now I'm leaving. I feel stupid for coming. I should have thought things out. And please don't tell Jaxson I came back. It's too embarrassing. Promise me."

"You don't have to lie to me, Lex. I get it. You don't want him to know. I won't tell him. Just don't lie to me."

"I'm sorry, Lane. Something did happen, but it's something that I can't talk about. So can you let it go?"

He sighs. "Okay, I'll let it go."

We ride in silence for a few minutes.

"Will you be coming back to New York?"

"I don't...know, Lane. I just don't know."

All four books of the Layers Series are available for download.

# Peel back the Layers and what do you get?

#

Alexia Grant wanted the happily-ever-after, the fairytale ending. What she got, was her heart shattered into 5.689 million pieces.

It's been over two years, 936.5 days to be exact since she last laid her eyes on Jaxson Chase Ryan. She thought she was ready to see him, but now that he's just feet away, in a crowded elevator, she realizes she's not. Maybe she'll be ready to see him in another 12.135863024 months, maybe never.

She's moving her family and Grant International headquarters to New York. What was she thinking? How can she live in the same state, or even on the same continent with the man who wrecked her and still owns her shattered heart?

* * *

Jules and Nick are getting married, in Vegas. Jaxson Ryan is the best man; Alexia Grant is the maid of honor. He came to her hotel, for answers, for closure. What was he thinking? Now that she's standing just feet away, in a crowded elevator, he knows there will never be closure because he still wants and needs her more than his next breath.

The Layer Series is the story of Alexia & Jaxson. It's a smexy rollercoaster of laughter, tears, and love; told in two perspectives.

Layers

More Layers

Beneath Layers

Beyond Layers Sam's Story

Life's a Bitchwad Novelette

Law Inc. Cassandra Marcella Mystery

Life on Top

Girlfriends Goddesses & Barflies

One More Shot

Bottoms UP 2017-18

Last Call 2017-18

A.K.A. 2017

TL Alexander lives in the Pacific North West, USA. When she's not sitting behind her Mac. You can find driving her family friggin' crazy with her many project and misadventures.

Connect with her at...

www.tlalexanderauthor.com

www.goodreads.com/tlalexander

www.facebook.com/pages/TL-Alexander

tweet@tlalexanderboo1

* * *

You can purchase the Layers Series and her other books wherever e-books are sold.

Go to www.tlalexanderauthor.com for more information.

Let her know what you think by leaving a review, or comment at purchase site, social media, or website. She'd love to hear from you.
