
# LAYERS

by  
Sigal Ehrlich
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

LAYERS

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**Copyright © 2013 Sigal Ehrlich**. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

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Cover designed by Regina Wamba of www.MaeDesign.com

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Published by Sigal Ehrlich

Visit the author website:

http://www.sigalehrlich.com

ISBN: 978-1-939927-94-1 (eBook Layers)

_To Gal, for being you._

# Layers

To reach the core of inner beauty, one must first unravel the many protective layers.

## Chapter 1: The Last Time

My vision of the sea of people dancing around me to the deafening music is getting obscure; they all blend into one amorphous cluster.

Please, could someone open a window? I can't breathe. I need to breathe!

I'm suffocating and these lights, these flickering lights, are blinding. Repeatedly blinking, I try to focus my sight. I brush back the long, blonde curl that cling to my forehead. _Air, I need air!_

Pushing my way, I squeeze through the frenetic moving mass of bodies, bumping into sweaty body parts, not really caring. _I need to get out of here_.

With my rear against the cold cement wall I bend down to rest my hands on my knees and inhale the first compulsory lungful of the night's cool breeze. _You're fine now, Hales. Calm down_. I straighten and my head feels dizzy from the haste of my movement. _Or is it due to the vast amount of alcohol flowing in my bloodstream_? Leaning my back against the wall, I take in the air again, filling my lungs to full capacity, and slowly, with a long, warm whistle-like breath, exhale, letting it gradually out.

_How much have I had to drink so far?_ I'm not even competent enough to do the math in my current state. How stupid was I to agree to Tasha's juvenile challenge? "Who can consume more mojitos?" I shake my head, upset at my callow behavior. _I'm okay now, everything's fine._

"Rough night?" The voice comes from my left, startling me. As I look for the source, my eyes fall upon a dangerously hot, tall, and dark guy with puffy biceps under a tight grey tee. He stands next to me on one leg, leaning back against the wall, bringing a burning cigarette to his flirtatious smirk as he takes his time sizing me up, ending on my somewhat glassy brown eyes.

"You could say that." I smile at him, checking him out head to toe just as he did me, and I end up liking what I see. Without any prior reasonable urge I giggle, not sure why or what about. My senses aren't fully aligned with the present. It seems as though my mental clarity has temporarily faded, along with any sensibility I might have had before.

The guy's eyebrows flash up as he bites his lower lip, eyeing me, ready to attack like I'm some easy prey. "Can I help make your night better?"

_Game on, hot stuff._ "I am pretty positive you could," I say, "but I'm not sure I want you to." I flash a seductive grin at him, ending it with a slow motion of my tongue over my lips. Under his piercing stare, I push myself to stand. My legs feel wobbly, and it takes me a moment to regain stability. As I do, I sashay slowly, very conscious of my body's enticing sway as I make my way back to the club. With one foot in, I turn back to send yet another smile to the sex on legs who regards me with a lavish grin and a wink.

_Got you_. I beam to myself.

"There you are!" Tasha yells over the loud music, working her provocative dance moves next to Ian, who counters her with his own sensual motions.

Had I not known Ian's preference was for full of testosterone, buff alpha males, I'd assume he and Tasha are about to be all over each other right there, in the middle of the hectic dance floor.

"Come join us, gorgeous." Ian extends his lean, toned arm to let me in between them. I squeeze in, hugged to an almost asphyxia amid my two best friends both loudly singing out of key in my ears about being young and setting the world on fire.

I titter in response, synchronizing my moves to mirror theirs, and the three of us dance energetically; our spirits elated, we occasionally caress or kiss each other with friendly pecks, giving the crowd a free threesome show.

"What's the score?" Tasha asks in a high-pitched voice, grinning at us. She dances to the music, deliberately inclining her chest forward, pelvis teasing in round motions. Her navy blue dress sways around her curves adding to her overall sensual act.

"Eight to six. Hales is lingering behind," Ian says, his face illuminated under the multicolored, flickering lights.

Tasha raises an impeccably trimmed eyebrow at us and declares, "Replenishment time friends," then turns her face to me.

"You're behind, Missy. Let's do something about it." Her lips curve up, challenging.

I shake my head in playful disapproval as we leave the dance floor to move toward the bar, holding our hands together in a human chain, passing through the thick smoke layer.

"I'm not sure I'm capable of drinking anymore," I say. They both regard me, mischievously amused.

"It is not a matter of your capability to drink, it's a matter of you losing. There's a lot at stake," Tasha utters dryly, twisting her mouth.

I feign a frown at them both while suppressing a smile, then turn to the bartender. _Wow, steady Hales._ Everything around me spins for what seems like forever. I hold the bar and take a deep breath.

"Let's find love," I hear Tasha telling Ian over the music. Ian laughs.

I snort and turn my head to send her a scornful glance. She smirks back.

"It's a myth, no such thing exists," I say.

She rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head. "Myth," I mouth and shift back, resuming my attempt to order yet another round of drinks.

"A shot of vodka from the gentleman across the bar." The broad, blond, and inhumanly tall bartender hands me a small, frozen shot glass, preventing me from executing my original plan.

As I turn my gaze in the direction he gestures, my eyes meet the guy from outside. He raises a matching glass my way from the other end of the bar. Throwing it back, he keeps his eyes steady on mine.

I copy his action, sending him an inviting grin while running a hand through my hair. _This is way too easy_.

"Back to your old habits, are you?" Tasha whispers in my ear, admiring my flirting techniques. Not leaving his gaze, I lean back a little to whisper next to her ear, "Just for tonight."

"Are you sure, Hales? I thought you quit that BS. You know how it makes you feel." Cynicism leaves her voice, replaced by concern.

"I'm fine," I declare. _Am I? Or is the alcohol talking boldly on my behalf?_

She touches my hand and looks sternly at me, assessing my state. I nod reassuringly and leave both Ian and Tasha, moving toward where the latter segment of my night stands.

"Ben." He extends a hand for a shake as I reach his side.

I don't really care, Ben, and your name is pointless for what I have in mind.

I never waste precious mental space on preserving random names.

I just take his hand in mine, deliberately ignoring his attempts to introduce himself, leading us toward the exit.

He follows without hesitation, though from the corner of my eyes I can see his astounded expression.

"Taxi?" he asks, swallowing hard, seeming suddenly hesitant.

Come on, don't pussy out on me now. That is such a turn off.

Before I can get even more irritated by his sudden setback he opens a yellow cab door for me. Following me inside, he murmurs an address to the driver.

As our taxi melds with the flowing swarm of cars I pull him toward me. He eagerly cooperates and claims my mouth possessively; his hand slides too easily under my loose silver halter top, reaching my bare breast.

The bright lights coming from the cars reach me through my closed eyelids, at once mentally sobering me up.

"Stop," I say abruptly, feeling all of a sudden terribly nauseated by his proximity, his touch, his smell, his silky tongue, and most of all by myself. He keeps going.

"Stop now and let go of me." I raise my voice and push him away vehemently with my entire body. He forces himself against me, reluctant to cease.

"Get away from me, get the fuck off me. I'm going to be sick, get away," I yell; my voice softens as I say the last fragment. My throat swells up in repulsion.

He halts at once and lets me go, flushed, respiring, cursing under his breath.

"And you," I snap loudly at the awe-stricken driver. "Please stop the god damn car."

With the car slowly rolling to a stop, I jerk the door open and leap out, slamming it back hard. Standing on the late evening pavement, I am shaken, trying to recuperate my equilibrium. I wrap my arms around my middle and with my head slightly tilted back, close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath.

My nausea is gone but that terrible feeling of self-loathing deepens. I'm so grateful that the next empty cab appears as quickly as it does.

"Which number was it, Miss?" The driver asks about the address I just gave him in a heavy Middle Eastern accent.

"Seven. It's the three story grey building at the end of the street." I gust out the words. Hugging my bent legs, I rock slowly back and forth, feeling empty and utterly sickened with myself.

Why, Hales? Why again? Why did you have to go and do that? You know you're not up to it; it doesn't work for you anymore. Your long, 'emotions aside' era is R.I.P.

## Chapter 2: Crime and Punishment

"Stop smirking like some mental case, it's unbecoming." I flare my eyelids, scowling playfully at Tasha.

"Is it now? And you'd be the one to preach proper conduct," she sneers, smirk plastered on her lips. She glances my way with glee before setting her eyes back on the road. In that split second when our eyes meet we both burst into short cackles.

"I must say, I'm highly disappointed in you. I think you kind of lost your malicious charm." I look at my best friend fondly, sizing up her expression as I try to wind her up.

"Haley Grace, I am deeply hurt that you think I lost my edge." Her smirk widens.

"I thought your evil mind would think of a better punishment for me," I mutter dryly, checking my nails.

"Oh yeah? We both know you couldn't be more annoyed. And to think you'll go through the entire process, including the interview, which I see as the icing on this sweet, double-layered penalty cake."

Damn you.

I watch her and a faint arch forms on my lips. She grins back, all perfect white teeth, silky raven black hair, radiating green eyes and this annoying too-straight and so-together Princess Di posture. Polished hands steer the wheel, a picture of Natasha in her usual glory.

"How did you manage to include me in this... what did you call it, Tash? Opportunity of a lifetime?" I roll my eyes.

She twists her mouth to that devilish, secretive smile of hers in response. "The honorable Dean Adams, if you must," she utters, dancing eyes glancing my way.

"You didn't," I say, feigning shock. She reciprocates with a smug nod.

I can't believe she persuaded our former University Dean, who worshiped the ground Tasha's thin stilettos walked upon, to include me in this orientation day, given the fact that my student years of glory are long over and that by all means I do not qualify for this... torment.

Well, she obviously did, as we're just a few miles away from visiting a preeminent high-tech company for a potential internship. _Yep, she knows what she's doing._

Why did I agree to that bet in the first place? Who can drink more mojitos? Especially with Miss Gracefully-alcohol-consuming Master?

"Did you polish your CV?" she asks casually, not doing such a good job in trying to conquer a smile by biting her lips.

I scowl as she regards me with a giggle. _She's enjoying this way too much, the little harlot_. Had she not been the closest person to me in the entire world I would definitely hate her, especially right now.

"It can always open doors, you know." She turns the wheel to take the next exit.

"To what, exactly?" I snort, resentment clearly expressed by my tone. "Running a high-tech company?"

"Laugh it up, but you never know. Perhaps this visit will change your life forever," she announces dramatically, her joyful eyes staring ahead at the road with an "I am always right, aren't I?" condescending grin. She glances my way and laughs. I join her, amused.

"You are _so_ lame," I say between giggles.

"And let the fun begin," Tasha declares as we step out of the car. "How do I look?" She rubs her lips together, correcting her pale pink glossy lipstick with her pinky while glancing at her reflection via the Audi TT's dark window.

"Impeccable, as you always do." I wink at her. Pleased, her smile broadens.

Tasha fidgets and almost skips toward our destination, and I know it's due to the opportunity at hand. By making a good impression at this interview, she could find a ticket to her dream job.

I stare at Tasha looking so radiant and together with her smart, well-fitted black suit, then look down at myself. I begin at my white camisole, then down to my tight jeans, and end the tour on my shoes: my trademark red sneakers. I sigh.

A thought crosses my mind. Perhaps I should put my hair up so I look just a tad more presentable? _Why bother? I don't really care. I'm just a prisoner here._

And yet here I find myself with some overly enthusiastic grads, in a formal meeting room at Stark Software Technologies, Inc. _Seriously, what am I doing here?_ The thought amuses me. _Cruel, Tash, plain cruelty_.

A highly refined-looking, older yet attractive lady with brown, straight, shoulder-length hair enters the room. A clipboard is pressed forcefully to her chest.

She stares at us, her lips in a fine line, and in too high of a voice announces, "Good morning, everyone, and welcome to Stark Software Technologies. My name is Alexandra Greenich and I am Stark Software's head of human resources." She gazes at each of us individually with intense green eyes framed by thick, red glasses.

All of the anxious faces of my fellow visitors look back at her, reflecting thrill at the opportunity they've been given.

A thin, annoyed arc forms on Mrs. Greenich's bright red lips as she continues, "I will be your guide for today, and we'll shortly start our visit. Any questions before we start?"

A tall, heavy-bodied redhead with the most freckled face I have ever seen coughs. As she begins to speak I notice that the buttons are threatening to pop out from her too tight, blue blouse any minute now. "Will we meet Mr. Stark?" All eyes shift at once and everyone gawks widely at Mrs. Greenich, waiting for her reply.

They all seem so eager to hear her answer, and gape at her as though she were about to reveal the location of the Holy Grail. I grimace; I can't help but snort inwardly.

"I'm not sure he'll be available today, as his schedule is quite full, but I was personally promised that his resourceful personal assistant is working on clearing a spot in his schedule so he can meet with you, if possible." Tasha seems somewhat disappointed; I mockingly cover my open mouth in disbelief. Her lips pull up and she shakes her head.

"Will we get coffee or something else to drink?" I whisper to Tasha. "My throat's dry and I need to continue working on waking up." She just shrugs.

"Don't ask," she whispers, in a warning tone. "It's not professional."

I narrow my eyes at her.

By the time we reach the second floor, or the "management floor" as Mrs. Greenich calls it, I'm so weary and thirsty that I just can't listen to her high, nerve-wracking voice anymore. She mentions something about the kitchen, but I'm not with her anymore. I wait a bit for the group to go on without me and enter the elegant kitchen furnished with ultra-modern wine-red and black cabinets above a spotless shiny white floor. There's a high-end coffee machine calling my name on the countertop across the room. _A quick little coffee and I am out of here_.

I press the green small-cup button and the machine awakens with the noise of evaporating steam. The oh-so-aromatic, roasted scent wafts toward me as the machine fills the cup with a rich chocolate-colored liquid. I'm thrilled, already anticipating the taste. When the machine signals that the cycle is complete, I grab the cup too hastily, and some of the coffee manages to spill on my white blouse.

Observing the damage with irritation, I murmur, "Fuck me," under my breath.

"Is that a request?"

Shifting my stare back to see who has just spoken; I find myself holding on to the counter from a momentary loss of balance, as I take in the sight of the orator.

Heat spreads from the center of my skull through my throat, to the top of my cleavage. And I don't do blushing. _What the hell?_

Standing there is the very picture of hot, tall and sinful. White tee, jeans, and the most alluring bad boy stance. Something in his crooked smile inexplicably leaves me dumbfounded. For the space of a moment, I am lost in him.

His eyes roam over me with a wicked glee, stripping off every layer of clothing I have on. The air escapes my lungs at the intensity of that gaze.

I gape back at him, my jaw slightly dropped. "Mmm... just made some coffee." I mumble my lame excuse and follow it with a thin smile.

"So I assume it wasn't a request, then?" His teasing eyes are on me, that sexy grin is still plastered on his face, and his expression insinuates pure sin.

"Too bad," he murmurs, and I have to swallow hard.

"Is that your thing?" I ask, recovering.

He cocks an eyebrow. "Sneaking behind people and trying to engage them in salacious activities?" A low laugh, deep and hoarse, comes as a reply.

"No." He scratches his amused lips with his thumb, looking at me with a slightly tilted head. "And just for the record, I believe it was you who started with the indecent proposals."

I open my mouth, looking frantically for some clever comeback that doesn't appear to come, and instead feel my face heat up. Again. _Damn_.

"You know you're not supposed to be in the CEO's private kitchen, right?" he mutters, that expression of ridicule refusing to leave his face. _Private kitchen? So what's he doing here?_

"Neither are you," I retort.

He frowns, briefly taken aback at my reply.

"Well, I don't really care. You know, your CEO Mr. Stark sounds real condescending. Why would he need a private kitchen, anyway? Can't he interact with the proletariat?" I tilt my head, challenging the attentive hazel eyes that stare back deep into mine. "I guess he could spare a cup of coffee, couldn't he?"

Towering over me, he slides his toned arms to the sides of his body, hands in his jeans pockets, his eyes locked on mine.

The lazy curve that slowly forms on his lips encourages me and I go on: "I don't think Mr. I-own-the-world would mind if I had a cup of coffee." He shrugs, appearing to enjoy a private joke.

"We could always ask him, Miss...?"

"It's Hayley Grace," I reply and shift, a tad uncomfortable. "Hayley," I murmur next as my courage gradually flees per Mr. Virile's unconcealed attention. There's a knot forming in my stomach caused by those naughty eyes of his.

He extends his hand for a shake. "Daniel," he declares, followed by a lopsided smile. "Charmed," he adds. I shake his large palm and flinch from the heat wave that crosses over me. He doesn't seem indifferent, either. I look down at my shoes as he slowly examines me head to toe, causing my nerves to quake. _Why these shoes?_ Should have listened to Tasha. What would hot-piece here think to himself about my juvenile red sneakers? _For god's sake, I never listen_.

As if reading my mind he casually mutters, "Cool shoes."

I stare up at him, slightly startled, though I rapidly compose myself and beam at him. "Thank you, Daniel. I think so, too." I'm rewarded with gleaming eyes.

Catching a glimpse of my barely touched coffee cup, I scowl and look down at my blouse; the stains are evidently still there.

He watches and says, "Well Miss Grace, perhaps this stacked up CEO of ours has something especially for this sort of misfortune around here." He nods at my blouse and pivots to the side. As he bends to one of the cupboards under the sink his arm accidentally rubs against mine, running electric vibes up my spine. _What is this delish smell_? I need to stop myself from leaning in for another sniff. He grabs a pack of wet towels, handing me the pack as he flexes to stand, facing me this time. He pauses long enough for my eyes to meet his. "These should do the job."

"Thank you," I reply, gaping at him, mesmerized. _Control yourself_ , _stop with the ogling_.

Hastily I rub the little brown stains dotted on my shirt, disturbingly aware that I'm doing it under his unnerving, steady stare. Trying to make amends with my job-interview-camisole, I'm reminded that I should join my group. I glance through the dark glass walls, only to notice that the group has proceeded further away from where I originally left them.

I grimace, looking under my lashes at Daniel, whose piercing gaze makes me even more ill at ease, and start walking toward the door.

"Miss Grace, don't forget your coffee," he says after me, a wide smirk coating his too damn handsome face.

I look back at him, at the door and next at the coffee, weighing the situation. I quickly move a step back to take a sip of the coffee. Right after I stride toward the door, I say "Bye, Daniel," over my shoulder and flash my most radiant grin.

"Goodbye, Miss Grace. It was an absolute pleasure." He winks at me teasingly. Nearly reaching the group, I turn back to look his way, only to find him still watching me, shining hazel eyes accompanied by an up-to-no-good expression. _Wow_.

"Where have _you_ been?" Tasha asks, scolding, accusing hands resting on her hips.

"Had a quick coffee." My lips twist into a thin enigmatic line and I shrug.

At around noon, I'm summoned to Mrs. Greenich's office for a quick interview while the rest of the group is gathered at one of the meeting rooms in level two.

"What can you tell me about yourself, Miss...?" She stretches the ending while looking at my CV, "Miss Grace." She adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose; there's a twist on her lips that resembles a smile. Mrs. Greenich is doing a good job at looking somewhat attentive as I fill her in on my academic achievements and occupational experience. To her next question I elaborate on my career goals, trying hard to somehow make it sound like I'm interested in working in the high-tech sector.

"So what position at Stark's Software would be of interest to you, Miss Grace?" She studies me carefully under red frames. I have a very vague idea of what positions might be available at Stark Software. _Hell, I am not even sure what they actually do. What did Tasha mention this morning? There was something about security_.

"In the security department?" I try. Judging by Mrs. Greenich's irritated stare, that was not the right answer. I flush.

I should have Googled them, listened to Tasha or at least paid some attention at orientation day. Though this is all just a part of a ruse, I still hate making a fool of myself, especially at such a respected firm.

Mrs. Greenich, mumbling to herself, turns to write something on my résumé.

"Stark Software seems like a very professional and intriguing organization." I attempt to make amends, but as soon as the words leave my mouth I regret saying them. _If you don't have anything clever to say, just don't..._

Mrs. Greenich now no longer tries to conceal her annoyance with me; she rolls her eyes as she stretches her hand out for a shake. "You can go back to the group now. They're on the second floor with Mr. Stark." She dismisses me with a nod toward the door. "The Oval conference room," she adds, riled. Exactly what was missing, and the best is yet to come, meeting Mr. Stark. _Can't wait_...

"You missed him, he just left," Tasha greets me as I enter the Oval room. "He is so captivating. The man just radiates strength. He's kind of intimidating." She fills me in, overly excited. _Arrogant and intimidating, sounds like a keeper..._

"How was the meeting with uptight Greenich?"

I snort. "Let's put it this way: I'm pretty sure I've been crossed off their promising candidates list."

"That bad, hmm?" She giggles.

"You can't even begin to imagine." _Try crawl-under-a-rock embarrassing..._

~~~

As soon as Tasha starts the car I feel dozy, glad for this joke to be over, pledging to never take a bet from Tasha again. As I rest my head on the window, looking tiredly at the passing view, an unbidden thought about a certain sinful smile and hazel eyes invades my reverie.

## Chapter 3: Payback

We're sitting by our breakfast counter, our "royal dining place" as we call it, sipping our morning coffee with heavy, sleepy eyes, waiting for the caffeine to do its blessed job. Tasha, clad in her purple tank top and shorts, informs me that she's planning to visit her parents with Ian today, and invites me along. I agree as soon as she asks. I hardly pass on occasions when Ian joins. Having Ian around is always a great treat; besides, I love Tasha's parents. They're like my second family, especially since our freshman year when I moved to San Francisco while my parents stayed back home in Chicago. I set aside the copy of the YOU magazine I've been browsing through while I listen to Tasha.

For a moment I think about my job interview at the same magazine last week. I let myself play with the idea of starting the job sooner than they asked me to. There was something about final approvals for the headcount that should be cleared any day now, though they didn't commit to a specific time frame. I still can't believe how lucky I was to even be considered for the position of the creative director's assistant. I should thank all available almighties that YOU magazine changed their usual recruitment policies and for once went for fresh, inexperienced applicants. Meanwhile, I'm more than grateful for my part-time job at an insurance company, which gives me breathing room to look for jobs I really want to do, like working at a magazine editorial or having my illustrations decorate a published children's book.

My phone flickers to my national anthem ringtone and disturbs us; simultaneously we look at the kitchen clock. Tasha turns my way, the awe in her eyes registering her curiosity, about who the hell would call at this hour. We're both here, and Ian doesn't do early. I shake my head and shrug. Checking my phone's screen, I find out the call is from an unfamiliar number.

"Good morning," I answer.

"May I speak to Miss Grace?" a lady at the other end inquires.

"Speaking," I reply tentatively. Tasha stares at me, trying to figure out who would be calling this early.

"This is Helen, from Stark Software Technologies. We would like to schedule an interview with you today." The lady at the other end sounds very determined. I try to process the information under Tasha's observing gaze. "Stark Software," I mouth at her and shrug again. She grimaces.

"Can you make it today at eleven, Miss Grace?"

"Today at eleven," I echo her words, looking at Tasha. She bobs her head in enthusiasm as if to say of course you'll go.

"Yes, I'll be able to make it today at eleven," I respond in my most official voice, encouraging my dear friend to smirk.

"Okay then, Miss Grace. Mr. Stark will see you at eleven sharp."

"Mr. Stark?" I repeat, hesitant and staggered. Tasha's mouth turns into a symmetrical circle, her gaze reflecting our mutual thoughts.

"And Miss Grace, please don't be late. Mr. Stark has a tight schedule." _Bet he does._ I snarl.

"What the heavens was that all about?" Tasha asks, articulating what we both think.

_What the heavens_. I inwardly snicker. It always amuses when she says that, prude Miss perfect.

"Believe me, I haven't got the tiniest clue," I reply, while in my mind I try to revive my embarrassingly short meeting with rigid Greenich. The memory makes me far more perplexed as to why Mr. Stark himself would want to interview me.

"You did right, Hales. I know that it all started as a joke and that this wouldn't be your first choice, but giving it a chance is a smart move. If someone that respected and powerful would like to meet with you, interview or not, it's not an opportunity you should pass up."

I nod. _Can't argue with facts._

"Looks like it's choose-an-outfit time." Tasha grins at me. Just give her a reason to play dress up and she flourishes.

We both head to my room. "What would one wear to a job interview with one of the most powerful men in the high-tech business?"

"You've got me, but not to worry, my sweet friend," she says. Controlling Miss Style takes the challenge. I press the remote to activate my iPod. _The Cure will do a perfect job_ , I think as I turn to lie down on my bed. I watch my possessed friend doing her thing, going back and forth from her room to mine, each time with yet another piece of clothing, putting a shirt next to a skirt, bringing shoes from here to there.

When she finally comes back to my room declaring that her mission is complete, I ask her, "What do we know about the notorious stacked-up Stark?"

She wrinkles her nose. "And he deserves all of this ironic contempt just because he has a private kitchen?" she mutters in sheer cynicism, with slightly raised eyebrows.

"Come on Tasha, can't he be around the little people? What kind of message does he send to his employees?" I say, annoyed. "Stay away from me, I'm way too good for you, you guys are beneath me?" I huff. "And seriously, they weren't sure if he could meet us? Wasn't this tour scheduled like a month in advance?" Tasha's eyes scoff at me.

"He _is_ a busy man, you know. And the kitchen, well, it does sound a tad alienating, but we don't know the actual reason for that. Do we, now?" She looks at me with a raised brow, head tilted to the side. _She does have a point._ And yet, I choose to stick with my premonitions.

"He's very clever, obviously," she says, putting her hair up with a rubber band. "And I believe he must be very self-driven and sharp to have such a successful business at a relatively young age. Also the fact that he's so easy on the eyes does give him some extra credit," she mutters with a thin pull of her lips, checking her hairdo in the mirror.

"How old is he anyway?" I ask casually and Miss Wikipedia replies, "He's thirty-four."

_Pretty young to be ruling the world, or at least the western hemisphere._ I sneer inwardly.

"Here we go." She nods proudly, showing me the outfit she composed. Gray pants, white t-shirt, wine-red stilettos and a black blazer.

"I knew I could trust you to dress me up in a costume." I frown, my eyes conveying friendly sarcasm.

"Thanks for the gratitude, Miss Smartass." Throwing a pillow at me, she murmurs "costume" under her breath. "Will you put your hair up?"

I look at her and touch my lips, scratching them with my thumb while considering her question.

"Nah, let's leave a bit of me in this story."

She nods in agreement. "Take my car. Ian's picking me up."

~~~

As I park in the almighty Software Technologies, Inc. building complex, I glance at the side mirror, observing my freckled, suntanned face decorated by my wavy, straw-blonde locks and smile. _This is as good as it gets._

At the lobby, I announce to the young receptionist that I'm scheduled to meet with Mr. Stark at eleven. "It's Miss Grace," I add.

"Take the first lift to the right up to the second floor. Mr. Stark's personal assistant is waiting for you." She smiles phonily, her eyes expressionless. Again inside the building, I can't help but admire the graceful tremendousness of the place, so well furnished and styled. When I reach the second floor, a young, tall, weary-looking brunette comes quickly my way. Extending her hand for a shake, she says, "I'm Miss Bally, Mr. Stark's personal assistant. Would you like something to drink?" she asks a tad too enthusiastically, fidgeting as she does so. _Too much caffeine, Miss Bally?_

"Just water would be great, thank you." Idly I think to myself, _her expression suddenly changed._ She became somewhat stressed.

"Maybe also some coffee. Espresso, was it?" I turn to look at the owner of the voice and there he is with all his bad-boy glory: Daniel.

"Hi again, Daniel." I reward him with a smile, feeling slightly uneasy the moment our eyes meet _. When has this ever happened to me before?_ Again, this strange reaction to him.

"Hello, Miss Grace," he answers, his lips curved up crookedly; his voice is woven with a hint of joy, hazel eyes twinkling. _You seem happy to see me..._

Miss Bally looks at us with round eyes, her lips parted. Perhaps she has a thing for her colleague here. _Well, how could she not? How could anybody not, the man oozes sex_.

"I'll escort Miss Grace to the room," Daniel snaps at Miss Bally. _What's his problem? Lovers' quarrel?_

"Well, mmm," she murmurs, still perplexed. I can totally relate to her reaction toward him. Once we start walking toward Mr. Stark's office, she composes herself and nods.

Daniel saunters beside me. I can sense his intent stare on me but refrain from looking back at him. I'd rather not challenge my ability to appear nonchalant. We approach what I believe to be Mr. Stark's office and he gestures for me to go in first.

"Here we are," he declares, searching my eyes. He softly beams and I counter with a full-hearted grin. Observing the inside, I'm dazed by the luxurious space; it's a vast and modernly-decorated room. The neutral white shade covering the walls doesn't steal too much focus from the rest of the room but enhances the sophisticated style of the clean-cut furniture, especially the enormous chrome and glass desk that takes center stage. The table consists of a silver Mac and a thin black leather mouse pad, but is otherwise bare.

There is a gray, wide leather chair next to the desk, both standing steady above shiny mahogany parquet. Facing the foyer are dark glass walls, the type that can't be seen through from the outside. _Figures_. When it comes to Mr. Stark, separation seems to be a theme.

As I get farther inside, Daniel is still accompanying me, that constant wicked glee to his eyes. Yes, he defiantly looks as good as I remembered. _And boy, did I remember_...

"How have you been, Miss Grace?" he asks, casually glancing at me from a guarded distance.

"Fine, and you?" I tentatively run my eyes over him.

"Couldn't be better," he says, a touch of humor lacing his words.

"I guess I'll wait in here. Thank you for showing me the way." I nod at him with a flirty smile and he mirrors with the same somewhat suggestive gesture. I sit down and quickly examine the table in front of me. I notice my scribbled-on CV on the desk next to Mr. Almighty's empty chair. Daniel, watching me in an unfathomable manner, circles the table rather than leaving the room and just before I can process what's going on, he stretches his hand from behind the table.

"Daniel Stark," he says solemnly, his eyes radiating humor though there is only a trace of a smile on his lips.

_Oh boy, not good._ Not only do I blush this time, my heartbeat starts to accelerate. I'm afraid that the thudding might be audible to the person opposite me.

Great, just great. What have I gotten myself into now? Let's see how I'll get myself out of this one.

_What do I do? Should I say something? What can I possibly say? Hey Mr. Stark, it was nice trashing you. Did you enjoy it as much as I did?_ I look at him, wishing the earth would part in two and swallow me. "Well, Miss Grace," he says with a straight face, eyes boring into mine.

I could not possibly feel more uncomfortable than I already do.

When Miss Bally knocks and comes in with my coffee and water and a bottle of sparkling water for Daniel Mr. Damn Stark I am so grateful for the interruption that I consider begging her to stay. Unfortunately, as quickly as she comes in, she immediately turns on her heels back to her elegant work station, leaving me with Mr. Stark, who casually murmurs, with a patronizing stare, "Careful not to stain yourself with the coffee."

I shift nervously in my chair, painfully failing to remain calm or form some appropriate comeback. _Jerk._

Businesslike, resting casually back in his chair, he concentrates on pretending to read my CV while I try to figure out what I'm really doing here, besides being the object of his amusement.

He inclines his head to level his stare with mine and asks, "You would like to work in our security department, Miss Grace?" He bites his full lips in what I guess is an attempt to hold his thin smile from widening, and it really riles me, causing me to flush again in response. By slanting his head, waiting for my response, a strand of his wavy golden hair drops on his forehead, making him look somewhat unruly, adding to my unease. _How can I even concentrate? Somebody shoot me already. Please put me out of my misery._

I look at him restlessly, repeatedly circling my watchband around my wrist. He turns his gaze to my repetitive act of anxiety and I halt at once. His lips pull up a notch.

"Well," I start with a weak voice, trying to articulate some answer, though miserably failing. _How long will this torture last?_

"I thought it would be an interesting field to work in." _Oh my god, that's the best I could come up with? Can I sound more retarded? This is hot enterprise owner Mr. Stark I'm talking to. He must think I'm actually mentally challenged. Perhaps he'll think I do have a disability and pity me._

Daniel Stark looks at me, hardly trying anymore to hide his covert mocking yet annoyed smile; I feel like bending across the table to strangle that wide, tan neck of his. _Or perhaps devour his lips?_ A rush of pleasure goes through me as I visualize this thought. I shake my head quickly to avoid giving any further stage to this idea.

"So of all the departments at Stark Software, the security organization is the most intriguing and professional unit in your opinion? Is that your line of thought, Miss Grace?" He stares at me with a gaze that burns with a mixture of viciousness and delight. I feel absolutely numb. _Did I really say this rubbish to Mrs. Greenich?_ This is all Tasha's fault, though I can't accuse her for making me utter this absurdity. I have myself to thank for that.

"Miss Grace, I do have a position in mind that would be suitable for you here at our organization," he continues, reassembling his expression into a stern face. Nonetheless, there is still a flicker of playfulness in those hazel irises.

_What the hell?_ I glare at him, utterly perplexed. _Is he really about to offer me a job? Based on what?_

"Since you were so observant of the conduct and character of Stark Software's upper management when we last met, I believe you could fill a role in our Human Resources department, as liaison between management and our employees."

As soon as he concludes, I swallow hard and ease my breathing, reminded of what I told him, well... about himself. Anger is swelling in my gut. He's crucifying me here, and it's so well deserved _. Now, what do I reply to that? What do I fucking say?_

Finally, I'm able to shake off my prolonged state of silently absorbing the heat, and the barrier in my numb, dry mouth is lifted. I need to try to control myself. _Well, what the hell..._

"Mr. Stark," I say in a firm voice, which results in an intent gaze that assures me I've got his undivided attention. "First of all, I should really thank you for the opportunity of considering me, as inexperienced as I am, for such a valuable position in your organization." Cynicism clearly plays through my tone. "Though, I must admit, it does come as a surprise, as I didn't mention any interest in the Stark Software Human Resources department." I inhale quickly, collecting courage, and continue. "Sir, I still do honestly believe that having such an apparent separation between management and the employees is disturbing. I can only assume these restrictions are in place to prohibit access to management territory? This is, how shall I say, quite condescending and estranged. Is this the message Stark Software is looking to convey to its workers?" I stare at his indifferent face. His eyes, however, appear to have turned a darker shade, engrossed with, _is that annoyance? Fury?_

"An apparent separation," he murmurs, echoing my words as if inwardly gauging them.

I inhale sharply and say "I, myself, would much rather work in an environment where people are reachable." I frown at him. _I frown at Mr. Daniel Stark. Goodness, I'm outdoing myself here._

His piercing hazel eyes bore into my slightly shaken brown ones, deeper now, making the butterflies in my stomach start a violent riot. He keeps his stare steady for what seems like the longest ten seconds of my life, still assessing my insights.

"So, Miss Grace, I understand that you're rejecting my offer for the HR position. Can I assume that?" He looks at me, eyes stern, but that faint, annoying, smug curve occupies those damn disturbing lips again. I watch him, still completely baffled, waves of disquiet running through me. _Was he serious about the position? He couldn't have been_. He hardly blinks, and his profound, prolonged stare makes me squirm in my chair. "So, if you are not interested in the position, can I at least invite you to coffee?"

Come again?

My jaw drops to the floor or perhaps to the level below. I gape at him, irritated and bemused. _What the hell is he talking about now_? What a change of direction, and how arrogant! I scan his face, trying to figure out his intentions. As I do I notice that he has a tiny scar on his left eyebrow and another deep one decorating his upper lip. The details of his face tantalize my thoughts, provoking again the herd of lust-fused butterflies at the base of my stomach. _Focus!_

"Well, what will it be, Miss Grace? Will you reject my offer for coffee too?" Daniel asks, making my heart race at a rate that I'm afraid is starting to afflict my health. Even my shoulders feel as if they're radiating heat. I struggle for words but give up due to momentary brain lapse. _Did he just come on to me? Did Mr. Daniel, smug, annoying, Stark just come on to... me?_

"Miss Grace, you seemed so much more talkative the last time we had the pleasure of meeting. Have you lost your words now? Do you need a moment?" His wicked, satisfied, smile teases, annoying the living hell out of my state of confusion, the same one he just so gracefully flung me into. _I do hear you, listening is easy. The talking part is not_.

I glare at him absolutely astounded, his eyes still glittering with that "I have you at my feet no one says no to me" conceited air. I seriously feel like slapping him... after ripping his clothes off.

"Mr. Stark, pardon me, but you must be one of the single most arrogant people I have ever met," I say, seething.

I take a deep breath, and as I exhale, words gust out of my mouth. "Do you honestly believe that after you've made me come all the way here, and humiliated me for the last few precious minutes, I would want anything to do with you? Let alone spend more of my valuable time on you?" Not waiting for any reply I add, "Valuable time which you've already so disrespectfully consumed." His dismay at my verbal attack is palpable.

"Why, Mr. Stark, you were so talkative a few minutes ago. Have you lost your words? Do you need a moment?" _Wow, did that just come out of my mouth_? I'm terribly shaken, but boy am I ecstatic. _Well done._

He recuperates in seconds and his baffled expression transforms. He's collected, but he has that wicked glow back, dominating his eyes.

Next, to my complete surprise, he stands up and slowly but confidently starts sauntering toward me. Before I can grasp his intentions, I find him leaning his hip on the desk next to me, his knee almost brushing mine. _Too close_. My heart threatens to leap out of my chest as I gape up at his intent stare, staggered. His eyes hover over my face till they land on my lips, which traitorously part. The air is literally yanked out of my lungs at the lengthy pause of his stare on my mouth. My realization again who he really is, his proximity now, and these sexually charged currents running frenetically inside of me subside any minor composure I might have had before.

"Why, Miss Grace." He mirrors my own words; his smirk above me broadens. "You've just made me lust for this coffee even more."

_Interesting choice of words there, Mr. Stark._ "If that's all, Daniel, hmmm, Mr. Stark, I'll be leaving now. Thank you for the lovely experience. I bet this was very valuable to Stark Software. Work time very well spent." Deliberately disregarding his last comment, I stand up to leave.

At this point, I'm not sure I have an ounce of courage left in me to face him or continue this impudent dialog. He quickly inches himself upright, to stand, and offers his hand for a shake. Still at a loss, with an uncertain hand, I reciprocate. Taking my hand, he brings it closer to his mouth and presses a gentle, lengthened kiss on my now shaky palm. I twitch, thrown aback. _Was that arousing or what?_ Mr. irritating Stark's sensual lips on my flesh move my universe out of base for a moment that feels like a decade.

Three things happen simultaneously as I manage to regain my composure. I mumble goodbye, pull my hand out of his grip and quickly turn on my heels. _What the hell just happened in there?_ I press the elevator button frantically, as if it will prompt a quicker ride, urging it to save me from this place.

~~~

Outside, relieved to be back in neutral territory, I stride in a rapid, irritated gait to the car while working on easing my hyperventilation. _What an arrogant jerk, what an overly attractive arrogant jerk_... My fury still radiates from me as I sit in front of the wheel, my mind reviving the entire encounter, from the moment we met at the entrance hall next to his room, Daniel Stark's room. Daniel Stark, who just asked me to have coffee with him.

I wait for the car's roof to completely fold before I squeeze down the pedal to start my ride back, my mind working overtime as I skim through the radio channels. "It's so easy when everyone tries to please me." I listen to Axel's words, and twist my mouth in annoyance. _How pertinent,_ I murmur, thinking of Mr. Daniel Stark.

## Chapter 4: Aftermath

Eager to share this morning's events with Tasha, I throw the car keys on the corridor chest and call out for her. The disturbing silence in the apartment reminds me that she's away, visiting her parents; I could not be more frustrated.

I hang the black jacket in my room, open the two large Victorian windows to let the fresh air in, and return to the kitchen for coffee. I grab my phone from my back pocket and click on Inbox. While the coffee machine heats up, I scan through the list of unread emails. An unfamiliar address catches my eye: _DS@SST.com_ , it reads. Curious, I open the mail and as I look down to the author's name. I instantly sink to the stool, surprised and highly intrigued. Forgetting all about my craving for a coffee, I start reading.

Dear Miss Hayley J. Grace,

On the behalf of Stark Software Technologies, Inc., I would like to thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me. Miss Grace, meeting you was as valued and highly inspirational for Stark Software Technologies, Inc. as it was for me personally.

I have raised your respective points with Mrs. Greenich at Stark Software HR, and assured her that if she has need for further elaboration, she may contact you directly. Hopefully, that won't be too much of an imposition on you.

Per the above, I would very much like to hear more of your educational philosophies, for the benefit of Stark Software that is. Thus, may I humbly request your company for a cup of coffee?

Hopefully, you can spare a moment of your valuable time to meet me for further enlightenment.

Sincerely,

Daniel Stark

I stare blankly at the screen of my phone, processing the information. When I finally get up to pour myself a cup of coffee, I'm not able to subdue the smirk plastered on my face. _Intimidating Daniel Stark,_ I think to myself, remembering Tasha's words from earlier today, and chuckle. Why would he bother to have coffee with me? It's a complete enigma. Usually, I can read men easily. Truth be told, I play them like I want. But taking into account our encounters, and the way he's treated me so far, or better yet, the way I've treated him... God, I wish Tasha or Ian were here. My fingers prickle at the thought of calling Tasha. Instead, I reread Daniel's email for the second time and sigh. _What do I say? What do I want to say? What would this man want me to say?_

I can't stop myself any longer, and press one on my speed dial.

"Hales, what's up?" Tasha answers, almost whispering.

"Can you talk? Where are you?" I whisper back.

"Why are _you_ whispering?" she asks and I snort.

"We're at the movies with my mom, anything urgent?"

_Yes it's urgent._ "No, Tash. Call me later." I press end, and resume my inner debate about meeting Mr. Stark.

Do I want to meet him after the way he treated me today? Though, I'm certainly intrigued about his real intent, and I obviously can't deny the fact that I couldn't be more physically attracted to him even if I tried. _I guess that's the final verdict: I'm going to meet Daniel Stark for coffee._

With that thought in mind, I start to compose a reply.

Dear Arrogant Stark,

You must be kidding. Aren't you, hot stuff?

I crack up and immediately delete my message. _Tempting, but no_. I phrase a more respectable reply.

Dear Mr. Stark,

On my own behalf, I'm not sure I should thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to waste my valuable time. I'm highly honored that I could be of help and contribute to Stark Software Technologies, Inc. I am hopeful Stark Software will make good use of my inspirational insights and that the esteemed Mrs. Greenich at Stark's Software HR will implement my points in one way or another.

Now seriously, Daniel, I must admit that I find myself quite puzzled as to why you would like to meet me for coffee. Is there further humiliation on the menu?

Perplexed,

Hayley

I click send and my lips pull up, searching within myself for the cause of my sudden change of attitude toward Mr. Daniel Stark. An hour ago, I was ready to strangle the man, and now I'm smirking stupidly as I reply to his email.

Less than a minute after my reply, my iPhone pings and I can't resist immediately checking my inbox. New unread mail from _DS@SST.com_.

Dear Hayley,

You amused me, I want more, thus coffee. Tonight?

P.S—That rarely happens.

DS

I read the email three times. _That, I did not expect_. _I've amused him_. What does he mean by that rarely happens?

Dear Daniel,

I would hate to withhold further amusement from you. Thus coffee, tomorrow?

P.S What rarely happens?

Hayley

I sit by our kitchen counter, smiling to myself, wishing I could talk to Tasha, not exactly sure why I'm smiling like a goof. I should really get a grip; this is borderline pathetic.

At the familiar ringtone I reach for my phone. _Could that be Tasha, replying to the cosmic messages I've been subconsciously sending her?_

I don't recognize the number; disappointment can be clearly heard in my voice when I answer. "Hello."

"Hello, is this Hayley Grace?" A deep, masculine voice at the other end of the line inquires.

"This is she," I answer, trying to search my memory for recognition of the voice without much luck.

"Hey Hayley, it's Daniel."

_What?_ I find myself voiceless.

"Daniel Stark," he adds to my silence, his voice lighter, noticeably amused. "Lost your words there again, Hayley?" he questions, and I breathe out a short giggle.

"Hello Daniel... Stark, how are you doing this afternoon?"

"Not bad, after an intriguing morning. And yourself?"

"Quite good, Mr. Stark."

"Daniel," he huffs. "Drop the Mr. Stark." he adds, dryly. "So, tomorrow?" he continues, as if this isn't weird at all, as though we always make plans to meet and as though he hadn't put me through hell just a few hours ago.

"Tomorrow, Daniel," I respond, unable to conceal the amusement in my voice as I do.

"How about coffee for breakfast? We can meet at the Starbucks next to your home."

"How do you know where I live? Did you stalk me?" I frown at the phone. _Really, Hales, you frown at phones now?_

There is a vivid, low, throaty laugh on the line. "No, _Hayley_. I did not stalk you. Frankly, the idea is appealing, but I'm busy. You know how it is; you need to work hard to maintain an intriguing and professional organization..."

_Jerk_. I squirm in my chair.

"I have your CV, remember?"

"Yep, right. Forgot about that." I chuckle. "What time suits you?"

"Nine would work for me."

"Nine sounds good."

There's a voice in the background at his end. "Mr. Stark, the Thai minister of defense is on the line."

Daniel replies, "Tell him that we'll call him back."

The Thai mister of defense, what the hell?

"So Hayley, what was I accused of so far? Being arrogant, condescending, and a stalker. Can't wait to hear what else you'll come up with before tomorrow. There's a lot for me to live up to..." He chuckles. I join him.

"See you tomorrow at nine, Hayley Grace," he says and hangs up.

_Well, he does have to talk to the Thai minister of defense,_ I think, amused. Then it hits me: Daniel Stark just called me and we're planning a breakfast date tomorrow at nine. _Tasha, Ian, where are you guys when I so desperately need you?_

Restless, I text Tasha, and as I get no prompt reply, I change to my running outfit: my knee length Nike leggings and a black spaghetti top. I adjust the headphones and turn on my mp3 player. _I need cheerful tunes_. I fast-forward past a few songs and halt at "Imitation of Life." Set to go, I lock the door behind me. Boosted with adrenaline, I skip every other stair, eager to start my run, aiming to defuse the excess energy now caged within me.

~~~

_Almost an hour, not bad._ I praise myself, catching my breath while heading for a shower. Before reaching the bathroom, I step back to check whether by any chance Tasha called, but there's only a text message.

Tasha: W R crashing @ my folks, went 2 sleep, C U 2MOR a.m., Hugs.

Sighing with disappointment, I head for the shower.

Still radiating warmth from my muscles and the soothing wash, and with nothing better to do, I snuggle in bed, indulging in the clean scent of freshly-washed linen. In the comfort of my cozy bed, I recycle the morning's events and can't help but yet again question the fact that I was so affected both physically and emotionally by this person. Finally, I doze off watching Conan tease yet another beautiful actress, or is it a model, or a reality flavor-of-the-month airhead?

## Chapter 5: Jekyll... And Hyde

U2 singing about a beautiful day blasts from my iPod docked on the nightstand; it wakes me up in the most elevating manner. I wait for the song to end before getting up. _My meeting with Daniel, Mr. Stark, is in less than an hour._ My body tenses at the thought.

Where is Tasha, and is she ever planning to come back?

I take a long steaming shower, trying to avoid thinking about Daniel's provoking scars. I know they'll distract me, and the last thing I want while meeting unpredictable Stark is to be distracted. Nonetheless, I know it can't really be avoided. _There's something about scars that just screams delinquency, and what's really sexier than that?_

While drying myself, I decide to not dress up, but to be my usual self. _What do I have to lose?_ I strongly believe that once I find out his ulterior motives I'll be disappointed, so at least I'll be wearing comfortable clothes while at it... I take a last look at the standing mirror in the corridor, pleased at my reflection. I'm wearing dark, tight blue jeans and a red spaghetti top that perfectly matches my red sneakers. My straw-blonde waves are left loose and scattered around my shoulders, my skin pink from the shower and my eyes gleaming with excitement. I put on an almost unnoticeable touch of blush and a tad of mascara to enhance my brownish eyes. _Here goes nothing_. I smile before closing the door behind me.

Ten minutes late, I reach the coffee shop. I smile to myself, thinking how just a day ago I was asked not to be late to a meeting with Mr. Stark... Stepping inside, I look around, and it doesn't take too long for my eyes to rest upon Daniel, who is smiling from his place at one of the cozy sitting areas in the corner. He stands up as soon as our eyes meet and makes his way toward me. He's quite a sight in black jeans, a dark, slightly tight tee, and _am I seeing this right?_ Red sneakers, same brand as mine. My lips pull up. _Intentionally, Mr. Stark?_

"Good morning." He grins down at me from his at least six feet, three inches. I can't help but look at that scar on his full lip and beam shyly when I realize what I'm doing. He rewards my sudden timid expression with a shrug. There's a trace of humor to his eyes.

"Good morning, Daniel. How are you this morning?" He takes my hand in reply and kisses the back of my palm, just like he did when we parted after the disreputable interview at his office.

"I am famished."

Oh, not exactly the answer I was expecting.

"Then let's order, shall we?"

"Take a seat, I'll order. What would you like?" he asks, his eyes carefully studying my facial features, slowly going over each and every one.

I fidget slightly and respond, "A grande, double shot, extra hot, not too much foam, cappuccino, and a sparkling water, please." He looks at me entirely entertained, scratching the side of his lip.

"And what about something to eat?"

"Oh, no thanks, I'm not hungry yet." I don't bother to tell him I am not much of a breakfast person. He raises his brows. Suit yourself, his gesture says.

I sit by the table he just vacated, glad at the chance to observe him from a distance as he places our order. I study his confident posture, so quietly powerful. His raw masculinity, those rough features and not-bothered hair in addition to that hint of rebellion bursting from his mischievous eyes. _Undeniably, mega-attractive_.

"Here you go," he says with a lopsided smile. "One grande, double shot, extra hot, not too much foam, cappuccino, and a sparkling water." He places a tray on the table between us and settles on the armchair opposite mine. "That will be four and a half dollars," he concludes, deadpan. My stare snaps up in surprise. _He wants me to pay him back?_

"Just messing with you," he chuckles, wicked glee dancing in his eyes; I smile back though still a tad disturbed. _Playful..._

"So Hayley, thank you for meeting me."

"So Daniel, thank you for inviting me." We both grin at each other with goofy smirks, he winks at me and as I squirm slightly, his smile widens. I'm usually more than confident around men. Hell, I'm the one typically making them unsteady. _This is a first..._

He takes a sip from his mug then brings his chocolate cupcake toward his mouth; I can't turn my stare away as he opens his mouth to take a bite. "What is that you'd like, the cupcake?" he teases, noticing my stare. "Or me?" he adds in a murmur.

I quickly withdraw my gape. _What cupcake? You would be great, thank you_. "No thanks, I'm good," I answer, looking around, trying to avoid his cocky gaze. _Etiquette to Hayley, behave like a sane human being please; stop molesting Daniel Stark with your gawking._

"Well, tell me, why did you come to the orientation day, besides your desire to educate me?" A faint curve is tugging on his lips; I swallow my next sip hard. _I had to know this was coming..._

"If you must, Mr. Stark..." He stops me for a moment, touching my hand, his stare annoyed.

"Let's drop the Mr. Stark thing, unless we're in a business meeting, which I am not aware of."

I nod, pressing my lips to an amused line. _Point taken_.

"Well, if you must, Daniel," I correct myself, raising my eyebrows dramatically. He snickers at that. Nodding, he sinks back with ease against the comfy chair, resting one of his hands on his parted legs.

"I was bullied into coming," I shrug.

"That doesn't sound offensive at all." He lets out a short, raspy laugh. "Care to elaborate?"

"Technically, it was for losing a bet. My good friend thought coming on the tour would be a good punishment." I twist my mouth in half a smile and am rewarded with a full grin that turns into a small head shake. "But, well, she did promise me it would be a very educational experience, and that I could never know what opportunities it might bring." _Such as finding myself having coffee with you._

"Clever lady, that friend of yours. Remind me to thank her in person if we happen to meet."

We trade charged glances and he turns to take another bite of his cupcake.

"What's your favorite song?" he asks out of the blue.

Where did that come from? Daniel Stark wants to know my favorite song? Is this the time to look around for a candid camera?

"You want to know my favorite song?" I repeat his question, just to make sure I heard him correctly.

"Yes." No elaboration, and he doesn't look as if he's about to give any.

" _Set the Fire to the Third Bar_ ," I answer, not sure where that might lead or what the nature of his question is.

"I'm not familiar with it," he answers, absorbed.

"By Snow Patrol," I elaborate. He raises his eyebrows and shrugs.

_Well, what should I answer to that? Hey Daniel, I live close by, would you like to go up to my room and listen to the song?_ "Now you have homework, you should listen to the song," I answer, thinking, _weird question, weirder answer._ He smirks and looks at me under his lashes.

"A lot can be learned from musical preferences," he says as though to himself. "So, what do you do for a living? Obviously it should be something _exceptional_ , as you did turn down a job at a very intriguing and professional company..." His slightly narrowed eyes are on me, and his teasing doesn't go unnoticed.

"I'll drop the Mr. Stark if you drop the mockery, Mr. Stark," I mimic his expression, pleased with my response.

"Fair point." He squeezes my hand as it rests on the chair arm, causing a direct short circuit to my belly.

"I'm actually waiting for a final date to start my new job at a magazine in the creative team."

"Sounds interesting," he mutters, looking genuinely attentive.

I smile inside at his undivided attention concerning my occupational situation. "I'm currently working part time as an administrative assistant at an insurance company; I just recently got my master's degree."

"You work a part time job at an insurance agency as an administrative assistant," he looks at me in disbelief, "and yet you refused my offer?" He picks an invisible crumb from his thigh.

_Stop distracting me_...

"Come on, you were just messing with me, there wasn't ever a real position on the table, and we both know that."

His lips arch into a secretive smile. "Oh, we both do, do we?"

Is he kidding or is he being sincere?

"Whether it was or it wasn't I still honestly believe it was some kind of a joke for you. I'm very keen about the magazine position, though."

"Which magazine is it?" He takes another bite and sets the cake back on the table.

"Why do you ask?" I mutter dryly, and without paying much attention, I take a piece of his cupcake's top and put it to my mouth. His eyebrows rise above his stare, his mouth slightly open for a brief moment. Next his expression turns completely animated.

"Well, by all means, be my guest," he chuckles, gesturing toward his cupcake. "Some of my coffee to go with it?" He moves his cup toward me, the widest smirk stretched on his face.

_Did I just take some of his food without even asking_? I shift in my chair, an action which makes his eyes dance with humor.

"I'm covered with coffee, thank you." I raise my cup toward my mouth. _Think before acting_. Daniel continues staring at me for a prolonged moment, glee adorning his eyes.

"You have a tendency of being covered in coffee around me." He lets out a deep belly chuckle. _Oh, how could I not see that coming_? I roll my eyes and send him a thin smile.

"I've asked about the magazine since I might be able to help."

It takes me a minute to recall his last question then to assimilate what he just said.

"How is that?" I ask, looking at him inquisitively. With complete nonchalance he stretches his hand toward my mouth and with his thumb removes a crumb of cupcake from the side of my lip, and then, still seemingly without special attention to what he does, he puts his thumb to his own mouth and sucks it. Though the entire act takes seconds, it feels like I've just witnessed it in slow motion. I look at him in utter amazement as he continues talking.

"I have some connections here and there," he says. Pausing, he looks at me through his lashes and smiles a small mischievous grin as if to say, "you seem shaken, dear," and then goes on as usual. Frozen, I look at him and can't relate to what he's saying. All I have in my mind is the feel of his thumb on my lip, his mouth decorated by that small scar of his as his lips parted to take in the remnants of my crumbs. Something deep inside of me clasps tight, very tight. "Seriously, I can talk to someone, Hayley."

_Bet you can_... "Thanks a lot for the offer, but I always prefer to make it on my own."

"That's good, really good," he says, his gaze drifting away thoughtfully as though he's assessing something. I wonder what it is. His briefly wandering gaze gives me a minute to observe his face. He has a straight nose, just the right size, thick, dark, long lashes, fencing hazel eyes. His face is tanned, enhancing his handsome features; he has tiny laugh wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, which is the only sign of his real age. A short beep comes from below the table. The distraction pulls him back. He fetches his phone from his pocket and answers sharply, "Stark." He listens, his stare capturing mine. Though I feel a tad self-conscious, I can't seem to tear my gaze away. His eyes are hypnotizing, drawing me in. Something's happening at the pit of my stomach. _Are those butterflies? I shouldn't go there, not with him._

Moments into his conversation, his eyes narrow and his brows pull in. I notice his jaw sawing under his skin, and in a microsecond his look turns unnerving.

"For fuck's sake, isn't there anything you can do by yourselves? Do I need to baby sit you every step of the way?"

Wow, I wouldn't want to be the person at the other end.

"I'll be there shortly," he says in a low, voice, blended with fury. Hearing that, a stab of disappointment surges through me. _Is he leaving?_

"And one last thing, Jake. Have a box ready, because I might want to fire you when I get there."

So long Dr. Jekyll, and welcome Mr. Hyde. Psycho...

Daniel stands up, all annoyed, and takes a long sip of his cup, draining it. _Is that it? Our time's up? Just like that?_

"I've got to go work for the people I pay salaries to," he explains, agitated, sarcasm dripping from his voice and his smile far from touching his eyes.

"Well, a man's got to do what a man's got to do." I smile at him, trying to conceal my growing disappointment. "It was a pleasure," I add. He seems as though he isn't with me anymore, his thoughts elsewhere. _Daniel, back to earth... no reception, none whatsoever._

"See you," he mutters and starts walking toward the exit. I sit frozen, looking at him, stunned. _That's the goodbye? That's the same playful, charming person I just had coffee with?_ I follow his departing back with my stare and I notice his shoes again, the same ones as mine, those he complimented me on in his office, which now seems like ages ago.

"Hey, Daniel," I call after him. Startled, he turns to look my way.

"Cool shoes." I grin at him. It takes him a moment but as he seems to register what I said and regards me with a radiant smile, and then, all of a sudden, as if recalling my presence, he comes back. Reaching my side, he bends to give me a hug, catching me totally off guard. _Well, Dr. Jekyll is back._ Doing that, he manages to spill the mineral water bottle on himself, and his black tee gets wet.

"Fuck," he breathes.

"Is that a request?" I ask faintly, blinking, mirroring his own words from our first encounter. His face lights up as if on cue.

"I have a meeting," he adds, referring to his soaked shirt, his smile still intact.

"I live close by," I say. "I can have it dried for you in ten." He stares at me introspectively, and then grimaces. "That would help." And all I can think of is: _Daniel Stark is coming to my apartment._

~~~

On our way to the apartment, walking side by side, I ask him what he meant by "that rarely happens" in his email.

"Nothing passes by your exhaustive observation, does it?" He sends me a small side smile. I nod, biting my lip, looking forward to his reply.

"People rarely amuse me, and I don't usually do coffees." Saying that, he fetches his phone and appears to start checking his emails, his expression altering to an impassive seriousness. _So people don't usually amuse you, Daniel, and you don't do coffees. Am I a special case? Charity case_ , I mock myself.

"And here is our humble casa," I declare as we step inside.

Daniel observes the surroundings. "Nice casa, very colorful." He gestures toward the "royal" orange and green dining area. I shrug, amused.

"So, I'll need your shirt now, Daniel," I playfully command, putting out my hand, leaving my arm stretched in front of him, demanding.

"We aren't even a foot in and you already want me naked? Everything has its time, Hayley." His eyes manifest sin. I know that he's kidding but the thought of him without a shirt plus his innuendo make me uneasy. He observes me profoundly and with the wickedest look, as if I were bait, and without tearing his eyes from mine he lifts his shirt off over his head. _Holy hell, he should be banned from wearing tops, ever._ I gasp.

"Here you go," he hands me his shirt, still warm with body heat. His eyes burn into me as I swallow hard. I can't help but quickly peek at him before heading toward the dryer. He has a spiral tattoo decorating his left shoulder; it looks like phrases in some ancient characters. Any other thought but of his body flies out of my mind.

I return to find him standing in the entrance to our corridor.

"Where's the bathroom?" he asks. Our stares immediately latch.

"Next door to the left," I reply, stealing yet another quick glance at him as I do. For a minute, we stand facing each other, eyes intently connected; tension is building between us, charging the gap between our bodies. He starts walking slowly toward me, not leaving my stare; my heart is in my throat, welling with anticipation. Facing me, his eyes move to settle on my lips and my breath grows heavier.

"Honey, I'm home, hide the milkman." _Now, Tasha, now?_

Daniel turns around to face the voice.

"Oh, and you _are_ with the milkman," Tasha comments dryly, looking our way into the darkened corridor.

"Hello," Daniel utters.

"Well, hello to you too," Tasha responds, noticing his lack of shirt.

I start walking toward her and Daniel proceeds towards our bathroom door. As he passes by me the back of my hand brushes his bare side, he looks down my way and our eyes melt into each other. For that brief instant it feels as though we have some special connection. He smiles at me meaningfully and I echo his expression. There is a new look in his eyes and I can't quite make out what lies behind it. Those butterflies again.

Hearing the door close, confident that Daniel is out of earshot, I hug Tasha and whisper, "Where were you last night? I needed you!"

"Hales, I was so dead tired. I slept half way through the end of the movie and then couldn't even imagine driving back. So what's going on in here? Who? When? Why? Wow, gory details, pronto!"

"Eloquently challenged doesn't agree with you, Miss Taylor."

"Stop being a smart ass and spill the dirt, you naughty girl. Having a half-naked man around while I'm gone..." She smiles devilishly, looking eager for my response. And as I'm about to brief her, at least with the highlights, I notice her expression changing. Her eyes widen and her mouth slightly drops.

"Daniel Stark," she exclaims in complete surprise.

"Nice to meet you, Miss...?" He tilts his head questioningly, and extends his hand for a shake, an amused smile tugging on his lips. The look of awe doesn't leave her eyes as Tasha reciprocates Daniel's shake.

"Taylor," Tasha manages to finally reply, her jaw not yet back to its natural position.

"The friend I should thank?" Daniel raises his eyebrows with half a playful smile. I nod assent with a smirk of my own while Tasha observes us.

Nonchalantly, Daniel settles himself on one of the kitchen barstools, facing us both as though this is the most natural thing in the world for him. As if he hung with us on a daily basis, usually without a top. As if he were Ian. He sneaks a glance my way. In the corner of my eye I can see Tasha's inquiring look scrutinizing me.

"Daniel spilled water on his shirt by accident. We're waiting for it to dry." I try to answer Tasha's quizzical look though I'm pretty sure her one and only question is what the hell Daniel Stark's doing in our flat.

"Oh, now it makes sense, exactly what I thought," Tasha, coming back to her senses, mutters dryly.

Daniel and I laugh as one. He gives me the sweetest look, and I feel tiny warm waves deliciously circling my stomach. Noticing us, Tasha declares, "There's something I need to do, and it must be done anywhere else on the planet but in here." She winks at us both and heads to her room without further ado. _Thank you, Tasha, thank you!_ Deep inside I know that she's dying to stay and see what's going on here.

"Would you like a drink?" I ask him now that we're alone, not sure what's next with him sitting there gloriously bare bodied in front of me. _Jump him?_

He taps his fingers at the green surface of our breakfast counter. _Tense_?

"Thanks, but I should be leaving soon," he answers. His eyes reflect some sort of annoyance. I assume remembering the call he had just before we left the coffee shop.

"I'll check the dryer," I say and he nods, his gaze following me till I'm out of sight down the corridor. Even the mere thought of his eyes looking at me makes a warm feeling spread inside. Taking the shirt out of the dryer, I hold it in my hands, feeling the soft, warm fabric. Upset that it's already dry. Touching it, I think about the fact that it was on him just a short while ago and slowly lift it to my nose, inhaling deep. Clean, with a hint of spice and musky fragrance. I keep taking in the scent for a few more seconds, fighting with myself to cease. _It's got to be given back to its owner. Perv. That was the purpose of taking it out of the dryer. I am totally losing it._

"Here you go." I hand him back his shirt. He takes it away from me, his eyes reaching intensely into mine. Our fingers brush for an instant, sending small shudders from my hand to my core. I watch him put his shirt on, and when his eyes meet mine again they have a naughty glee in them. I take in a long, audible breath. He smiles and I feel my face warm slightly.

"Thank you for a lovely morning, Hayley J Grace." His tongue gently caresses my name as he voices it.

"Thank _you_ for a lovely morning, Daniel Stark."

He sends me his crooked smile then lifts his hand toward my face, stroking my cheek with the tips of his fingers. His act of sweet intimacy leaves me entirely unbalanced. With that, he starts walking toward the door.

"See you, Hayley," he says as he opens the door. "See you, Daniel." I watch him for a moment. _The sooner the better._

He steps out, closing the door behind him, and then he's gone. I lean against the door, troubled by the fact that I'm as upset about his leaving as I am. _I shouldn't, not with him_...

## Chapter 6: Indecent Intentions

Doesn't take Tasha too long to be by my side, distracting me from my thoughts, her entire posture screaming curiosity.

She raises an eyebrow at me and bluntly asks, "Well?"

I look at my watch. _Crap, it's already eleven. I should be at work in twenty._ "Give me a ride to work and I'll fill you in." I give Tasha an apologetic look, and she scowls.

"Tash, I should really be at work in twenty, or else Mrs. Never Gets Laid will have my butt on the grill." Tasha twists her mouth playfully.

"Okay, just stop whining."

As she presses the button to let the top down I skim through the player and leave it at "Paper Airplanes."

The mellow folky/blues music funnels into the car as Tasha turns my way. "It's story time."

I grin at her and start from the so-called interview at Stark Software, filling her in with a thorough minute-by-minute account of our encounters that finally led to a half-naked Daniel Stark in our home.

"Hold on," Tasha says, raising her manicured finger, and turns to dial. And I can just imagine where this call is directed.

"S'up gorgeous?" A too-loud yelp tears the calm ambiance.

"Super E, you are on speaker and we have the one and only Miss Grace with us."

"Gorgeous Miss Grace."

I giggle at Ian's as-ever bursting energy.

"Listening time," Tasha declares authoritatively, prompting an immediate silence from us both. "Now, you, Missy, continue the tale." She turns my way and then goes back to focus on the curving road ahead. And I obey.

"Oh my god, I've just Googled him. This is one steamy creature. When do I get the full report of how he is in terms of making your girlie parts dazzle?" Both Tasha and I turn into a noisily squeaking duo.

"So I gather you assume there will be experiments with exchanging liquids?"

"With this guy, bet your tight ass there'll be! Any chance he's playing for both teams?" I roll my eyes.

Ian is like the Tasmanian devil when it comes to hot guys: he _must_ consume everything that looks even remotely delectable.

"Have no idea. Don't think so, but I'll make sure to ask him the first chance I get."

Tasha snickers and I shake my head with half a smile.

"So, gorgeous ladies, I gotta go. Do him, Hales, that's an order. Ciao!"

"Love ya," we chorus and the line drops. Tasha and I trade amused glances and fall into a pleasant, contemplative silence.

About ten minutes into our drive I say, idly, half to Tasha half to myself, "Seriously, I have no idea what he really wants with me."

Tasha sends me a derisive glance. "I mean, I know what he wants, I've been playing this game for far too long... I can sense attraction better than anyone, but it's just..." I sigh.

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Do I really have to remind you how many broken hearts you have under your belt? And I'm referring to just the last couple of years." She wrinkles her nose, and continues with, "You're such a sweet, witty, beautiful and intelligent person."

I beam at her. "Well, my dear, you couldn't be more objective."

"How do you feel about all of this?" she asks, her expression turning solemn.

"He's intriguing and charming in a bad boy kind of way," I say, pondering, "and absolutely hot. He acts as though it's more than just plain attraction, but I'm pretty sure he's the biggest player."

"Oh, a male version of you."

"Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Well, just do him, like Ian suggested, and go from there." She concludes in an assertive tone, effortlessly dismissing the doubt in subject.

"But you know how I feel about that... been there, done that. You know better than anyone what I'm _not_ looking for."

Who better than Tasha knows about my sordid history? About how, for the last few years, by choice, I didn't have a "relationship" that lasted longer than one night _,_ longer than an orgasm...

She fixes her framed white Jackie O. sunglasses, adjusting them on the bridge of her pointy nose. "Hales, I know that you've stopped fucking for nothing. But make an exception with this irresistible, virile, mega-attractive guy, one last time. And by all means, girl, don't make it more than it is," she states, putting to words what we both think. She does have a talent for doing that.

"Fucking for nothing," I snicker. "Classy." Tasha mirrors my amused stare.

Pulling the car to a stop, she turns to me and says, "Come on, he's incredibly sexy. Hell, he's Daniel 'Hottie' Stark." She grins. "My best friend is going to do Daniel Stark."

I can't help but laugh at her cheerful declaration.

"We have all these indecent plans for him and I'm not even sure he'll call again," I murmur. "If there's something I cannot do, it's anticipating this guy." Given our brief history, I sigh deeply.

Perhaps I should just call him up and say, Hey Daniel, the unanimous verdict has been rendered—I am to do you, let's fuck?

## Chapter 7: The Very Last Time

"Honey, I'm home," I call out.

"In the shower," Tasha yells back, a bit too loudly.

Realizing I haven't eaten today I prepare myself a small dinner of goat cheese, artichoke hearts in olive oil, and some crackers.

"What's up with your phone? Is it dead?" Tasha asks, approaching me, towel around her head, wearing her silk blue nightgown, her face still pink from the shower.

"What do you mean? Did you try to reach me?"

"Just about a hundred times, nothing serious," she replies, her eyes dancing with disquiet. Recognizing this look of hers, I know she has something to share with me, and she's thrilled about it, whatever it is. I pull out my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and find out it was switched off, probably for some time now.

"What is it? What's with the I've-got-something-to-tell-you look, Tash?" I ask her, taking another bite from my cracker. I watch the tiny crumbs as they fall down on the counter and immediately brush them off. She leans against the mosaic pole that secures our kitchen counter.

"I was called for an interview at Stark Software earlier today."

"Oh," is the only thing I manage to articulate, all of a sudden feeling somewhat insecure. _Perhaps Daniel is interested in her too... What's up with me?_

"With Mrs. Greenich," Tasha emphasizes, as if reading my mind. I wince, feeling uncomfortable with my previous, embarrassing thought. _Was I that obvious?_

"I'm so happy for you. This is what you wanted." I radiate content her way, still feeling a tad timid.

"Yes, I just hope I'll make a good impression," she responds pensively, her eyes boring into some point in space behind me. "Do you think it has anything to do with you and Daniel?" Her question hangs in the air between us for a lengthy pause.

"I have no idea. I don't know what he wants or what he thinks. Besides, you're more than qualified, so I don't believe it has anything to do with him and me." _There isn't really a him and me anyhow._

"You must be right." She pulls down the towel and lets her dark hair fall in wet clusters on her back.

"I think I'll have a shower too and go to bed," I say, picking up some cracker crumbs and putting them in my mouth.

"I'll alert the media," she responds, making me snort.

"I'm watching TV, if you want to join." She snuggles on our white sofa, pulling a deep purple chenille blanket on herself.

"Don't think so." I clear up the counter, putting my plate in the dishwasher, and head to the shower.

~~~

Lying in bed, I can't help but think of Daniel. I fetch my laptop to check what my reliable friend, Google, can tell me about him.

About 33,100 results in under 0.23 seconds. I choose the Forbes link and the information immediately displays:

Daniel Stark

Net Worth $1.9 B as of June 2012.

_Wow, baby's got some dimes in his piggybank... zillions of them_! I knew he had to be wealthy, but that wealthy? Judging by his appearance, you'd never even suspect he could be that rich. His laid-back simplicity, this special way he had about him, is much more attractive than his crazy loot.

At a Glance

Age: 34

Source of Wealth: Software, self-made

Residence: San Francisco, CA

Country of Citizenship: United States

Education: Bachelor of Arts / Science, University of San Francisco

Marital Status: Single

Daniel Stark graced the cover of our 2008 billionaires issue, only to fall off the list in 2010. He returned last year, and his net worth continues to move up, as shares of his cyber security firm Stark Software Technologies have skyrocketed. His charitable endeavors include children's hospitals and deal with issues ranging from new equipment to hospitalization facilities while maintaining interest in cancer research. Stark devotes much of his spare time to surfing and car racing.

And torturing young women in fictitious interviews.

As I finally put the laptop away, Daniel is all over my mind, his eyes, his wild-boy blasé, those scars that decorate his handsome face. When I fall asleep, the thoughts of him turn into dreams.

~~~

The room is pitch black. I blink, waiting for my eyes to adjust, and as I do I turn to check the time on my phone, remembering it was off. I turn it on, waiting for the clock image to appear. Two a.m. _I need to sleep!_ Far from being able to resume sleeping, I pick up my phone and check out my Inbox. There's an email from the magazine I've been waiting to hear back from. I open the mail reluctantly, thinking that if they wrote me an email it's probably because of another delay rather than an official start day.

Dear Hayley,

**I would like to invite you to a follow up meeting in regards to the position of assistant and content specialist you were interviewed for at** YOU **magazine.**

Would June 6th at 12:00 suit you? Please let me know ASAP.

Best,

**Josh Wilde, Executive Creative Director,** YOU

I read the email again, hyper. _Does this mean that the headcount matter is cleared and that I'll start soon?_ I'm so thrilled I have the urge to wake Tasha, but I let her be. It can wait till the morning, exciting as it is.

I skim through the rest of my emails till I encounter those two letters, "DS", which make my heart flip on sight. Curious and anxious, I hasten to read it. Not sure what entices me more: the current email or the previous one. _I shouldn't be this excited_...

Hey Hayley,

Thanks again for today. How about a movie tomorrow?

DS

_Daniel Stark is asking me to the movies_? I hate the fact that I'm elated, just like a besotted teenager. _I shouldn't be_. I know with every sensible cell of my being that he's a highway straight to heartbreakville. _Isn't the plan just to get physical with him, emotions aside?_

Hey Daniel,

Depends on the movie...

H

I hug my pillow, willing myself to fall asleep, when I hear the ping of an incoming email. I'm surprised since it's late—early depending on how I look at it. And there it is in bold letters, an instant reply from DS.

Hey H,

So it's not about the company, it's about the movie?

Hurt & Disappointed,

DS

I immediately text a reply.

Dear Hurt & Disappointed DS,

What are you doing up? Don't you have an intriguing and professional business to run tomorrow a.m.?

H

I press send and sink my head back to the pillow, smiling. I flinch at the unexpected chime of my phone.

"I do well with just a few hours of sleep, so rest assured, H, I will not by any means compromise my ability to perform in any given situation." Daniel's hoarse voice echoes in my ear. _I'm glad to hear that, since I have a very important situation for you in mind. One in which you just can't fail to perform._

"Hello," I stress my greeting. "Have you lost your impeccable manners? And I am glad to hear that you won't fail to perform," I tease, snuggling deeper under my thick, fresh-scented blanket.

Avoiding any further small talk and disregarding my last comment, he bluntly asks, "Do you want to meet me now?"

"Sure, why not." The words fly out of my mouth without thinking _. Where did that come from?_

"I can pick you up in ten. The roads are open at this hour. Shouldn't take long, okay?"

"Pick me up and go where, Daniel?" I ask, now reconsidering what I've just impulsively agreed to.

"We'll see, in ten." And he's gone.

_What did I just agree to? I need to think, for the love of god, especially with him_. I'll need to have a direct vein infusion of caffeine in the morning if I plan to work on my drawings. Well, that's the price a girl should pay for meeting good-looking, rich, deliciously-scarred industrialists in the middle of the night. I put on my blue jeans with a tight white tee and my black hoodie, then quickly brush my teeth and try to make some sort of amends with my sleep-flattened waves. I grab two bottles of sparkling water from the fridge, squeeze my feet into the red sneakers which were left in our hallway and, content after a glimpse at the mirror, I lock the door behind me. I skip every other step, going down the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. _I should not be this thrilled. Highway to heartbreakville..._

~~~

I'm thankful that I took my hoodie with me; it gets quite chilly in these wee hours of the morning. I hug myself to warm up, falling deep into memories of my encounters with Daniel. I think about how charming he is, in his rough, witty way. The way he treated me in that awful interview infiltrates my positive thoughts, though in a small part of my mind I think I deserved some of it. And of course there was his mercurial temperament and his mood change after a single call that are so hard to overlook. _Some sort of a warning sign, perhaps_. But all in all, I'm glad to have yet another chance to spend time with him, get to know him better. He intrigues me as much as I'm attracted to him, two sufficient reasons to keep exploring.

A loud mechanical growl brings me back to the present. I turn to face the direction of the roar, astounded by the mean machine responsible for the mechanical/animalistic sound. The wide, low, metallic silver sports car, which I am definitely not familiar with, is equally wild and exotic. _Just like its owner_.

Daniel steps out to greet me, casual yet exquisite in faded jeans and a long-sleeved, gray fitted Henley. I reach out my hand toward him for a shake, but he ignores it and pulls me into an unexpected hug. I awkwardly return his embrace, my hands trapped under his firm grip, and I end up holding his waist. Realizing I am patting him, I stop immediately. _What am I, his aunt_?

For too short a time I get to enjoy the feel of his toned body against mine, his hands wrapping me, and to inhale his scent, which is so captivating. I find myself lured to it in an irresistible pull, wanting more. Discreetly, I take one more lungful just before we break our embrace.

I'm forced to bend down in order to get inside the car; it's even lower than it appears to be. "Nice car. What make is it?" I ask as I snuggle into the comfy leather seat.

His eyes light up in response. "It's a Veyron; it has an 8.0L W16-cylinder engine, four turbochargers, and a dual-clutch, computer-controlled, manual transmission."

"Hey, you lost me at Veyron." I smile at him.

He chuckles and adds, "It's a Bugatti, named after the racing driver Pierre Veyron." His eyes dance and his smile broadens as he provides this additional information. I recall the Forbes piece I read about him earlier which mentioned that one of his hobbies was car racing, but before I comment anything about it I halt. _I really don't want to admit to looking him up. Pathetic is not exactly a sexy virtue_.

"You want to be buckled up in this babe. She does zero to a hundred in 5.1 seconds," he suggests boyishly, running his hand over the leathered wheel, his long fingers lingering over the sharp curve. "So, anywhere special you'd like to go?" He rewards me with a sinful, crooked smile.

I smile back. "Surprise me."

"And surprised you will be." He winks.

_Could he be any more charming and attractive?_ I stare at his profile when he turns to face the road and a shiver of excitement runs through me. He pushes the pedal, making the car roar eagerly, and with the release of the brake I am pinned back to my seat by the acceleration. There is a light melody playing in the background.

"What song is that?" I ask and look at him, yet again taking in his handsome profile.

" _Just a Boy_. Listen to the lyrics." Turning up the volume he mouths along to the song, eyes still ahead.

_I should be listening to these words_? Something about a boy meeting a girl and though he doesn't know why, he quickly fell for her. _Anything you want to tell me there, Mr. Stark?_ My inner smile is threatening to rip me in two.

"Sparkling water?" I offer, intending to open mine.

He turns to me with a wide grin. "Always be prepared."

"What can I say?" I beam at him and raise my hand in a Girl Scout salute.

"Oh, you were one?" he asks, a side smile still resting on his lips.

"Yes, I was one." And I am gifted with a wider grin. He seems to be enjoying some private joke, continuing to smirk as he stares straight ahead at the road. I turn to open the second bottle for him.

"No need to open that one, we can share," he mutters casually.

_I guess we could_. I hand him mine, he takes a sip, his lush lips circling the opening. I find myself mesmerized by the simple action.

"Here," he hands me back the bottle, for a brief moment intently glancing at me. Bringing the bottle to my lips I think about the fact that his lips just touched the same place. I sip the water slowly while a warm wave settles in my belly.

~~~

"Here we are," he declares, pulling the car to a stop next to a lighthouse.

"Let's go," he offers, stepping out of the car.

I follow. He circles the car to meet me and takes my hand in his.

"It's one of my favorite places outside the city," he tells me. "There's an amazing view from the top." I look at him under my lashes with a thin smile and continue following his lead. With him two stairs ahead I shamelessly check his behind _. What he doesn't know won't hurt me_. I smirk, absolutely liking the way his firm butt is nicely snug inside his jeans.

Climbing half way to the top he turns back to face me, his eyes darker and intense, his body close to mine as he looks down at me. Gently he tugs my chin, tipping my face to look up. "Have you been here before?" His voice is velvety soft.

"No, I haven't." I blink twice and swallow hard, the spot of my face he touches radiating with heat.

"Good, I am glad I get to show it to you," he says, and resumes his climbing.

My heart rate hastens both from the exertion and from him. He is all charm and warmth; this is not what I was expecting, for sure.

We're slightly short of breath for the last few steps. When we reach the top we stand facing each other while easing our rapid breathing. As our eyes meet we chuckle in unison.

"Come," he extends his hand for me to take, and I do, indulging at the feel of his skin on mine. He leads us to the other side of the tower and we end up standing by the wooden railing. It's about three a.m. by now and the view that spreads to the horizon is stunning. The sky is a mixture of smoky gray with touches of coal black; the stars are scattered in tiny twinkling dots; the sea beneath is a tempest of pitch black with silver lacing.

"It's impeccable, Daniel." I admire the view. When I turn my head next to look his way I meet his face close, very close to mine.

I blush, grateful for the evening dimness. "Do I make you nervous?"

_He did notice my blushing_. As he waits for my reply his eyes are intent on mine. We stand in charged silence for a while; he brushes away a lock of hair the breeze dropped on my face, making me shiver and my heart wrench.

"Do I?" he repeats.

I slowly shake my head in response, though, quite certain my obvious edginess tells him otherwise. My stomach knots at his question, at my reaction, at his closeness. _I find you incredibly attractive, is why, you do make me nervous, and those small gestures of affection startle me_. He's so near, I feel his warm breath on my face and all I want is for him is to kiss me, kiss me right here and now. We stand there, our eyes locked, my face tilted forward, my lips parted, waiting for his to claim them. He bends his head to reach mine. I gasp, waiting anxiously for the touch of his mouth. Bending lower, his mouth finds my neck. With soft fluttering of his lips he ascends slowly toward the delicate skin behind my ear. I stretch my head slightly back to give him better access. Those butterflies in my stomach again. This time they rage.

He presses his body to mine, pinning me against the brick wall fencing the lighthouse. He slightly parts my legs as he moves closer to stand between them. I can feel him against me; his beating heart pounds through my shirt. The intense charge between us almost palpable, making my every molecule melt.

As he lifts his head to look into my eyes I move my mouth closer toward his with intent to take the lead, but he slightly shifts his face away to the other side of my neck and anxiously kisses me there. _That seemed deliberate. Is he avoiding my mouth?_

He halts unexpectedly to look at me. Holding my chin in his hand he slowly tilts my face so my eyes are even with his. I wait impatiently.

"I don't do relationships," he says in a low, rough voice. His face is composed, though his eyes are narrow and grave.

_That's something I didn't anticipate_ , but with my initial plan, and all of these hormones taking the better of me, "Me neither," I whisper. "Don't stop."

He seems rattled. _I guess he didn't expect my response either_. When what I've just said seems to register he grabs me by my hips, pulls me up and turns to lean me against the lighthouse's inner wall, pressing me with his body's weight to the cold concrete. The attraction that was charging between us is finally released and we are drawn to each other in an impulsive rush. I wrap my legs around his hips; he quickly unzips my pullover, pushing aside the fabric. His mouth moves to kiss my cleavage. His other hand finds its way beneath my t-shirt, stroking my skin. I kiss the nape of his neck, inhaling his musky male scent. My blood warms in my veins; I want him so much I can hardly think straight.

"Could you grab the condom from my front pocket?" he whispers in my ear, the sound of his hoarse voice making the simple words so promising. As I hand him the small silver package, he releases me for what feels like the longest, most anticipated, and excruciating few seconds I have ever felt. He unbuttons my jeans and helps me out. I kick my shoes aside. He lifts me again, my legs enfolding him as he takes me in a sharp move; and we're all anxious strokes, frantic hands, consuming mouths, darting gazes and gasps. The combination of the heat he radiates on me and in me with the cold wall against my back overwhelms me. I kiss the scar on his eyebrow as he accelerates his pace, making us both pant for air, short anxious groans escaping our mouths. His lips are back on my neck, his hand behind me, pulling me closer to him; I wrap my legs tighter and tighter, and with his last deepest thrust we both cum together, exhaling rapidly.

He puts me down right after, makes sure I'm stable and immediately pulls his pants up and turns to stand by my side. He leans on the wall, his head back, pensive.

"Always be prepared," I murmur.

He chuckles and raises his hand in a Boy Scout salute.

"You? Seriously, Daniel Stark?"

He shakes his head with a slim, wicked smile. "On the contrary, juvenile delinquent would suit me better," he mutters and his lips twist to a full mischievous smirk. We both laugh, releasing the tension between us as we do. Too quickly his smile is lost as he dryly says, "We should get going." He adjusts his shirt, running a hand through his hair.

_Wham bam thank you ma'am_ , is what comes to my mind as I put my shoes back on. _Isn't this exactly what I wanted, planned? Emotions aside... "Me neither, don't stop," ring a bell?_ But why does it feel so different with him, so confusing and upsetting? I feel so empty inside all of a sudden. I should be amused by this. _I don't feel. I mustn't_. That's how it always was and yet with him it's different somehow.

We climb back down in chilled silence, only the sound of our steps echoing through the stillness. He opens the car door for me, avoiding any eye contact. Bringing the car back to life, he sends a quick glimpse my way. There is a bothered look in his eyes that I find hard to interpret. He appears to be slightly confused. _So am I_. I think about how he couldn't wait to get back right after our deed, and how disturbingly apparent it was that he deliberately avoided kissing me on the mouth. All of a sudden he is so distant, it seems like the person sitting next to me is a complete stranger, who doesn't even resemble the one I've just spent time with. He acted so into me, so warm and interested. Now he's shutting down, like he can't wait to get away from me.

He turns the volume up, allowing the music to break the silence between us. It feels like the temperature in the car has just dropped to freezing.

Reaching my building, Daniel parks the car as near to the entrance as possible. I momentary look at him sitting next to me stiffly, his face flat.

"Good night, Daniel," I say quietly, thinking it'll probably be the last thing I ever tell him.

"Good night, Hayley," he sighs, seeming somewhat troubled.

I step out of the car, closing the door behind me, walking rapidly toward the lobby, not looking back.

~~~

At half past four a.m., I still toss and turn in bed, reprocessing how quickly he'd changed from, "Meet me now, H," soft eyes, and intense gazes, holding my hand at every opportunity, to "I don't do relationships." And then that introversion and avoidance. He couldn't look me directly in the eyes. And why the hell didn't he kiss me? I couldn't have been more implicit. _Well, I guess I'll never know_.

In the comfort of my room, in front of god, myself, and my immaculate collection of shoes, I declare tonight the swan song of my sordid lifestyle. No more. I am not marching on that path, _ever again_.

It takes me quite a while to fall asleep, and then I am haunted by flashbacks of our recent "date" in my dreams.

## Chapter 8: Mixed Messages

I am awakened by an escalating knocking sound that has merged into my dream for the last few seconds, _or was it minutes_? Forcing my eyes open, I'm completely disoriented. _What's the time?_ Those knocks are loud and persistent now. I finally manage to comprehend that there's someone at the door. "Hold on, one moment, coming," I call out as I put on my pullover, the one from last night; it has a faint Daniel smell on it, which irritates me in a self-deprecating way.

I am surprised to find a uniformed DHL delivery guy standing at our doorstep.

"Delivery for Miss Hayley Grace," he utters in an official voice.

"That would be me." I try to smile over a yawn, though I find it hard having just jumped out of bed after a terrible night's sleep.

"Sign here, please." He hands me his PDA.

"Here you go," he says, handing me a relatively large, black, rectangular gift box. "Have a nice day."

Taking the package from him I can see that there is an imprint on top. I study the gold engraved letters closely. "Donna Karan," it reads. I stare at the case, utterly bewildered. _What the hell?_ With curiosity, cautiously, as though it were made out of some exquisite crystal, I place the matte black box on the kitchen counter. As I lift the cover of the box my eyes rest upon a soft black satin cocktail dress nestled in delicate ivory paper. On top of the dress rests a small golden envelope. I open the envelope and my eyes reflexively jump to the signature: DS. Absolutely rattled, thinking about how we parted just a few hours ago, far from having an idea of what to make of it, I read the note.

Sweet Hayley,

Would you be my plus one at a Stark Software fundraising event on Friday? It's for a good cause...

DS

P.S. The red sneakers will have to stay at home.

I sink onto one of the barstools trying to make sense of the dress, of the invitation, of the man I had sex with last night, _or was it today_? I haven't got the slightest idea what to think of it all. No idea what he wants from me or why, but one thing is certain—he's a mystery of mixed messages and multiple personalities. _Way too much for now. I need coffee first, a double..._

With a need to put the thought of Daniel aside, and the sooner the better, I hide the gift box under my bed and turn to start my morning. I fix myself that much needed quadruple-shot espresso and lock myself in my room to work on my sketching. The Killers playing in the background do great job helping me focus.

A few hours later I get distracted by a text message.

Tasha: Got the job, on my way back, Heart ya.

Oh, now my best friend is going to work for him. This cannot get any better.

With Tasha's text in mind I realize I haven't confirmed the second meeting at _YOU_ and quickly send a thank-you email confirming the date. _It's the same day as the fundraising gala,_ I think idly.

My phone vibrates again. This time it's a call. I pick it up, annoyed by the continued disturbance. _What's now?_

"Hello" I answer.

"Are we still on for tonight?" My forehead creases.

"Who is it?" I ask, not sure who I supposedly have plans with tonight.

"Are you double-booking dates on me, H? That's cruel." _H? It's Daniel._ An involuntary smile spreads on my lips as the info sinks in. "Do we have plans for tonight?" I honestly don't recall any plans that we set for this evening. And frankly, after yesterday...

"Oh, that's really cruel, I clearly remember that you agreed to watch a movie with me tonight. Didn't you?"

"Daniel, you mixed up day and night, yesterday and today. I can't follow it anymore."

He laughs and repeats, "Are we on for tonight?"

Completely disregarding the bright red warning signs flashing in my head, too quickly ignoring how he made me feel just a few hours ago, knowing he's nothing but bad news, I still agree. Inwardly cursing this damn attraction.

"Would you like me to pick you up?" he asks in a softer, coaxing tone, every bit the wooer.

"It'll have to be a late show. I'm kind of busy until later tonight."

"It'll be at my house, so we can watch it whenever we want."

_Oh, your house._ "Then you don't have to bother, I can get there by myself."

"It's no trouble, Hayley," he tries again.

"That's okay. Really, there's no need." I insist and apparently manage to convince him. _I'd much rather have an option to run away..._

"I'll text you the address later."

"One thing, Daniel," I say. "How did you know my dress size?"

"I did feel you up last night, didn't I?" The jibe stings.

_Thank you, higher power, that we're on the phone right now, and he can't see my reaction_. I feel my face burn up in flames.

"Miss Grace, you seemed so much more talkative a few minutes ago. Have you lost your words now, or do you need a moment?"

_Jerk._ I snicker. "No, Daniel, I don't. And thank you for the dress."

"Does that mean you'll accompany me to the fundraiser?"

"Let's talk about it tonight, shall we?" _With you, I prefer to gauge which way the wind blows first, before committing further._

"I will do my best to include talking," he replies and chuckles. _Cocky assumptions, D._

"Mr. Stark, I apologize for my interruption, but you're already ten minutes late, and everyone's waiting for you in the oval room," I hear a hesitant female voice urging him. "Why are you bothering me when I'm on an important call? For god's sake, Anne." There's a short pause. "I'll be there shortly," he grunts.

_She's just doing her job!_ I frown from afar.

"So, Hayley, see you tonight?" his voice soft and calm again.

"See you tonight, Daniel." I hang up. _Try not to decapitate anyone at work, psycho!_ I turn the music up to try to stop myself from thinking about him, _again_ , and return to my sketching.

"Honey, I'm home, hide the milkman." Tasha's cheerful voice comes from the entry hall. I look up at the window, and it's dark already. _How long was I disconnected in here?_

"What time is it?" I ask Tasha as I join her in the living room.

"Seven. What have you been up to, Missy?"

If you only knew...

"I got it," she hugs me, her smile broad.

"I am so happy for you," I mirror her contagious smile, admiring the way her gray suit compliments her. "What position is it? When do you start?"

"Wine?" she asks heading toward the kitchen, I follow her bouncy, silky ponytail.

"No, I'm driving later," I mutter casually.

"Oh really? Where to, exactly?" She turns to face me, wearing an inquisitive/teasing expression.

"Watch a movie... with Daniel," I say, trying to sound casual, knowing this will have to be much elaborated shortly.

Her lips pull up into an I-knew-it smug smile. "It'll be in their R&D department as a project manager." Her smile becomes so sincere it makes me sigh in contentment, utterly happy for her.

"It's the position you wanted. That's so great. And when do you start?"

"Tomorrow." She grins wider and raises her wine glass as she does.

"To you, dear." I salute back.

"I need you to promise me one thing, Hales," she says in a coaxing tone.

"Anything for you, as long as I can and it's legal." I nod assurance. "Or as long as we can hide the evidence."

She smiles.

"There's a fundraising event this Friday, and since I don't know anyone at the company yet, and I'd much rather not bring a date... to keep my options open, you know." She winks at me and continues, "Can you be my plus one?"

_Two invitations to the same event in less than a few hours. Boy, do I feel popular_. "What about Ian?" I try.

"Already tried. He has a family thing he can't get out of."

I bite my lip, considering what to tell her.

"What is it, Hales? Spill it." Her eyes search mine.

"I think I'm going to be Daniel's plus one at that event," I answer in a low, tentative voice. _And now is the time to start elaborating_.

"You think?" Her eyes zoom in on mine, assessing. I bob my head.

"Holy fuck, seriously?"

_Wait till you see the dress_. "What happened to holy heavens, Miss Taylor?"

"Come on Hales, this totally requires a holy fuck. After all, he isn't exactly the dating type, at least according to gossips-R-us." We both laugh.

As our laughs subside I take a deep breath and say, "Follow me. There's something I need to show you."

"What's that? You secretive little thing."

I grin at her with a cryptic look and lead her to my bedroom.

"Holy mother of fuck!" she exclaims when I show her the dress, making me giggle louder. "Oh no, Miss Taylor, that language again. Do you want me to make you wash that filthy little mouth out with soap?"

Disregarding me, she starts a third-degree interrogation. I fill her in, though I leave out the parts that make me feel bad about myself, about Daniel. I really don't feel like getting into that just before meeting him again.

"So you slept with him, you s..."

"Hey." I cut her off before she continues, feigning a threatening stare that she dismisses with an impish smile.

"I was going to say super lucky..." She blinks twice, utterly amused. I snort out a short giggle, rolling my eyes.

"Super lucky slut," she murmurs and we both break into laughter.

As our elated gasps finally lessen, Tasha probes, "And?"

I cock my head questioningly.

"How was it?" she asks, the joy in her eyes still intact.

I smirk.

"That good?" Her lips stretch to mirror mine.

"Oh, so much better..."

## Chapter 9: Repetitive Emotional Stress Injury

Bathed, relaxed and perfumed I get dressed, wearing my worn blue jeans and a baby pink top. I pick up my leather riding jacket and check out the address Daniel sent me earlier today. He forgot to mention the house number so I call him. Sounding busy, he just gives me the number and is gone. My navigator shows that the ride shouldn't take more than twenty minutes. _Twenty minutes?_ It took Daniel much less than ten minutes to reach my house yesterday. _Well, guess that makes sense given his car and the way he drives._

"I'm leaving." I poke my head into Tasha's room; she steps over to hug me.

Resting her palm above my heart, she says in a serious, caring and overly dramatic voice, "Keep this whole, Hales. Please do, for me."

_She knows me too well_. I hug her tight.

"I'll do my best." I nod reassuringly, blow her an airy kiss and turn toward the door. "He might be the divine being of Stark Software or not, I really don't care, but I will still kick his butt if he hurts you," she calls after me. I laugh and lock the door as I go.

The traffic is light. I navigate through the city streets with one of my earphones playing The Pixies in my helmet. The music and the night's calm ambiance set me in a relaxed mood, surprisingly far more relaxed than I anticipated I would be just before meeting Daniel again. I slow the scooter down before the first speed bump at the entryway of the scenic path leading to "Seacliff," Daniel's neighborhood. I've passed by this area before but never took the time to actually admire the view of these peaceful streets located just above sea level. The streets are an impressive blend of landscaped flora and Spanish-style luxury estates. The address Daniel provided me is for one of the estates on the streets with a view of the Pacific Ocean. I halt beside a wide, high fence that surrounds what seems to be endless land. Two security cameras slowly adjust to focus on me as I buzz the intercom.

"Hey, Haley. Follow the main road till you come to the house." Daniel's husky voice guides me behind the monitor.

The electronic gates open, allowing me entrance to the estate. _Wow, this property is enormous_. The scooter rolls for a few short minutes on the split-brick drive till I reach a one-story Spanish style house with beige stucco exteriors and curved terracotta roof tiles, quite modest when compared with its neighboring mansions. Given the car and the vast land Daniel owns I idly think how the interior must be decorated with nothing but high-class furniture and fixtures.

Daniel waits for me by the open door in jeans and a dark gray tee, his damp hair in a crazy mess, as if he's just gotten out of the shower. _Daniel in the shower_... He looks almost illegally dazzling.

"Cool scooter. Didn't know you were a biker." He chuckles in a fond manner.

I fake a frown and reply, "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Mr. Stark."

Nearing me, he hugs me and I am bathed in a fresh, seductive Daniel smell. He stretches his hand out to hold my chin, tilting my head up to face him. _Finally_ , I think.

"Drop it with the Mr. Stark. You lost your right to call me that when you rejected my job offer," he says in a semi hard voice, and caresses my chin with his thumb. I beam.

"Point taken, Mr. Daniel."

He chuckles, sliding one of my curls between his finger and thumb, studying it for a prolonged moment. "Let's get inside."

I'm surprised by the interior of the house; it's very different than what I expected. It's so homey and simple, decorated in natural colors, nothing too stylish or too modern. Plainly, I love it.

"This is _my_ humble casa." He smiles, using the same words I used to describe my apartment yesterday.

_Yesterday?_ It seems like ages ago.

"Would you like the grand tour?" Daniel suggests. Soft hazel eyes stare at me expectantly.

"Of course I would." _After all, it's not every day I'm invited to Daniel Stark's home._

"The living room," he says, referring to the room we're currently in. His hand on my lower back makes it hard for me to concentrate on anything. Soft light coming from a few standing lamps sets gives the room a calm feel. In the middle of the ample space lies an oversized L-shaped cream sofa with two wide brown leather recliners by its side. A low dark auburn coffee table occupies the area beside the sofa, positioned firmly over a thick orange shag rug. A large flat screen TV is on the front wall; on the adjacent one is a contemporary tile fireplace. I take in the room and can't help but admire what I see. It oozes coziness.

"Kitchen." Daniel tilts his chin, directing my attention to a vast but minimal, stainless steel and dark mahogany kitchen with a long eat-in island and eight red barstools. The kitchen looks impeccably clean—I would even say clinically clean. Taking my hand in his, Daniel leads me to a wide corridor that ends in doors to three different rooms. I enjoy the touch of his skin on mine, especially as his thumb lightly grazes the palm of my hand. The first door opens to a fully-equipped gym, with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. The second is a state-of-the-art game room that wouldn't disgrace any commercial arcade hall. Daniel squeezes my hand softly, directing me back to the hall. The last door we stop at leads to a home cinema room with two rows of four black leather theater loungers positioned on a dark gray, almost black, wall-to-wall carpet, facing a screen that covers the entire front wall.

He runs his other hand through his damp hair making it messier than it already is. Contemplating something for a moment, he looks somewhat lost, as though having an internal debate. I observe him from the side. _What would that debate be about?_ He shakes his head and, linking my hand in his, leads me to the opposite side of the house. We return through the hall in comfortable silence. When we pass the living room, there's another corridor, shorter than the one we've just walked through. This one leads to two huge rooms: one is Daniel's office, decorated in warm brown furniture that contrasts with the sheer white, bare walls. There are more than four active monitors on a massive computer table, making me think I've stepped inside a war room. The room next to the office is his master bedroom; I contemplate whether it's the size of our entire apartment. There's a natural wood king-sized bed in the middle of the room, one of the largest beds I've ever seen. I think how it would feel to lie here next to him on the same bed, feeling sweet warmth swim through me.

And then another thought crosses my mind, bothering me: who's been sleeping with him in this bed? I'm not sure what disturbs me more, the fact that he's had someone here or the fact that it bothers me more than I care to admit. Back to the present, I admire how the room seems to exude a sense of ease and serenity with its cream-colored walls and the spectacular panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean through the floor to ceiling windows.

"It's amazing, Daniel. I love it." I can't hide the thrill entwined with my appreciation. "Though I must say, it seems gigantic for only one person."

Daniel mutters quietly, "Bet it does." He takes a deep breath. "There's one last part I want to show you. Come with me." He holds my hand more firmly, lacing his long fingers with mine, making me shiver ever so slightly at the currents his touch causes in me as he leads us outside. From the illumination of scattered garden lights in the evening darkness I can see the patio with a swimming pool, and a hot tub on a wooden deck. In the near distance, opposite the swimming pool, there are two guesthouses. But the most impressive part is the ocean view. It's unlike any other place in the city, and is utterly breathtaking.

"Overwhelming," I compliment him, taken aback by everything I've seen.

"Thanks." He runs his fingers through my hair, caressing my cheek, and smiles.

These affectionate gestures again, I just hope their opposite siblings will not rear their hurtful heads also tonight.

"Now, let's get snacks." His lips quirk to a smile and he directs me back to the house, never releasing his grip of my hand. I can sense his stare on me as we walk side by side, talking about everything and nothing.

Daniel places a popcorn bag into the microwave. While we wait, he asks me what I would like to drink.

"So, about that fund raising event, Hayley. How about it? Will you be my plus one?"

_Why wouldn't you call it a date?_ The formality itches.

"Won't you be occupied? It's an event you're hosting, correct?"

"No. My company hosts the event," he sighs, scratching his temple, his eyes moving from me to the microwave and back. "I'm not so keen about these events. Don't get me wrong, I do highly appreciate what they stand for, and the outcome, but I could live without all the attention. You'd be welcome entertainment," he says, smiling, tilting his head. Some strands of his hair rise up and stay that way. It enhances his rugged look, and I like every bit of it.

"I usually let my people be in the spotlight and stay back," he adds.

I like the sound of this; it warms my heart, this humble layer of him again.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Penetrating hazel eyes searching mine.

"I like the fact that you don't enjoy the spotlight," I say quietly. "I thought you'd be different," I add.

"Different how?"

"Good different," I mumble, looking at him under my lashes.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Hayley." He regards me with a heartwarming smile. The microwave beeps.

"Here, hold the sodas." Handing me two bottles, he grabs the popcorn from the microwave with one hand and a family-sized pack of M&Ms in the other. I smirk; he looks almost boyish, carrying all this junk disguised as food.

"What kind of movies do you prefer?" he asks as we walk slowly toward the cinema room.

"I have varied taste when it comes to movies. I like almost any genre," I answer thoughtfully.

"How about some drama for this evening?"

_Please no drama this evening, I had enough the last time_. "Drama sounds great." I award him with a slim smile. He smiles back, the little scar on his lip teasing me as he does. _So we're actually going to watch a movie. I definitely cannot read you, D_. I take off my jacket and slide into the cushioned lounger. Daniel, already comfortably slouched in the lounger next to me, drinks in my every move.

"I'm ready." I grin at him; his lips curve and his eyes turn somewhat intense.

_Ready to watch a movie, that is_. "What are we watching?"

" _Blood Diamond_ ," he answers, eyes still stripping me. "It's pretty old. I haven't had the chance to see it, but it comes highly recommended, and you can never really fail with DiCaprio."

"I can't disagree with that," I murmur and swallow hard, tense till he finally moves his predatory gaze away from me.

Daniel points the remote at the screen and it comes to life as the lights slowly dim out.

"Popcorn?" he asks, tilting the bag toward me.

"M&Ms, please." I beam at him. The amused stretch of his lips widens as he hands me the bag. I sink deeper in the comfortable embrace of the chair and rest my left hand on the sofa's arm. Soon Daniel covers it with his, lightly caressing. As a response to his touch my body inevitably trembles slightly.

"Are you cold?" he asks, husky and low.

On the contrary, my body's reaction to your touch, sir, is far from being anywhere near cold.

"A little. I have my jacket," I say, reaching for the oh-so unnecessary cover.

"I have a better suggestion." His eyes twinkle in the faint light of the screen. "Come over, sit next to me. I'll keep you warm."

My heart tightens at the thought of what lies under these promising words. Breath is trapped in my throat as I stand up to sit next to him. _Perhaps we won't watch this movie after all._

He shifts to accommodate enough space for me next to him, and I find myself lying by his side, his arm embracing me, my face comfortably resting on his firm chest, my leg on his. I am thoroughly cradled by him in this sweet darkness.

Daniel's hand strokes my arm while we pretend to watch the movie. It's too hard to concentrate in this tense proximity. I can feel his warmth, enriched with his intoxicatingly scented breath softly hovering over my face. All I yearn for is his lips to connect with mine. I tilt my head up to level with his stare; he inclines his face, his eyes drop to my lips for a fleeting moment, somewhat hesitant, and come back up to meet mine. At the encounter our eyes immediately lock, and the charge between us rapidly intensifies. He moves his hand to stroke my face, very gently starting from my cheekbone and slowly descending toward my neck. Everything beneath my navel churns with anticipation.

Daniel's stare dims, full of feral promise, as he keeps on descending his stroking hand toward my cleavage, moving farther south to my breast, all the while his eyes on mine, seeking consent. His touch is getting more intense; I swallow hard; my body responds to him with keenness by arching to press deeper against him.

When his hand reaches my belt, he slides it under my top, gently grazing my skin with his fingers, raising tiny bumps all over. I am melting into his touch. Moving down again, he slides his hand under my belt and lowers it toward my underwear. I hold my breath as his warm touch reaches under the delicate satin fabric; heat waves flush through me from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. Pressing harder against my skin his hand descends, instigating a sweet, sweet pain.

He bends his head toward me and his lips halt at my neck, kissing it with warm, seductive, saturated kisses. He gradually moves his hand back and presses it flat against my waist, turning on his side, lying parallel to me, minimizing the gap between us. I slant my head to look at him, and our breaths blend. His face is lightly flushed, his eyes narrow, dilated pupils deepening his stare.

"Why won't you kiss me?" I breathe quietly, looking at him under my lashes.

"I don't kiss if I don't mean it." His voice is cold, cutting hard through me.

_What do you mean by that?_ I shrug inside, feeling as though a bucket of ice cold water was just brutally spilled over me, in one stroke killing the build up to this moment.

I look at him with a mixture of astonishment and fury. He acts like he's all into me and then come these wounding words.

"What do you want from me, Daniel?" I ask, choking, very, very close to standing up and walking away.

"I don't know," he says, resting his head back with closed eyes, his face troubled.

"For a very determined man you don't seem too decisive to me," I say quietly, frustrated. "Is it anything specific about me?" I ask. "I'd be more than fine with the knowledge that all you want is to fuck me, though you sure have a strange way of showing it," I continue, as anger takes the better of me.

"No, it's not you." He frowns at me and continues. "The thing is that I'm accustomed to something completely different." I look at him absolutely puzzled, waiting for some sort of blessed elaboration to come, as I have no idea what the hell he's talking about. "I haven't dated anyone for a very long time now," he says.

"Is it by choice? Were you abstaining?" I ask, still perplexed. It doesn't seem like _he_ would have a hard time finding dates.

"Oh no, I don't. On the contrary. I see only professionals."

I gawk at him in complete dismay, trying hard to make sense of what he just said. _The hell?_

"Call girls, Hayley. Very expensive ones, who never misinterpret 'no strings attached', and _no,_ I don't kiss them," he retorts.

_I'm not a call girl, so why won't you kiss me?_ This is getting too hurtful; I'm getting more genuinely upset with every passing moment. There is a rapidly expending lump forming at the bottom of my throat. I thought I would be immune to him just like I was with all of his predecessors, but I'm not. _Who am I kidding? I am so far from that_. In the very short time we've known each other he's managed to get under my skin, which allows him to hurt me like he just did.

I inch myself upright, and he studies me attentively, waiting for me to make a move or speak.

"I can't do this, Daniel," I murmur under my breath, grabbing my jacket. "I thought I could, but it seems I can't."

"Don't, Hayley. Come back and lie next to me," he says, his tone low and frustrated. He extends a hand toward me, but in mid-reach retrieves it to rest it on his thigh.

"And do what, Daniel? Fuck again and end up feeling empty and hurt by your reaction? You'll just send all these mixed messages and play with my brain. No thank you, I'll pass." My eyes direct fire his way.

He looks at me like he's irritated or a tad dismayed, biting the side of his thumb.

"I am not a call girl; I am not here to entertain you as you please."

"I never said you were one, Hayley." His voice becomes cold and hoarse.

"No Daniel, you didn't, but you just made me feel like one." I snort. _"I don't kiss if I don't mean it,"_ jumps to my mind again, burning deep inside. I stand up and take a deep breath. "I'm leaving now." Against my will, my words come out weak.

"Don't, Hayley," he says, and tries to take my hand.

"Sorry, this is too much for me." I hold my hands up. "I seriously thought I could handle it, could handle you, but I can't." He appears to be highly effected but at this point I really don't care how he feels or what he thinks.

"I'll walk you to the door," he utters, half to me, half to himself.

"Don't bother," I murmur, and yet he does. We walk through the corridor in mortifying silence, and it seems like with every step the wall between us grows higher. When we get to the door, he hugs me and inclines his head, resting his forehead on mine, his eyes studying me. Again these acts of affection _. I can't do this._

"Bye, Daniel." I pull myself out of his embrace and our connection.

"Don't go, Hayley... or at least let me drive you back. It's too late and too cold."

"I'm a big girl. Believe me, I can manage without you." I can't wait to get out of here and away from him. "Goodbye," I snap and storm out. By the light coming from the house I know that he's standing there looking at me, but I don't give a damn; I just can't wait to get away.

My mind is in such turmoil all the way home, all I want to do is get into my bed and sleep off the evening. I don't even want to think about it, about him.

Utterly consumed by my irritation and my thoughts, I look ahead, without really seeing the road. Tearing me out of my thoughts, the scooter jerks beneath me and in less than a heartbeat my body comes in contact with hard asphalt.

I am frozen.

For a few minutes I lie on my side, hurt, shaken, and muddled, till everything around me dims.

~~~

Bright light prompts my eyelids to flutter, and I try to force them open as I hear a voice gently saying my name.

"Miss Grace. Hayley." A nurse with big, soft, blue eyes smiles warmly down at me.

"Hayley." A raspy, familiar voice comes from my other side. With a speeding heart and spiked nerves, I reflexively pivot to search for the man behind the voice. As a reaction to my hasty movement, sharp throbbing envelops my head. Daniel's eyes meet mine and narrow; he bites his lip, grimacing at the twitch of pain that crosses my face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice low, filled with worry.

For a silent second of eternity, I just look at him as he studies me with concern. Disregarding his question, I break our tense connection and return to face the nurse. Answering my apparent confusion, she explains that, as it seemed, I crashed the scooter. She adds that it was probably due to an oil stain or a small rock. I take a deep breath, processing this surreal craziness I've found myself in.

"You were lucky enough to get out of it with just a couple of bruises," the nurse says as she presses a button, inclining my bed to an almost sitting position. She adjusts my pillow and offers me a glass of water. I take a few sips, still scattered, quenching my thirst while I listen to her.

Many questions run through my mind, but they all turn into one. _What is he doing here?_

"We'll keep you here for a couple of hours just to make sure you're fine, and if everything is okay, you'll be able to go home." She glances at Daniel and back at me. To my continuing silence she says, "Your scooter was brought in by Mr. Stark." She tilts her chin toward Daniel.

The nurse rests her comforting hand on my shoulder. "I'll be back with Dr. Spencer shortly. Try to rest." Her smile is kind, genuine.

"I'll leave you two alone." She starts toward the door. As soon as she turns her back, I feel Daniel's warm hand covering mine. Slowly, I turn my head to face him, pulling away slightly. Sensing my recoil, he tightens his grip.

"How?" is all I manage to say before he answers my question.

"They called me. Apparently I was the last number on your call list." He squeezes my palm again. I slip my hand out of his grip; a pulse of heat keeps radiating where his skin just touched mine. He twists his mouth but doesn't say a word, his stare a mixture of worry and muddled emotions.

"Are you hurting? Are you okay?" His eyes run over my face.

I nod, not even sure how I feel, and quietly say, "Thank you for bringing my scooter. I don't want to sound ungrateful, but please leave..."

"Hayley..." His dense voice is tinged with frustration.

_I don't need your pity, I don't need your help, I don't need you here. I. Don't. Need. You. You made your point earlier, loud and clear_. I shake my head, swallowing the pain this simple action causes.

"Hayley, I want to be..."

I cut him mid-sentence, slightly raising my hand, "Just leave..." My words are a sigh.

"I wanted to make sure you were fine," Daniel says solemnly, captivating my eyes, holding my gaze for a long moment. I tear my stare away; my eyes remain downcast as I slowly shake my head. He lets out a frustrated sigh and turns on his heels, stepping out of the room, not before sending a last grim glance my way.

Till I am allowed to go home, I spend the time feeding my hurt ego and confused mind with visions from that night.

## Chapter 10: Blast Effect

The smell of fresh brewed coffee teases my nose, encouraging me to wake up. I fetch my phone to check what time it is, and as the phone restarts an unread text message pops onto the screen. I minimize it, deliberately disregarding it, guessing who it's from. _It is barely eight thirty, I have plenty of time_. I don't have to be at work before noon.

Halfway through getting dressed, I check the bruises on my hip, the only visible evidence from the newly named "night to be forgotten." On the spot, I decide not to tell Tasha, Ian or anyone else for that matter about the accident. The last thing I want is to be preached to about the scooter and safety.

Walking into the kitchen, I find it empty, and I recall that it's Tasha's first day at work. _She must have left already_. I go back to get my phone from the room then turn the coffee machine on, letting it heat up. Popping an Advil to kill the remnants of a headache, I dial Tasha's number.

"Hey you," her cheerful voice greets me.

"Hey, working girl."

"Remarkable choice of words, Missy," she chuckles. _The irony stings..._

"Are you there already?"

"Just arrived. Going to see your new BFF Mrs. Greenich."

"Make sure to send her all my love when you see her." We both snicker.

"I'll call you later, Hales, okay? After I've settled in."

"Okay. Knock em' dead."

"Rest assured, I will." _I'm sure you will_. Through her giggles she says goodbye.

Back at the kitchen I make myself a mug of dark coffee and head back to bed. Placing the coffee on my nightstand, I turn on the laptop and position it on my lap. As it comes to life I browse through the news and check my inbox. There's an email from Daniel. I look at the unread mail with mixed emotions, mostly anger, but my curiosity overcomes me.

Curiosity, Hales? Ask the cat how well it worked for him...

Hayley,

You didn't reply to my text last night and got me worried. Hope you arrived safely after all and that you're well.

I never planned for last night to end like it did.

Let's talk.

DS

I can't deal with him right now; I don't want to deal with him right now. I close my laptop and head to the shower.

~~~

The time at work barely passes; each time I check the clock the minute hand seems stuck at the same angle. The phone hardly rings and there aren't too many requirements for my assistance. Even Mrs. Never Got Laid seems mellow, definitely not her usual cruel self. I'm bored, looking at the PC in front of me; I chuckle inwardly and Google "Psychopathic Characteristics."

About 121,000,000 results in less than 0.24 seconds

**Signs of irrational thinking** : _Check_

**Nervousness or neurotic manifestations** : _Check_

**Unreliability** : _Check_

**Lack of remorse or shame** : _Check_

**Antisocial behavior without apparent compunction** : _Check_

**Poor judgment and failure to learn from experience** : _Check_

**Pathological egocentricity and incapacity for empathy** : _Check_

**Frantic and inadequate behavior** : _Check_

And we have a match!

I decide that now's as good a time as ever to answer _him_.

Daniel,

I'm sure you didn't plan for last night to end like it did. Neither did I, but that doesn't change what happened.

I don't believe there's anything left to talk about; you made it quite clear what you have in mind and what you don't, which is absolutely fine. I believe we're looking for very different things.

Don't stress about it, D. It was a pleasure knowing you.

Hayley

As soon as I sign it I send my response, making sure I won't be able to retract or rewrite it. About a short office conversation and a coffee later I receive a reply.

Dear Hayley,

I'm glad to learn that you're well and alive.

Stop acting like a kid and let's talk.

Daniel

I tuck the phone irritably in my back pocket.

~~~

I'm so glad at Tasha's return that evening, and I feel the sheer gratitude of having an in-house shoulder to cry on, a partner in crime, a soul mate.

"Honey, I'm home, hide the milkman." Her voice drastically elevates my mood.

"In here," I call, and she pops her head in my room, grinning at me.

"Join me at the royal dining room?"

"But of course." I too easily leave my artwork and join her in the kitchen.

"Wine?" she asks.

"By all means, yes, and keep 'em coming." I'm rewarded by a full-blown smile and an arched eyebrow.

"How was your first day at kindergarten?" I watch her eagerly pour the wine into two tall glasses.

"Better than I expected," she responds, taking a sip of her chardonnay as she hands me mine. She kicks her black stilettos aside.

"Cheers, dear. To new kick-ass careers." I lift my glass to hers, leaning my hip against the counter.

"Everyone was welcoming and helpful. The group of people I will work with are nice, and they all seem to be friendly, which is a good thing. It'll be a nice group to work with," she says, as she settles herself parallel to me behind our kitchen counter.

"So what's wrong, Hales?" Her expression changes, her mouth becoming a thin line. Her eyes narrow, scrutinizing me as she confronts me.

"What do you mean?" Gloom falls over me once I realize I'll eventually have to talk about how I really feel.

"What do I mean?" She repeats my own words, scornfully, tapping her fingers against the surface of the counter. She seems to be assessing her thoughts before she mutters.

"You tell me," She huffs. "Any idea why Daniel bothered to pay me a visit _on my first day at work_ , all concerned and intimidating, just to find out whether my best friend was fine?" I take a way too generous a sip. A confusing mixture of joy and rage runs through me.

"Well, Missy, care to elaborate?" she probes, looking at me attentively above her glass.

I sigh. "Any chance you'll let this one pass by, for now? I really don't feel much like getting into it."

She scowls at me.

"At least not after just one glass." I shrug.

"Whatever works for you. I just hope you're fine." There is genuine compassion in her voice.

"Let's just put it this way: I'm not immune to him like I thought I would be, and I can't just go on like this."

"I would say this is by all means a first. That quick? You have feelings for him, don't you?" We both know very well that this is a rhetorical question.

"I had to find the one person who is this emotionally unstable to get attached to." I twist my lips. "He's Prince Charming and King Henry VIII in one irresistibly hot body."

"That bad, hmmm?"

"Worse," I reply in defeat.

"And what now? Are we moping?"

"We most definitely are not. Now we go out and I get drunk." I grin at her.

"Can we stay in and get drunk? I won't have the strength to carry you home later after this very long day, and Ian is yet again doing some miserable bastard that will wake up broken-hearted by the conquering Ian-ness." We both crack up.

"Then staying home and getting drunk it is." I nod.

~~~

Around midnight, tipsy with the wine I've consumed, I lie in my bed wide-awake, thinking about him. His concerned eyes as he looked at me in the hospital come back to haunt me. I take my laptop and type the words "Daniel Stark" and "dates," in the Google browser, choosing the images option. I'm taken aback by the photos that appear on the screen. All are pictures from different events; none of them are a simple day-to-day picture. In all of them Daniel looks his stunning self, though dressed up mostly in smart suits. All of the women by his side look as though they were taken out of glossy magazines, magazines that do not refrain from massive usage of airbrush: perfect bodies, perfect hair and perfect, plastic smiles. My heart sinks as I keep obsessing over these images. _I never stood a chance_ ; I know it deep inside now. I am not what he's looking for. _Are these all call girls? Were all these ladies paid to accompany him to events or is there more to the job description?_ I'm repulsed by the thought. _But who am I really kidding here_...

This is too disturbing; it bothers me on a level that overwhelms me; I close the screen and snuggle under my blanket, shutting my eyes tight, trying to push the images away and force myself to sleep.

## Chapter 11: YOU

"Are you coming with me tonight?" Tasha asks hesitantly, as we drink our morning coffee together. Her eyes run over my sleepy face as she waits for my reply.

"Don't know. I'm not certain how I feel about it," I reply tentatively. On one hand, I don't want to go and perhaps run into Daniel, and on the other hand a masochistic part of me wants to go, maybe even too much. Focusing my uncertainty on my mug, I run my finger over its round lip.

"Please, Hales, this would mean so much to me," she says, lacing her hands around her warm cup.

"I'm not sure I want to meet him." _And then again, perhaps being a good friend will justify going in my mind as a favor rather than my wish to see him_. I take a sip, looking at her as I do.

"You won't necessarily have to. There'll be about a few hundred people there tonight; you could very easily avoid him," she tries. "And everyone says it's supposed to be an amazing event. Please."

"Let's see how the day goes, shall we? And Tash, begging doesn't agree with you," I answer, hoping that my reply will satisfy her for now.

"So, what are you wearing to the meeting?" She changes the subject.

"I think I'll go with my usual. It's supposed to be a casual, laid-back place, so I heard. I believe my basic me will do the job."

Her face is light as she observes me. "Your basic you is more than enough. It's perfect."

I beam and send her a kiss through the air.

~~~

_YOU_ offices are located in the bay area, not far from the notorious Stark Software. _Will everything I do remind me of him?_ The thought irritates me.

"Hello." A young, pink-haired receptionist with too many eyebrow piercings greets me.

"Hello, I'm Hayley Grace. For Mr. Wilde." I smile, a smile that is left ignored.

"Josh's office is the last one to the left." She signals, tipping her chin forward toward a bright, sun-illuminated area consisting of about fifteen open spaces, floor-to-ceiling windows and a floor mosaic pattern in lively contrasting colors lamination.

Gathering that she won't accompany me to the room, I start walking toward the dark green door. This place has a style that's 60's retro yet modern chic; I admire the old framed ads covering the walls. The open space area seems to be deserted. It is noon though. My phone vibrates and I quickly retrieve it out of my deep purple Chanel-style bag. Checking the screen, I click on the envelope icon to find out that it's a message from Daniel. _Exactly what I needed right now_.

Daniel: Are you coming tonight?

_What do you think, genius_? I scowl at the phone. For a young, successful, so-called whiz kid he's not acting too bright. I tuck the phone back into my purse and decide to disregard it for now, though a small part of me is delighted that he still hasn't given up.

Knocking on the door in front of me, I hear a male voice on the other side telling me to come in.

"Hello, I'm Hayley Grace," I say to the person sitting behind a wide screen.

"Hello, Hayley." He stands up and walks over to me with a grin full of white teeth on his face. _This smile should come with a warning hazard sign: "use leaded glasses in case of direct exposure"._ He extends his hand for a shake. He's an athletic, handsome Ken doll. My private best friend Barbie, Natasha, would drool over him. Ken doll is checking me out, and I counter with a disturbed grin. _Not so professional, Ken_.

"Have a seat, Miss Grace." He gestures to an empty chair. I sit down and look around the room as I wait for him to sit as well. The walls are a subtle green tone; behind Josh's desk is a large framed poster of the movie _American Beauty._ The red of the scattered rose petals is enhanced by the background of the olive wall. To my right the wall is a scattered colorful collage of framed _YOU_ magazine covers.

"Do you like what you see?"

I'm a bit distracted by Ken doll's question.

"The magazine cover décor." His brows lift as he looks at the wall.

"Yes, I do. I like the style of this room and the offices." I take another glance at the room.

"Me too. So, Hayley, you'd like to be my assistant. I'm aware of the fact that you've already been accepted to _YOU_ , but I just thought we could meet before you actually begin."

"My assistant..."

"Yes, I'm interested in the position of assistant and content specialist," I answer, businesslike. His lips arch in a small curve as he skims through what looks like my résumé.

"You don't seem to have any prior experience at a magazine. What makes you think you'd be the right person for me, us?" His face shows delight as though he's amused by an in-joke.

"I do have some experience working at the university newspaper and I believe I would bring a different perspective." I square my shoulders. He cocks his head to the side and grins my way, widening his smile at the last part of my answer, waiting for me to go on.

"I like _YOU;_ I think it's fresh and, as opposed to some other magazines in your genre, it doesn't offend its readers by aiming low."

"Care to elaborate?" Josh says, looking intrigued. His disturbing smile is finally gone, meaning he's listening to what I have to say rather than just scrutinizing me. He straightens his posture as I proceed.

"I find the language to be rich." I inhale. "It seems to have legitimate and well-researched news rather than low level, eye catching yellow journalism for airhead teens." I play with the metallic band of my watch, sliding it around my wrist.

"That's one way to put it," he answers, pondering, then his lips curve up, pleased. "How would you feel about doing dull secretarial work?"

_Trying to scare me off, Ken?_ "As long as it's combined in equal measure with interesting creative tasks, I could live with it." I flash back a smug grin.

"I see," he murmurs, pensive. "How many hours a week can you work, Hayley? And what's your availability?"

He's pleased.

"I can start with seven hours a day for the next couple of months and then I'll be able to move to full time," I respond, looking at him, assessing if that's acceptable to him, and then I add, "In terms of availability, I could start tomorrow." I'm in a temporary contract with the insurance company; even a day's notice will be fine.

"So, can you start tomorrow at ten?" Ken doll asks with a promising smile.

"Of course. I would be delighted." I reciprocate with a nod.

"Then let's get to the essentials: job detail requirements, salary expectations, you know, the boring stuff," he says as he takes some papers out of one of his desk drawers.

"Anything to drink before we dig into the nitty-gritty"

"Soda?"

"Which?" He grins at me and opens the minibar next to his desk. It's packed with different soda cans.

"I already like this place."

He chuckles.

~~~

Leaving _YOU_ , I text Tasha, content.

Meeting went great am in such a good mood that I will go with u tonight.

Tasha: I heart U hard.

On the way home I have an inner debate about whether I should wear my new marvelous Donna Karan dress, or just give it back altogether. I wonder if Daniel picked it up himself. Maybe I shouldn't wear it since he gave it to me with the intent of wearing it while escorting him to the event. _"Escorting," how apt._

Daniel,

I'm not sure going to the event with you would be the right thing for me.

Hope you'll understand.

Perhaps we'll run into each other tonight.

H

I click send and Daniel replies immediately

Sweet H,

Too bad for me. Does that mean you'll be there tonight?

DS

DS,

Yes, I'll be Tasha's plus one.

H

Sweet H,

One lucky Natasha Taylor. Hope to have the chance to talk to you in person rather than this annoying form of communication.

DS

Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I excited about "perhaps meeting him"? Why do I smile like an idiot each time I get a new message from him? _Can't you see how wrong he is for you, Hales?_

~~~

"So, let's start getting ready." Tasha, lying next to me in my bed, playfully smacks my butt. "Will you be wearing your new dress?" she asks, a frisky expression on her beautiful face.

"I think I am. It would be a waste not to. After all, this'll probably be the only time I get to wear a dress like this." I beam back at her, excited. "Do you think I should just return it?"

She stares at me for a minute. "Nah..."

"In three, two, one... ready?" she asks, and then adds, joyful as a little kid, "I'm first in the shower."

"All yours, Missy. Would you do my make up?"

"Yep," she calls, on her way to the bathroom. _Just like freshman year all over again._

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I admire the overall look. I'm especially pleased with the dress: it fits me perfectly. It's a simple yet very elegantly-cut knee-length dress. Its sweetheart neckline enhances my breasts and I absolutely love it.

"Tash, would you do my makeup now?"

"Wow, look at _you!_ Love the dress, Hales," she says, her expression displaying high admiration.

"I like it too," I sing, pleased.

"Great job, Missy." I thank Tasha for her work on my face; she went with dramatic eyeshadow in glittering silver and a shiny reddish lip gloss.

"Turn around," she commands, and I comply. My wavy hair dances around my back.

"Hales, seriously, you look stunning. I think a certain Mr. Stark will be knocked out when he sees you."

I can't stop smirking. Deep in my heart I hope he will be.

## Chapter 12: A Night at the Ball

The event is being held at the Hilton's Grand Ballroom. The main hall is decorated with an enchanted forest theme. As soon as we enter the ballroom it feels as though we've stepped into a scene from a Disney movie. There are rows with dense, tall artificial trees, and the ceiling is a soft, pale blue blanket decorated with countless glittering tiny lights. Waiters are dressed up in tuxedos with eye-masks in the shape of animal faces, holding trays with flutes filled with pink champagne. The floor is a soft green grass rug with pebble-framed trails by its borders. I am overwhelmed, taken with the atmosphere and the beauty of the place.

"Let's get a drink," Tasha proposes, looking as impressed as I am by the surroundings. "Cheers." We clink our glasses of sweet bubbly. Tasha next directs me to a group standing on a corner by a blue brick wishing-well engraved with flowers.

Wearing her sociable persona, Tasha introduces me to the people in the group. I seem to already know at least basic details about each and every one of them given the thorough executive briefing she made sure to prepare me with. I find myself idly in conversation with Tasha's manager, who is a good distraction from my restless thoughts; I talk to him and gaze around.

There's an instant pang in the center of my chest when I spot him, standing by the bar, all the way across the ballroom from where we are. He's wearing a black suit with a crisp white button-down shirt, looking poised yet roughened with his no-fuss hair tousled in golden waves and his faint but permanently sinful look. He's talking to a group of people. It appears as though he's annoyed with them. _How come that doesn't surprise me?_ I spot Miss Bally, Daniel's PA, among the group looking stressed, bobbing her head in sharp nods of consent to whatever he's telling her. _She could easily double for those dogs on taxi dashboards_...

When Daniel turns around I quickly look away and my heart accelerates slightly at the possibility that he noticed me staring.

I smile at Tasha's boss, Rob, as though I've been listening to whatever he was telling me in the last few minutes, relieved he doesn't look like he'll expect me to respond.

"Hi Rob." Tasha gives him one of her captivating smiles. He returns her smile, too lavishly in my opinion, and without a doubt I know he has a thing for her. I've seen these types of stares on too many faces when Tasha is concerned. They casually engage in conversation about something to do with the children's hospital that the fund raising is for. Lost to thoughts of all-things-Daniel, even though I really shouldn't be, I hardly make any effort to participate in the conversation.

"Hello, Hayley." I feel a firm, warm hand on my shoulder; I recognize the familiar voice before turning to face him, quivering slightly inside.

"Hi Daniel." Seeing him from this close sends my heart up toward my throat. He looks even better than the last time we'd met. He is tanner. The bronze honey tone compliments his handsome face especially with the contrast of the white of his shirt. His eyes traveling slowly over me cause my stomach to knot.

"You look absolutely breathtaking," he whispers in my ear.

I tremble slightly from his airy touch, his words, and his proximity. _Oh I got it bad._

"I like the dress on you," he adds next.

"Thank you, I like it too," I say, and try hard to appear composed.

"I'm glad." He smiles at me, but this time his overconfident grin is replaced by a small, sweet, sincere smile. I notice that some of the people around us are staring curiously.

"I'm glad you're here," he says, taking my hand in his.

"Why is that?" I look at him and sigh, pulling my hand slowly back. His mouth twists and he lets go.

"Because I wanted to see you, because I would like to talk to you," he answers, his genuine gaze locked on mine.

"Daniel, I can't do that right now, please," I request. I look at him facing me and I want to hug him tight, have him close to me just like we were in his house. I'm surprised at how difficult it is to hold on my façade. I think he senses he has this effect on me and is taking unfair advantage.

"Can we go somewhere private to talk?"

Hazel steady on uncertain brown. _Hell no_.

"Not now. I've just arrived and I promised Natasha I'd stay with her."

"She seems to be doing just fine without you," he says dryly, evidently less than content with my reply, sarcastically gesturing to where Tasha stands surrounded by several men, laughing happily.

"Mr. Stark, I'm sorry, but may I disturb you?" Daniel's PA is by our side looking more stressed than ever, and I couldn't be more thankful for her presence. Daniel's eyes turn from gentle to darker and irate; his features gain an edge.

"What is it now, for god's sake," he says in a low, clipped voice. "Can't you see I'm in the middle of something here, Anne?"

How can he change so quickly from talking softly and gently to me to... _that?_ How glad I am that I don't work for him, _psycho_.

"Umm, the hospital representatives would like to talk to you, and then there are the two documents you requested earlier that you look at before you sign... You mentioned they were urgent." She flushes, biting her lips, waiting for his response. He inhales heavily, frowning at her, and then turns my way, his eyes soft again.

"I'll look for you later. Don't run away."

_Is it just me or does he really look almost pleading?_ "I left the red sneakers at home like you suggested so even if I try, I can't run. Not in these." I nod toward my stilettos. His lips pull up crookedly. And then, to my shock, as well as to the surprise of the group of people beside us and of Miss Anne Bally, he frames my face with both hands and kisses me at the corner of my mouth, lingering for a few seconds. I'm left flushed and flustered, looking at him walk away in long strides while Miss Bally follows him, awkward but fast on her high heels, making an immense effort to catch up with him.

"What was that all about?" Tasha asks, handing me another glass of champagne.

"I'm not so sure, Tash. He wants to talk. I have no idea what he _really_ wants."

"Well, with that little show, I guess it's quite obvious that what he wants is _you_!" She nods in determination, clinking her glass with mine.

We join Tasha's team again for a long, vivid discussion about the current presidential election campaigns.

"Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention please," the host of the evening announces, to which the overall buzz gradually subsides as the crowd turns to face the center stage in groups.

"Good evening, everyone. I would like to welcome you all to the Stark Software and Benioff Children's Hospital fundraising event." A fake smile full of bleached teeth radiates from his orange faux-tanned face as he pauses to look over the audience. He runs his hand over the side of his slick tux and continues, "Today's fundraising is for the oncological research laboratories at Benioff Children's Hospital. The Benioff Children's Hospital has been supported by Stark Software for many years now." He stares at the audience with a stern façade and adds, "Now, let me invite Mr. Harrison, Stark Software's spokesperson, to tell you a little bit more about Stark Software's tireless effort." With catlike, quick paces he steps to the center of the stage as he declares, "Let's all welcome Mr. Harrison, ladies and gentleman."

As the applause erupts from the crowd a russet haired, lean, tall, impressive-looking man in a grey tux makes his way to where the host is awaiting him, microphone tilted forward.

"I thought Stark himself would be the one speaking on behalf of his company," a lady behind us says with a sarcastic bite.

Tasha, in response, leans toward me. "I thought so, too."

"He prefers not to be the center of attention," I whisper back, recalling what he told me during our conversation a few days ago, and smile, thinking how I liked learning that.

"Good evening everyone, and thank you for being here this evening," Mr. Harrison says. "It is an honor for me to be speaking on behalf of Stark Software at this charity event tonight about this significant cause." He continues articulating in a highly-polished manner about the ongoing contribution of Stark Software to the children's hospital, about donations and volunteering programs that were held over the past year. On the grand screen behind the stage there's a slideshow of moments taken from the volunteer activities, of the hospital, and of its patients.

"Though I believe the person we should be thanking is Mr. Stark, who initiated our partnership with the Benioff Children's Hospital," he says at the end of his speech. Above the applause he adds, "Mr. Stark, can you join me here on the stage for a few words?"

I turn my head to where Mr. Harrison's stare is directed to notice a mix of discomfort and compliance on Daniel's face. I follow him as he walks confidently and gracefully toward the gentleman awaiting him. At the stage it only takes him a few short steps till he reaches his place beside his spokesman.

"Good evening," Daniel starts with his low, husky voice, and the audience hushes. "I would like to seize this opportunity to congratulate all the hard work that has gone into launching this outstanding fundraising project that both the management and our devoted employees were dedicatedly engaged in." Daniel gestures to the large screen behind him. "On the screen, you can see the faces of young children hospitalized at the Benioff Children's Hospital who need our help. The money we raise tonight will be used to purchase advanced medical research equipment, to give these kids a chance at life."

He runs a hand through his hair and narrows his gaze, focusing on the audience. "I would like to thank everyone who's supported this significant cause. I am personally grateful and warmhearted by your contribution, both in volunteering and donating, as I believe that this cause, which we all take a part in by attending tonight's event, is priceless."

He stares ahead, his face tender. Observing him, I am utterly mesmerized. He is so confident, refined, and quietly powerful, and yet there is this faint hint of humbleness and coyness to him, these amalgamations that together make him plainly irresistible.

Daniel continues to explain that any money raised is to be matched by Stark Software. As he speaks his eyes roam the audience till they land on mine. For the longest moment, till he breaks the connection, my breath comes in thick at the intensity they transmit.

"These children need our mutual effort, our support, most of all. Together, we can fulfill our duty of protecting these young kids. I wish to thank all of you again, our employees and donors, for your support. Let us go on building the bonds of friendship and goodness through cooperation and thoughtfulness." He puts a hand in his pocket and levels his stare with the audience. "So, again, thank you on behalf of Stark Software," Daniel concludes, and shakes Mr. Harrison's hand.

"One thing you forgot to mention, Mr. Stark," Mr. Harrison says into the microphone, "is your personal contribution of a million dollars to the cause tonight." Daniel nods timidly, somewhat discomfited, eyes cast down. He sends mine a brief glance. My heart constricts at the revelation and at Daniel's humble physical response.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," the emcee says, regaining the audience's attention, taking the mic back into his possession, "everyone is invited to the dance floor. We have a surprise for you later on, but for the time being, enjoy the rest of your evening." He grins again, a smug megawatt smile. _What a phony._

Daniel remains on stage, talking to Harrison; from what I can see their conversation seems light, at the verge of humorous. Daniel shifts his stare sideways for a fraction of a moment and his eyes drop to mine. I wince at the tension it causes in me. _I need emotional armor when he's around..._

There's light jazz music playing in the background as, next to me, Tasha's boss asks her to join him on the dance floor. I roll my eyes. _I knew it_.

"Would you care to dance?" An attractive, wide-shouldered gentleman in a dark suit with blue eyes taps my shoulder. I tilt my head up to meet his kind eyes.

"Sure, why not," I reply with a weak smile on my lips. His hand is on the small of my back as he leads me to the dance floor; from a distance I can see Daniel watching us intently, still in conversation at the stage.

"My name is Paul," my dance companion says, smiling at me, holding me gently by my waist as we dance in slow, light moves.

"I'm Hayley. Nice to meet you," I answer and mimic his expression.

"I know." He grins. "I've asked around about you," he answers to my puzzled expression.

Paul tries to engage me in some casual conversation to which I nod and smile, not the least bit focused on what he is saying. In the corner of my eye I search for Daniel. I watch him approach the DJ stand where he exchanges some words with the man standing behind the control table. The DJ nods in assent to a pleased Daniel, who then turns on his heels toward the three stairs that lead him off the stage. He's heading to the dance floor while his stare is locked on mine, not leaving it for the briefest moment. It seems like he doesn't even blink. Paul, still holding me, is talking, but I am utterly consumed with anticipation for the man approaching me.

A new song is playing now; a tender shiver runs through me when I hear its first notes. A touching, dreamy melody that I like so much.

"Can I cut in?" Daniel asks in a low, firm voice, his eyes boring into mine.

Paul, a tad taken aback by who's making the request, mumbles incoherent agreement, and tilts his head with a raised eyebrow, apologizing. _Don't apologize; I couldn't be happier for the exchange._

I look at those hazel eyes and they look back at me. His face wears a solemn expression and I feel thousands of butterflies flying around recklessly, rocking the sides of my stomach. Daniel wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and starts to move in time with my motions and to this amazing song. The warmth of his hands around me pulse heat to my insides.

"Hayley, it wasn't my intention to upset or hurt you in any way," Daniel says, his hands holding me tighter as he speaks. I look at him and am confused by what I feel standing here beside him, my arms resting on his shoulders. "I like how I feel when I'm with you," he continues, and I swallow hard hearing his words. Daniel holds me closer, his hands wrapped around my waist; I move my hand to the nape of his neck, the tips of my fingers lightly touching his skin. As the music plays, these heartwarming tunes that I like so much, I look up to meet his gaze, and I need to force out the trapped air from my lungs. He looks down at me, his eyes full of concentration and his mouth in a small, faint smile.

"You remembered," I say, hardly managing to properly inhale.

"It is a nice song," he whispers back, and his eyes drop to my lips. My lips slightly tremble at the thought. I don't want to read too much into his stare, so I just rest my head on his chest and close my eyes. I inhale his scent, listening to my favorite song, giving myself completely to the moment.

"Hayley, look at me," Daniel asks, his voice low yet tender.

I slightly raise my head up to meet his eyes again. He then inclines his head toward me, his eyes absorbed with mine, and hesitantly his mouth approaches my lips. His look turns soft, his eyes seeking permission, and with the thrilled consent that my eyes return, slowly he bends, leaning further down my way, slightly twisting his head. I part my lips with a thudding heart, so does he, and the so-anticipated warmth of his lips gently flutters against mine.

I gasp as my stomach clenches and my lungs turn void at the first touch. His lips move back for a short instant, that look in his eyes again, and next his mouth claims mine, this time with greater determination. His tongue, so welcome, meets mine—at first tentatively, getting acquainted with the new territory. Delight of short, tender brushes. Soon our tongues are dancing together—tasting, lavishing, consuming each other enthusiastically.

We stop dancing, too absorbed in ourselves. Daniel lifts his hands to hold my face, pulling me deeper into his kiss; I reach my hands higher to slide my fingers in his soft hair. His hands move to cup my cheek, deepening the kiss. He pulls back to look at me and then kisses me again, soft, sensual little kisses. The touch of his lips makes my heart rate quicken and my body burn up inside. I press against him. How I longed for this kiss; now that I've finally tasted it, I know it was worth waiting for.

"Hayley, I think the music's stopped," Daniel smirks at me between kisses.

I blush and smile back. As I get back to my senses I realize it has stopped, and when I finally look around me I see that we're the only ones left near the stage. At the same time noticing some very curious gazes observing us, turning away quickly and appearing embarrassed when I look back at them.

"Mr—" Miss Bally appears beside us, choking on her own words as she tries to get Daniel's attention. She clears her throat and tries again, flustered, to bother her moody, intimidating boss.

"Mr. Stark," she tries again, this time clearer and louder.

Daniel turns to look her way, I can't see his expression but I can just imagine it from the terror mirrored in poor—just—doing—her—job Miss Bally's face.

"Somebody better be _dying_ , Anne. For fuck's sake, what now?" Daniel says slowly, with cold disdain.

"Well," she murmurs, fiddling with her fingers. "The hotel's manager requested to talk to you."

_Wow, is she going to get it._ My heart goes out to the poor girl. But it isn't a life or death matter, or at least it doesn't seem that way, unless the hotel manager is dying and his last wish is to talk to this person I don't want to let go. Thinking about it I feel like giving her a piece of my mind. Daniel's jaw clenches tighter under his skin. I notice a flush crawling up Miss Bally's face. _If looks could actually kill, we would be having a funeral rather than a party._

"Please, tell me. You did not. Come all the way here. To interrupt me for that," he says icily, neck hair raising, chilling voice.

"Mr. Stark, I am deeply sorry, but he said it was an important matter."

Feeling sorry for the poor semi-intelligent girl, I reach for Daniel's hand. He turns to look at me as I do.

"I'll go check up on Tasha. I'll wait for you till you're done," I tell him quietly, then stretch, standing on my tiptoes, so I can reach his cheek and softly peck it. He looks down at me for a brief moment as though weighing his options then, sliding his hand underneath my hair, he cups my neck and tilts my head slightly up, then bends his own and slowly kisses me. He lingers, his alluring moisture on my mouth for a few long seconds, making my bones soften. As he draws back to my complete reluctance he tells me that he'll be back as quickly as possible. I nod and look at Miss Bally, who is still beside us looking at anything else but us, her face bright crimson. I'm afraid she'll tear her brown lock of hair off from the intensity with which she circles it around her finger. I need to bite my lips to stop my smile from widening.

As they walk toward the entrance I start looking for Tasha, finding her with Rob, by the same well we stood next to earlier. They seem to be deep in conversation as I approach, hardly noticing my presence.

"Well there she is, the star of the evening," Tasha teases.

I fidget, smiling at her. "Quite the show you guys gave there, Miss Grace." Tasha laughs, and Rob joins her.

_Are you sure you want to laugh at that, Rob? I've heard of people packing up their belongings in cardboard boxes for less_. I wonder if he would have laughed had Daniel been here.

"Where's your boyfriend?" she asks, looking around.

"Drop it," I snap at her, though with a friendly air.

"What's the plan for the rest of the evening?" she asks, thankfully with all traces of cynicism gone.

"You tell me, I'm your plus one."

"Oh Hales, the bait's too tempting for me not to bite. You make it so hard." I chuckle, knowing exactly where she's heading with that; we both laugh once our eyes meet.

"And bite you shall not, Miss Taylor. Conduct yourself, please, we're in public." I nudge her arm with my elbow.

"You know I can't," she says, demonstratively holding her lips shut.

I snicker, anticipating what's about to come out of her imprudent mouth.

"Some plus one _you_ are. Neglecting me to run and grope the first guy who agrees to fondle you in public."

"That's what you did, Hayley? And you call yourself a friend?" I turn to smirk at Daniel as he walks over to stand by my side. He slides his arm naturally around my waist. Tasha observes him cheerfully and says, "See, even Mr. Stark agrees with me." Rob freezes at her side. He looks at Daniel and nods his head in greeting.

"Mr. Stark," he says, a tad too seriously.

Where's the laughter now?

"Hope you didn't grope anyone while I was away," Daniel whispers in my ear and winks at me.

"I was waiting for you to do it," I grin back at him.

He tightens his arm around my waist, pulling me to face him—close, very close. From the corner of my eye I can see Tasha and Rob turning the other way.

"Where were we, H?"

"You just read my mind," I say as I look up at him. He leans so his mouth can find mine and we kiss way too passionately for public viewing. Small currents make their way from my toes to my head.

As we gradually unglue our mouths Daniel says that he will have to leave soon.

"I have a call with Thailand; I need to do it from home."

"With the minister of defense?" I probe.

A crease appears on his forehead. "How did you know?"

"Let's call it an educated guess."

"Any chance you're coming with me?" He observes me with narrowed eyes and a small sinful smile that encourages me to agree.

"Though that's one of the most tempting questions I've been asked lately, I think I'll have to take a rain check," I reply, not even fully convincing myself.

Daniel doesn't try to conceal his disappointment. "Why is that?"

"I'm starting the new job tomorrow and I want to be fresh and alert, which I'm pretty positive I will not be if I go home with you."

"I can't argue with that. I want to, but I won't." He sighs. "So you got the job you wanted? Which magazine was it?" he asks, looking genuinely interested.

"At _YOU_."

"If only you could work at me..." he murmurs, and I chuckle.

"I am going to be the creative director's assistant."

"Good for you," he says, and kisses me. "So as much as I hate to let you go now and believe me, I do, I must head home." He envelops me deeper in his embrace and kisses me again, taking his time. I inhale his smell as he does, feeling warm and protected in his arms.

"Go please." I start to pull back. "Before I change my mind," I say, and could not be more serious.

He holds my chin between his thumb and finger, raising it, and kisses me again. "Good night, Hayley," he says, sending me a small, meaningful smile, and walks away.

I look at him as he strides away and fight my urge to follow. Next I join Tasha and Rob and their group, though my thoughts are light years away. We stay for a couple hours more to see the main attraction, a concert by the moment's it-group, with a full-blown smoke-and-lights performance.

## Chapter 13: Rite of Passage

"Hales, wake up." I hear Tasha's voice from a distance, yanking me from my serene state of suspended consciousness. "You asked me to wake you up before I leave, so wake up, for heaven's sake."

She's now standing next to me, nagging me to actually sit up so I won't go back to sleep once she's gone. _She does know me, after all, a little too well_.

"There's a cup of coffee with your name on it in the kitchen. Get your butt in there pronto, Hales. I mean it."

"Alright, alright. Go already; go manage some important project at Stark Software," I say in a drowsy voice, lumbering into the kitchen, still shaking sleep away.

"I'm quite positive it's you who deals with the important projects involving Stark, Missy. Actually, I urge you to make as many projects with him as you can. Project his brains off for the sake of us all. He might finally relax and be more easygoing." She smirks at me. Her mouth is about to crack in two from the intensity of her grin.

"Project his brains off? Really, Oh the poet _thou art._ " her face lighted as she checks her watch.

"Hayley Grace! Shakespearean before eight a.m.? I'm getting the very best of you here. Too bad I shall _shog._ "

"Shog?" I raise a questioning brow.

She rolls her eyes. "Leave..."

"Oh my god, you are such a nerd."

"Well, shog thy butt out of here."

She closes the door, leaving behind a trail of rich perfume and particles of cheerfulness that transfer joyful energy to the atmosphere.

Checking out my closet, I go for an off-the-shoulder silky black shirt with tight blue jeans and my sneakers. For better effect, I choose a bright red bra to go with the shirt, which is revealed at the shoulder as the shirt hangs down, giving my outfit the final touch. _Not bad_. I smile at myself, feeling like a complete idiot as I do so. _Who are you, some blondie at a trashy reality show? What's with this stupidly good mood?_ And the letters DS pop into my head, flickering like a tacky Vegas sign.

To make sure I don't look like one of the characters in Twilight I put on some mascara and a tan shade of blush. _That'll do. Time to play grown up_.

~~~

I arrive earlier than we've agreed upon, but Ken doll, aka "boss" is already there, grinning at me with a tad-too-excited-to-see-me smile as I approach his room.

"Good morning." A perfect set of bright, white teeth greet me as I enter his office.

"Good morning." I mirror him. "Here and ready," I declare.

_Hope that didn't come across wrong. Stupid innuendos! That's something I should say to Daniel when I see him._ Then I suddenly realize we haven't planned anything together when he left off yesterday. I get slightly low thinking about it.

"Let's get some coffee in us first, shall we?" Josh offers.

"I like your thinking." I follow him. "Where are we going?" I ask, noticing he's walking toward the main entrance.

"We have a Starbucks just around the corner." That radiant, at-the-verge-of-annoying smile again.

"Valuable information," I murmur idly.

"How do you take your drink?"

I look at him, distracted, still deep in my thoughts.

Noticing my puzzled look he asks, "How do you take your coffee?"

_Oh._ "I'll take a grande, doubleshot, extra hot cappuccino without too much foam."

"One of those," Josh now shines his smile at the blushing, freckled redhead operating the register.

"Anything else?" he refers back to me.

"I'm good, thanks."

"So let's go start the day, shall we?"

That smile again. _The guy is a walking ad for Colgate_.

~~~

"Hayley, there's someone here to see you," I am hailed by Miss Piercings from reception. Looking at her perplexed, I question, "Is that so? I don't think it could be for me. Perhaps there's another Hayley around?" She twists her face into a shrewd smile—the first time I see her smile. She's actually kind of cute if you overlook her hair and defiled face.

"We don't have another Hayley here," she mutters, short-tempered. _Relax, kid._ Josh looks at me questioningly; I shrug, having no clue who it might be.

"Where is this someone? Does he have a name?"

"He's in the reception area. I didn't ask for his name but he's ultra-hot." Both Josh and I look at her saucer-eyed. She grimaces back at us, seemingly completely indifferent to our stares. _Impudent young creature._

I see him casually leaning against the wall in the reception: tall, white polo shirt, jeans, wavy gold hair, all Daniel. My heart skips a beat, both from seeing him and from seeing him here. Josh looks at me with an inquisitive stare.

"Daniel," I say as I get closer and face him.

"Good morning." He sends me his irresistible, crooked smile.

_And the reason for your gorgeous self being here would be?_ I smile back, still waiting for some sort of enlightenment. Josh coughs next to me.

"Oh, Daniel, this is Josh Wilde, the creative director of _YOU_."

Josh enthusiastically extends his hand for a shake; Daniel mirrors his action except with utter apathy.

"Daniel," he mumbles, his eyes fixated on mine.

Josh completes his line with deferential enthusiasm, "Stark."

The bored thin line on Daniel's lips could not be more suggestive of his slight annoyance.

"Nice to meet you," Josh says, still eager.

"Same here," Daniel says, still indifferent.

"So, to what do I have the pleasure, Daniel?" I ask, glancing sideways at Josh trying to signal, can we have a moment here? And there's also Miss Goth-Gone-Wild observing us shamelessly.

"I didn't want to start my morning without kissing you," Daniel says bluntly, that wicked grin of his on his face; I freeze and imagine that my face is currently the brightest shade of red that exists on the planet. Josh finally dismisses himself, murmuring something about me coming to see him later.

Daniel takes a step to get closer to me and settles himself legs parted with mine in-between, one hand at my lower back, pulling me closely to him till I can feel his concrete chest against me. His other hand, at the back of my neck, gently tilts my head up to meet his slightly-parted lips and kisses me the most corrosive, lustful kiss.

_Wow._ Every molecule in my body has awakened. While I'm still in a state of shock he leans down and whispers in my ear, "Why, Miss Grace, you seemed so much more talkative the last time we had the pleasure of meeting. Have you lost your words now, do you need a moment?" _Oh, I need a moment; yes, I need a moment to regain the power to stop myself from jumping you in public, D._

He chuckles and hugs me close, very tight, enveloping me against him, then says in a low voice, "Please wear this bra tonight when you come over. It is so hot."

We're meeting tonight?

Hardly getting back to my senses, I manage to say, "As long as you promise to take it off later."

His look narrows and his face turns stern. "Keep saying that and I will drag you to the nearest alley."

By all means, please do.

"When are you off? When can I pick you up?"

I blink at him, elated. _So determined, Mr. Stark. Care to ask perhaps if I can, if I don't have any prior plans?_ "I don't know yet, I'll text you later." _Being my first day here and you causing a scene and all..._

"Hayley, what's your favorite food?"

_What?_ "That would be sushi."

"Okay, I really need to go now. I don't pay myself to play." He huffs a short chuckle and I snicker in response. Another kiss, and then my own private tornado of sinful scars and up-to-no-good-smile is gone.

I turn on my heels to get back to my new boss at my new job. _Daniel, you could not have picked a better occasion to fulfill your urge to kiss me; he came all this way just to kiss me._ My heart twirls with joy. Miss Piercings is ogling my every step; I frown at her and head to Josh's room.

"I am sorry for, hmmm, that," I stutter to Josh. I feel my face flush.

He ignores me and asks, looking somewhat surprised, "You're Daniel Stark's girlfriend?"

I'm not sure about the girlfriend part, and why is that of any importance anyway?

"We are... dating," I reply. _You know, your usual boy meets girl story... Boy sends girl mixed messages for a while. Boy driving girl insane with all of his contradicting cues. Boy goes from I don't kiss if it doesn't mean anything to coming all the way to girl's first day at a new job just because he had to kiss her..._

Josh seems rather contemplative for a short while, and I wonder what he's thinking about.

Next, he gives me a list of tasks for the rest of the day. I am to go over a few older issues of _YOU_ , review some designs made by my fellow colleagues which I will have to discuss with him later on, and attend some meetings he scheduled for me beforehand with some key people I'll be working with.

"The first cubicle opposite my room will be yours," he mentions. "I'll check on you later on."

I believe this is my cue to be dismissed. Just before I commence actually working I text Daniel and Tasha.

I'll be at your place around 7, see you later, H.

@ work, tons to tell you but not tonight, as I will be projecting Mr. Stark's brains off H

Not a minute passes before I get a text back from Tasha.

Tasha: Since when is it my place? I thought we were roommates, you have something to tell me, Hales?

_Oh no, fuck no., if I've_ sent Tasha the first text? _OH, NO!_ I feel the blood drain from my face. _FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!_

Txt mix up; will tell you tonight, still your roommate –love ya

I don't even manage to put my phone back before it rings. Looking at the screen I bite my lips and answer, trying hard, very hard, to sound as casual as I possibly can.

"Hello."

"There were five people in the room when I got your text, Hayley, and I've asked them all to step out as I had a very important matter to iron out."

His voice sounds way too amused. _He's so going to make a whole fiesta out of this one_. He pauses for a long moment, letting me stew.

"They're all waiting just because of you and I do pay them a lot, so now we are officially wasting Stark SW capital, hence enlighten me, Hayley, quickly if you can, for the sake of the company, that is."

"Well, since you're so interested, that wasn't actually meant to be sent to you."

"So I gathered." I can actually hear his wicked smile from his smug tone. _He is so enjoying every minute of this._

"It's a private joke between Tasha and me; it's not even that funny. How are you?" I try to divert him away from the subject.

"Oh no, I'm not letting you get away with this one. Either you tell me what 'projecting my brains off' means, and of course I can assume I am the alleged Mr. Stark in question, or perhaps you will be projecting some other lucky Mr. Stark's brains off tonight," he chuckles and adds, "or I could always summon the esteemed Miss Taylor to my room and ask her. What do you say, Miss Grace? What will it be?"

_I'm Miss Grace now?_ "I presume making me squirm is one of your kicks. We do have a history with that. Very disturbing, I must say. Have you ever thought about seeking professional help?"

"Hayley Grace, you're straying from the crucial subject again," he snaps, trying to sound harsh. Now I can hear him calling his PA. "Anne, ask Miss Taylor from R&D to come over," he tells her.

Oh no. You're seriously demented, huh? What are you doing? Don't you have a serious business to run?

"Okay, okay, you made your point, leave Tasha out of this. My god, you are _so_ irritating."

"Am I now?" he laughs. "Anne, it's okay, I won't need Miss Taylor after all."

"Now people are waiting, Hayley. Time is money," he urges me.

_He won't let me get away with this one, psycho that he is_. "I meant that I'll be doing you tonight," I say very quietly. I am sitting in an open space and don't need this conversation to spread any more than it already has.

"Meaning?" He laughs a low, throaty laugh.

"Should I really be more graphic? Haven't you already had enough fun?"

"Seriously, you're the sweetest thing. Now I'm craving tonight even more."

"I am glad." I try to sound upset. "Bye, Daniel."

"Bye, sweet Hayley."

_Sweet Hayley_...

And finally my first work day can start.

~~~

"I'm going home," says Christina, my assigned mentor at _YOU_.

"What time is it?" I ask.

She checks her watch; her short, silky, brown hair falls on her face. "It's half past six."

I won't even have time to stop at home.

Will not come home after work; see u either very late tonight or tomorrow morning. Don't miss me too much.

**Tasha: Please by all means go ahead and do all the things I wouldn't, can't resist missing you—ENJOY,** she texts back. I smile fondly at that; how Tasha of her.

## Chapter 14: Second Time Around

I grin awkwardly at the security cameras that make me uneasy. I don't think I'll ever get used to them. It seems so alienating to have to pass via security to get to your, _not sure how to classify him,_ house...

Daniel leans on the doorframe, waiting for me: loose white tee, barefoot, jeans that fit his body snugly in the most sensual way, and damp, messy hair. _At least someone had a chance to freshen up._ There are butterflies in my stomach, again. _The good kind_.

He smiles as I get closer, taking a step to reach me. "Hey you," he says, and I smile, exhilaration reaching every part of me.

"Hey back." He opens his arms slightly for me to cuddle into and I do so happily, reveling in the feel of his arms caging me in a firm embrace. I raise my head to meet his soft, hazel eyes. He bends and kisses me a gentle, sweet, chaste kiss that hastily evolves to a union of our tongues anxiously teasing, tracing one another. A few prolonged moments pass before we disconnect, both highly charged.

"Let's get inside," he says into my hair, still holding me tight.

"I am starving," I say.

He chuckles. "So let's get some food in you." Daniel pecks my head. Lacing his fingers with mine, he leads us inside, straight to the kitchen.

"Have a seat," he mutters, nodding to the bar stool at the kitchen counter. He circles the counter to stand in front of me. I love the song playing in the background.

"Great song," I say. "Need any help?"

He smiles and shakes his head. "Started listening to them thanks to you." I'm gifted with a short, meaningful glance that affects me in the sweetest way.

"Would you like some sake?" he asks.

"Please. Any chance you can warm it?"

Hearing my request his eyes light with pleasure. "Of course. That's the way _I_ like it." He halts for a moment, his eyes drinking me in. He then bends across the counter and gently pecks my lips. I grin inwardly, a wide grin.

"How was your day?" he inquires, taking small bowls and two plates out of the cupboard. I gape at him moving so gracefully around the kitchen and all I can think of is how attractive I find him, how hyperaware I am of every single motion he performs.

"Surprisingly busy. Well, surprising should be the key word of the day." I reward him with a teasingly arched brow.

He looks at me from under his lashes with a sweet, wicked pout of his lips.

"I liked it that you came," I mutter coyly.

"I liked it that I came." His smile broadens as he mirrors my words.

"I wanted to take you with me when I left," he adds under his breath.

I would have liked that.

He opens a takeaway box decorated with Japanese calligraphy revealing rows of fresh, mouthwatering sushi rolls. _Hence the answer to his question about what I like to eat earlier today._ I beam to myself, sighing content.

Handing me a small, warm sake cup, he lifts his in a silent gesture, mouthing "cheers." "Speaking of work, are you aware of the fact that that boss of yours has a thing for you?" he asks, looking occupied with fixing our dinner.

"A thing for me? What do you mean?"

"You want me to be more graphic?" He raises an eyebrow. "And here I did my best to try and sound subtle." He snorts, shakes his head and continues, "He wants to get inside your, I believe given your bra color, red thong. I hope..." This last part is more of a murmur.

I shift in my chair _. Yes it's a thong and it is red and the only person I want inside of it is you._

"I can spot a fellow predator when I see one," he adds, dryly.

"I think he's too in love with his preppy self to even notice anyone else."

Daniel laughs and I join him.

He fetches a couple of glasses from the top cabinet and soy sauce from the fridge. From the side I gape at that terribly sexy scar on his upper lip as he arranges the food on plates. _What I want to do to that scarred lush lip_. I can't take my eyes off it.

"What is it, Hayley?" he asks softly, his head tilted to the side.

Hypnotized, I mutter something without actually noticing what comes out of my mouth. "That scar on your upper lip, the things I want to do to it."

_HAYLEY_!

At once he stops pouring the sauce and lifts his eyes to meet mine, looking at me surprised, still holding the dark bottle in his hand. Our stares lock and slowly, his eyes narrow. I can feel my face warm up.

"Oh, for fuck's sake with this sushi," he breathes anxiously, thumping the bottle down. I jolt at the noise, and before I know it, he's by my side lifting me by my thighs. Instinctively I wrap my legs around him for support. As he heads toward the corridor, holding me firmly, his eyes darting with determination, I ask, perplexed, "Where are you taking me?"

"My bedroom." He says casually in a low voice, leaving no place for any debate. _And debate will definitely not be coming from my side._ As he passes the doorframe, the roughness dissolves from his actions and he gently lays me on the big, inviting bed with himself on top of me. My legs are still wrapped around him and he pins his lower body against mine, turning every fiber from my waist down to liquid. His left arm props him slightly above me. I can see a corner of his tattoo peeking out of the stretched fabric that wraps his cut muscles and find it extremely provoking. With his right hand he caresses the side of my face, looking at me with an intense, lustful gaze. I look back at him, anxious for his touch, for him. _Those scars..._

"Lower your mouth to me," I ask, almost inaudibly. "I want to kiss that scar."

His eyes deepen with feral glee as he bends slowly toward me, allowing me to reach his full lips. I kiss his upper one right where the scar is, my lips slightly parted, circling it, I move the tip of my tongue against the mark, feeling the deep cut. My body responds to the notion with a sweet warm pain that is boiling at my core. His tongue invades my mouth with a breath of Sake and him; mine meets it eager to touch, to unite. His weight on me is just perfect and makes me quiver with yearning. _I want your skin on mine_. As though reading my mind, he takes off his shirt and helps me get rid of mine. My chest heaves to the sensation of his warm, tight skin against me. He turns his body to lie sideways, his leg between my legs, parting them slightly while pressing my middle gently. I groan softly, looking at him; his eyes gleam in the dim light of the room. He pulls me closer against him, positioning me to face him. His mouth is on mine again as his hand easily releases me from my bra. He scratches my skin, gently pulling down the straps, giving me goosebumps. Revealing my breasts, he bends slowly to taste me with his warm, moist mouth, attending one breast and then the other, while sliding his hand inside the back of my jeans, squeezing softly, pulling me closer to him. I am breathless.

Reaching for his jeans, I slowly unbutton the first three buttons, allowing my hand to slide inside. As I touch him, a low, sensual groan reverberates from his throat, in tandem he deepens the intensity of the movement of his mouth around my breast. Next, with his palm spread flat on my navel, he pushes me until I lie adjacent to him against the bed and shifts to reach my face. Kissing my mouth with a long, warm, eager kiss, he descends to attend my neck, between my breasts, then farther, the tip of his tongue sending electric waves to my groin from the base of my navel. He slowly plants moist, warm kisses from one side of my jeans' waistband to the other. I tremble.

I run my fingers through his soft hair as he removes my pants and underwear at once. He takes his off, too. He runs his palm over my thighs and in between my legs. To my complete reluctance, he turns to the side and I hear a faint rip. He comes back between my parted legs and in no time, into me. I gasp at the feeling of him filling me; every part of me is enthralled by the sensation.

In slow, sliding movements he makes me burn inside and out. I grab his face with unadulterated desire and consume his mouth. As I do, he returns my gesture, thrusting slowly yet forcefully. I moan, my body heated with electrifying sensations. I wrap my legs tighter and in response his movements become more intense. As they do, I feel myself explode into thousands of pieces of ecstasy; shortly afterwards, I hear him pant loudly as he joins me.

Daniel lies on me, breathing heavily. I indulge in the feeling of being warped by his weight. Inhaling the scent of sex and Daniel, I want him to stay here, right where he is. He finds my mouth and kisses me with feather-like kisses, then slides his head down to nestle on my stomach.

"That was great," I whisper.

"Indeed it was," he says, running his fingers across my waist.

"It was the greatest thing since coffee came in lidded cups."

He chuckles and raises his head to look at me, radiating amusement. "That good?" he says, feigning shock, then laughs.

I join him, giggling. As soon as he rests his head on my navel again, my empty stomach starts to rumble. He raises his messy head to face me with the widest grin and a raised eyebrow. "Now that's charmingly sweet," he chuckles, and kisses me at the source of the noise. "Hey, I said I was hungry," I say in my own defense.

Inching up, he rubs his nose on mine. "Now that we're done projecting each other's brains off, shall we get some food in you?"

I nod and look for my clothes. As I follow him to the kitchen, I think to myself how our first time was just a pale prelude of now.

Daniel settles himself on the stool next to mine, shirtless and glorious with a just-got-laid aura that echoes my own look.

"More sake?"

"No, thanks. I need to drive home later."

"You can sleep over."

I smile. _You want me to sleep over?_ "I can't, I have nothing with me and I need to go to work tomorrow."

"Too bad," he says under his breath, looking utterly disappointed. "Here, try this one: my favorite. It's a bit spicy." He brings a roll tweezed between two chopsticks to my lips.

It itches my tongue, but in a good way. "It's really good. Mmm, I like it." My lips pull up. _I like you_. He's staring at me intensely. I am so glad to be here, secluded with him, in his place. Which reminds me of the disturbing surveillance gadgets at the gate. "So what's up with the security cameras?" I say, hoping he can't read my thoughts about him.

"What do you mean?" he questions.

"Why do you need them?"

"Robbers. You know, they usually like this kind of house," he says, his mouth twisted in humor.

"Come on, it can't just be because of that."

"No, it isn't just that. Being in the public eye sometimes brings trouble." He sighs and licks some wasabi from the side of his thumb. "What kind of trouble?" concern clearly heard in my voice.

"All sorts. Some people want to get near me. Some want to see me suffer."

A painful flutter makes its way down my spine when I think that someone could hurt him.

"Did anybody threaten you or try to get in here?"

"I had some unwelcome incidents, but not lately, don't worry about it." He doesn't elaborate much. He turns to look at me under his lashes, asking, "Are you worried about me?"

I wince and he kisses me.

"So, are you on the pill?"

Ah?

I almost choke on my next bite. "Talk about a change of subject." I stare at him, somewhat surprised. "You sure do know how to carry on a proper dinner table conversation," I chuckle nervously, fairly embarrassed.

"Well, are you?" he insists, solemn, disregarding my previous reply.

_Will we be a party of three? Is Mr. Hyde joining us tonight?_ "Yes, I'm on the pill. Why?"

"I detest condoms," he says, deadpan.

_Could you be more blunt? This conversation is getting better by the minute_. "I think we should get tested before getting rid of those." I wrinkle my nose as I add my two cents.

"I couldn't agree more. H, always the girl scout," he chuckles, taking another mouthful of wasabi-dipped salmon sashimi. I shake my head, smiling.

"Can you do that tomorrow?" His voice couldn't be firmer.

"I'm not sure I'll have time, boss. You do know I started a new job today, right? And clinics, as far as I know, aren't open in the evenings."

"It's important." He frowns.

_Okay, calm down. No need to go to the emergency room right now..._ "I'll do it once I get the chance, perhaps this weekend," I respond affirmatively. Even if I tried hard, I wouldn't be able to come up with a better topic to discuss over sushi, I think, amused.

"And what about you?" I ask. _Why should I be the only one urged to do the test?_

"As soon as possible." Not a shred of humor to his voice. And as though we didn't discuss any uncomfortably serious STD-related topic just a minute ago, he asks, his eyes lighting up, "Do you want to continue watching that movie we left the other day?"

_Here you are, Dr. Jekyll. I missed you_.

"What's the time?" I'm feeling a tad tired, satiated in all possible ways, but tired.

He cocks his head to check the clock on the stove. "Half past midnight."

"I think I should be heading home now."

He takes my hand and kisses each of my knuckles.

"Are you sure about that sleep over?"

"Yes, D." I lean to kiss him and he counters eagerly. "I should be going. I have the drive back," I say, before this innocent kiss starts round two of projecting. Not that I would mind, but I'm tired and expected to perform tomorrow at work.

"What are you driving? That scooter of yours?" he questions rhetorically, with a touch of irritation.

"Yes, it's my vehicle thus what I drive." _What's wrong with it?_

"I don't want you to drive it now, it's cold and really late. I hate the thought of you driving it home," he says, looking somewhat concerned. "Take one of my cars."

_One of?_ "No, I couldn't, Daniel. I've been driving this scooter forever, it's very reliable," I try, smiling.

"Listen, this matter is not up for discussion." He almost flares. _Chill..._

I send him a semi-annoyed glare. "I..." I don't even manage to articulate a full word when he cuts me off, cupping my chin, tilting my face to absorb the full intent of his solemn look.

"I don't want another visit to the hospital in the middle of the night." His jaw tics. "God knows what could be the outcome next time. I. Want. You. Safe. So, yes, you can, and _you are_ ," he says harshly.

Not waiting for my reply, he stands and strides toward the corridor leading to his bedroom and his study. "I'll be right back," he calls from the hallway.

"Here," he says, waving a pair of keys as he returns.

"You don't need it?"

"I have more than enough. Don't worry, sweet Hayley, I'll be able to get myself to work tomorrow." He winks.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"Well, I'm sure for us both. It's not an open discussion." I roll my eyes.

"Okay then, I'll get going now." I'm too tired to be arguing this.

"I'll walk you to the garage. Come on." He embraces me.

There are five luxurious sports cars parked parallel to each other in the indoor garage, each more extravagant than the next.

"Here, take the Z4. My mom usually uses it when she's around," he says idly. _A Beemer Z4? What if I scratch it, or worse, wreck it?_

Sensing my distress, he says flatly, "Don't worry, it has insurance. Come here, you." He pulls me into a bear hug, squeezing me tightly against him. "Too bad you aren't staying."

I nod, utterly in agreement, silently sighing into his chest as he kisses my head with airy kisses; I take the chance to inhale more of his drug-like scent. When I raise my head to kiss him, we end up indulging in a prolonged, deep kiss.

"Go home, I don't want you to drive too tired," he says with his forehead resting on mine. He opens the door for me, waiting till I get settled, then kisses me yet again as he gives me the keys.

"Good night, Daniel."

"Good night, Hayley."

~~~

This car reels so smoothly, some change from a scooter. The open roads and the night's murky spectacle put me in such a serene state of mind. I wonder what kind of music Daniel has in here? And then I think to myself: I 'm in Daniel's car, after I had dinner with him and made the most intoxicating love to him. I have a strong urge to pull a u-turn and go back for some more. As soon as I start the car's iPod, Bob Dylan's rough voice sings about one more cup of coffee, adding the last needed piece to complete the euphoric drive. _D, even from afar you can please me_. I smile, content.

~~~

When I'm already in bed, my phone beeps once. I grab it, smiling, knowing exactly who the message will be from.

**Daniel: tucked in bed safe and sound, sweet H?** I can't help the smirk spreading on my face.

Am, D, would rather be tucked with you.

**Daniel: same here H, G'night.** I snuggle deeper into my comforter and close my eyes **.**

## Chapter 15: Just Another Day at the Office

I'm a bit upset that I didn't get to see Tasha before going to work. She left before I was even up. I text her.

hope you had a good evening, see you tonight—heart.

Tasha: hope YOU had a good night, Hales, gory details on my desk TONIGHT.

My phone beeps again, _another clever remark to add, Tasha_?

Daniel: Drop by my office at noon, D.

_And good morning to you, too, domineering Mr. Hyde_. I decide to call him.

"Hayley." He sounds slightly impatient and occupied.

"Hey, are you busy?"

"Yes, I'm in the middle of a meeting."

"So why did you answer, then?"

"Because it was you." His voice is flat. _Because it was you_... I can't help the wildly expending smile on my lips.

"Talk to me later, it's not urgent," I mutter casually.

"What is it, Hayley?" he says, in a low, firm, bossy voice.

"Just, about noon..."

"Just be here, okay? I need to go now." And he's gone.

_Argh_.

I shake my head, irritated. _Luckily for you, D, your overall gorgeous self compensates for those psycho mannerisms of yours_...

~~~

"Morning, Hayley." Colgate Ken doll welcomes me with a smile.

"Good morning, Josh. What's up?" I say, smiling back, thinking about Daniel's remark from last night about him.

"I want you to join me in a meeting we're having with the extended content team now."

"Sure." I grab my tablet and follow him.

The meeting lasts longer than expected and finally ends close to noon.

"Did you take notes?" Josh asks as we step out of the meeting room. I nod.

"Can you send me a summary?"

"Of course, as soon as I get to my seat."

"Would you like to join me for lunch?" he asks.

"Oh, thanks, but not this time. I'm going out for lunch in twenty."

He raises an eyebrow questioningly. "Somewhere interesting?" He observes me, waiting for my reply.

I tap my fingers on the tablet in my hand. "Just here in the bay area." _I am not about to start briefing you about my personal life._

"Okay, enjoy." He gives me a healthy grin.

I send Josh the required summary and take my borrowed Beemer to meet its owner.

~~~

Miss Bally, Daniel's PA, jumps my way as I approach the entrance hall next to his office. "Hello, Miss Grace, nice to see you again."

"Hello Miss Bally. It's Hayley." I smile at her, wondering if she could be any more tense than she already is.

"Miss Grace," she continues, and I stop her.

"Hayley," I repeat, still smiling.

"Hayley," she replies, though awkwardly. It seems hard for her to call me by my first name.

"Your appointment is waiting for you in Mr. Stark's office. Can I get you anything?"

_Come again?_ "You mean Daniel is waiting for me?" I ask, confused.

"Oh no, Mr. Stark is currently in another meeting. Shall I call him?"

I try to make sense of what she's saying. "No, don't bother him," I raise my hand in dismissal and add, "Who did you say was waiting for me then?"

"Miss Grace..."

"Please, call me Hayley." I try to not get annoyed, though my words come out with an irritated bite.

"Your appointment is with a Miss Gladys."

_Who?_ I search my memory for whether Daniel mentioned meeting anyone but I'm quite positive he didn't.

"So, would you like anything to drink?" she asks again.

"No thanks, I'm good," I mutter, baffled. Next I knock on Daniel's door and let myself in, only to find an older lady standing beside an empty chair by Daniel's desk. A big black leather bag sits next to her. _What the hell_?

"Hello Miss Grace," she greets me.

"Hi." Suspicion saturates my answer.

"Would you like to start?" she asks next.

"Start what?" I can't hide my dismay.

"The blood test," comes her velvety response. I look at her, completely surprised. "Blood test?"

"The HIV blood test," she says in an even softer voice, trying not to look directly at me as she does so. _Oh my god_ , _he arranged for me to be tested at his office? Is he seriously insane?_ I feel my face heating up as I stare at her, utterly embarrassed, hoping my thoughts aren't too obvious. _Did you ever think to share this info with me, Mr. Stark? Give me a heads up; perhaps ask if I was okay with this? Demented nutcase..._

"Miss Grace, you may sit here, and please place your right hand on the table."

I watch her as she ties the rubber string above my elbow and runs a cool alcohol-soaked cotton ball over my slightly visible veins. As I play a pleasing stream of murder scenes in my head, I'm distracted by Daniel entering the room, talking on his mobile. He looks so delicious in his casual, long-sleeved, white button-down shirt, and jeans. I frown at him as I catch his eyes. He smiles at me, then his eyebrows knit for a brief moment and he shrugs. _Do you really have no clue as to why I might be frowning?_ He walks my way and bends to kiss my head. Disregarding my scowl, he continues to pace the room while talking. Business as usual. As if having a surprise HIV-test party is just another day at the office.

"So I'm going to insert the needle now, Miss Grace. It will sting a little," says the woman at my side.

"No, Chris," Daniel says in a clipped tone.

I shift to look his way; his back is to the room as he stares out the window. He turns to face me slowly, his stare fixated on mine as he leans on the window frame.

"Which part of _no_ did you not understand?" he asks, annoyed. It amuses me.

Could he be any less impatient?

He listens, looking exasperated, and then replies, "I am not letting anyone fuck me at their own will and appointed time." Saying that, he points his index finger at me and mouths, " _You_ ," then bobs his head in approval, mouthing " _can_." A wicked smirk appears on his handsome face.

_Oh, I can fuck you at my own will and appointed time, Daniel?_ I blush, looking under my lashes at the lady next to me, hoping she didn't notice Daniel's "romantic gesture." She bites her lips awkwardly and looks as if she's trying to refrain from smiling. I blush deeper. _Way to go, D, super, you're on fire today_. Daniel holds the phone between his head and shoulder and starts folding his right sleeve up above the elbow.

"That will be all, Miss Grace."

"Thank you." I smile at the woman. When I stand up, Daniel takes my place in the chair. _He's having the test too? Right now?_ I turn to walk, looking to stand by the window, but Daniel's grip stops me. He says to the phone, "Hold on for a sec," and tilts his head up to face me.

"Stay next to me, I'm scared," he murmurs, smirking, and then snaps to the phone, "I'm back."

I stand next to him, highly amused, shaking my head, and then sigh. As Miss Gladys inserts the needle through his skin, he puts his free hand on my butt and starts caressing it, all the while talking on the phone he holds between his ear and shoulder.

"My work here is done," says Miss Gladys to both of us, though her stare is directed Daniel's way. A thought of what she might be thinking of this unusual "delivery service" crosses my mind and I try to push it away as it makes me feel nothing but unease.

"Thank you. It is much appreciated, especially on such short notice," Daniel responds. "And I should expect the results via email this evening?"

"Sure, Mr. Stark, as you've agreed with the clinic. If that's all, I'll let you get back to work." She eyes the two of us, not so discreetly twisting her mouth.

Daniel nods and adds, "Thank you."

As soon as Miss Gladys leaves the room, I confront him. "Did you for one second think to run this by me?"

His eyebrows lower above squinted eyes. "Run what by you?" He reviews something on the screen at his desk. _Are you for real?_

"Telling me that I'm coming in for an HIV test, for starters." I pout. My voice clearly conveys my growing irritation.

"You are so hot like that, angry and flushed," he says, unbuttoning the upper buttons of his shirt. He steps my way, choosing to pay no attention to what I've just said. Which does a great job heightening my annoyance.

I look at him, upset. "Well? You didn't answer my question. And what the in the name of f..." I almost choke, "are you doing?" His expression morphs into pure sin, a wicked side smile sent my way as he presses a button on his desk phone. "Anne, cancel my next appointment and hold my calls."

"You have John Westwood next. He came from Texas to see you." Alarm and stress emanates from her high-pitched voice.

Daniel sighs. "Well, tell him he'll have to wait." His shirt is wide open now. He unbuckles his belt, looking at me with a predator's glee.

My insides tighten and I swallow hard, murmuring, "What are you doing, Daniel?"

" _You_." One simple word that makes me tingle where I shouldn't at this time of the day. His targeted, slow, graceful steps are directed my way, his stare deep in mine. He licks his lip, right where the scar is, causing the rhythm of my breathing to noticeably increase.

"Aren't you locking the door?" I swallow hard again as what's about to follow sinks in.

"Believe me, baby, no one will dare open it."

That I can believe, psycho.

Facing me he tips his head and kisses me with fervent, tantalizing passion, making my entire body lose balance. Heat switches into a different kind of heat. He turns to my neck, lavishing it as his leg parts my legs. He presses against me and I pant.

"I want you on my desk." His husky tone caresses my ear.

"You can have me wherever you want," I say under my breath, willing to surrender to any desire he might have.

He smirks with a devilish delight, looking pleased, sweeps some papers out of the way and lifts me on his desk. He drops to his knees in front of me, taking off my right sneaker first and then the left.

"Unbutton your jeans," he commands in a rough, bossy voice. I gladly obey. He yanks my jeans and panties off in one pull, making me slide to the edge of the desk. "Perfect." He chuckles with a lustful gaze and next his mouth is on me. I tremble, leaning back on my elbows, letting him work my desire into a peak. While I'm still a turmoil of lust and hunger he stands up and pulls a small aluminum package from his pocket.

"Always prepared," I say, smiling through uneven breaths.

"I knew you were coming."

"You knew I would come?"

His eyes radiate at me wickedly. "Do you want to play the hidden sexual innuendos word game now, or you want me to _project_ you, Hayley? What will it be?" His face reflects both humor and desire.

"Project my brains off, Daniel, please do." Closing my eyes I arch my back as I sense him filling me with his uncontrollable appetite.

~~~

When our pulses return to a conventional rate, I get dressed as Daniel buttons his shirt up. He mutters, "We should be doing this on a daily basis," all smug grin.

"But of course, by all means, have Anne put it in your schedule as your regular noon booty call."

He laughs and murmurs, "I wish." And then adds, "You amuse me."

"That I know, D." I smirk at him.

"And much more..." he says quietly. I look at him under my lashes and he rewards me with an expression of tenderness. Checking my watch I immediately stress up. _Back to corporate reality..._

"What is it?" Daniel observes me, concerned.

"I've been out for too long, this is so bad."

"Actually I think it was divine." His lips stretch in a naughty smirk.

"Seriously, I'll get fired with only two days of seniority."

"So come work here." He is still in high spirits.

"Not for all the money in the world, even if I have to work the streets."

He looks at me, entertained.

"And why is that, Hayley Grace? Please do tell."

I radiate my sweetest smile at him. "Because you're kind of... psycho. You know... insane..." _And that is an understatement, Mr. Stark_.

He lets out a husky, low laugh, and then steps over to wrap me in his embrace.

"You are just too sweet."

I smile at him and kiss his mouth. "I need to go now, Daniel."

"Did you eat lunch?" he asks before I step out the door.

"Didn't have time, I was engaged in some _burning projects_."

He shakes his head, lips lopsided.

~~~

"Hayley, there is a delivery for you here." The impudent young, pink haired, pierced receptionist says with a prying gaze.

"A delivery for me? Where is it?" She hands me two takeaway boxes.

"Thanks," I say, deliberately disregarding her snooping eyes.

At my desk I open them both. There is one box with sushi rolls and miso soup; the second contains salad and a chicken wrap. There is a printed note stuck to the underside of the chicken wrap box.

Though sushi is your favorite, I wasn't sure if you'd want it again for lunch, thus the second dish.

P.S—if you don't want to eat them both, share it, BUT not with that boss of yours.

D

I laugh and smile overjoyed thinking of him. _You are just so sweet and intense, D_.

Josh's Colgate grin pops in my cubicle as I take the first bite of my wrap, "Still hungry?" he asks, curious, looking at the feast spread on my desk.

"It was sent to me," I shrug with a small curve of my lips.

"Didn't you go out for lunch earlier?" His eyebrows pucker.

"I ended up running an errand instead," I say, trying to sound casual, and I can feel warmth covering my face. _You know, just a surprise sexually transmitted disease test, don't we all have those from time to time?_

"I see." He nods in confirmation. "When you're done, drop by, okay?"

"I will, shortly." I nod, echoing him. As I take the last bite of the salad I text Daniel.

Thanks a lot for lunch, chose the wrap—you spoil me D.

Daniel: I was just reciprocating after having you for lunch and, sweet H, I like spoiling you.

How can he do that, make me blush and squirm in my seat at the first part of the message and melt in the second.

~~~

"Josh, you asked me to come over," I stand in his doorway, waiting.

"Come in, Hayley, and please sit." He nods. "Can you go over these?" He hands me some ideas for pitching proposals.

"I would like you to choose the top three, disregard general concept style and go for content."

"Certainly, I'll do that right away. Anything else?"

"Well there is—"

The national anthem playing from the back pocket of my jeans makes him pause.

"What's that?" Josh asks, looking at me baffled.

"That would be my phone." I smile in discomfort.

"Nice tune. Original." He chuckles. "You can go ahead and answer."

"I'll just check who it is," I say timidly. There is no available number.

"Just answer, Hayley..."

"Hello," I answer, feeling self-conscious under Josh's securitizing gaze.

"Are you coming tonight?"

"Hey Daniel," I say, and stare down at my sneakers, knowing that Josh will be listening to every single syllable coming out of my mouth now that he knows who it is.

"Are you coming tonight?"

"Can I call you later? I'm in a meeting."

"Just answer, Hayley." he snaps.

_Come on Daniel, relax, don't go all intimidating Mr. Stark on me, not now._ I'm quickly becoming exasperated. _Two can play this game_. "No, I'm not. I gotta go now."

"Hayley..." He sounds even more upset now.

"Later Daniel." I hang up. I can sense the rush of blood flowing in my veins. I am upset and mad and confused, all at the same time. _What are you doing to me, Daniel Stark?_

"Everything okay?"

_Oh, Josh!_ I forgot about him for a minute. "Ah, sure, everything's fine." I put on my best attempt at a smile. "You were saying something before we were interrupted?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I might want you to accompany me to a roadshow we're having next month."

"I don't see any issue with that. Of course I will. Where is it?" My stare bores into a small dot on the wall behind him.

"Canada."

"Canada?" I repeat and tear my gaze away to look at him.

"Yes, that country past the border? Famous for its maple trees and syrup?"

_Does he expect me to answer right now_? Sensing my uncertainty, he adds, "This is just a heads up. I'll give you all the details once everything is finalized."

"Oh, okay." I put on a fake smile. "Anything else?" I raise my eyebrows inquisitively.

"No, that will be all. Thanks, Hayley."

At my desk I try to review some of the designs Josh requested that I look at, but I'm too distressed. I am more than distressed. _How can he get me to this state with just a phone call?_

I need to cool down and distract myself from thinking about him. _Focus._ I need to finish this and go home.

~~~

As I get inside the car, his car, I get even more irritated. _I should give him back the car as soon as possible._ I turn up the music to max, letting Mumford and Sons occupy my thoughts instead.

## Chapter 16: Knockout

"Honey I'm home." I drop my keys into the bowl on the corridor chest and kick off my shoes.

"In here."

I sigh with relief when I hear Tasha's reply, glad I'll be able to vent about my crappy mood. "I am so glad you're here. You can't imagine how upset I am with that psycho," I say, pulling my hair up to a messy bun as I make my way to our kitchen.

"Hales..." Tasha tries to say something right when I reach her and Daniel. _Oh fuck_ , what is _he_ doing here? I flush.

"Hey," Tasha greets me with a crooked I-didn't-know-I-should-have-warned-you smile.

"Hey, Hayley," Daniel says with a small, concerned twist of his mouth. All of a sudden when I see him I just want him to hold me tight, regardless of how I felt about him just moments ago.

"I'm going to have a bath, see you later." Tasha passes by me and plants a kiss on my cheek on her way to the bathroom.

"So, you're here," I murmur, looking at Daniel, hoping my face is not revealing any of the emotions I have raging inside.

"I wanted to see you," he says. His eyes settle on mine. "So, why are you upset with the psycho?" he asks, combing his fingers through his hair, leaving them there.

I stare at him, unsure. _What do I tell you? That I am head over heels for you after the shortest time? That you drive me crazy in a way no one ever has before, that you are reckless and short tempered, that you turn from sweet and warm to mad and exasperated in no time, that you are overbearing? That I am deeply afraid to fall for you because I know you'll shatter my heart into a million pieces?_

He tilts his head, deepening his stare. "What is it, Hayley? What aren't you telling me?"

_Everything. Nothing._ I open my mouth to speak and pause, trying to choose the right words, figure out what I want to tell him. He first looks at me, assessing, and then stands. He walks toward me, minimizing the distance between us, then he hugs me tight, wrapping me in a cage of his firmness and warmth; I rest my forehead on his chest. I force out the tight air in my lungs, upset at him and most of all with myself that this is exactly what I wanted since that call. He slightly tips his shoulder so I will raise my head to look at him.

"What aren't you telling me?" he whispers, releasing a thousand butterflies from my core to flicker inside my stomach in a tornado.

"I'm upset with you."

He bends his head, pressing his forehead to mine. "Keep going," he coaxes gently.

"I didn't appreciate the way our call was conducted. You didn't listen to what I had to say."

He exhales and says, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I am not at your beck and call, you know."

"Why would you say something like that?"

I inhale deeply. "You just act that way."

"What do you mean?"

"If I tell you that I can't talk, then I can't. The main point is listening to what I have to say; also, including me in your plans would be a good start."

As an answer he pulls me closer to him squeezing me tight, my cheek against his chest. I inhale his sedating scent and relax. I wrap my arms around his waist and lean myself closer, deeper into him. _You're half way to heartbreakville, Hales. Look how affected you are by him, and in such a short time._

"Look at me," he whispers to my head, nuzzling it tenderly. "You smell so good," he adds, breathing me in. I raise my head for our eyes to meet; he bends to kiss me, one sincere, warm kiss. A kiss that tells me he is sorry to have made me feel that way.

"Come home with me, sleep over tonight."

"Okay," I answer with no hesitation. I want him. I want him and don't want to let go. Reluctantly I detach from his embrace to pack an overnight bag.

Knocking on the bathroom door, I enter, not even waiting for Tasha to reply, and sit at the edge of the bath.

"You look troubled, I don't like it. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay now."

"I didn't know something was wrong when I let him in," she apologizes.

"It's fine, it really is. I was upset with him and all I wanted was him. Does that even make any sense? It doesn't to me..." I loop my watchband around my wrist.

She puts her wet hand on mine, I shift my eyes to level with hers. "It makes sense, Hales, it makes crystal clear sense. You're falling for him..."

I think for a minute about what she just said and tell her that I'm leaving now to spend the night at Daniel's, pushing away the thought of her observation.

"Go, but do take care of that heart of yours that I adore so much." And to lift my spirits she adds, "And like I said before, I still stand behind my words. If he hurts you, regardless of the fact that he's the god of Stark Software and could have me fired in no time, I will still kick his butt."

I chuckle. "'God'? Really?"

She laughs.

"Bye." I kiss her head and go to the "god" that lifts me up and drops me down without out any visible effort.

"Let's go," I say, and he takes my bag from me then takes my hand in his as we walk to his car. This time it's a black Alfa spider.

"Nice car." I admire the slick vehicle.

"Thanks," he smiles.

"Speaking about cars, I should return yours."

"Keep it for now; I want you to drive a safe vehicle," he declares

I let it pass; I've had enough arguing for one day.

As soon as we buckle up he pushes the gas pedal and the car roars, jumping ahead. Daniel switches on the iPod. _Does he have a different one in each of the cars?_ Forwarding some songs he pauses on U2, singing "All I want Is You." He reaches over to me and takes my hand, laces our fingers together and squeezes softly. I look at him, mouthing the words, eyes focused on the road ahead, and my heart tightens.

As the car accelerates, he shifts to sixth gear with his left hand, letting go of the wheel for a split second, but not letting go of my hand. I look at him and think about how drastically he makes my feelings change from complete rage to complete fondness and then again to uncontrollable lust, and all in a few short hours. Like a collision between a hurricane and a volcano with my emotions in between.

~~~

"There is a call I have to make, shouldn't take long." Daniel excuses himself as we step in, resting my overnight bag on the sofa.

"Go ahead," I say with an encouraging smile.

"You can have a bath if you'd like."

"Guess I'll go with a shower."

"So I'll be in my office, use the shower in the master bedroom," he says, and steps over to kiss me. He next wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

His soft kiss makes my inner butterflies revive. I kiss him back, with resolve, deeper. He counters, framing my face with his hands. Gradually, we are both drawn to the connection with greater impulse, pushing and tasting, seeking more. I move my hand to his firm back and pull him closer, feeling him hard against me. My other hand finds its way to the gap between his jeans and his back; his firm muscles counter my grip. His hand reaches under my shirt, fondling my breasts, tugging down the cups of my bra. His direct touch makes me gasp. I help him get his shirt off, pulling it from its hem up over his head. Our mouths detach for that instant, after which our charged stares lock. He's flushed; the side of his forehead twinkles with a thin layer of sweat. He looks so wild, making my lower body tighten in the sweetest possible way.

Intent narrow eyes observe me closely; his mouth hastily finds mine again, consuming it with growing hunger. With his body's weight he pushes me slowly toward the couch behind us. As we get near he gently lays me down. Staring at me, radiating desire through his hazel eyes, he unbuckles his belt and gets rid of his jeans and underwear. I stare at him, mesmerized, aching for his union with me. He attends to my jeans and helps me out of them. My shirt follows.

"You are so hot," he murmurs. He slowly takes off my thong, but stays to gaze at me, fire in his eyes. I am burning with blistering heat, my breath heavy, my mouth dry.

He says, "The results are okay, we're good to go." With a pleased, naughty smile he lays on me, in between my legs. I find it hard to inhale to the tightness of yearning in my chest that releases once we unite. Sinking in me, he stops to stare into my eyes and kiss me. He pulls my leg to hold it bent against me and resumes his slow thrusting dance in me, changing his pace to fit my motions. I grab his lower back, pulling him closer to me; he takes it as a cue to accelerate his rhythm, quickly making me shatter shakily. I lay my head back and close my eyes, letting the serenity reach every part of my body as I hear him exhale heavily; he falls on me as he does. Daniel kisses me and I open my eyes to look at him. His look sincere and warm.

To my complete surprise he says, "I felt disturbed after our call. Hayley, I never feel that way."

I stare at him and my heart skips a beat.

"I don't do obsessing; I just move on. This is a first for me."

"That's why you came to the apartment?"

"Yes." His expression morphs muddled, pensive.

I am speechless. I reach to hold his face with both hands and pull him next to me, kissing him so deeply, breathing him in. _Who is this guy and what did he do with Daniel?_ The moment we just had leaves me utterly dazed.

"Oh fuck, what's the time?" He looks at his watch. "For fuck's sake, I missed the call." _And Daniel is back_. He stands up, hastily putting on his boxers. "I need to make that call."

As he starts striding toward his office cursing under his breath, I call after him, amused, "It was indeed due to fuck's sake that you missed that call."

I hear him chuckle. "Good one," he shouts back.

"I'm gonna take that shower now," I say to myself, still laughing.

~~~

"Hayley, are you done?" Daniel calls for me behind the closed door as I step out of the shower.

"Missed me?" I open the door with a towel wrapped around my head.

"Insanely." He lets out a short chuckle, looking at me as I take off the towel and start brushing my hair. _Good word choice_.

"Are you hungry?"

"Not extremely." He sighs and his scarred lip arches.

"And that would mean?"

Giggling, I elaborate, "I could eat, but not too much."

"Any cravings?"

I laugh again and declare, "One Daniel Stark under the covers."

"One Daniel Stark coming up." His eyes dance in humor as he approaches me, attacking my neck with moist, tender kisses. "You smell delicious." Saying that, his hand finds its way under my white top.

"No bra, I like that."

I blink suggestively at him.

"And these shorts, Hayley, these are a pair of indecently teasing shorts." He moves his hand to caress me at the border of my shorts.

"I'm craving pizza," I say.

"Pizza?" He looks at me with a smirk over the mirror in front of us.

"You're definitely different from all those leaf-eating women I got to know. You actually eat. It's very refreshing." He plants another kiss on the nape of my neck. I know he means well, but the thought of him with other women is not something that makes me feel too good, especially when I recall the images I saw online.

"Bad different or good different?" I ask.

He looks at me with a straight face, holding me from behind, his palm under my shirt, spread over my stomach.

"They don't even stand a chance. You overwhelm me in every possible way." _Twice in less than an hour. What happened to my mixture of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? Careful there, D, I might get used to it and ask for more._

"What kind of pizza?"

"Daze me."

"Dazed you'll be. Your wish is my command, sweet, H."

_I already am dazed—purely by you. Though, you_ and _a pizza, well... who can resist that?_

He fetches his phone from his pocket and dials, his hand still under my top, holding me against him.

"Tony, what's up?"

Of course he'd have a Tony for pizzas.

"Yes, I'm okay, my usual." He looks at me over the mirror, moving his hand in circles around my navel. "That'd be great, thanks." He nuzzles my hair. "Food will be here in thirty." I turn to face him, inching up to kiss his chin.

"Great news."

He smiles. "Would you like a drink?"

"Beer?" I mutter, and he rewards me with a tender, yet profound, gaze.

"What is it?" I ask. _What did I do now?_

"You. You're so, well, you."

"Having troubles articulating? Do you need a moment?" I tease. "Is that good? To be me, I mean?"

"It is the best, the greatest thing, since coffee came in lidded cups," he smirks, looking pleased with his reply, and kisses me behind my ear.

Is he high on euphoriant today? What's with all these affection declarations?

"Let's go get those beers." He leaves his hand under my top as he walks us to the kitchen.

"Cheers." He clinks his bottle with mine.

"Next you'll tell me that you're into console games and I will totally have a crush on you."

"Well, regardless of your very promising words, I do happen to like console games and watching sports and riding motorcycles, and I love surfing."

"You surf, Hayley?" His voice a tone lower, surprised. I've never seen him like that before. He has the most stunned, sweet, and gentle stare about him.

"What is it?" I ask, curious.

"You amaze me, Hayley, that's what."

"Come on." He takes my hand. "Let's go play." A naughty happy stretch overtakes his lips.

Hmmm, play...

Daniel turns on the large TV and brings the console to life.

"Boxing?" he asks.

"I'm game," I murmur.

He smiles and shakes his head.

"Sure, I'll gladly kick your ass."

_Your extremely arousing butt!_ I beam at him, stretching as though before a real fight.

He says dryly, "Keep that up and I'll be playing _you_."

_I'm game_. _Sounds even better. Play me like you want._

As we face each other, the flat screen displays two boxers in the same stance. We look at each other with narrowed eyes just like two real opponents would, though the smirks plastered on our faces indicate just how amused we are by the situation. The referee on the TV blows the whistle and the match begins to enthusiastic roars from the animated crowd.

"Game on, baby." Daniel sends his fists my way.

"Game on, D." I meet his fists with mine, knocking his first swing away.

"And I wish you all the luck in the world. You'll need it." He grins in his signature arrogant manner.

"Cocky as ever." I smile back at him as I swing my fist toward his bare stomach, taking him by surprise. It makes me inwardly chuckle thinking how this might look to an outside observer: me almost half his weight, barely tall enough to reach his shoulders, swinging so fiercely at him. Of course the fact that we're two adults and that one of us is a respected businessman who appears on one of Forbes' most-valued lists just adds that extra touch.

"Oh, you sneaky little thing," he chuckles, and sends his right hand toward my ear. And his left near my waist. My character on the screen is pushed backwards, stars circling his head.

"Come on, fight." Daniel's all smiles, his eyes dancing with joy. He's jumping from side to side, giving a full show that would not fail a Broadway stage.

"You are so full of yourself," I murmur behind gritted teeth.

"Am I now?" He cocks one eyebrow and swiftly sends his fist toward my cheek. The crowd on the screen goes wild as my character wobbles, falling into a corner. I send him a dirty look which he laughs off. I try to get closer to him, but he dodges to the side. I minimize the gap between us in fast sneaky moves. Standing on my toes, I hastily grab his face with both hands and plant a deep, moist, lustful kiss on his full lips. I rub my body against him with my mouth still devouring his. Even after I pull back and cease my sudden attack, he stays frozen on the spot, so I take the opportunity to swing a quick sucker punch near his left eye. His player drops to the floor, lying helplessly flat. The referee counts him and as he fails to get back to his feet the referee declares a knockout. Daniel looks at me with tapered eyes, a crooked little curve tugging at the corners of his lips and he shakes his head. I counter his stare, boring into his hazel depths. With our intent eye connection the electric field between us charges wildly and before I know it, we are drawn to each other and our mouths follow. Our hands are desperate: grabbing, caressing, stroking and frantically touching.

"Game over." The ring's announcer declares in a mechanical voice, accompanied by red flashing letters on the screen indicating the same.

"Game just started," Daniel murmurs hoarsely to my mouth as he lifts me up and moves toward the wall, leaning me against it. In no time we are having the wildest, animalistic sex.

Most of our clothes are still on us as we come to our senses. He is flushed and by the heat radiating from my face I know I am too. _Someone check my vital signs._

Daniel next to me is slightly bent, hands on his knees. He tilts his face to look my way and says, "I love playing with you, Hayley, even though you don't play fair."

"This was great, and I must say I'm surprised to learn that you're not the sore loser I thought you'd be." I giggle.

"You _will_ be surprised, baby. I. Do. Not. Lose. This fixed match you schemed up here requires a rematch, you devious pixie."

"Pixie? Wow, Daniel, you really know how to compliment a woman. That is by far the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me." I chuckle and he joins me, laughing with his low, appealing laugh.

An unfamiliar loud beeping sound comes suddenly from the entrance. I look at Daniel quizzically.

"Oh, for fuck's sake with the pizza," Daniel grunts. "Now?"

I smirk. "Is this a thing you have, sending food to be fucked? Is this one of your kinks? Something I should be worried about? You're quite the pervert, you know?"

His face lights up with my remark, scar lifted by a wide smile, and a loud laugh rolls out of him. "No, but I can definitely think of something creative to do with you naked plus food..."

"I can get the pizza," I reply, shaking my head, humored.

Daniel regards me with a straight face, jaw working under his skin and in a throaty, almost growling voice he says, "The odds of me letting the delivery guy see you this way are zero to none."

_Talk about fast mood changes. Weren't you laughing a millisecond ago, Mr. Hyde?_ I study him, trying to read his face for some explanation.

"What's wrong with the way I look?"

"Well, for one, these short, short pants. Then there's this white top that I love, revealing your nipples so nicely. And to top it all off, you have messy hair, your face is flushed, and you've obviously just been wildly fucked. This look, my sweet Hayley, which, don't get me wrong, I could stare at forever, should be seen by me and me only. Clear?" He winks at me, bends over to kiss me then reluctantly heads to the hall to get the pizza.

"How much pizza can you even eat? Where does it go?" Daniel says, looking at me with a small side smile, fascinated.

My mouth is full of unbelievably delicious pizza. _Tony does know what he's doing_. I try to swallow and gesture "give me a moment", holding my finger to my mouth; the curve of his lips pulls higher as I do so.

I swallow the last bit and reply, "Well, I was pretty active today. I need to regain energy."

"Indeed you were. Keep it up please, I am totally enthralled by the way you gobbled that food."

I narrow my eyes at him. _Jerk._

"So, you surf." Daniel's eyes are steady on me, and he's biting his lower lip.

"I do. Well, I did. Haven't surfed for a while now, but let's put it this way, through most of my high school years, I was with my board."

His eyes lighten as I speak.

"You can't imagine how thrilling it is to surf in Chicago during the winter. You can almost surf in the actual streets. During one of the storms last year my friends back home surfed just a couple hundred yards from Michigan Avenue, the main commercial street," I tell him enthusiastically. "When I saw the actual photos of that day I was shocked."

Daniel looks captivated by my story.

"Do you surf?" I ask him.

"Oh, I do. It's my thing. You know: it relaxes me, puts me in focus. Puts me in the right mood when I'm in need of a diversion."

"I miss it; my board is back at my parents' house."

"In Chicago?"

"Yes, that's my home town." I play with some crumbs on the counter, shifting them from side to side. "What about your parents? Do they live in California?" I turn my eyes to look his way.

"My mom lives in Baja, Mexico." he replies.

"Baja?" That comes as a surprise. Being Daniel Stark's mother I would have imagined her living somewhere more urban and sophisticated, more New York-ish.

"Yes, she lives in Baja. She's an artist and the most amazing human being on earth."

New layer of Daniel revealed _. D, the adoring son_.

"I think she would like you," he murmurs as though to himself, his stare wandering to some indistinct spot ahead. "I also own a house there," he says, vaguely.

_Of course you do_.

_"_ It's my surfing hideaway. _"_

Hideaway? Why do you have to hide, D?

"Sounds great. I would guess Baja is the perfect place to surf. At least, that's what it's known for. I've never been there." I yawn all of a sudden, feeling exhausted.

"Are you tired?" He smiles at me, running his fingers through my hair.

"Well, I did play and have dinner. It's time for my nap now." I wink playfully and start picking up our leftovers. He joins me as though it's a habit for us and we've been doing it forever, cleaning together after dinner.

Putting the last dish in the dishwasher, I turn his way and ask him about his dad, since he only spoke about his mother.

"He's not relevant." There's a hard edge to his voice, a tone I have learned to recognize. That will be the end of the discussion. _What is it? What aren't you telling me?_

~~~

Lying in his too big for one person bed, I gape at him from a gap of the open bathroom door. He is bent, one hand propped over the sink, brushing his teeth, wearing nothing but snug black boxers. I can't take my eyes off him and his chiseled muscles, standing there tan and sensual. _Come on, D, stop with the beauty pampering and get to bed, there's an urgent need for you here and now._

"Did you enjoy the view?"

_He loves embarrassing me, the jerk._ "I was just making sure you're okay," I say, keeping up a casual façade.

"So you were." His mouth twists at the side with a smug grin.

"What have we got here?" Daniel crawls under the covers facing me and sends a hand to caress my waist, settling on my butt, pulling me closer to him. "This is one superb Hayley ass," he grins.

"Hmm, don't get too excited. I have the most terrible headache." I add an agonized expression to emphasize my misery. His mouth turns to a flat line, eyebrows slightly pushed together; he couldn't look more disappointed.

I stare at him for a while. "Relax, kid, your toy is good to go. I'm just messing with you," I giggle. "You should have seen your face, you were all, 'my toy is broken, I am so upset'."

He laughs and immediately turns serious. "Don't ever do that again, Hayley. You don't play with food, and you don't joke about sex."

I laugh deep belly laughs and tease, "Is that so? Are these the house rules?"

"Come here you, or else you won't get what you were ogling a minute ago."

_Jerk._ He doesn't let go. Without further ado he pulls me on top of him.

"Well, I'll admit to the ogling, but you're the one who's completely ready."

Through a wide grin he releases a raspy laugh. "I can't help it. It's those damn shorts."

"I can always take them off if they're an issue."

"If you put it that way I think all of your clothes are a major issue, Hayley. For fuck's sake, get rid of all of these issues."

"So keen to play?"

"Take them off already, and let's work on some burning projects."

I giggle again, cooperating.

~~~

I am being spooned by Daniel Stark, sleeping, literally sleeping, in his bed.

"Good night," he whispers through my hair and turns to the other side. _Why did he turn? I want some more of this Daniel cocooning._

_What the hell? Do I hear right?_ Daniel recites the AA serenity prayer. _What the hell?_ I am completely freaked out. His voice is low and sincere, almost weary.

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference."

My mind is frantically riling up. What's going on here? _Should I say something?_ Well, he did recite it loud and clear enough for me to hear. _Does he want me to say something?_

"Daniel," I choke as I try to talk. _What should I say? Seriously, should I even address that? I've never had to deal with a recovering addict before!_

"Relax kid, your toy is not an addict. I'm messing with you." He breaks into a healthy, contagious, husky laugh and I quickly join in, utterly relieved.

_JERK. Demented. Handsome. Psycho._ He turns back to cradle me and I pull back to minimize the gap between us so he can scoop me up in his firm, serene embrace. He kisses my hair and breathes me in.

## Chapter 17: Nooner

"Hayley," Daniel whispers, pressing a soft kiss with his delish scent on my sleepy lips. "Double shot, extra hot, not too much foam cappuccino, wake up."

I open my eyes to see Daniel, steamy in boxers, sitting cross-legged at my side, a cup of coffee in his hands. My lips curve with delight.

"Screw the coffee," I mumble, stretching out my hand to touch his thigh.

"I like where you're going with that." His hoarse morning voice is accompanied by a wicked, thin smile, tempting me.

"What's the time?" I yawn.

"Seven thirty-ish."

"Well, it'll have to be a quicky. I need to get your car from home." His smile stretches, and the cup of coffee moves to the nightstand.

"I'd rather work with 'quick' over 'no go'." He shifts closer. "Anyhow, it's not about duration, it's about quality," he says, now propped on top of me, a wide smirk stretched across his bristled morning face.

I gaze at him, elated. _What a superb way to wake up..._

"So we're going for quality over quantity this morning, Miss. Ready, steady, go..."

I giggle, tilting my head back as he lightly bites my chin. And quality it is.

Quickly we are deep in the deed and as promised he's taking his pledge of quality very seriously. Each thrust, each interaction with the very deep of my delight is more enhanced and more intense. His lips are all over me: ears, lips, breasts, neck and those achingly sweet, precise encounters with the spots that make me quiver in pleasure. _He definitely knows what he's doing, and with such remarkable aptitude._ I open my eyes to look at him; on his face is a wild look of pleasured concentration that pushes me higher. With his touch and the vision of him above me, those full lips, these unbelievably rough looking scars, I climb higher and higher. In accordance to my body's reaction, he adapts his pace. The sensation he causes within me with his steady and passionate precision, skillfully aiming at the exact spot, sends me to an overwhelming ecstasy, and as I whimper uncontrollably he joins me with a loud gasp.

I can't move. Circles of bliss travel through me. _God_. I can hardly gain control of my uneven respiration, though, my body, inside and out, is in seventh heaven.

"Definitely pure, unadulterated quality," I breathe, shifting my head to look at him.

His eyes wrinkle with silent joy; his mouth twists into a small, crooked, I-knew-what-I-was-doing grin. I sigh in sheer bliss.

"Glad to meet expectations." He pecks my lips, inching up to stand. "Now, coffee, and off we go if we need to pass by your house. Up, Hayley."

~~~

As I'm waiting for my PC to load, my phone beeps with a new message from Daniel.

Daniel: Don't make any plans for the weekend. D.

_God forbid you ask. You've certainly got the "demanding" part down._ I shake my head in fondness. What can I say? Just the thought of him puts a content, goofy smile on my face.

Depends, is that an order or a request? H.

"Hayley, staff meeting in five." Josh's Colgate grin illuminates my cubicle.

"Do you need me before? And good morning to you too, Josh." I raise my brows and smile at him.

"Just be there in five, and a wonderful morning to you too."

_Someone else is in a good mood; perhaps he got the same breakfast special I got earlier._ Reminiscing over it, a certain part of my body awakens, wishing Daniel was nearby. My vibrating phone ceases this short reverie.

"You may make of it whatever you want, but it is an order, baby."

"Hello commandant. FYI, I don't take orders."

"Cut this 'I'm an independent woman I don't take shit from anyone' crap. You are coming with me to Baja this weekend, so no plans."

_Baja, with you? In that case I do with utter obedience take orders, demands, commands and whatever your twisted Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde bipolar personality would request of me_.

"Put it this way: I promise to consider allowing exceptions," he chuckles.

"Oh, Hayley, what's your height?"

_What's up with this guy?_ "And this is of interest to you, because?"

"You're too short to use any of my boards," he replies flatly.

_He has such a charming way of conveying information_. All of a sudden I feel insecure about my height. "Five foot six. Any other measurements you may need or are we okay now?"

"Perfect. All the rest I have preciously stored in my memory. You know, I did give you several thorough examinations." Another short, hoarse chuckle and I can hear in the background that he's already started another conversation.

_Well, goodbye to you too, from thorough examinations to forgotten in less than a microsecond._ I ring him back.

"Hayley?" Daniel answers in a less-than-patient yet quizzical tone.

"In modern societies, we humankind wish each other farewell at the end of encounters or conversations with an adequate piece of dialogue."

"Goodbye, Hayley," he snorts.

I can clearly imagine the eye roll. _Goodbye psycho_.

As soon as I put my phone down another short beep tells me I've gotten a text, this time from Tasha.

Tasha: Lunch today? I miss u.

Lunch today, noon.

A minute until the staff meeting. I grab my tablet and run to the conference room.

~~~

Walking the hallway of Tasha's floor, heading to her office to pick her up, I look aimlessly to my left. My glance freezes at a packed meeting room with a group of people looking at a stern and incredibly attractive Daniel Stark. He appears to be presenting something to the attentive group. My heart swells at the sight of him. _Only Daniel can teeter my heart by his presence alone._

Realizing I'm gawking like some creepy stalker I urge myself to proceed. At that same moment Daniel pivots his gaze up and his eyes rest on me. Instantly our stares lock. His eyes narrow in concern as he watches me. He lifts his hand as to signal a break, says something to the group in front of him, then walks to the exit, every single eye in the room following him. I'm not really sure why, I should be used to him by now, but my heart quickens as I watch him minimize the distance between us.

"Hayley, what's wrong?" He looks worried.

"Nothing's wrong. I just came to pick Tasha up for lunch. I was just on my way to her room."

He sighs. _In relief?_

"I thought something was wrong and you were looking for me." He hugs me tight, perhaps too tight, making me gasp. _Wow, seriously? A bit overreacting aren't we?_

"It's just a coincidence. I saw you on my way to her office and stopped. Sorry if I've distracted you," I say to his ear, still a bit too squeezed against him.

"You worried me there for a moment." _Hey, no need for drama._

"Daniel Stark worried, that's a first for me." I smile at him.

"When it comes to you..." He smiles back and turns to kiss me.

_Mmmm, Daniel for lunch_. His kiss turns firmer as his hands travel from my waist down.

"Daniel, you do know we have a room full of people staring at us," I say, almost out of breath. He turns his head back and turns it again my way. Immediately everyone in the room pretends to be doing anything other than looking at us, from staring intensely at the board, to glancing at each other.

"Now they don't." He beams his impish, thin smile. _Of course they don't, they're all scared shitless._

Though it's the last thing I want to do at that moment, I pull back a little from his hug. "You should go back to your meeting and I should go to mine."

"Damn. You're right, though." He twists his lips, somewhat annoyed. I inhale him deeply and regret I've just said what I said. He bends yet again to kiss me, all searing, intense and stimulating.

"Keep this up and I won't let you go due to a health hazard."

"Health hazard?" He observes me closely; his eyes dance with mischief.

"You'll have to release what you've just caused in me. It can be highly harmful keep it bottled up this way," I say.

His features harden. "When is your lunch date with Natasha?" His voice is low and serious. _Is it me or are you flushing?_

I study him, startled, beginning to comprehend where this is going. _Are you seriously insane? Don't you have a room full of people waiting for you; don't you have a company to run?_ Not even waiting for my reply, he lets go of my hand and in two steps he is at the entrance to the meeting room. My eyes grow bigger as I watch him. I can hear him say, "Continue without me, I'll catch up later." And just like that, he grabs my hand and directs me to the elevator. _God, he's serious_.

"I would do you right now, here, in this elevator, but there are security cameras in the ceiling."

Reflexively I tip my head to look for the cameras. "And no chance in hell I'll let the horny security guys look at you cum."

"Daniel, workplace malfeasance," I mumble, my body already worked up at what's about to come.

"It's my company, did you forget? I can do whatever the hell I want... And I want to do you." He winks at me.

I stare at him, raging inside. A mixture of awe and desire rumbles in my gut. I can't wait for the damn elevator to reach its destination.

"Anne, call Natasha Taylor from R&D and tell her to come to my room in twenty," he says to his PA as we pass by her desk. _Twenty? Well, he_ is _busy._ I inwardly snicker. He pulls me too rapidly by the hand toward his office. I am so turned on now, all he needs to do is just lay a finger on me and I'll burst.

He settles himself on his chair, tugging me to sit astride him and claims my mouth with a kiss that turns my knees to butter.

"So, you were saying something about a release," he whispers, nibbling my ear.

"Release away, Daniel, by all means. Please do." His pants are pulled down, my skirt lifted up and this thing between us that started with a spark ends in a burning inferno. Shaky and entirely satisfied, resting on a breathing, warm Daniel, I peep at the clock. _Tasha should be here any minute._

Pulling up his pants he mutters, "Skirts are much more convenient. Don't wear them to work again." He winks at me and his face lights impishly; I shake my head, grinning. _Somehow I wouldn't be surprised if you were absolutely serious._

"That was too good of a distraction," Daniel says casually. "Drop by any time, to be treated for a health condition or for any other matter I can be of help with."

His elated face glows at me. I echo his expression.

"It was my complete pleasure. Thank you so much for the releasing part. I'm pretty positive I'll take you up on your offer, Mr. Stark."

"By all means do, abuse the hell out of this open invite." Naughty eyes twinkle.

"Okay now, misbehaving young lady, there's a meeting I should attend: the one you stole me away from." He pecks my head and turns on his heels.

"Daniel," I call after him as he steps away. He turns his head back to look at me over his shoulder, his eyebrow arched. "Run a hand through your hair or something. It screams just-had-sex."

"Better!" He winks again and flashes his megawatt smirk just before walking out the door.

## Chapter 18: Wrong Deed

The trees shake their leaves above us in the light summer wind; I gaze through my shades at the clear blue summer sky waiting for Tasha to place her order with a short tempered waitress with spiky orange hair. _Let the poor waitress be,_ I think, observing Tasha. _She already confirmed just about three times that there are no anchovies in the goddamn Caesar dressing, Tash._ I try to telepathically transmit my message to my dear but irritating friend.

"I would also like mineral water with a third of a glass of ice and some lemon."

I inwardly shake my head and smile at the waitress with an empathetic expression that says, "I'd also add bleach to her drink if I were you."

"I'll take the hummus chicken wrap and ice water, please," I say, politely.

"Will that be all?" she asks, looking at me. I nod, giving her my most apologetic grin. She smiles back, frowns at Tasha and leaves toward the kitchen.

"So, Hales, how have you been? Me and the walls at the crib have been missing you like crazy." Tasha hardly conquers her smile as she fights to put on a gloomy, desperate expression instead.

"I do miss our walls, and you too of course. Though I must say I have some pretty great distractions helping me cope with my longing for you."

"Bet you do. So you guys are doing well?"

My goofy smile broadens. "'Well' is an understatement."

"Stop it with the silly smirk, Hales. People will start thinking you're an asylum patient on the loose."

"Have you talked to Ian lately?" I ask, brushing off some tiny dried petals that have landed on our table.

"He's been under the radar with a tourist from Portugal."

"So, no Ian till further notice," I say, matter-of-factly.

"Not until he gets tired of this one too."

We both chuckle. _Typical Ian._ Tasha sits in front of me in her navy fitted dress, orange stilettos and her dark blue Gucci shades that frame her lovely face. _Impeccable as always_.

"So, what have _you_ been up to?"

She beams at me. I know that smile way too well. Something's surely up.

"Would up to no good be an acceptable answer?"

I lift my sunglasses, resting them on my head, to allow myself a better look at her.

"Well, what did you do this time?"

She bites her lower lip and murmurs, "A forbidden deed."

"Who? Anybody I know?" My eyes run over her face, trying to guess who it could be.

"Rob," she huffs.

"Rob?" Repeating, I try to search my mind for any Rob we both may know, and fail to think of any.

"Rob as in my cute geeky boss, Rob," she explains.

I nod, immediately conjuring up a mental image of the man in subject. The guy I had the pleasure of meeting at the fundraising event. _Really?_

"As in my cute boss Rob, one late evening at the office."

I gaze at her trying to figure out just how wrong that is.

Responding to my scrutinizing glare she adds, "Rob, my boss, who lives with someone."

Oh, not good in any aspect of moral rectitude.

"One hummus wrap and iced water," bright orange energetic being places my order in front of me, and then silently serves Tasha her dish.

"Anything else?" she asks us, smiling at me, then without actually waiting for a reply walks over to check if the people at the next table need anything.

"How come, Tash?" I observe her with furrowed brows. "Knowing you as well as I do, correct me if I am wrong, he's not exactly your type." Deepening my stare at her I add, "Let alone the fact that you're not the sort of person who'd jeopardize her career for a fling, or anything else for that matter."

I pause for a brief moment to recompose my thoughts, still watching her intently. "That's what this is, a fling, right?"

She slowly moves her mouth from side to side under my observant glare as though assessing my point.

"He's so sweet and sexy in a bossy, forbidden kind of way. We stayed late one evening..." She stops to take a sip from her sweating glass. "He didn't stop flattering me all night. He flirted like an enthralled teenager." She plays with the drops on her glass, wiping them with the tip of her finger. "An accidental bump led to a kiss which led to another and the rest is history." She jabs at her food with her fork, moving the dressing-soaked lettuce from one side of her plate to the other. Finally, she raises her eyes to meet mine. They take on a shy tone. _This is so not the Tasha I know._

"Does your semi-idiotic smile and this weird not-like-you behavior mean that you're gonna keep doing the bad deed with boss man?" I inquire; smiling at her like one would indulgently smile at a misbehaved little toddler.

All of a sudden Tasha's whole demeanor changes: she friendly grins at something. I raise a questioning eyebrow her way and before I can turn around to look, two warm, firm hands rest on my shoulders.

"Natasha, how have you been?" Daniel's cheerful voice inquires. _Daniel's cheerful voice? Daniel cheerful in the middle of a work day?_

"Hello again." He smiles at me as I stretch my head back to look at him towering above me. He bends down and kisses me, an intrusive, lustful kiss. _Wow, and hello again to you, too_.

Tasha waits for Daniel's erotic display of affection to cease and answers that she's fine. "And how are you doing, Daniel?"

_Shouldn't she call him Mr. Stark? No way._ I kill the thought as it rises.

"I'm doing very well." He sends me his crooked side smile.

_What happened to him? This is Dr. Jekyll after developing a cure for cancer._ He stands next to me and takes a bite of my wrap and a sip from my drink. I observe him in elation. He seems so casual and laid back. It is the first time I've see him like this around other people besides me. _Perhaps I do have to project his brains off more often, for everyone's sake_... The thought makes me smile inwardly.

"What are you doing here?" I look at him happily, highly enjoying the relaxed cheerfulness beaming from his hazel eyes.

"I came for a soda."

"Did Anne go home? Is she okay?" _Did you happen to fire your PA, perhaps in one of your psycho episodes?_ He chuckles, amused.

"No, she's actually at her desk as we speak. I just wanted to have a short walk outside, enjoy the nice weather."

I can't stop smirking at him; he is utterly adorable like this.

"You're in a good mood." I widen my grin.

"I had a very productive meeting earlier." He winks at me. _That would be, what? The fourth wink today?_

"I'm glad to hear it. That must give you a feeling of satisfaction."

His grin broadens. "Yes, though I wouldn't mind digging my brains further in that direction, perhaps work some more on the subject. It concerns one of my most intriguing projects."

The innuendos in this conversation could not be more noticeable. I wonder what Tasha will have to say about this as soon as Mr. Sunshine here leaves.

His wide grin delights me.

"Okay, ladies, I will let you continue from where you left off before my intrusion." "Natasha," Daniel adds, nodding at her. " _You_ ," he says to me, "Are. Coming. Tonight."

_Coming? Mmm..._ He turns on his heels, but not before leaving me entirely dazzled by another kiss even deeper, and more intense than its precursor. I could easily just follow him right now and talk him into act two of our earlier matinee performance.

"I told you that projecting his brains off would do the job." Tasha wrinkles her nose, a teasing curve tugging her lips.

"You are _so_ predictable. I was waiting to see how long it would take you to say that."

We both giggle.

"So, back to you. What's next with Rob the boss?" She thinks for a second and then mutters, "I don't know, I guess I'll flow with it. I'm not going to be the one initiating anything more serious, that's for sure."

"And what about the fact that he already has a live-in girlfriend?"

"Well, that's his problem, not mine."

Miss Judas does have a point.

"Are you going to drop by the apartment tonight before running off to get laid?" Tasha asks just as we go our separate ways.

I snicker, "I might. Depends when I get off work."

"I really do miss you, Hales." Her voice is transparently honest. We embrace tightly as we say our goodbyes.

## Chapter 19: Workplace Romance and Fraternization

Daniel, talking on the phone, greets me with a warm embrace. He's wearing a black tee and a pair of faded jeans that are slightly worn at the knees. A kitchen towel hangs over his shoulder, giving him an entirely domestic, sexy look. Indulging in his hug, I try to figure out what the mouthwatering aroma coming from the kitchen is.

He takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen, and without any prior warning I'm being lifted and settled on the kitchen counter, legs waving. Still deeply in conversation, he stands in front of me, parting my legs with his body, and starts kissing my neck. He holds the phone back for a moment and murmurs, "You smell so good, it's driving me crazy."

_Multitasking, D? I like it._ Entirely absorbed in his embrace, resting my head on his chest, I listen to the reverberation of his voice.

"For fuck's sake, Rob, stop circling around the subject. I'm not interested in lame excuses; I'm interested in the solution," Daniel snarls, making me flinch. He sighs and continues, "When the fuck do you expect the release of the next generation? Will we be delinquent to our initial deadline?"

Oh, hello Mr. Hyde. I missed you for a while there. Wait a minute. Rob? Release? Rob-as-in-my-best-friend-did-the-horizontal-dance-with Rob?

"Seriously, Christ, think again and then answer," Daniel flares, getting more irritated, and I can feel the change on my now attacked neck. _Hey, I'm not the one to blame here, though this rough fondling strikes a delicious cord deep, deep inside my core_. He leaves me too abruptly for my taste and turns to stir the aromatic red sauce in the pan on the stove.

"Either call when you have a better answer or call Jobs-R-Us," Daniel mutters with a tone as cold as ice, one I haven't heard so far and could continue living devoid of. He quickly hangs up the phone.

"Taste this." Daniel brings a wooden spoon with a steaming, chunky red sauce to my lips. He flashes me a crooked, scarred, sweet smile. _Ping ponging between Hyde and Jekyll tonight, are we?_

"Mmm. Did you make it?" I savor the exquisite, spicy sauce.

"No, but I have tremendous talent for heating frozen Italian food," he responds with indecent glee. He kisses me hard, his tongue almost forcefully invading my slightly parted lips, claiming every part of my surprised yet welcoming mouth.

"It does taste delicious," he murmurs, and bends to meet my mouth again. He fetches his phone to the sound of "It's a Small World After All." I grin at this revelation. _That's your ringtone, D_? After glancing at the screen, he answers in an intolerant staccato. "Well? What is it now?" He saws his lips as he listens, looks at me with a piercing stare, then responds, "Better. Though I frankly don't understand why for fuck's sake this wasn't your first answer." His voice rises as he emphasizes the last part. He halts for a moment as though in thought and then says, "Rob, this was the first and the last time I waste my valuable time waiting for a better answer from you. There will not be a next time."

I thank the powers that be that I am this man's lover rather than his employee.

"So, where were we?" Placidity is back.

"You were showing me how talented you were at heating Italian food and making my every cell melt, not necessarily in that particular order."

He raises his wicked gaze to meet mine and that scar, _oh, that scar,_ lifts in sinful promise.

"Was that Rob from R&D?" I question.

Daniel's brows knit inquisitively. "Yes, that was him. Why?" he says, licking the wooden spoon, disrupting the hell out of my train of thought.

"It's just that he's been quite popular today."

"Is that so?"

Daniel is between my parted thighs again, brushing his fingers through my hair, pulling my head slightly back and pressing yet another seductive kiss on my eager mouth.

_I could sit here reciprocating his fondling all day long. Who am I kidding, forever_.

"Well, it seems that he and Tasha had an intimate encounter recently."

Daniel surveys me for a prolonged moment; I squirm slightly at the tension he gives off. His features harden and his body stiffens. His jaw clenches under his skin and the look in his recently soft and playful eyes turns grave. I watch him, trying to understand the reason for this sudden change.

"Well," he says, deeply introspective, "I'll need Mrs. Greenich to present Miss Taylor and Rob with an R and F tomorrow morning."

_What the hell is he talking about? What's an R and F and why should Miss Greenich have to present it to Tasha_?

"What does Mrs. Greenich have to give to Tasha?" I ask.

"Our R and F form. An employee termination of contract in an inevitable situation. It's the procedure my HR has to follow after a breach of the company's policies." He looks at me, dead serious.

Concerned, and deeply hoping he's just pretending to be, I hope that he's making all this up. I wait for a naughty smile to arrive any second now, but it doesn't. Baffled, I ask him if he's serious.

"Oh, when it comes to my business, Hayley, I don't joke. Miss Taylor violated the company's policy and one of the terms of her contract." _What's with the righteous trance? And come on, Tasha's Miss Taylor now?_

Entirely in shock but still hoping very much that he's just joking with me, I ask him to elaborate which rule Tasha broke, exactly.

"Workplace romance and fraternization."

"No way, you _cannot_ be serious, are you?" I gape at him, my voice shaken, still finding it very hard to believe he might actually be serious.

And as though to justify his statement he adds, "It's to avoid favoritism and sexual harassment lawsuits."

"Well, I understand the fundamental logic of such a policy, but Daniel, we're talking about me conveying this information to you as my..." _As his what?_ I choose to continue with, "as me, to you, about my friend. I'm not talking to Mr. Stark, CEO of Stark Software, for god's sake." The fragile seams holding my nerves together are at the verge of tearing and I'm positive I'm transmitting that to Mr. Irrational here.

Clenched jaw and austere eyes observe me. "I can't," he says in a low, single-minded, firm voice.

_Not a chance in hell I'm letting this go through. He cannot fire her because of me. He cannot take the information I shared with him, as my so-called lover, and use it against my best friend_. I'm getting panicked and angry at this stubborn, illogical man. _Could you step out of your resolute psyche for just one second and hear what I have to say?_ "Daniel," I say, my voice calm yet icy. "Please look at me."

His eyes turn to fix on mine. A hint of softness appears in them. _This is a good sign; perhaps he'll listen._

"Daniel, this information about my friend that I've just shared with you is private." Anger swells in my gut the more I think about it, but I am doing my very best to remain collected. "Tasha confided in me without any need to hold back, which is the most natural thing in the world for her to do, given I'm her closest friend." I stress the last part. "I, on the other hand, I shared this information with you as your friend not realizing you'd take it as a cue to abuse my confidence in you."

I pause to force out a necessary breath of indignation.

"Have I been wrong to confide in you?" I ask. "If I am, it would mean a major change in the dynamics between us," I add, not leaving his eyes, hoping to find some sort of recognition and acceptance of what I've just said.

Breaking our eyes contact he says, absentmindedly, "I'll let this one pass on a technicality, you being my girlfriend and all." He sighs in resignation, far from seeming to agree with his own words.

_Girlfriend?_ Though somewhat dazed, my heart still does a flip, overjoyed.

"Wow, you've just been so, hmm, un—you..." Still sitting on the counter beside where he stands, I reach for his hand; I pull him closer for a hug which he gladly returns. I frame his bristled face with both hands and plant a lush, leaving-no-prisoners-behind kiss on his lips, inhaling his musky, male scent. His eyes flare as he eagerly cooperates with my harassment.

Coming up for air, he asks, "And I should take that as a compliment?" His lips insinuate a glimpse of a smile; I give him my most caring, glowing grin and nod.

"What has become of me? What are you doing to me?" he breathes, then sighs, shaking his head, and to my reluctance resumes attending to our food, a small, crooked curve resting on his lips.

## Chapter 20: New Layer

"Here we go." Daniel grinds the last portion of parmesan onto one of the dishes, putting the Natasha/Rob cold case file to rest. "And _voilà._ " He gestures to the two plates of steaming, delectable-looking spaghetti and meatballs with grated fragrant parmesan. One look at the dishes and a sudden homesick longing falls over me.

"What is it?" Daniel scans me, concern twining subtly through his tone.

"It's silly." My lips twist with an awkward, trying-to-appear-casual grin. "It's just... that's my mom's special comfort food and it makes me miss home." Without leaving my eyes he makes his way toward where I am sitting and wraps his arms around me, shelters me with strength and warmth. Under his cocooning my tension begins to subside.

He leans back slightly and tips my chin up with his finger. "Hey, don't. Look at me." He says in a gentle, low voice, "It really gets me down to see you upset." I don't know why, but being held by him, this sudden longing for home, his words and their sincerity achieve the very opposite of his intention, and a single tear rolls down my cheek.

"Hales," he breathes and hugs me tight, pulling me to the center of his firm chest, to the core of his Daniel scent.

_Hales. That's the first time he's called me that._ Until now, the only people to use that nickname were my family, Tasha, and Ian. That is all it takes to trigger additional tears. _What's going on with me? I don't do crying. Get a hold of yourself, and fast. Stop! Now!_

"Don't cry," he murmurs to my hair, clearly concerned. He wraps me tighter in his embrace, fluttering at the top of my head with light kisses.

"I'm not crying, it's just these stupid allergies," I say, trying to stifle the tears with an awkward smile. The tiniest smile briefly appears on his lips.

"Hey, Hales." He gently brushes my tears with his thumb, and this sudden gloom of mine evolves into something else, something deeper and different, that fully takes me by surprise. My heart twinges and these sudden new emotions that swirl in me are almost an ache. _I think I'm falling for you, D_.

Leaning back, his eyes search mine, assessing my emotions. Slowly his lips turn into the warmest smile; I smile back, feeling timid for my childish outburst. He bends toward me, inclines his head, allowing his mouth to meet mine. In the instant in which our mouths unite my tongue possesses him, eager and hungry to have and to taste, to breathe him, I devour the very depth of him.

He holds my head with both hands, resting his forehead against mine, and with closed eyes he murmurs, "You overwhelm me. You are so incredibly sweet."

My heart altogether quivers, trembles and rattles. _And you, me, D. Entirely._

"I am famished," he says next, huskily, in my ear.

"Can't and will not let you starve," I giggle, though I find it way too hard to release him, so I don't.

"Hmm, this is the part where you let go of me." He laughs croakily, his arms still around me.

"Can't, sorry. Tried. No can do." I grin, shrugging, and secure my hold of his waist firmer. Amused, he thinks for a moment, and then his right hand lets go of me and reaches for one of the plates, sliding it closer to us. With just one hand he twirls a fork through the small mound of spaghetti, skillfully rolling the long noodles around it. Seaming pleased with the result, he brings the little portion to my mouth.

"I like you improv." I beam at him, caressing his waist as I open my mouth for the forkful he offers.

"Mmm, divine."

He stares at me with glee.

Mmm, you are divine.

Repeating the action, this time he brings the fork to his own mouth, then to mine again, never breaking our physical connection.

"When was the last time you visited your family?" he asks the next time he feeds me, watching me, waiting for me to swallow.

"It was more than six months ago."

"And you miss them a lot, I'm guessing."

"Yes I do, awfully."

He brings another forkful to his mouth. "Why don't you visit them more often, then?"

Because I can't afford it. Newsflash, not everyone is rolling in money.

"I'm planning to visit in a couple of weeks," I say instead. "I'm looking forward to that, though the fact that my brother won't be there overshadows the anticipation a bit."

Chewing another bite, he observes me with attentive eyes. "You have a brother? Where is he?"

"Yes, Steven. He's four years younger than me. He's a combat medic deployed in Afghanistan."

Daniel's left arm tightens around me as he asks, "When does he come home?"

"Three more months to go," I say matter-of-factly. I can't avoid the familiar chill of dread I get each time I think of Steven there. Between bites of the next forkful he brings to my mouth I manage to ask him if he has any siblings.

"No, it's just my mom and me," he answers in a low voice, somewhat effected, bringing another bite to my waiting mouth.

"What's the story with your dad?"

He exchanges plates, pushing aside the finished one and sliding the full one next to us. Twisting the fork in the spaghetti he reluctantly answers, "The miserable excuse for a man by whom I was conceived isn't relevant, Hayley."

"You seem tense enough for him to have some effect on you. Doesn't seem so irrelevant to me." I bite my lips as I notice his mood quickly alter.

"Is it that important to you?" He looks at me, irritated, his mouth twists, and his grip of me loosens significantly, though I'm glad he doesn't completely let go.

"You're becoming important to me. Therefore, all information related to you is equally interesting and significant."

His frozen gaze mellows a notch. I lean my head forward to kiss him, reaffirming what I've just said. His embrace is firmer again; grateful, I smile inside, noticing.

"The coward I used to call dad when I was very young left when I was still a kid." A muscle starts working in his jaw, accompanied by smoldering eyes. Forcing a breath, he continues.

"At a point when my mom was dying of cancer. He left us when she couldn't even walk by herself." His expression is disgusted. "With less than a couple thousand in the bank to live off, and no one to take care of us."

I don't know what to say so I just hug him, pulling him closer, wishing with all my power to hug away all the pain he exudes. I process this new information about his past—abandoning father, mother fighting a deadly disease—and my heart goes out to him. I have so many questions I want to ask. How old was he? Did his mother get cured, and how? Was his past the reason he started the oncological laboratories research benefit? But I refrain from imposing on him further. It seems as though he's done talking.

My insides melt at the glimpse of this vulnerable side of him. I hold his face by his temples and lean in to kiss him; he takes the lead enthusiastically, invading my mouth, as though conquering it. Dismissively he shoves the half empty dish away and in the same breath pulls me closer, my legs spread wider as my body is drawn to his. His kisses are so forceful I feel a pulse in my lips and know they will be swollen later on, but I don't really care and let myself be carried away into his dynamic, crazed pace. _Let it all go D, bury yourself in me, with me._

I am so turned on by his forceful, carnal desire, my emotions are at their highest peak. His hands are peeling off every piece of clothing that separates his touch from my skin. I'm afraid something will end up ripped as he unleashes his hunger. I help him pull his tee over his head, unwillingly letting go of his entrancing mouth. I try to kiss his neck, but he pushes me onto the counter so I'm lying on the cold surface. He clearly has only one aim in mind now and it's to have me. He grips my thighs and quickly pulls me toward him. I slide on the marble surface, charged with want, concern and empathy. Abruptly he pulls up my skirt and I hear a faint rip. Judging by the burn on my left hip, I realize that my thong has been ripped off. His brutality makes my every cord call for him. I want him now with an alarming urgency. The warning sirens in my head are silenced by my want.

I can't help a cry of welcome pain as he pushes his way hurriedly to the very deep of me; I quiver from the feeling as my heart and breathing race to some undefined end point. He lashes with anger and pain in, out and against me with every thrust, and I build up, rapidly build up from his sweet, painful assault of my body. His final gasp is my release. I am left breathless and trembling. The afterglow doesn't leave; it comes in waves of sweet shivers as one heavily breathing, exhausted and released boy—man is laying on top of me. I run my fingers through the silky strands of his golden hair as I try to calm down, hoping I won't have any marks on me from his forceful grip and roughness. And here it is, I think to myself. _A new, sensitive, hurt layer of personality has unfolded itself before me and in me._

~~~

"A movie?" He lifts his handsome face to look at me.

"I choose this time." I smirk at him. _Father matters swept under the rug by a vigorous encounter of the flesh._

After clearing the remains of our dinner, I try to make amends with my now wrinkled, disheveled clothes, disposing discreetly of my ruined underwear. Daniel grabs a bottle of chilled white wine from the wine cooler. Taking my hand, he leads us both to the cinema room.

"And the choice for the evening, mademoiselle?"

His adorable playful smile is on, hazel eyes lit up. _He's back_.

"Any chance you've got _Terms of Endearment_ here?"

"I'm pretty sure I do," he says, pensive, half to me, half to himself. "I've heard that title a lot. I think it's one of my mom's favorites or something."

"It is my all-time favorite." I grin and am answered with a luscious kiss.

"What is it about?" he asks, fumbling with the remote.

"An emotionally intense relationship between a mother and her daughter over the years."

He rolls his eyes. "Sounds promising, can't wait," sarcasm bursting from his hoarse voice.

"The things I do for you, Hales," he murmurs and I grin, utterly ecstatic. _Oh, the things I'd do for you. You'll be surprised, D_. And his recent rough treatment pops to my mind.

The lights dim as the screen illuminates and I find myself thrilled to watch this movie with him. He takes a swig of the chilled wine and hands me the sweating bottle. I replicate him. Curled up in my indulgent sofa, pleased to see Shirley MacLaine's manic character seizing the screen, I take Daniel's hand, lacing my fingers with his, and am greeted by a heart-tottering smile.

I take a sip of the wine that has warmed by now, my eyes glossy with unshed tears while my throat threatens to release them. This'll be the twentieth time I've watched this old film and I still hope that perhaps this time the daughter won't get sick.

"Hales, I'll be bleeding soon," Daniel whispers, nodding at the bite of my fingernails into his innocent hand.

"Sorry," I murmur, gluing my eyes back to the screen. I think that from the corner of my eyes I see a smile.

Not a minute passes before I hear Daniel announce, "For fuck's sake." I glance over at him, curious but disinclined to leave the drama that has just reached its peak on the screen.

"Just hop over and straddle me!"

My eyes expand in awe and I can't help laughing at his blunt request.

"Raging hormones? This is what _Terms of Endearment_ does to you? No wining and dining, no foreplay, just hop on you?" I giggle. "Don't get me wrong, not that I have any problem with jumping you at any given moment, twenty-four seven for all I care, but seriously, what's up, D?"

"Come on, I tried to be all nice, sensitive boyfriend and watch this crap with you but this is pure torture. It is seriously emasculating. I need to make amends here, ASAP."

I burst out laughing.

"I am not kidding, come on, no time, straddle, Hales, straddle," he commands, looking dead serious. My stomach is sore from laughing but in parallel I feel another sweet clench forming at the pit of my insides.

Still highly amused, I ask, "Hey, can you pretend to be pissed off and say for fuck's sake again?"

It's his turn to look perplexed, though a he cracks a small, crooked smile.

"Enlighten me, dear," he chuckles in a raspy, low voice.

"I just find you mighty sexy that way, Mr. Stark." I blink suggestively, and I am gifted by a vivid, enchanting laugh which is followed by a clenched jaw and lips pressed into a thin line, though a shred of delight flickers in his eyes.

"Oh, for fuck's sake Hales, straddle me now," he snaps.

And straddle I do, gladly.

~~~

When I turn to sleep cradled by his firm arms, I murmur, "Tomorrow, after work, I'm going home. Ian's coming over. You can join us if you want."

"I don't think I will. I have a hectic schedule waiting for me and you probably want to be alone with your friends."

"You're always a welcome addition," I say, and am answered with a kiss. I burrow deeply in his embrace just before, exhausted, I close my eyelids.

## Chapter 21: Poor Chinese Life Philosophy and Then Some

"Ladies, if it's the subject of alcohol we're dealing with here, then this is what I have to say." Ian halts for a moment, adds a dramatic note to his voice and continues. "If you choose to brace up only one thing I ever tell you, let it be this, my dear ladies. Clear alcohol, go with clear!"

We both look at Ian sitting next to us on our white marble floor, then at each other. I bite my lips trying to subdue a wider smile, doing my very best to look attentive. I can see Tasha imitating me. Rob, on the other hand, is looking at the three of us in bored awe as if to say, "What am I doing here with this strange trio?"

Doing my best friend, Rob, that's what you're doing.

"Ladies," Ian declares, drawing our attention back to him. "If you go for any other color in the booze palette, and remember I've warned you-try not to, but if you do, skip food."

We both nod, feigning admiration for the dogma coming out of Ian's beautifully lush, rubbish-preaching lips.

"Just stay away from dark alcohol. Whatever you do, gorgeous ladies, keep it away from your dreamy mouths. It is goddamn fattening." He nods, emphasizing his belief.

"It looks tempting, but just don't try. It'll stay with you forever and mess with your brains. Take it from me, it's no good."

"Now that's something a priest won't be preaching." Tasha murmurs.

"Let me see if I understand you," I say, trying to look serious but finding it hard with the smirk spread over Tasha's face. "In case we decide to consume alcohol, we should always choose clear liquids as they contain less calories?"

Ian sends me his zillion-dollar, adorable grin. "That's right, gorgeous."

I start to giggle. _I can't imagine anybody who can elate my spirit better than Ian does. He's my own private sunshine—well, ours—Tasha's and mine. Though now that I think of it there's someone else who can lighten my mood just as much as Ian, though he does it in so many very different ways_.

"So what did you end up ordering, Hales?" Tasha inquires, while Rob massages her shoulders.

_Why do I find this so disturbing? He's no different from any other guy Tasha's had over till now. Perhaps the fact that he's her boss? Or the fact that he's in a committed relationship with someone else? Or maybe what Daniel thinks is affecting the way I feel..._ I shake my thoughts away and reply, "Poor Chinese."

Ian to my side shakes his head disapprovingly, murmuring under his breath, "Oil-saturated carbs, on your thighs that's were it'll end."

"Poor Chinese, what's that?" Rob asks and the three of us laugh in stereo.

"Just greasy, cheap Chinese fast food. Our thing." Tasha fakes being repulsed.

"We dine in style," Ian comments wryly, adjusting his orange Scuba watch higher on his wrist.

Rob smiles and plants a kiss on Tasha's head.

Mental note: I need to ask Tasha later about how weird it is for them to act as though it's business as usual at the office after, well, this...

"Munch time!" Ian rejoices at the knock on our door, clapping his hands enthusiastically like a content toddler. I beam at the aura that seems to constantly surround him. He's always so vibrant.

"My treat. I'm getting it." I grab my purse from the shabby chic chest in the corridor, and head to the door.

_Oh, shit, Daniel. Not good. Didn't he mention yesterday that he would be tied up at work? Crap!_ I greet him, trying to hide my surprise mixed concern with a happy-to-see-you smile. Apparently not doing such a great job.

"What's with the look, Hales, not so happy to see me?" he questions, his face abruptly fallen at my reaction. _Oh no, it is not because of you, well yes it is, but not on my account_. I push him back to the hall with my body pinning him against the wall as I kick shut the door. Daniel looks at me under raised eyebrows with wide eyes. He probably thinks I've lost it.

Lifting my hands to wrap them around his neck, stretching my body on flexed feet against him, I reach his mouth and press a wholehearted kiss on his slightly parted, stunned lips. Passionately, I kiss him with all possible seductive maneuvers I can incorporate into one kiss.

As we part, he questions, "This is more than welcome, but what's going on here? What's with the sudden need to sexually attack me outside your door? Can't do it inside?"

I hold his handsome face with both hands making sure his eyes are aligned with mine. "Can you please set aside your feelings? For me? Just this once? Please?" Pressing my lips against his again, I envelope him, caressing his lower back. "Please," I repeat in a pleading tone.

"Seriously, what's up with you today, Hales? What the hell are you talking about? You're acting weirder than usual." He watches me with a frown. "What's going on, for fuck's sake?" His body stiffens.

"Look past what you see, for me. That's all I ask," I whisper as I take his hand and lead him inside to where Ian, Tasha and Rob are. My heartbeat quickens as I wait, dreading the unavoidable encounter. I silently pray to the gods of mental sanity to for once help with this cureless case. _D, please don't lose it._ I bite my lip, fidgeting, in anticipation of Daniel's reaction.

"Hey," he salutes everyone in the room. His lips are pressed to a very thin line, his look nothing but readable. Glancing my way, his eyes dart daggers. I notice the vein in his tanned neck begin to pulse. _Don't lose it, sweet psycho._ I try to smile.

Rob, realizing who just arrived, yanks his hands from Tasha's shoulders as if he just found out she was infected with an incurable, highly contagious plague.

"Hmm, Dan... Mr. hmm, Stark." He nods in sheer discomfort.

Daniel reciprocates with a blank face and a hint of a nod, his expression speaks volumes. _This doesn't look even remotely fine_.

Jumping from his position on the floor, Ian takes Daniel's palm in both hands. "Well, _hello_ Daniel. Great to finally meet you. I've heard so many bad things about you."

As Daniel takes in Ian, many expressions run through his face; none seem even relatively close to positive. Then without any prior notice, Ian turns to me and plants a rich kiss on my mouth. I notice Daniel's knuckles turning white in his fisted palms as he gapes at us. I shoot Ian a warning gaze.

Elegantly ignoring my threatening look, Ian says to me, as though Daniel isn't standing inches from us, ticking. "He's just as hot as you said, gorgeous."

_Oh no, it's only minutes before volcano D will erupt, I can already see it, everybody duck, shit's about to hit the fan_. Blood is frantically pulsing in my veins and I can literally feel my face losing its vital shade.

"Daniel," I try, gliding an uncertain hand to his chest, drawing his attention to me. "This is _the_ Ian, I told you all about." I send him a reassuring look, willing him to remember the gay factor. Daniel smiles at Ian, though there isn't evidence of the smile in his eyes. He looks exasperated as only he can under smile.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, leaving my hand on him, sliding it to his waist as I position myself closer to face him; he looks at me impassively and murmurs, "I could eat."

"Great," I smile my most adorable, sweeter-than-Nutella smile. "We're expecting the food any minute now." Right as the words leave my mouth the doorbell rings. "Be back in a sec." I stretch to kiss his cheek and gladly leave to get the food.

Returning with two large brown bags I check on the gathering from the protective shelter of the kitchen counter. Ian is sitting next to Daniel chatting. Daniel appears to be cooperative, splitting his attention between the phone in his hands and Ian.

Tasha is taken with Rob. I know that look and body language of hers. She's working on distracting him from his tenseness, rubbing his hand and engaging him in conversation; the quiet ceasefire brings a smile to my face. _So far so good, no casualties yet. But hey, the night is still young._

Setting the clear food containers on the counter, I place five plates next to each other and a matching number of silverware and glasses. Doing that, I hear a beep of an incoming message from the phone tucked in the back pocket of my jeans. I stop what I'm doing to check who it's from. The message reads:

Daniel: Looking past. The things I do for you, H...

I turn to where he is sitting and meet his glinting eyes above his heart-melting askew smile, which swells my insides with pure adoration. I stop messing around with the food and walk toward where he is seated, my stare not straying from his. As I reach his side I bend to press a lengthy, chaste kiss to his lips. Brushing my fingers through his honeyed hair, I whisper in his ear, "You are so going to be rewarded for this."

He smirks at me, winks, and murmurs, "Looking forward to it."

Content, I turn back to setting up dinner.

"Kids, food is ready!" I call out moments later.

We're all settled around the tiny spring-green kitchen counter digging into our plates of "poor" while Ian entertains us with hilarious anecdotes from his work at the travel agency, seasoning it Ian-style with drama and comic spikes.

I can hardly get my food down; there's a knot in my stomach from excessive laughter. "Shut up for two seconds, Ian, let us chew some food without the risk of choking to death, for fuck's sake," I beg.

"That would be my line," Daniel mumbles my way, making me giggle. Ian flashes me his boyish I-am-so-the-center-of-attention smile to which I respond with an air-kiss.

"Stop that," Daniel scolds me quietly and I chuckle. _Is he serious?_

"You guys should hear some of Ian's legendary runway show adventures," Tasha says. Ian smiles at her approvingly, eager to continue his entertainment of the audience. Daniel tilts his head and raises a curious eyebrow at me.

"Ian sometimes participates in modeling gigs," I inform him. He shrugs, indifferent to the information. He resumes picking at his plate with one hand, nonchalantly resting the other on my inner thigh, making my blood surge toward the center of my body. And this is only with a casual touch; _D, can't wait to get you in my room._

Being an offspring of a Japanese father and a Scandinavian mother, Ian has such a unique, exotic look that gets him constant offers to participate in random fashion events. I run my eyes over him as he tells the story of the time one of the models got her long curly hair caught in the mechanical epilator, his entire posture signaling I am Mecca. _He looks way too young to be twenty-six_. His slender figure and his angelic, nearly girlish facial features certainly help. He sits casually opposite us, his tall figure hunched on one of the orange stools, a head taller than me, almost Daniel's height but not quite. His almond-shaped aquamarine eyes now twinkle in a lively way in response to our laughter. As dinner progresses Daniel seems more at ease. He's sociable with Tasha and Ian, though he doesn't grace Rob with a single look or any form of attention whatsoever, for that matter. _Well, it's not like I expected Daniel to hold hands with him and chant Kumbayaa. Guess ignoring will do in this case._

"We'll clean up," Tasha declares, smiling at Rob. Nobody protests. I am slightly repelled at the few lonely morsels left floating in oil at the bottom of the depleted containers and can't wait to get away.

"There's a phone call I need to make," Ian announces.

"Alerting the media," Tasha and I respond simultaneously.

"Biatches," Ian snarls with a smile as he turns on his heels toward our wooden decked balcony for privacy. _Booty call?_ I amuse myself _. Familiar with Ian's lifestyle,_ I am probably right.

"You..." I front Daniel, who's sitting next to me wearing a white button-down shirt. He has two buttons undone, revealing a part of his tanned neck and a small triangle of soft, golden hair. His jeans enfold his pelvis in the most salacious way. I take a deep breath, drinking him in. My palm runs across the prickly bristles that decorate his cheek. "You are coming with me."

"Am I now? Where to?" He smiles, causing a pang in my chest at his marked lip and those adorable wrinkles that form at the edge of his eyes when he grins.

"My room," I answer softly, and pull him by the hand to follow me. He casually lifts himself out of the stool, obediently following my lead.

As soon as he closes the door behind us, Daniel empties his jean pockets. Phone, wallet and an Alfa Romeo key fob all settle on my bookshelf. He turns to embrace me, pushing us both back so we fall on my bed. I tilt my head back giggling. With the weight of him between my legs I sink into my white down-filled comforter. He raises his upper body by straightening his arms. Staring at me with his glittering, rebellious eyes, making me anxious, but yearn for him at the same time.

"You played nice with the worker bees," I tease, lifting my head to graze his square jaw with my teeth.

"Mating, licentious worker bees that is," he murmurs to my lips.

I start to chuckle, but stop when his tongue insistently invading my mouth becomes the only thing that matters.

"Hold on, baby," he breathes, grabbing the remote from my nightstand, tapping play to bring my iPod to life with Snow Patrol's, "Make This Go on Forever." _This song and you, D, what more can a girl ask for?_

"This will give us some privacy with all your moaning," the curve of his lip, pure tease. I roll my eyes and he smirks.

_"_ Where was I," he mumbles into my slightly parted lips, covering my body with his. He brushes my hair to the side then leans into me slowly, fluttering his lips on mine. He pulls back to look at me, his eyes a tender hazel. His touch is now deeper, more demanding, as his tongue rejoins mine in a stimulating dance that starts pulsing currents in my very depths. I slide my hands under his shirt to stroke his firm back with the tips of my fingers, sensing his warmth against them, savoring the feeling.

He rises to his knees and pulls me up to face him; we stare at each other with the slightest gap between us, our faces almost touching. He grabs my pink tee by its hem and pulls it over my head. I undo his buttons, parting the fabric, freeing him of his shirt, then hastily help him out of his white tee. I gaze at his bare, chiseled body, his molded chest, three even, alluring pairs of square muscles just above his tanned navel, the seductive maze tattoo wrapped around his shoulder, and I quiver in anticipation. He moves his gaze from my baby pink bra to my eyes with a scorching stare, liquefying my insides.

Abruptly, as though possessed, we embrace, forcing our bodies together. His mouth doesn't leave mine when he yanks my jean buttons apart; I copy him, unzipping his fly. Anxious short gasps come out of our joined mouths as we pull down our pants. Unwillingly we detach to hurriedly peel off our remaining clothes, then frantically embrace again, our bare bodies amplifying the feeling of skin on skin.

Daniel pulls us down to the bed. He caresses me, stroking from between my breasts to the trail beneath my navel, till his hand halts between my legs, starting a fire in me. With a passionate, blazing stare and flushed cheeks he sinks into me in the most indulgent way. I cry out in ecstasy.

Grabbing his face, holding his bristled cheeks, I pull his mouth to mine, exploring every part of it. I feel myself build up in response to the faint groans reverberating from deep inside his throat as his mouth collides with mine. I am lost in our proximity, lost in the intensity of our union, the way he methodically moves in and out of me, lost in his incredibly drugging scent, utterly lost in him.

We devour, ravage each other, stroking every inch of bare skin. He grazes my back, my breasts, strokes my face. My hands comb into his soft wavy hair as I pull him deeper, wrapping my legs around him. We absorb each other, dependent on an overwhelming pleasure that causes my body to blister inside out. I am climbing up rapidly and shudder to a release at Daniel's last thrust, just before he eases onto me.

The exhilaration leaves my each and every organ in deep spasms. We pace our breath while Daniel is still wrapped on me. _I could have him stay this way till my last day on earth._

Lying with his head on my bare stomach he mutters, "You feel divine." He pecks my navel, fluttering my skin with airy kisses. I play my index finger over the tattoo covering his entire left shoulder; my vision is fixated on the spiral-shaped phrases, three circles of inked cryptic letters. I find it madly erotic and am not able to take my eyes away.

"What does it say?"

"My tat?" he murmurs to my skin, planting yet another supple kiss on it.

"Yes." I continue my trip around it as though I am solving the maze on his skin while enjoying the pleasurable touch of his lips on my bare stomach.

"It is the Lord's Prayer in ancient Hebrew."

"It is so sexy."

"Now, that would be you," he says, and runs the tip of his tongue over my bare skin; I move to caress his dusty blond head, feeling serenity settle over me.

"When did you get it?" I ask behind closed eyes.

"Right after I signed the final papers to register my company."

I can't help but contemplate what made him choose this specific theme. "I didn't take you for a believer," I say.

"You were correct with your assumption," he snorts. "The ink has a different meaning to me than its original context."

"Oh." I shift my head to look at him.

"For me it represented the end of an era, a beginning of a realization of a dream, gratitude." He looks back at me and then asks, "Are you familiar with the way the prayer concludes?"

Though my father would be disappointed at my answer, with years of trying to get some faith and love for God in me, I answer that I don't.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil," he quotes. "That part was just what starting my company was to my past." Highly intrigued, I lift my head, but just when I'm about to ask for further elaboration about his past life, we're distracted by the national anthem playing from my phone on the floor where my jeans are scattered with the rest of our deserted clothes. Daniel inclines his head to face me with an inquisitive stare.

"What the fuck?"

I burst up into laughter. _How Daniel of you to phrase a question so subtly, Mr. Finesse_.

"That would be my phone," I answer, still amused.

"The national anthem?"

"What? Disney's hymn is a better choice?" I mock his "It's a Small World" ringtone. He chuckles and presses a kiss to my bellybutton. I inhale, pleased, observing the way those muscles flex so alluringly on his back as he shifts to kiss my navel again.

"Don't you want to get that?"

"Mmm."

He arches an eyebrow below messy hair; his skewed smile evolves to a full healthy grin. "And that would mean?"

"Mmm, I am too self-indulgent to move. I don't care." _Anyhow Tash, Ian, and you are here..._

He chuckles. And my phone persists yet again.

"I'll get it for you," Daniel breathes, still lying next to me, sending his hand to my jeans on the floor, pressing me deeper into the bed on the way.

"Daniel," he answers.

I laugh and then frown at him. "Hey, it's my phone."

His demeanor quickly changes, now far from amused. I study him, concerned. "Who's asking?" he questions.

"David?" he repeats out loud for me to hear, and I immediately wave, urging him to hand me the phone. He gives me the phone with clenched jaw observing with rapt intensity; I pull myself higher on my pillow.

"Dave hi, can I call you later?" I sigh. "No, I cannot talk right now. Yes, I'm busy. Okay, bye."

"Dave?" Daniel echoes me as I put down the phone.

Trying unsuccessfully to avoid his stare, I mutter casually, "No one of importance."

"No one of importance?" His brows furrow. "And yet you jumped when I mentioned his name."

I bite my lip, looking under my lashes as I return his stare.

"Someone I used to hang out with."

Daniel slides next to me; resting his head on his propped arm, he gazes down at me.

"Someone you hung out with?"

_What's with the third degree?_ "What is it that you want to know, Daniel?" I ask, somewhat annoyed.

"Who's the guy and how intimate have you been with him?"

_You're kidding me, right?_ "You really want to know?" I question _. Ridiculous doesn't even begin to describe... whatever this is._

Daniel, lacking any inhibitions, moves to sit astride my stomach, cuffing my wrists, lifting my hands above my head, holding them tight to the mattress. "I gather by this response that adultery is involved here."

"Adultery?" I can't help the giggle that bursts from my mouth.

"Adultery, Hayley Grace. Adultery. Even past events are now considered adultery."

I roll my eyes at him. "Did we get married and I wasn't notified?" I tease. _This entire situation is plainly absurd._

"Hayley, I've asked a question." He pauses and deepens his stare at me. "What is the nature of your relationship with this Dave?" he asks in a firm voice, putting on a repulsed expression as he says David's name. _Psycho_.

"If you really insist, and believe me I'm not sure why, but..." I shake my head with closed eyes. "We used to occasionally sleep together," I declare dryly, without remorse at the bluntness of my words, given his intrusive interrogation. "Used to being the key words here," I add assertively.

"Occasionally... just fuck?" he asks, his voice slightly raised, his eyes open wide and annoyed.

"You want the detailed definition of our _past_ relationship? Well, we used to be friends with benefits," I accent 'past' as I say it; his expression turns manic.

"Were there more Daves, Hayley?"

I sigh in irritation. "Come on, Daniel, this is starting to get ridiculous." _Will I ever hear the end of this?_

"Why the fuck did he just call, then?" Daniel snaps.

_I guess for some benefits? There's no way I'm going to say that out loud_.

"I could just beat the living shit out of this fuckwad right now," he murmurs under his breath.

_Of course you would. Nothing that a few years on an obscenely expensive therapist's couch couldn't fix_.

"Well, it is not like we've published an engagement announcement in the Times," I scoff. "And frankly, I didn't find the time yet to send out 'I'm taken' email notifications to everyone I've ever been with."

"Maybe it's time you did," he says scornfully, half smiling, though his eyes remain disturbed.

"How many _ever been with_ are there anyway?"

If he only knew...

"I'm not dignifying that with an answer," I say, resolute. He gives me an irritated look. _Imperious, possessive psycho_.

"And, just for the sake of this exchange of words, I am not arguing with you, Daniel, I'm just explaining to you why I'm absolutely right. We both had a life before, and I'd much rather not recite our sexual histories scrolls, especially not right this second." I look up at him sternly and am regarded with now softer hazel depths, brows mildly furrowed.

Climbing off me he lays back with his head resting on my stomach. _I can't believe this entire conversation was in the nude_. He leaves sweet little kisses on my skin, covering it with goose bumps. _I guess some of what I said sunk in. Only he can alter from manic to sweet gentle kisses in a fraction of a second._

"Anyhow, it doesn't really matter, D. I'm yours now," I say in a small voice, trying to further sweeten the atmosphere between us.

"Hales," he purrs quietly with closed eyes, his nose grazing my flesh.

"I am so yours, more than I've ever been mine."

My heart expands to an almost painful level and I exhale an emotive sigh. _Despite your crazy ways, if this is what love feels like, I think I'm in love with you, D_.

## Chapter 22: Change of Location

"Hayley, can you come over, please?" Josh's voice reaches me over the noise and clatter coming from the occupied cubicles in the office's vast open space.

"What's up, boss?" I pop my head into his room, holding the doorframe.

"Have a seat." He radiates his famous smile at me. Pensive, he fiddles with some male model portfolios, shuffling between three.

"Remember Canada?" he asks, still looking at the pictures in his hands, running his fingers through his hair.

"Of course, the roadshow you asked me to accompany you to."

"That very one," he murmurs, knitting his eyebrows as he puts one of the folders aside, and spreads the remaining two on the desk in front of him, one next to the other.

"Well, it's not going to happen." He finally raises his eyes to look at me.

"Oh, really?" _What's with the stare, should I be disappointed or something? It's just Canada._

"Instead we'll be on a modeling shoot on location in the Maldives with one of these guys," he gestures at his desk.

_Holy hell. Really_? "That's nice," I say, trying not to appear too enthusiastic.

"You can smile now, Hayley, I'm also thrilled about it." He grins a full blown Colgate smile. I try to mirror him. Try. _Well, no one can really get to his level_.

"Check these two out: one will be on the cover of this summer's special edition. Which one do you like best?" He turns the portfolios my way. Observing the two full-page photos I am completely shocked to find Ian's familiar beautiful face staring at me from the one on the left.

"What's wrong, why did you freeze?"

"It is just that this one," I point at Ian's photo, "is one of my best friends, so I don't think I would be objective enough to help decide who's a better candidate."

Josh smiles. There is some unclear glee in his eyes that could be interpreted as mischievous.

"Fair enough. I personally tend to go with him, but we'll run it by a focus group first before making the final decision."

I nod in consent. _I believe that would be the right way to handle this, but if some almighty is listening, please let it be Ian._

"I'll let you know the exact dates when we finalize them."

"Perfect." I grin at him. "Anything else?"

"Yes, how are we with the 'all pink' piece I requested a background theme for?"

"Almost done. I'll send you the draft within the hour."

He nods, pleased. "Great. Just keep in mind the balance between text and images, as we discussed during that Hawaiian job." Abruptly his stare wanders to the folders again.

"That will be all," he murmurs, his mind already elsewhere.

_Can I mention this to Ian? No, he would just get too excited, and if Josh ends up choosing the second-runner-up Ian will be disappointed for nothing. I'll keep it to myself for now. Wow, I could end up in the Maldives with Ian and get paid for it_. My grin widens at the thought.

I shake my head at the incoming message hollering from my phone.

Daniel: Sleeping with me tonight!

_Hello to you too. There should be a question mark at the end of that phrase, not a freaking exclamation point!_ I smile as I consider the too appealing idea but unfortunately will have to dismiss it. I need to pack for tomorrow and could use some relaxed, homey Tasha time.

**Tempting offer, sorry need to pack. Flying with my boyfriend to MEX 2MOR** ;)

I grin at the phone and press send.

**Daniel: One lucky bastard of a boyfriend you've got**. My already wide smirk stretches even broader across my face. _I am going for a weekend in Baja with Daniel._ My heart almost ends up in the ceiling at the thought.

I fire up the InDesign software, reviewing the potential images I intend to use on the "all pink" piece. I drag four out of the twenty images to the indents and spacing section and set the alignment to best harmonize with the wording. I play with the small images in different ways till I reach an overall look that satisfies me. Saving the completed job, I send it to Josh.

His reply comes quicker than I thought it would.

Good job, perhaps just darken up behind the wording; I could see the text getting a little lost there. Have a great weekend.

Josh.

## Chapter 23: TLC

"Honey! I'm home, hide the milkboss," I call, waiting for Tasha's so expected laugh and left disappointed to find an empty apartment.

"Hey Missy," Tasha answers at the first ring.

"Hey back, where are you?" I ask, hoping she's on her way home.

"I am still at the office," she says, giggling.

"But of course you are," I scold, emphasizing the sarcasm dripping from my voice.

"Hales, don't sulk. It's unbecoming and you could get wrinkles from excessive frowning."

I roll my eyes. "When are you planning to come home?"

"Not anytime soon," she giggles again, annoyingly. _I can too easily guess who's with her_.

"Well, have a good time, and if I don't see you enjoy the weekend."

"You too. Have the best time, and remember, Missy, the happier you make him the happier we all are."

I titter. "Adios," I say before ending the call.

I try Ian next but the call goes directly to his messaging system. As soon as I hang up, though, my phone beeps, alerting a text.

Ian: Busy... ;) SUP gorgeous?

Does everybody have a life these days?

Enjoy my dear, nothing special, in need of some TLC.

Ian: Sorry gorgeous, he is quite hot. Will be done late... Hopefully.

Nighty night, gorgeous you.

Ian: Gorgeous, TLC = Mr. Stark, try that ;)

_You're most right, Ian_ , as always. _Where is Mr. Stark anyway_?

I mellow, soaking in a steamy bath for a while just before packing my suitcase for the weekend. Since all my chores are done, I decide to turn in early. Snuggling in bed I am elated to find a weak Daniel smell on my comforter and pillow, and I call him.

"Just a sec," Daniel answers. "That will be all, Anne. You can go home now." I hear him say in the background.

"Hales," his voice is a fraction gentler as he says my name.

"Are you still at the office?"

"Yeah. What's up, baby?"

"Nothing special. What's the plan for the morning?"

I can hear him stop typing. "Any chance you are coming over now?"

A smile roots on my lips. "I'm already tucked in bed."

He's quiet for a few seconds then sighs loudly. "I've got so many things to do, and unfortunately none of them includes doing you."

I grin at the phone, both at his words and the fact that he sounds serious enough to be lecturing at a U.N convention.

"How about I pick you up around nine and we drive together to SFO? Our flight is at eleven."

"Sounds good to me, can't wait," I sigh in sheer contentment.

"Same here," he breathes. "Hang up now, Hales, you're tempting me to join you in bed and there is so much shit I need to wrap up here."

"Night, D."

"Night, H." His voice comes out as though through a smile.

I hit play and let Phil Collins' soothing voice accompany me to sleep.

~~~

"Thanks, Natasha."

I can clearly hear metal jingling. The sound is close now and it sounds like a bundle of keys clicking against one another. Somewhat alarmed, I open my eyes, attempting to adjust my vision against the light coming from the corridor, trying to find out the source of this noise in the middle of the night.

"Daniel?" I whisper and my heart leaps. He turns my way with the warmest, timid smile. In an effort to comprehend his presence I stare at him wordless.

"Natasha let me in," he explains, as though this clarifies him being here at this very late hour.

"Oh, okay." I say hesitantly, still in a blur.

"Ian texted me that you needed some TLC." His eyes on me alight with a soft glee; I look back at him with a thin smile, feeling utter adoration for them both for caring enough.

"And frankly, Hales, I really needed to breathe you in." He bends lower and kisses my lips.

"You go back to sleep. I'm going to work from here."

My heart has just been completely melted.

He scoots next to me with his notebook positioned on his lap. "Come here," he whispers and I nestle on his chest, entirely tranquil. _Can't think of a better way to be woken up and to be falling asleep_. As he types, he kisses my head gently. Nuzzling my hair, he takes a deep breath. "Just what I needed," he exhales. There is a sweet pain in me, deep, deep inside, as I am dissolving into him physically and mentally.

"What's the time?" I yawn, my eyes heavy.

"One a.m. Sleep, baby." He kisses the top of my head. Complying, I close my eyes and drift off.

~~~

The sound of the music coming from my iPod is heaving me to wake up; I check the clock on my nightstand to find out it's a quarter to eight. _I need to get up_. Recalling late last night I'm confused by Daniel's grating absence. Though, reassuringly, the pillow beside me is flattened in a slept-upon manner. _It wasn't a dream_. Looking closer I notice a small yellow sticky note.

**Morning Sweet H, went to get my stuff, see you at nine**.

I shake my head, amused at the way his chaotic handwriting slants to the right. _How fitting_.

I turn up the music and start getting ready. Luxuriating under the warm cascading water of the shower, I think about last night. One thing I can say about Daniel for sure: there's never a dull moment. He never ceases to overwhelm me.

Observing myself in the standing mirror while applying mascara, I'm pleased with the total look, from the khaki sleeveless wrap dress, the white Mary Jane flats, and the denim jacket to the white-framed sunglasses holding back my hair. Tasha would be proud at the effort. _Where is she, anyway_? I remember Daniel mentioning she was the one who opened the door for him and that it was very late last night. I don't have the heart to wake her up just to say goodbye.

At the sound of a firm knock on our door I hurry to the corridor, trying to reach it before more noise wakes Tasha up. I can barely breathe at the sight of Daniel as I open the door; he looks indisputably h-o-t. Wearing plaid gray Bermudas with a white button-down linen shirt, sleeves rolled mid-way, a pair of silver aviator shades tucked into the v-shape formed by the first couple of undone buttons against his tanned chest. _Wow_ , _and all this sexy maleness is mine, lucky me._

"You look delicious," I say, and am greeted with an admiring stare.

"No, that would be you."

I inch up to kiss his beautiful mouth, to be rewarded with his mouth claiming mine as he pins me to the wall behind. My body responds to him enthusiastically as he presses his firm figure to mine, his fingers quickly lacing through my hair, pulling me into a much more intense kiss.

"Well, good morning to you, too," I say, flushed, out of breath, trying to regain some sort of balance.

"Good morning," he smiles a small lopsided smile. He tips my chin up, looking into my eyes with his alluring hazel ones, stroking my cheek with his thumb. "I feel like taking you to your room now but we have a flight to catch." His deep coaxing voice and the temptation in his words make my stomach gush.

"Bound, unbreakable, rain check?" I smirk sappily at him; he flutters an innocent kiss on my curved lips.

"You can count on it. Let's go, baby."

## Chapter 24: At The Depths of A-1

Securing my hand in his, Daniel guides us to the ramp coming out of a parked red and white aircraft.

"Here." He gestures for me to climb in first, following behind, holding me by the waist. "Love the view," he whispers in my ear, gently slapping my butt, making me jump in parallel to sparking a sweet ache deep in me.

"To the left please. Third row on the right." An elderly, beautiful flight attendant in a Virgin uniform shows us to our seats.

"My name is Beverly and I will be your flight attendant for today. Welcome back, Mr. Stark." She flashes a bright red smile, appraising Daniel in a disturbing way.

Daniel nods; impassive to her gaze, he links his hand in mine and steers us toward the designated seats.

"Window or aisle, ma'am?" he asks playfully as we reach our row.

"Window," I smirk back at him.

"After you." He waits for me to take my seat. Settling in, laid back, he takes my hand and brings it to his mouth. He takes his time kissing the tips of my fingers, providing attention to each finger individually. I look around, admiring the luxurious surroundings, surprised at the posh, spacious interior.

"Penny for your thoughts." Daniel studies me closely.

"Just, all of this." I gesture my free hand toward the cabin.

"What about it?" His eyes taper slightly, questioning.

"It's my first in first." I simper, feeling somewhat timid.

"Just more comfortable and private," he mutters casually, and shrugs. _Should I be offering to pay for my part?_ I'm disturbed at the thought, knowing it would severely hurt my budget.

"What's bothering you, baby?" He presses his thumb at the furrowed spot between my eyebrows, and gently rubs it to soothe.

"Just... mmm, it's a bit too much. I should be paying for my ticket." I say, determined, inwardly cringing at the thought.

He observes me for a long second, his eyes a shade somber. "I've got it covered. I was the one who invited you." He sighs in frustration. "Let's not talk about it anymore." His look says, 'end of discussion'.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. If you haven't already done so, please stow your carry-on luggage underneath the seat in front of you or in an overhead bin. Please take your seat and fasten your seat belt. And also make sure your seat back and folding trays are in their full upright position." The in-flight announcement blends with the fuss of passengers getting situated.

"Beverly seemed glad to see you, Mr. Stark," I say teasingly, trying to change the subject. He rolls his eyes and proceeds to work on my left hand, starting with my pinky this time.

"You really want to go there?" he murmurs to the tip of my finger, studying it attentively.

"Meaning?" Curious, I observe him.

"That fucker, _David_ , sounded eager for some additional tributes," he states dryly.

_Oh, that there, D. Is this still an issue? Wait a second, why is he bringing that up now? Does it mean him and Mrs. Geriatric Red Lips here have been doing the wild thing?_ I am revolted at the thought.

"Are you implying... did you and... did you two?" I stammer pathetically, trying to ask my question but not exactly succeeding.

"Miss Grace." He beams at me impishly. "You seemed so much more coherent a minute ago! Have you lost your words? Do you need a moment?" He chuckles, turning to suck my middle finger, this time way too sensually, biting it gently as he pulls it out of his mouth.

"No, we haven't," he confirms lazily. His grin widens at my embarrassingly noticeable relief.

"Were you just jealous now, Hales?" Daniel teases, smirking from ear to ear.

Yes, I most certainly was!

_"_ I like you jealous," he adds, his amusement unmistakably growing.

"No, not at all. Just thought you could do better." I raise my chin decisively and smile.

"Oh," he chuckles. "Oh, I am doing much. _Much better_. Matter of fact I would really like to do my much better right here and now."

I observe his fervent with a pinch of sin expression for an energy-charged moment, and bite my lip. With my pulse raising a notch, I grab the lapel of his shirt and pull him to my eagerly-awaiting mouth. There are sparks flying from the intensity of the encounter of our tongues colliding, tracing alongside each other, crazed. Daniel's body is gradually pressed more firmly against mine, and I draw toward him as our kiss deepens. A rush of desire covers me; I need to gather all my willpower to stop myself from jumping on him.

"I'm taking you to the bathroom soon," he murmurs hoarsely to my mouth. _Always the gentleman_. Sliding his hand under my breast, he strokes its side with his thumb. I feel it swell in response. Realizing our breaths and gasps have become far too noticeable, I pull back a little. Daniel, flushed, tilts his head in question, observing me mildly annoyed.

"We're making an X-rated scene..." I whisper, glancing pointedly at the seats around us, still breathing hard.

But Daniel's still on-target; he yanks his buckle open. "Come, Hales," he gasps, taking my hand as he starts to stand up. _Come Hales._ I smile to myself at the double entendre.

"Sir, could you kindly be seated and fasten your seat belt? We're about to take off." A young flight attendant taps Daniel's shoulder, stopping him at mid action. I turn quickly to stare out the window, avoiding looking directly at her. I bite my lips to defeat a giggle that's threatening to come out. I can just imagine what she thinks of Daniel's quickened breathing and flushed, frowned face. A titter eventually escapes my mouth. _We're acting like two hormonal, peak of puberty adolescents in the sophisticated depths of A-1. Classy_.

"For fuck's sake," Daniel seethes behind gritted teeth as he straps up reluctantly, making me chuckle louder. As our eyes lock we both burst into short laughter.

"What are you doing?" I flinch, looking at him alarmed, as I notice him slide his hand down the front of his pants.

"A changed state of matter by the sole courtesy of you," he murmurs with a twisted smirk. "Need to adjust to a less painful position." We both snicker.

"Behave." I feign a stern face.

"You too." He tilts his head and a hint of a wicked spark radiates from his eyes. "And, correct me if I am wrong, but I am quite positive you were the one who started this festive occasion..." I wrinkle my nose and twist my mouth into a one-sided smile. Daniel winks at me in response.

"Cabin crew, please take your seats for take-off."

Beverly and her younger colleague unfold the crew's designated bench and take their seats. After fastening their belts the younger Bev version is eyeing us with judgmental glares.

Approximately forty feet above the runway, Daniel's breaths become steady and soft as he rests his head on my shoulder. _He must be beat_. _He couldn't have gotten very much sleep last night._ I cover him with the red woolen blanket and stare at his calm, almost boyish expression. Butterflies occupy my stomach and my chest tightens as I drink him in. Mesmerized, I move a stray golden lock from his eye and can't help but very delicately run my finger across the border of his slightly open mouth, stopping at his scar. _I got it so bad for you, D._

Adjusting the onboard headphones, I choose relaxing music. Giving in to the soothing sounds, I lay my head on Daniel's, inhaling him deeply. I rest my hand on his warm palm and close my eyes, concentrating on the soft melody, as the chorus repeats something about a hundred thousand angels by one's side.

~~~

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Los Cabos Airport. Local time is 4:20 p.m. and the temperature on this clear sunny day is 80 degrees Fahrenheit."

I am awakened by the informative announcement. "Wake up." I kiss Daniel's sleepy mouth; he blinks a few times then sends me a small, crooked smile.

"Kiss me again," he coaxes huskily, looking utterly adorable with two sleeping marks embedded on his cheek. I gladly comply and kiss him whole-heartedly.

"On behalf of Virgin Airlines and the entire crew, I'd like to thank you for joining us on this trip and look forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. Have a nice stay!"

_We're here_...

## Chapter 25: Down in Mexico

At first glance, Daniel's beachfront bungalow-style Baja house looks rather simple. But after closer observation I quickly see that its modest architecture and its marvelous views make it absolutely splendid. Mountains on one horizon in contrast to the sea on the other. The outdoor deck next to an infinity-edge swimming pool draws my sight.

"Wow," I say, startled, still admiring the scenic beauty spread in front of us.

Daniel towers above me, his intent eyes resolutely rest on my lips, then slowly trail to my eyes. The view fades to the background at the intensity of his stare, turning his presence the center of my attention.

"Okay, we've seen enough, let's get inside," he blurts, somewhat edgy. Reaching for my hand he tugs me hastily toward the entrance.

"Are we in a hurry for any particular reason?" I question, not able to stop myself from smiling.

"Yes, there's a christening to be performed." He turns his head to send a suggestive, wicked glimpse my way.

"Christening?" _D, always the romantic._ I stop, pulling my hand back from his grip, and he pauses.

"Yes, christening, Hales." He asserts, piqued, reminding me of a pouty little kid, with his mouth slightly twisted and his right foot tapping the ground, restless. I shake my head, biting my lips to soothe a threatening outburst.

"My bed. There is work to be done. Now haul that mighty fine ass of yours this way," he chuckles, as his eyes solicit me with rebellious glee.

_My handsome prince charming on his most refined manners_.

"Hey, Daniel," I call, ridiculously dragging myself behind his firm grip.

"What?" he replies, still looking ahead.

"Ever consider teaching some etiquette classes?"

He glances over his shoulder and as our eyes connect we both crack up.

"I will be teaching you etiquette, Miss Grace, very soon," he murmurs and from the side of his face I can see his lips broaden. "C'mon, this has been on my mind since I saw you this morning."

Now, with that reasoning I can't argue...

Daniel opens the unlocked front door calling for someone named Rafael.

"What are you smiling about?" he looks at me with an amused pull of his lips.

"You really don't want to know." I titter.

"Now, Hayley."

"Just thought, Rafael, christening... is this going to be a threesome?" _Wow, holy hell._ In a fraction of a second his entire posture changes, becoming ominous.

"Don't ever say or insinuate something like that again. Ever." His look could kill.

_Oh no, lesson learned, no joking with Mr. Hyde with this sort of thing. Guess he's not into sharing_. I nod, pressing my lips tight, controlling a strong urge to laugh. _Talk about overreacting..._

"Hey boss." A shirtless, tanned twenty-something hottie slaps Daniel's back.

That's Rafael? Mmm...

"Rafa," Daniel slaps him back in a friendly way.

"Flight okay?"

"Yeah."

"Well, everything's settled," Rafael says.

"Great, thanks. This is my Hayley." Daniel gestures my way with a proud grin.

My Hayley...

"Hello Hayley," Rafael addresses me with a thick Spanish accent; he shakes my hand then sends Daniel a reputable wink. _Hey, I'm right here_.

"Will you join us surfing? We'll all be at the south beach in an hour."

Us?

"Not this time. I'm going surfing with Hayley."

"Oh, she also surfs?"

_Also? What else do I do that he knows about_? Rafael runs his eyes over me, taking his time to scrutinize me appreciatively as though I were some kind of worthy merchandise at an auction. I fidget uncomfortably under his unsettling lingering gaze.

"Yes." Daniel's abrupt, intolerant voice forces Rafael to stop immediately and turn to look at him. "Yes. She is insanely beautiful. And she surfs," Daniel concludes.

_Insanely beautiful? Don't hold back, D, keep going_. I can just imagine the smirk stretching across my face.

"Now stop eye-fucking my girl, please."

_What!_ I fidget again, with gratitude for my protective, "well-mannered" boyfriend this time.

Rafael chuckles, utterly embarrassed, scratching his forehead awkwardly, his eyes wandering from Daniel to some other point in the room.

"My mom will come tomorrow, say around twelve?" He quickly changes the subject. _Rafael's mom's is coming? What the hell?_

"Twelve will be fine," Daniel confirms, moving his arm possessively around my waist.

"Later, boss."

"Later," Daniel says dryly.

"Hayley." Rafael nods, barely glimpsing my way this time. _Wonder why._

"Hey you," Daniel says in a feathery tone, pulling me closer as soon as Rafael leaves, allowing an almost invisible gap between us. His breath is so near, air kissing my face; I inhale deeply, closing my eyes, wallowing on the nourishing sensation of him. Opening my eyes I meet his shiny hazel eyes staring at me from his slightly inclined face. Our eyes instantly latch in an absorbed connection.

Lacing his fingers in my hair, he shifts it back behind my shoulder, granting his mouth easy access to the tender area below my ear, making my skin prickle and my heart to distinctly thud. He swiftly lifts me by my thighs, and in one step I am with my back against the panoramic windows, against the view of the hypnotic ocean. His mouth is engaged in savoring the nape of my neck as he pins his pelvis to mine, his firmness causing an intense tightening in my groin. As a reaction I wrap my legs around him, letting him inch closer into me. My eyes are closed and my head tilted backward as I indulge in his incredible touch.

"Look at me Hayley. I want to see you," he demands in a husky, low voice. I raise my head to look at him, finding his eyes burning into mine with wild, raw desire.

"Hug me tight," he says throatily.

I obediently comply. _I would do literally anything he asked of me right now_. Securing me firmly in his embrace, he walks away from the living room till we reach a vast bedroom, one that closely resembles his room back at home. He slowly lays me on the bed and rests himself on top of me. He reaches toward the nightstand and I sink deeper into the mattress. Having his entire mass on me feels so good. He grabs a remote and music is funneled to the room, music that just perfectly fits the moment with its ambient, chill-out melody.

Shifting back to face me, Daniel presses his warm lips to my eager mouth. I breathe him in deeply, his scent and his breath inside my throat, my lungs, making my heart expand at the emotions that twirl deep inside, at my core.

_I love you_.

His tongue now fervent, pressing firmer, demanding to completely unite with mine. I can feel his heartbeat through my dress; noticing his desire instigates a fireball at my middle. I shiver with bodily craving, feeling my want for him in every part of my body.

"Wait, baby." He stops and rolls from on top of me to unzip his Bermudas and pulls them off together with his boxers. I turn to unbutton his shirt, burning inside out. As soon as his shirt finds its way to the floor he settles on me again parting my legs with his.

"Lift up a little."

As I do he helps me take off my jacket, working his upper body to help me, his lower in balance, pressing deeper into me. Feeling him pulsing and hard, I can barely mask a moan of need. Untying the waist tie of my dress, he pulls the wrap open and halts to look in admiration at my exposed body.

Soon his hand is stroking me between my thighs; I arch my back at his touch. Moving my thong to the side, he sinks into the depth of me and my body, which was already at a verge of aching for him, immediately synchs with his, countering to fully absorb each and every thrust. I reach for his face and hold it closely, urging him to dissolve into me.

"Look at me, Hayley," he asks in a deep, hoarse voice. I look into his hypnotic hazel eyes that turn my insides into boiling liquid. The deeper his gaze the deeper his thrusts are, rhythmic and dominant. His eyes and his fullness make me shiver as I build up to trembling combustion.

Every inch of my body is pulsing in sweet pain of blessed relief when he stiffens and then collapses over me. As I rest, slowly coming back to the present, I notice that the track playing had been on repeat the whole time. "I love the music," I breathe in an exhausted yet fulfilled voice.

"Cafe del Mar," he says in low tone next to my ear.

"Never heard of them before."

"Well, now you have." He raises his head, his body still covering mine. He looks at me with an unfathomable gaze and mutters, "'I Love You,' is the name of the track." We trade tense, meaningful stares as his words hang thick between us.

~~~

"Check," he draws with his finger what feels like a checkmark on my forearm.

"Christening mission accomplished beyond expectations," I giggle, still in a serene mood.

"You never had someone in this bed?" I question, combing my fingers in his soft tousled hair.

"I've never had someone in this house, if you mean female company."

_Really_? I'm surprised at how elated I am to hear this piece of information. "Why is that?"

"No one was significant enough to share my haven," he says casually.

I sigh in sheer delight.

"You never had anyone you cared for?" I question, finding it unusual. Being, well, Daniel Stark, he must have had ladies constantly seeking his company. Yet, I am completely empathetic since I have never felt strong emotions toward anyone before either, not as an adult, anyway.

"Well, there was someone who I got close to, but I stopped it at a very early stage."

"Why?" I ask, hating the fact that he'd had feelings toward someone else. Even if it was in the past it still makes me absurdly jealous.

"She broke my trust." His expression is emotionless.

"How?" I continue. _Am I crossing the fine line between welcomed curiosity and privacy invasion?_

Daniel, seeming not to mind, runs his fingers across my collarbone as he responds, "She talked to some tabloid journalist."

Musing the information he just shared with me, I mutter, "But there was nothing about you in terms of relationships in the media." _Oopsie._

He raises a questioning eyebrow and a small, crooked smile appears on his face that had been blank a moment ago. "You searched information about me, Hales?"

I blush. _Why do I blush_?

"You look super sweet when you blush, baby." He grins and I wince, letting it go as soon as he brings his lips to mine.

"Well, you know, there were a lot of pictures of you and the flawless mannequins you used to appear with in public, but that's it."

"You can't even imagine how quickly money can make unwanted information disappear," he murmurs, then chuckles.

"That was a nice diplomatic way to describe call girls." I giggle, though disturbed. The thought of him being with them in private crosses my mind and I need to fight to keep it out.

"Why did you do that?" I further inquire.

He observes me inquisitively.

"You could have dated anyone you wanted," I add, clarifying my question.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." He kisses me. "As soon as the money and successes reared their ugly heads all sorts of parasites appeared, wearing seductive clothes and air in their heads and like I just told you, as soon as I thought I'd finally found someone worthy she went and sold information about our relationship to the press. So I gave up the relationship thing for a very long time."

His mouth coils up as he continues, "Well, that is till _you_ came along, bashing the hell out of me in the privacy of my kitchen at my own fucking building." A low rough laugh rises from his throat; his face lights with amusement.

"Why me then?" I ask in a small voice.

"Because it's you." He smiles, his eyes narrowing tenderly as he kisses me again, more profoundly. "Because you're simply you, and there's no one else I want."

Our breathing blends as he murmurs the words into my mouth.

## Chapter 26: Tidal

"Hales, we need to get going if we want to catch some waves before it gets dark." Daniel kisses me, cups my cheek and gently rubs it with his thumb. "There's a wetsuit in the closet. You should get dressed while I get the gear." He kisses me again and walks toward the door. I sigh in pleasure, following his tan, wide back with my gaze till he disappears in the corridor.

With my white bikini on I go to Daniel's walkthrough wardrobe, searching through the casual menswear, which I am not at all convinced would be Daniel's style or size. I wonder idly whose clothes they are if they aren't Daniel's. At the next set of hanged clothes I find a dark gray full-body Billabong wetsuit that fits me perfectly. I am engrossed with the thought of who actually bought this suit.

"Need some help?" I ask as I enter the mahogany and beige kitchen. Just like the exterior, the interior of the house is simply though tastefully furnished. Nothing too extravagant, yet everything seems high quality.

"I'm almost done," he declares with his back to me, holding a picnic cooler. "I'll just drop this in the car, one minute Hales," he mutters, already on his way out.

"Why, you look hot," Daniel announces a moment later as he comes back, appraising me in the suit.

"Thanks," I smirk. "Who bought it?"

"That would be Rafael," he responds idly.

"I've actually been meaning to ask you about him. Does he live here?"

"Yeah, he watches the house for me and restocks it before my visits. His mom does the housekeeping."

"Oh, and where does he go when you're around?" I observe him as he fetches a round new surf wax from one of the top drawers of the wide kitchen island. "I think his parents, I'm not sure. We can call and ask him," he responds with a lazy smile.

_Got you, D, bored of the topic_?

"Okay, that should be everything." He throws the surf wax up and catches it as it falls down. "Let's go, baby." He appraises me yet again with a lavish smirk plastered on his face. Shaking his head from side to side, he murmurs, "A work of art."

I copy his smug, infectious grin. _And you should talk_...

He opens the door for me so I can get in the graphite-gray BMW SUV parked in the driveway, two surfboards secured on top. He pats my butt as I climb in, in a mood that seems too cheerful, not like his usual self.

"The X6 is my favorite car," I say, admiring the interior.

"It's a nice car, though I'd much rather drive the Viper or the Spider... but I'm glad you like it." He smiles at me. "Too bad I don't have one of these back in the city, we could have exchanged it with the Beemer you're driving," he murmurs, as though to himself.

As simple as that. Change one insanely luxurious car for another.

He adds, "If you like you can drive it on the way back." I reciprocate by smiling.

"It's a short drive down the beach but we have some stuff in the back I didn't want to carry around." He answers my unspoken question over Ellie Lawson's energetic voice playing in the background. He glances at me, that same smirk from earlier still dancing on the sides of his mouth. _I could easily get used to this_.

Suit peeled down to his waist, bent over my new ivory surfboard, Daniel rubs wax in long skillful strokes over the center to top of the board leaving a thin, lumpy layer. I watch him, fascinated at his long muscles flexing under his tight, tanned skin. His tattoo adds the last touch to his gorgeous, awe-inspiring bad-boy self. I sigh, not able to stop staring at him.

"Like the sight?" He tilts his head my way with a mischievous, crooked smirk; eyes slightly narrow, avoiding the still-blinding sun.

"Beyond like." I beam.

"Shall we?" he asks rhetorically, as he zips up his suit by pulling a long string at the back. I grin at him nodding, thrilled. I hold my waxed board under my arm as we walk side by side toward the water.

"We have a couple of hours before sunset," he says as our feet touch the clear, revitalizing water.

"Enjoy, baby," he says, letting go of my hand. I nod, proceeding through the water. Inhaling the fresh sea air I mimic him, wading deeper in.

I paddle toward mid-ocean, water splashing against my sides, shuddering in small, clear drops. I glance Daniel's way. At the same instant he looks at me and our eyes interlock for a brief moment of unspoken connection. Breaking it, he nods toward a coming wave. I nod back and start paddling faster, getting the momentum for the wave to launch me forward. I put my hands on the rails of the board under my chest, waiting.

As the board unites with the wave, I forcefully push up in a quick snap, jumping to my feet. For a fraction of a second I find myself stabilizing my posture and soon I am standing firm riding the wave, utterly ecstatic. _How I have missed this_. I take a step forward and balance again riding the fast swaying wave back and forth in singular foot movement to synchronize with the motion of the water, maximizing the velocity of the ride. The feeling is ultimate, this sense of being one with the ocean. I feel like I'm riding the top of the world.

Paddling back to catch my next wave, I watch Daniel from afar, how he gracefully owns the board with the pace of his own wave. Locks of his golden hair are tousled over his handsome face, and the wetsuit warps his toned tall body in a way that makes my heart skip a beat.

We surf, each in our own solitary state of mind, becoming united with the water for as long as the day's light allows us. When the sun starts melting into the sea, coloring it a scenic blend of red and auburn, I notice Daniel paddling toward me. He smiles as he approaches; I echo him, content to have him by my side again.

Halting next to me he lifts himself to sit upright at the middle of the board, his legs to the sides resting in the water. "Come." He sends his hand to help me climb and settle astride facing him. Our knees touch with tiny electrical currents passing through our suits.

"Here, give me your leash," he asks, and as I do he ties it around his ankle. He stares at me for a long moment studying my face.

"You amaze me, Hayley," he says in a low voice, his eyes sincere and affectionate. "You do," he repeats as though to himself, brushing my wet hair to the sides. He holds my face, gently inclining it toward his; he tilts his head slightly to align his lips to precisely reach mine. First, with a fluff brush, then a shift up to press more intently, pulling my face deeper to him, drawing me into a breathtaking kiss. He tastes so good: of salt, sea and Daniel. There is a warm wave beginning at my throat, trailing along every corner of my body, slowly heating my blood. _D, you tantalize the very heart of me._

He brushes his finger along the side of my face from my temple to my jawline, tracing my lips with his thumb, molten hazel eyes not leaving mine. He has on a new expression that I haven't seen before and it both makes my heart pang and unnerves me at the same time.

"Scoot closer to me," he asks in a thick voice, his eyes still fixed on mine. As I slide closer he lifts me by my thighs to sit astride him. He pulls my hair back again, holding it in one hand at the nape of my neck and leans in to plant a gentle kiss on my lips. We're rocked slightly by small waves as he tips my chin up so my eyes can meet his unreadable, deep gaze. His other arm wraps around me, his hand spread flat on my lower back. His gaze softens as his hold on me firms.

Leaning closer to me, our noses inches away, he whispers, "I love you" then softly kisses my startled lips. "I am so in love with you, Hayley," he breathes, his eyes boring into me.

Once his words sink in, the air in my lungs escapes, leaving them utterly void as my heart wrenches in the most severe manner. Intense, unfamiliar emotions twirl in me and I try to tag along as they sweep me in one direction—the direction of this incredible man who just told me he loves me. Overwhelmed by the deepest sensation of adoration I hug him tight in an almost painful grip for long stretched beats then pull back and kiss him with everything I have. I breathe him in as deeply as I can _. The sea, the sunset, our closeness, him, his words. I want to stay in this moment forever._

We embrace, folding into each other, kissing till the wind starts swaying us toward the deeper waters.

## Chapter 27: By the Fire

Daniel hands me a towel as he unloads the back of the car. Piling up several logs he brought with us into a cone shape, he lights a bonfire.

"You really rocked out there," he grins at me appreciatively under the dim evening light, to which I respond with a bow.

"So did you," I send him a thin smile, still tantalized by his earlier declaration.

"I always do, out there." He winks. _You always do, period_. "Beer or wine?" he asks, looking into the cooler.

"Beer," I answer, taking small steps toward him, closing the distance between us.

"Always the right answer," he murmurs under his breath clinking my bottle with his. Before closing the door he takes a guitar out of the trunk.

Guitar? D plays the guitar?

Sitting by the warm fire with my suit peeled halfway to my waist, I'm mesmerized as I watch him over the dancing red and yellow flames. Waves of the fire's warmth carried by the night's gentle wind flutter in my face. He gazes at me under his lashes with a thin smile. His face is briefly illuminated by the play of the flames back and forth, and obscured as the light fades away. This game of shadow and light swaying on his handsome features enthralls me every time another small part of his face is enhanced by the soft blaze.

He tunes the strings of the guitar cradled in his arms, the flames now illuminating his eyes a reddish-orange shade. I stare at him through the flames as they link with mine for one brief moment. His lips curve up, pulling his sensual scar with them. I can't take my eyes off him, nor do I want to.

His long fingers turn to deftly run over the stretched strings, the first chords scattering into the night air. Almost inaudibly, he softly murmurs the lyrics, his voice low, throaty. He lifts his eyes up to meet mine and captivates them; I hug my bent legs, embracing myself, utterly dazzled by him. He is playing my song. Something is happening inside of me: these are not just raging butterflies winding through my core. My entire body clenches to one pleasantly aching, tight knot. A lump slowly swells in my throat and I try very hard to prevent tears from rolling down my cheeks, but without much luck. I am too emotional and my willpower betrays me. The music stops at once, and Daniel's eyes turn wide open, wide open and concerned.

"Hales, what's wrong?" his soft voice demands in alarm. Not waiting for my reply he moves closer to me, enveloping me, nuzzling my hair. He tilts my head to even our stares. "Am I that bad?" He tries to humor me, wiping my tears with his thumbs then bends to flutter gentle kisses on my eyes.

I mutter between hushed sobs, "Bad and you don't exist in the same universe." And I crush my lips to his, kissing him with all my unspoken emotions incorporated into that one kiss, letting myself dissolve into his embrace.

When I come up for air after a few extended moments I manage to finally say what was processing at the back of my mind throughout the day. "I can't believe how much I love you." His embrace tightens and I rest my head on his shoulder whispering, "I love you so much, Daniel."

He slowly relaxes the intensity of his embrace, and tilts his head back, that tender new stare again in his eyes. A small timid smile forms on his lips and he kisses me with an all-absorbing tenacity. "That's no reason to shed tears, my sweet Hayley." He flutters powder-like kisses on my eyes again, lingering on one then the other, ending his kissing my tears away tour on my lips. "It's a reason to do a lot of other pleasuring things, but not shed tears, baby."

I snicker at the innuendo and my mouth curves over his, my smile mirroring the one rooted on his lips.

"Come here." He helps me nestle between his legs; I lean back and burrow in his firm, guarding embrace, his _loving_ embrace. When I'm cuddled, all wrapped in his calming cage, he kisses my neck with little feathery kisses, forming a dense, invisible trail toward my collarbone.

"I do love you," he whispers to my skin and I rest my head on his shoulder, losing myself in this touch, in him.

Soon as the night wraps us up in its arms and we're fenced in by a blanket of darkness and the embers of the fire, we make love, and it's different this time. It's not our uncontrollable attraction and lust for each other that lead us to pleasure. The physical connection is driven by our pure deep emotions. It is a slow, tender, all-absorbing union: we are connected on so many levels as we become one.

## Chapter 28: Cramps and Revelations

"Good morning," I whisper, beaming lazily at Daniel, weary; one hazel eye blinks, adjusting to the light.

"Hey." His voice is heavily gruff.

"What's the time?" I yawn.

"Who cares," he murmurs with a drowsy smile, lightly scratching his bare, taut stomach. "Come here, you," he says, placing his arm open for me to cradle in.

"Ouch, ouch, goodness, ouch," I cry in agony.

"What's up?" he sits up at once, alert, though somewhat amused at my whining.

"I'm having the worst post-surf muscle cramps; everything from my shoulders to my butt is stiff and sore."

"Your butt is stiff and sore?" His eyes shoot down to where the alleged soreness is. "I can take care of that," he offers, too enthusiastically, smiling with a mischievous twinkle. His hair mimics his intent: it's wildly messed up, sexy.

"That's what you managed to hear out of the entire sentence?" I feign a frown but my mouth gives in to curving upwards.

"Now, seriously Hales. What's the damage? How painful is it?"

"Pretty sore, but I'll survive, though, in immense pain."

He chuckles. Checking his watch, contemplative, he then suggests, "It's half past eleven, let's just lie back today and then go to dinner at my mom's."

_"_ Dinner at your mother's?"

"Yes."

Simple answer, an indisputable point. Case closed.

"Didn't you want to run it by me first?"

"I just did, no?" he responds dryly, rolling his eyes.

_Why do I even bother_?

"I can rest and you can go surf. That was the purpose of this weekend, wasn't it?"

"Purpose of the weekend was to have you here, all to myself."

I grin.

"The surfing is just a perk," he adds with a wink.

"Come," he orders, and before I can even try to object he lifts me over his shoulder as though I were a weightless little kid, legs waving in the air.

"What are you doing? Put me down."

"Hush, baby, I'm not taking any risks when your supreme ass is in subject."

"Daniel..." I squeak, my voice climbing a few notes up the scale _,_ but he disregards me, completely caught up in his self-entertainment.

"Sit still," he commands, settling me on the bathroom countertop. "Open your mouth," he orders, resolute, barely able to mask his smirk.

"Hail commandant," I murmur.

"Mach schnell, meine liebe Hayley." He leers at my perplexed expression, and answers my silent question. "My mom is German."

"And that meant?"

"More quickly, my dear Hayley." My lips pull up, humored.

He takes his toothbrush, slowly adds toothpaste and then, to my dismay, he starts brushing my teeth.

"Hey," I mumble with the toothbrush in my mouth. He takes it out, appearing impenitent though his eyes are nothing but playful.

"You were saying?"

I sigh, mouth full of foam.

"I wash sheing..." I spit the excess into the sink under psycho's smothering, observant gaze. _How appealing he must think this is_. "I was saying, I can do that. I'm not disabled, just a little sore."

He arches a scarred brow at me, shaking his head, a hint of a smile toying on his lips. "As I said, no risk where your ass is concerned. Now don't make me repeat that."

"Or else," I tease.

He just rewards me with a cocked head and a skewed smile. I chuckle; it's my turn to shake my head.

"So hush now, and open wide." He smirks. "Hush and open wide," he repeats, murmuring under his breath, enjoying his little joke.

I inwardly sigh, entertained.

"Spit," he demands playfully after a thorough brush. He pours some water onto his palm and rubs it gently on my face, then pats a towel to it till it dries. Standing back, he examines the results of his work and again, with no prior warning, pulls me up to the same position over his shoulder, making me giggle.

We're back at the bedroom _. Well, what now?_ His carefree, playful behavior leaves me on the verge of hysterics. Laying me on the bed he turns to the walkthrough closet.

"No moving," he calls back, and I snort a short laughter. As he returns with the two tiny pieces that are my white, triangle bikini he looks even friskier than he was when he left a moment ago. Bending to the bed he first cautiously takes off my white tank top; then bending further he flutters kisses on my exposed breasts. Settling himself by my side he actually puts my bikini top on me, adjusting the string at the nape, then gently makes me lie sideways to tie the string on my back. Somehow I find all this dress-up arousing. Turning to lie on my back, I stretch my hand toward his boxers. He shakes his head disapprovingly.

"There will be none of that," he murmurs, composed, impassive to my bothered grimace.

"Are you kidding me?" I frown.

"No, I'm not kidding. Now, sex addict, should I repeat what I said before?" he says, dramatizing disapproval by twisting his mouth and knitting his brows. I gape at him. _Is he serious?_

Ignoring my glare, he moves to the edge of the bed, shifting the balance of the mattress as he sits next to my hips. He casually bends to peel down my pale pink, lacy thong, and pauses to stare at my exposed lower body with a heated gaze. He then helps each of my feet to the designated part of the bikini bottom, and just before fully adjusting the garment into place he kisses a lengthy kiss on my center, making me squirm with want immediately, causing a serious spark in that area.

"So, what exactly is this?" I ask, scowling.

"A prelude." He grins, one simple word with such a meaningful promise.

"You're killing me here." I sink my head back to the mattress.

He smirks and casually mutters, "When the embargo is over, I will compensate you, baby, I promise."

"You are so annoying, I'm serious." He winks at me and I can't hold the semi-angry stare anymore.

"Oh Hales, good morning." He kisses my mouth. "And, I love you," he smiles and puts me back over his shoulder.

And me you, to pieces.

Continuing with his exaggerated nursing he sets me in one of the rattan chaise lounge by the pool, and serves us with cut fruits and coffee for breakfast.

"Seriously, Daniel. You can go ahead and catch some waves. I'll stay here and work on my tan." I look up at him from lying between his spread legs, as he leans back on the cushioned frame of the gigantic, wicker lounger.

"Maybe later, too comfortable to move now." He side smiles at me behind his shades.

"Where's the music coming from?" I ask, looking around.

"There's a music center in the bar," he nods toward the tropical-island style bar by the pool.

"Quite an eclectic playlist, I'd say. I like it."

"It's my Baja carols playlist," he snorts, amused. "Baja exclusive, cannot be found in California."

"Carols?" I giggle. "This one is really good, it's so mellow." I say about the track that's playing.

"Charlotte O'Connor, if I am not mistaken. It's 'Shine On'," he tells me.

Resting his hand on mine, he slowly rubs his thumb over my knuckles. He slides down to lie next to me and pulls me toward him so my face is resting on his abs, combing my hair with light strokes. I kiss his taut muscles and close my eyes, utterly indulged.

"Do you come here often?" I ask.

"Is that a pick up line?" he laughs. "Cause you had me with that refined 'fuck me' when we first met."

I laugh and kiss his sun-warmed skin.

"Every chance I get," he answers, running the tips of his fingers down my spine.

"So usually you surf and...?"

"And I visit my mom. Sometimes I hang out with Rafael and his people."

I stroke his side, feeling his skin prickle under my touch.

"Are they your friends?"

"Friends." He sounds mused, as though gauging the word. "I would go with surfing buddies." He moves to tenderly massage my sore shoulders, gradually releasing the tension.

"You don't have many friends," I state.

"No, I don't," he answers, casually. I tilt my head up to look at him; even he can't be indifferent to that.

"How come?" A question begging to be asked.

Looking somewhat impatient, he still answers. "I don't trust people easily," he explains. I find his explanation depressing; I can't imagine what my life would look like without Tasha or Ian.

"Why is that?"

"It's like dating, Hayley. The more money and publicity you've got and the more under the public eye you are, there are more people that try to get closer to you, and most have ulterior motives." He lets out a forced breath.

"What about friends from the past?"

"Well my best buddy tried to screw me over big time and the rest, you know how it is, everyone is busy... living."

"How? What happened?" I prop up on my elbows, not able to hide my curiosity.

Daniel's lips twist; he lifts his shades to rest on his head and briefly runs a hand over his weary, absorbed face. I can feel his body below me stiffen.

"He tried to sue me for the patent on my software, claiming it was fifty percent his."

I look at him with knitted brows, waiting for him to go on. He cups my cheek, his eyes drinking me in, making my tenseness subside somewhat. Then he smiles and I blink, uncertain where the conversation is going.

"The hilarious part was," he continues, "he wasn't even a part of the process. His only connection to evolving the software from an idea to an actual product was that he hung out with me in bars back in college when I needed my breaks." He smiles to himself, though his tapered eyes reflect pure irritation.

"Meaning?" I demand, my desire to learn more about him piqued.

"We were roommates. We actually came to USF together. I majored in computer science and he in literature." Daniel pauses for a moment to scratch his temple, looking somewhat pensive, perhaps reminiscing. "When I came up with the idea of securing the net I obviously confided in my best friend. At the time and throughout the process I used to bore him with my doubts in making decisions. Given he was neither a technological person nor had any background whatsoever in programming, he contributed nothing to my problem but being a friend and an attentive listener."

As he proceeds, his expression gradually obscures. "Once I actually had the beta version and got some investors to have a look at it, which finally led to the beginning of Stark SW, he began to show more interest. I think it was when the first time a rumor about a potential deal was mentioned in one of the magazines that I got an actual letter from his lawyer. I couldn't believe my eyes, Hales. I thought it was one of his juvenile pranks. I almost congratulated him for pulling it off."

He shakes his head, his mouth coiled with bitterness. "When I confronted him," he resumes, "the bastard actually had the nerve to look me in the eyes and tell me that the venture should be both of ours."

"Sounds like one hell of a friend," I murmur.

"That he was," Daniel counters dryly. "When it got to a court hearing he obviously didn't have any solid grounds or evidence to prove his BS and so the case was closed just as quickly as it started."

"Did you ever speak to him again?"

He takes a deep breath. "No, I made sure our paths didn't cross again."

"So it all started in college, your company. That's remarkable," I say admiringly.

"Yes, I worked my ass off, juggling between courses and developing my program till it became this small operation called Stark Software." He scratches his upper lip with his thumb, and a glint of mischief appears in his eyes.

"So not a lot of close people," I conclude quietly.

"I've got you now, Hales." He radiates his sweet boyish smile, the one that's reserved only for me.

"And what about ladies back then? Was it only work and study?" I ask, thinking about a younger version of him full of hormones in a promiscuous environment such as college. _Bet he was some attraction_. A naughty smirk forms on his lips as he murmurs, "Oh, there were plenty. I had my share of fun, rest assured, baby."

I slap his abs playfully and feign a frown. _I could line up each and every one of these blank faces in a row next to a gutter and execute their sentence for ever touching him. And I'd be doing it with a song in my heart._

"Hey, it was before you," he raises his hands up in surrender and chuckles.

"What was it?" I say as though to myself. "Ah," I grin at him teasingly. "Adultery, Daniel Stark, adultery. Even past events are now considered adultery." I mirror his words from when Dave called me; he chuckles again and bends to plant a lush kiss on my lips.

"Plenty, Daniel?" I raise an eyebrow.

"What can I say," he smirks. "I had to release the tension of all the hours I spent working hard." He shrugs and I let out a grunt.

"So just casual sex, nothing serious?"

"Didn't have the time or the inclination."

Though I absently shake my head, I'm surprised at how similar we are after all.

"Well, sweetie, you want to talk about your past in that department?" he questions with a semi-annoyed yet wicked smile. I wince. "Thought so," he mutters. "Don't worry, that's the last thing I want to hear about, especially here, given my punching bag is back at home."

~~~

When Daniel eventually leaves for the beach I fall asleep under the caressing warmness of the noon sun, surrounded by "Baja Carols" pleasantly playing in the background.

"Hayley," I am awakened by an unfamiliar voice; turning sleepily to the source, I notice two dark figures standing nearby. Blinking, I lift my hand to block the blinding light and with the shade I can get a better look at Rafael and another guy who seems his age and who actually resembles him. Looking around I realize Daniel hasn't yet returned.

"Hi Rafael," I say, confused about why he's here.

"Hello Hayley, is Daniel around?"

"He went surfing," I say, bothered by the way Rafael's friend's eyes trail slowly over my barely-covered body.

"I came to pick up a couple of textbooks I left here yesterday."

"You can go ahead and get them, the house is open." I nod toward the balcony doors.

"Just going to get them," he mentions to his friend as he makes his way into the house. Feeling uncomfortable with the blunt gaze of Rafael's friend I turn to sit upright. The thought of lying down under his observant eyes makes me self-conscious.

"Nice view," he says with a sleazy grin, his eyes somewhat glossy, stare fixed on my breasts. I nod, squirming. _Will he stop with the gawking? What is he doing?_ To my shock he boldly turns to sit next to me on the lounger, his closeness at the verge of intrusion. He's so close his thigh almost touches mine and I can smell fumes of alcohol on his heavy breath.

"We can communicate from a distance," I say, disturbed but making an effort to be subtle, given he is Rafael's friend, perhaps even Daniel's. Maybe I'm misreading the situation. _But I want him far away from me, as far as possible_.

"Why?" His eyes flicker wickedly. And then, to my complete alarm, he sends his finger running up my thigh, running up, way too close to the hem of my bikini bottom, inches from sliding under the fabric. He murmurs croakily, "You are so hot." My heart beats frantically, probably palpable. I couldn't be more repulsed by his touch.

And just as I am about to slap him and push him the hell away, I hear Daniel seethe, "What the f...?"

Next, as though in slow-motion, I watch him grab the guy by his shirt, yanking him from beside me, throwing him to the opposite side of the deck as if he were weightless. Losing his balance, Rafael's friend falls onto the parallel matching recliner. Distracted by a moving figure, I turn to see Rafael standing by the door that leads to the deck, observing the scene from the side. From the expression on his face I realize he is as shocked as I am. He looks utterly exasperated as he begins to scold his friend in Spanish.

Daniel seeks my gaze. Finding it, he stares at me, absorbed in checking whether I was hurt in any way.

"I'm okay," I mouth quietly, still shaken. His eyes smolder. His entire psyche reflects a need for blood. I've seen him angry before, but never like this. He has a lethal glint in the depths of his stare.

He turns to look at Rafael who shrugs with a tormented expression, what appears to be embarrassment at his friend's behavior. I actually feel sorry for him.

Daniel returns his stare to the other guy and in an ice-covered voice, says, "Next time, if you even accidentally breathe her way, you will end up needing to breathe with the help of a machine." Slightly releasing his clenched fists he adds, "Now get the hell out of my house, before we both regret the outcome." Luckily it takes Rafael's companion less than a few seconds to sober up and comprehend the magnitude of Daniel's threat and makes himself scarce in the blink of an eye.

"I am so sorry, Daniel, Hayley," Rafael stutters, completely sincere. Daniel just glances his way with the same expression that's inhabited his face since he came back.

"It's okay, Rafael, you did nothing wrong, it's not your fault," I say in a velvety voice. Trying to further soothe him I change the subject and ask whether he was able to find his textbook, at the same time trying to provide Daniel with an explanation of Rafael's presence.

"Make sure he doesn't set a foot here ever again. You can leave now," Daniel growls. I stare at him, concerned, ready to jump in, hoping he won't take it out on Rafael.

"Daniel," Rafael tries, but the look Daniel grants him makes him stop. He just nods and takes it as a cue to leave.

_What a brutal awakening to such a serene sleep._ I sigh, still somewhat shaken.

As we're left to ourselves, I look up at Daniel, and he stares back at me, still looking infuriated. There's something about the way he looks: his wetsuit hanging loose around his waist, his exposed chest, tanned, bare and carved, his damp hair falling in gold clusters over his tawny, handsome face and the gaze in his eyes, that raw murderous gaze. A wild need starts inside of me, drawing every part of me to him. Trembling inside with raging desire I stand up and walk toward him. I inch up and grab his face with both hands as I reach his side. Pulling him forcefully, I literally drink his mouth. It takes him less than a second to register my intentions and as he does, he reciprocates my outburst in the same animalistic manner; anger quickly shifts to feral need. In no time we're all over each other, stroking, touching, biting, kissing, and gasping anxiously as though fighting for the ultimate release, and right after reaching it we both collapse on the recliner. We level our short rapid breaths in laced hands, deep in thought.

Daniel rests his forehead against mine and with his closed eyes murmurs, "If something ever happens to you..."

I squeeze his hand.

"I love you too," I whisper to his lips.

## Chapter 29: Hippie Commune

"Ready to meet Mommy?" Daniel asks, with a wide smirk.

"Sure." I beam back at him, though now that I'm here I am a tad nervous. Knowing how he feels about his mother, all of a sudden it becomes extremely important to me that she'll like me too and approve of me.

"It'll be fine, she's cool." Daniel winks at me, squeezing my clenched fist reassuringly.

I am taken aback by the look of the house as we get closer; it could not have been more different than what I had pictured; it's a one-level, small, old but charming house with an equally small yet groomed garden. The house couldn't have more than three bedrooms. The place screams modesty, not exactly what I anticipated for Daniel Stark's mother. Daniel opens a rusted turquoise gate to let us in. Stepping in, I notice that the garden is surrounded by close-knit grapevines that give it a fairytale, secret garden look.

Daniel doesn't knock but opens the unlocked door that leads to a cozy interior, to velvety, crimson, majestically patterned, wallpaper-covered walls. Indian oil lamps are scattered around; some hang from the ceiling, some are placed on furniture around the room. Soft, colorful saris are laid on two adjunct mocha sofas standing firmly on a dark wooden floor. The room gives the impression of a refined ashram, hippie chic. Again, the exact opposite of what I anticipated. Daniel and hippie don't go hand in hand, at least not in my mind.

A tall, lean and graceful lady almost Daniel's height walks toward us from a lengthy corridor; she has the most tranquil, gentle smile upon her lips. A jingling sound from the few bell anklets decorating her bare feet accompanies her movement. She's simply dressed in jeans and a Boho linen blouse, yet still looks elegant. I stare at her, captivated by the serenity she emits. Approaching us, she appraises me with a silky hazel gaze, that same color as Daniel's, though her eyes are different, inducing sheer peacefulness. They exchange caring, meaningful stares between them; the expression in Daniel's look is of reverence, and it deeply touches my heart.

"Hayley." She turns to look at me, my name is a soft melodic tune in her voice. "I'm Iris."

"Hello, nice to meet you." I smile and she hugs me tight in return, not a light hug but a full-hearted embrace that leaves me somewhat surprised. Stepping back she puts her hands on my cheeks, studying me carefully for a few lengthy moments. I can't help but blush at the extensive attention. From the corner of my eye I can see Daniel's lips lift up.

"You were right, my boy," she says. "She is beautiful. Such delicate features," she adds. "You have an angelic face," she murmurs, keeping her grip and her stare on me for too long to feel comfortable.

"That's my Hayley," Daniel says, pride linking his voice.

_My Hayley_... _I can't get enough of the sound of that_.

"Now, let go of her before she runs for the door," Daniel jokes, sending a hand toward the small of my back, reassuring.

She smiles at him, then at me, and finally lets go. _If I could think of the one person unlikely to be my beloved psycho's mom she would be the one._

"Sit by the table, I'll bring the food," she offers, her expression full of tender joy. Before turning on her heels she says, looking at Daniel, "Already in love, aren't you, my boy?" She doesn't wait for an answer but heads to where I suppose the kitchen would be. A flawless, tender smile crosses Daniel's face as he stares fondly at her back, which is decorated by a long, thick, blond braid, till she disappears in the hallway.

"Scared yet?" he teases, nudging my shoulder.

I chuckle. "The last word I would use to describe your mother is scary. She's different, I must say. Well, from you," I add.

"Different? You mean all this spiritual, hippie mumbo-jumbo crap?"

"I mean calm and serene as opposed to wild and impulsive." I grin at him when he pulls me closer, smacking my behind while planting a steamy kiss on my lips. I try to pull back for the sake of appropriate conduct. He doesn't let go, but stays me with his tight grip on my waist. He kisses me yet more absorbedly; this time his hand finds its way under my white cotton dress.

"Daniel!" I scold to his mouth.

A jingling sound approaches. "Don't worry, Hayley, I'm more than fine with some show of affection. As far as I'm concerned you kids can go to the next room and make sweet love," Iris comments, coming back into the room holding a ceramic pot.

_Oh my god._ Daniel releases me from his grip, biting his lip, subduing a broader smirk at my shock and my flushed cheeks.

"Hales, do you want to step into the next room to make sweet love to me?" He chuckles.

I choose to disregard him completely. I can literally feel the deepening of my blush.

"Maybe later, the food will get cold," Iris mutters.

_Please for the love of all that's good in this world, let this be her sense of humor speaking_. Daniel laughs, taking pleasure at my discomfort, a little too much.

There is a tagine at the center of the table along with several savory-looking side dishes; the smell is of middle-eastern spices and herbs, with cumin and cinnamon scents dominating the air.

"Moroccan lamb tagine, I hope you like spicy," Iris says to me. I nod in confirmation and she responds with a curve of her lips and a kind stare.

"Looks delicious, Iris."

"You can eat it with your hands or with pita bread," she suggests.

"Maybe next time at our annual tribal dinner," Daniel jabs, slightly shaking his head.

Iris rewards him with a fond smile. I can't help but notice the deep connection they have between them. _She holds the power to set him in a peaceful mood_.

"So, Hayley," she addresses me as I put a spoonful of some tomatoes, parsley and onion salad on my plate. I turn to look at her, waiting for her to continue. "I feel like I already know everything there is to know about you."

"How's that?" I question, not so sure if I should be delighted or concerned.

"My boy usually doesn't share too much information, I usually have to force it out of him, but lately he can't stop talking about one subject: you." Her kind smile widens. I turn my head to look at Daniel and he shrugs, highly engaged with his food.

"How is your new job?"

_Oh, she did get a full briefing about me._ "I'm actually very pleased with it. It's given me the opportunity to learn so many new things I've been keen to work on for a long time and I'm thrilled at the chance."

"That's priceless, to get to do something you're passionate about."

"I understand you are an artist. What kind of medium do you create?"

"I sketch and paint, everything from landscapes to portraits to abstract. I mostly use charcoal, though from time to time I go for oil," she explains, her face illuminated; her love for what she does is clearly reflected by her deep smile and gleaming eyes. I can relate to the feeling; this is exactly how I feel about my illustrations.

"It would be nice to sketch you; you have such even, delicate features."

I send her a timid smile, feeling slightly self-conscious.

"You should, I'll buy it," Daniel says casually, raising another forkful to his mouth.

"Aren't you eating the tagine?" I ask Iris midway through dinner, after we've discussed her life in Baja and the fact that she doesn't like visiting San Francisco and does it only to see Daniel.

"I'm a vegetarian," she answers.

Figures you would be, and I believe it's for all the right reasons. She has an aura of a saint.

It was only when Daniel left for college, she tells me later, that she finally fulfilled her long time desire to move to Baja. I ask her why she chose this specific town as her home and one of her first replies is a question of whether I have seen the place. I immediately understand what she means. She also speaks at length about how calm and secluded this place is. I'm surprised to learn that it was Daniel who originally introduced her to this paradise, taking her with him on one of his surfing trips. She also tells me about the artistic community; apparently there are more than a few artists that chose to live in this same charming town.

"You seem very happy here," I say. She regards me with a warm smile, her eyes gleaming with content.

"I am, very much. I feel like I belong here, especially since I can do what I enjoy the most. I could not ask for more." She shifts her pensive stare to the open window and back at me. "I am very happy," she confirms.

Though her smile doesn't change I sense that her feeling is deeper than happy. The lady in front of me seems blissful and whole. She then puts her delicate hand over mine and says in her melodic voice, "You just need to think hard about what and how much is really enough. Once you find that out, it's what makes you live in sheer bliss. Till then, there are constant doubts."

I think about her words of wisdom and couldn't agree more. I look over to check Daniel's reaction, expecting either an eye roll or some sort of ridicule in his expression; I am surprised to see that he seems thoughtful. Once he notices my staring his lips pull up at the side and he slowly nods in agreement. I reciprocate with a gentle smile at the profound acknowledgement that forms between us, one that goes beyond words.

I listen eagerly as Iris shares with me stories of Daniel's childhood, of him being a reckless, restless and charismatic child. _Nothing has really changed_ , I think, amused.

"I just hated the period when he became so introverted. You know, when Mike left."

_Mike, that's his father's name, and not "the coward who left us."_ I notice Daniel stiffen at my side. His jaw clenches, though his annoyance seems mild. I rest my hand on his thigh and caress it gently, trying to calm him down.

"Don't start with that," he warns in a low, stony voice.

"It is a part of who you are. It's one of the elements that made you what you have become, Daniel. You can't ignore that." Iris' tranquil demeanor is in complete contradiction to Daniel's growing irritation. Choosing to disregard the warning emanating from her son's glare, she continues, saying that Mike was just scared, and that's what led him to act the way he did.

"When your family needs you the most you man up, not run away," Daniel argues. "You should take care of those you love. You fight for them for god's sake."

"My love, you need to forgive and let go of your anger. He didn't mean to harm us, that wasn't his intention." Her voice is almost begging when she seeks his gaze.

"Oh, he didn't," Daniel retaliates in utter disdain.

"He wasn't mature enough, and was scared. He couldn't take care of us. He was confused. A young, scared man who didn't know how to deal with an illness."

How can she be so forgiving?

"Stop with this holistic spiritual shit when it comes to him. For fuck's sake, stop." For the first time since we stepped into the house, Daniel is offensive toward his mother, then he shuts down completely. He doesn't even respond to my squeeze of his hand under the table.

_Alert level is up to red_. When I try to catch his eyes I notice that he is absorbed with pecking at his food, his stare impenetrable.

Trying to divert the conversation, I ask Iris about her miraculous recovery from cancer. She explains about the experimental treatments she went through, which eventually led to fully curing the specific type of cancer she suffered from. I learn that Daniel was frequently moved between the homes of friends and family when she was away for treatment or wasn't able to take care of him by herself, which was for a couple of years when he was still in elementary school. The thought of him growing up that way cuts me deep inside.

As the minutes pass Daniel gains composure and joins the conversation again, holding my hand, occasionally planting a kiss on my neck, cheek or mouth.

The cheerful tune coming from Daniel's phone draws our attention.

"On a Saturday night?" Iris comments, wrinkling her nose.

I relate to what lies behind her words. _Does he ever really disconnect? Do they ever let him disconnect?_

Seeing the name on the screen, Daniel's expression turns bothered.

"Chris," he answers, somewhat wearily. Not waiting for a reply he adds, "How severe is it this time?"

His jaw works under the tight skin of his face as he listens for a while. "So help me," he breathes in a frustrated sigh, "if we don't pull this one through and make the deadline I am replacing your entire department. And where is Rob for fuck's sake?" His forehead creases.

"What do you mean he's not available? Isn't he there with his team? Has anyone tried to save this yet, besides me?" Complete fury veils his already annoyed face, and he starts walking to the next room. Halting for a brief moment he nods, signaling me, gesturing toward the room.

_This is new and welcomed._ Not long ago he would have just walked away, indifferent to whether I was there or not. Deep in my own thoughts, I'm distracted by the snap of a camera. _Where did that come from?_ Iris beams at me behind a Polaroid, waving a photo through the air waiting for it to dry.

"Here, look how beautiful you are," she says, showing me a glimpse of the photo. "The expression in your eyes when you look at him." She hands me the photograph, appearing pleased with her observation. When I look at it closely, I have to agree with her. My eyes are tender and gleaming, my face relaxed, and there is a still, small smile over my lips. My overall appearance is of pure adoration. _Wow, it does reflect my emotions precisely. I guess it's true what they say about a picture being worth a thousand words._

"I love him." I put into words my interpretation of the picture.

"I can see that. He loves you too, you know. I couldn't be happier that he found you. I am so glad for you two." Iris beams at me. "Make sure to hold on to him even when it gets rough. Don't give up on him even when you feel you should." I turn to ask her to elaborate further but it seems as though her thoughts are elsewhere and I refrain from disturbing her.

As I look in the direction Daniel left, I think about how deep my feelings are for him. Absurd as it is, I even miss him when he's in the next room.

"Go, calm him down," Iris coaxes in her quiet, pleasing tone, a small smile on her lips. I glance at the leftovers from dinner.

"Go Hayley, I'll clean up here, just go," she says.

I hesitantly open the door to what I guess is Iris' studio: a narrow room, with bare walls and wide windows. Several coal sketches are standing on the floor, leaning against the walls. In the middle of the room are two large easels, one with a blank canvas and the other with an unfinished sketch of a cluster of grapes.

Daniel sits in the corner across from me on the granite floor, his back against the wall, his legs bent and parted. He rubs a finger on the floor beside him, looking preoccupied. While still on the phone, he tilts his head to look up and, seeing me, he raises his eyebrows questioningly.

I look at him tentatively, seeking his approval to intrude. As he gestures for me to come closer, I do, my eyes fixed on his. I take a few steps toward him, displeased with the jaded look in his eyes. Reaching him, I bend to sit astride his open legs. I curl my back to rest my head on his chest, and he responds by embracing me, and rubs his mouth against my hair. Inhaling his Daniel smell I think there is no other place I'd rather be.

"What can I say," he mutters wearily. His chest slightly reverberates as he talks. He sighs and adds, "Prepare everyone for white nights and hard work. I will personally be chaperoning the project all the way through."

I can hear the faint sound of a growl inside his ribcage as his words flow to his mouth. He plants gentle kisses on my head as he resumes listening to the person on the other end. Shifting my head sideways, resting my cheek on his chest, I look around the room. There's one old looking piece of a set of eyes a few steps from where we sit. They look young and though it's a colorless coal sketch I still recognize the eyes looming back at me. Daniel's beautiful eyes, from early childhood. They seem so sad, as though on the verge of crying. My heart constricts at the sight and thought of him being in such sorrow. _Was it when his father left?_ I examine the image as closely as I can.

"Then send me a thorough schedule of your recovery plan," Daniel says and sighs. "We cannot screw this up, Chris, you know well what's at stake. I also want an elaborated Gantt with daily progress till windup." Ending the conversation he places his phone on the floor.

"Hales." I tear my stare from the painting and tip my head back to look at him. I smile tenderly, my lips ajar, awaiting our encounter which doesn't take long to come. I am glad at the notion of his body's relaxation with the union of our mouths.

"What is it?" I ask when our lips part.

"This deal that's on the line, it's a deal that could take the company to the next level. It is all down to the release of our new software version and so far it is way behind schedule, and there are still major constraints to be resolved."

"And you don't believe people are putting all their effort into it?"

"Hales, it's not that I don't think so, I know so. Remember, I'm not just running the company. I've actually developed the software. I know exactly what it takes." With no insights to add I just press a kiss on his lips and look at him.

"I'll have to step in and follow it till it's done properly," he sighs again, in fatigue.

What does that imply?

"Meaning, even longer hours at the office and much less free time," he grimaces, shrugging. "Less time for this." He envelops me closely.

"We'll work it out." I try to soothe him. He smiles back, still lacking the ability to appear pleased.

"Although," I say hesitantly.

He observes me, waiting for me to elaborate.

"I'm visiting my parents next weekend for a few days."

"Oh, you are?"

"It'll give you some needed peace and quiet to devote to your work." I beam at him encouragingly.

"I don't want peace and quiet when it means you're away," he says, low and stern.

_I adore you, D._ I reciprocate with a profound kiss, sinking further into his embrace.

"Dessert?" Iris asks from the doorway.

"Just a quick one, we'll head home soon." Daniel adds, to her quizzical look, "I need to work." She's not able to mask the disappointment that falls over her face at his words

When we eventually leave, Iris follows us to the door, enfolding us both in a deep, motherly hug. "I am so happy to have finally met you, Hayley, dear."

I hug her back. "Me too. It was an absolute pleasure."

"And you, kid," she says to Daniel, "take care of her. She's definitely a gem. There's an aura about her." She looks at me with a twinkling hazel gaze. "And please, take care of your beautiful self for me, will you?" Daniel's stare becomes tender as hugs her close.

~~~

I watch Daniel's peaceful face illuminated by the rays of the morning sun that peek through the blinds, his chest slightly rising and falling with his steady breaths. I love watching how his eyelashes gently caress the soft skin under his tranquil eyes. He looks so handsome and calm, almost childlike, not revealing the weight he carries on his shoulders during the day.

Unable to refrain from touching him, I get closer and softly kiss his slightly ajar lips. He embraces me closer to him sleepily, snuggling his head in the crater formed between my head and shoulder. Inhaling his smell, his appealing, addictive scent, my own eyes feel heavy and I give in to the sudden tiredness falling over me.

~~~

With my eyes still shut I slide my hand beside me, looking for Daniel. Instead I find a cold, empty mattress. _Where is he? How long have I slept?_

Too sleepy to look for fresh clothes, I put on a pair of his boxers that I find in the open closet. I quickly brush my teeth, splash water on my face to remove the last remnants of sleep and go looking for him.

"Good morning," he beams at me from under the shaded lounger. Seems as if he's been working for a while, his laptop on his lap and an empty mug of coffee by his side.

"Morning," I reply sweetly. He sets his laptop aside.

"Come over here, baby." He reaches out to me. Parting his legs, he allows me enough space to lie down enveloped by him. "Love the look." He presses a cinnamon and coffee tasting kiss on my mouth.

"Mmm, cinnamon?"

He chuckles. "Yes, there are some warm cinnamon rolls waiting for you in the oven."

"You were saying something about a look," I question, indulging in the closeness of his warm sun-kissed skin.

"You look so hot wearing my boxers."

"Oh, I do?" A suggestive curve plays on my lips.

"Yes." He runs a thoroughly predatorial gaze over me.

"Do you want some coffee? I'm going to get one," I ask.

I'm answered with a sharp, "Later."

His look darkens with easy-to-interpret intentions, making my insides set off in warm waves that vanish any prior craving for caffeine. _This would be a much more satisfying way to help me wake._

"Come here, you." He pulls me closer as he slides back to lie beneath me. "Damn hot," he says to my mouth right before claiming it in a rage, his hands squeezing my behind under his loose boxers. From that moment words are the last form of communication we use to connect.

~~~

In the few hours we have before our early afternoon flight, Daniel continues to work by the pool. After a short surfing session, I join in. I lie in the same position I was in earlier that morning, snuggled between his legs, tanning, occasionally disturbing him only to be granted with lush kisses. I can't even think of having to go back. The thought of it brings me down. These past few, too few, days in this paradise for two have been utterly perfect.

"Knitted brows, Hales?" He looks at me from behind the screen. He sends his finger to the puckered spot between my brows, rubbing it, gently releasing the tension.

"I was just thinking about going back," I explain, the disappointment clearly reflected in my voice.

"I feel the same way. It's nice to have you by my side all the time." His lips twist in a small angle.

"Same here." I take his hand and kiss the center of his palm lengthily. He slides me to rest on his chest to face him.

"And to think about what's waiting for me upon return," he sighs heavily, enfolding me closely.

Loosening his embrace for a few moments, he turns up the volume of the background music with the remote on the wicker side table. The melody plays loud as he cages me in his arms, this time his embrace tighter around me as he mumbles the song's lyrics into my hair.

I raise my head from the warmth of his chest to look at him, thinking about the lyrics. _How one would give up forever just for a touch, and how he feels so close to heaven he doesn't want to go home_.

"How fitting," I murmur in bitter frustration. He nods, biting his lower lip.

"We're coming back here the first chance we get," he asserts. _I couldn't agree more._

All through the flight back Daniel works while I nap, nestled by his side, occasionally being rewarded with a kiss on my head.

Blending with the landing announcement message I hear Daniel trying to wake me up. "Hales, wake up. Back to reality."

_Indeed we are,_ I think gloomily.

## Chapter 30: Back to Reality

"Honey, I'm home, hide the whomever," I announce as we step into my apartment. Daniel helps me carry my stuff in and I'm grateful to have him for a few more minutes. As unreasonable and unlike me as it is, I find the thought of him leaving way too upsetting.

"Hales!" My lips pull up hearing the two cheerful squeals of my nutty friends coming from the living room; _Ian's here, something to overshadow the coming goodbye._ Daniel looks at me and rolls his eyes, holding my hand as we walk toward the sounds of joy. My spirits immediately rise a few scales higher when I see Tasha flat on the floor, her head inclined and resting on one of the deep purple satin cushions while Ian, prone at her feet, applies dark blue nail polish to her toes.

"So that's what you girls do when left by yourselves," Daniels murmurs only for me to hear. I hold in a chuckle and squeeze his hand ordering him to behave. They both grin at us from the floor.

"Hey gorgeous. And Hayley." Ian grins at us.

I snicker and Daniel rolls his eyes, responding with a dry, "Hey."

"You are glowing, Hales. That tan is very becoming." Tasha winks suggestively, blowing me a kiss. "Daniel." She smiles at him heartily.

"Natasha." He nods back.

"You're staying, Hales?" Tasha questions, grinning.

"Yeah, I missed you guys." I smile back at her.

"Pedi?" Ian suggests enthusiastically.

"Of course, right after I put my stuff away."

"Daniel, staying for a pedi?"

"Unfortunately not, would love to, but I've got to work. Rain check?"

"Next time then," Ian replies with a smirk.

"Well, as always, it was a pleasure," Daniel says, pulling me to a tight embrace. His eyes radiate his deep emotions, and my heart twinges at the thought of him leaving. After our weekend, having him beside me twenty-four seven, and the new depths of our relationship, I find it extremely hard to let go. He bends to kiss me and it is not a brief peck. My beloved friends, instead of minding their own business, stare at us, fixated. I shake my head and pull away from the embrace, then send them a sullen look before leading Daniel to my room. _Some privacy is needed here. This kiss should last for at least another full day._

"I hate letting you go now," I say as Daniel kicks shut the door.

"I know exactly what you mean, baby." He pulls me closer into a tight hug, nuzzling my hair, inhaling deeply. I lean closer, letting him wrap me into his warmth and sedating scent.

"Hey, look at me," he whispers and I do, immediately lost in the depths of his intent stare. I stretch my body against him to reach his mouth; he counters with warm, parted lips. At our encounter his mouth takes the lead, starting tentatively and quickly moving to taste me, thoroughly engaged. My chest tightens as the rest of my body prickles with anticipation.

Daniel lifts me to set me on the white cabinet holding my sacred shoe collection. He shifts to face me, squeezing my behind as he slides me closer to him, parting my legs wider to engulf his body. Sliding his fingers through my hair at both my temples he then looks at me with an adoring expression.

"I love you so much, it drives me crazy." He sighs, and then with his eyes shut, whispers, "I can't believe how hard it is for me to leave now. It's almost impossible."

Feeling the same I hug him tight, resting my head on his firm chest, inhaling him.

Our next kiss intensifies, accompanied by impatient strokes, soon leading us to pull each other's shirts off. I find myself sitting astride him, on the bed, finishing what began at the dresser.

"That will keep my head above water... for now." I'm granted a delinquent smirk.

"So this dose should keep me going till my next dependent addiction for a Daniel fix?"

He chuckles. "You have a Daniel-dependent addiction?"

"I believe I do, sir. A severe one. These cravings, urges, yearnings and desires are sometimes unbearable." I dramatize a shiver.

"Poor baby," he kisses me, amused. "Now junkie, I really need to get going."

I nod not even trying to hide my utter disappointment. I see Daniel to the door and just before he leaves we embrace again.

"Twenty-four hours Hayleyless, damn," he murmurs, shaking his head as he steps out the door.

I adore you, D.

~~~

"Shameless bunnies," Ian throws my way mockingly as I join them on the floor. Then returning to the topic they were discussing before I joined he says, "So the guy was in full D&G Spring '12, wouldn't be surprised if his underwear was also Dolce. Oy vey." He sighs. "A tad too chic, too nouveau riche." He twists his mouth disapprovingly.

Tasha nods as though she is in complete agreement but there is pure amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Come on, mix and match for god's sake. Couture with casual, that's basic. I thought people already realized that," he actually growls.

I cock an eyebrow questioningly, wondering who Ian is so obsessed with.

"Just an agent he met." Tasha, with her tendency to know exactly what I think, fills me in, a small amused smile on her lips. "Who made the fatal mistake of meeting our beloved fashion critic with a full ensemble composed of one sole designer," she adds.

I raise my hand to my open mouth in horror. "How _could_ he?" I say with exaggerated disgust.

"Biatches," Ian murmurs, smiling. Turning to face me he declares, "I've missed you lately, gorgeous, with you being Danielized and all. Come over and give me some of you."

I cheerfully bend to smack a kiss on his mouth. _Yes, I have to agree with that. I have been completely Danielized_.

Ian appraises me, turns his index finger in circles, silently ordering me to turn around. I stand up and under his admiring stare turn a hundred and eighty degrees then coyly blink twice.

"Gorgeous, you, on the other hand, are dressed head to toe in love and it does look mighty amazing," he sighs, satisfied. "Our impenetrable, no emotions, none-what-so-ever-when-it-comes-to-the-opposite-gender Miss Grace, in love. Who would have thought?" his eyes trail over me fondly. "Now lie back and let me work on those toes," he commands and I obey submissively.

"So, Tash, speaking of which, how's the love life?" I ask, turning my attention from Ian's work on my feet.

"Well..." Tasha halts, biting her lips, considering her words.

"Oh? Trouble in office-infidelity paradise?"

Ian cocks his head up from above my toes and snickers.

"It's just, I think, the excitement of it being forbidden is over, at least for me it is."

"Is that so?" Ian mutters, still concentrating on his artistic efforts.

"Yeah, some of the things he does that I had found charming so far are starting to irritate the living hell out of me."

"Do elaborate," I say encouragingly, patting her arm.

"He's a broadcaster," she says with a faint smile.

"A what?" I ask.

"A what, Hales? Very well articulated," Tasha comments. dryly. "You know, one of these announcing guys."

"Still not following here."

She glances at Ian and his smirk widens.

"Come on guys, please do educate those who lack the knowledge," I scold playfully.

"He annunciates his moves before and during sex."

"Oh," I say, thinking how odd and annoying that would be.

"Just imagine, Hales. Oh, Natasha, I am going to take you now."

Both Ian and I burst out laughing at Tasha's imitation of the boss man.

"Sounds like a very badly dubbed porno movie. Keep your day job, Missy," I say, between giggles.

"Oh, Hayley, I am so going to fuck these lush lips of yours," Ian says, making his voice hoarse.

"Disgusting," I slap his hand playfully.

"Stop moving, you're jeopardizing the work of an artist! I'm warning you." He gestures toward my toes.

We trade cheerful stares.

"So besides the sex broadcasting, what else doesn't appeal anymore?" Ian asks, blowing at my nails.

"I guess most of it," Tasha says, looking indifferent. "I don't find him or even anything about the whole situation appealing anymore, and frankly it's really annoying to have him obsess over me at work. All of a sudden he's everywhere, and the second I speak to another guy for more than five minutes he appears."

"Did you try talking to him?" I say.

"And say what? I'm done screwing you, can we get back to normal, boss?" She rolls her eyes, amused.

"That could be one way, or tell him it's becoming too serious and you would like to take a step back. Then gradually break it off," I reply.

"Or have your best friend talk to her lover boy and make him sack his broadcasting ass," Ian adds.

"Not even funny. Keep Daniel out of this," I admonish.

"Speaking of Mr. Stark..." Tasha diverts the topic from her.

"No complaints coming from that front," I respond with a smirk that is threatening to rip my face in two.

"That bad, eh?" Tasha grins, looking happy for me.

"Hey Tash, seriously, who would have thought!" Ian declares, shrugging. "Miss why-complicate-physical-pleasure-with-emotional-mumbo-jumbo, never-felt-anything-for-anyone is smiling like a total goof when you ask her about her ultra-hot boyfriend," Ian says, quoting things I used to say so often.

Tasha smiles at both Ian and me then contributes her own insights. "Yes, Ian, our little girl found her manic Prince Charming and is truly in love. Fairy tales do happen. If Hales is actually admitting to love someone, there's hope for all of us."

"Fairy tales?" I ask, dubious.

"Yes," Ian answers. "Of the slutty princess who did not believe in love, who used to take advantage of innocent men, who finally got enchanted by a handsome, slightly deranged prince."

I let out a short cackle at the dramatic way Ian illustrates the story.

"And how does this fairy tale end?"

"They're both committed to an asylum in a faraway kingdom," Ian continues. "Doing it like bunnies till the end of days."

We all break into high-pitched hoots of laughter as he concludes.

Out of breath, I say, "Quit your day job and write children's books. You'll be rolling in money."

"Hales will illustrate them and I'll do the PR," Tasha adds.

"Drink, ladies?" Ian asks, standing up from the floor after doing a fine job on my nails.

"What's on the menu?" We ask in unison.

"Well, evil twins, do you have any strawberries around?"

"Frozen," Tasha nods toward the freezer.

"So strawberry daiquiris it is." Ian grins from the kitchen.

"I love you, you take such good care of us," I say loudly over the noise of the blender. Ian reciprocates by sending an air kiss my way.

We pile onto my bed, a pitcher on the nightstand and each of us with a full glass of pink frozen delight.

"To the gifted bartender." I raise my glass and my two friends join.

"To no more sex at the office," Tasha says, giggling.

"To love," I say and burst out laughing. _Out of the three of us, I can't believe I'm the one saying that syrupy nonsense._

"We need to watch this one's intake, god forbid we return her broken to the psycho," Ian murmurs cynically and Tasha nods in agreement.

"You guys are really intense," she says over her glass.

"I guess." I shrug.

"Well, he seems very determined about you." My eyebrows furrow and Ian turns to focus on Tasha.

"I'm just saying..." she says, checking out her nail polish.

"What are you insinuating?" Ian speaks my thoughts.

Her eyes come back to observe us both. "Well, he's a serious mid-thirties, successful businessman. Not a kid, you know... I don't think he's into playing or taking things slow."

I take a long sip, looking at Tasha above the rim of my glass.

"I'd expect it to become much more serious pretty soon, if you guys continue at this pace."

"Oh, c'mon." I say and shake my head in skepticism. _What does she know? Frankly, I personally am not ready to leap into something more serious than our current situation. Hell, I'm still getting used to all this love/relationship thing. There's nothing to really stress about anyway, it's just her romance obsessed, vivid imagination._

"Don't c'mon me, Hales, he took you to meet his mother, for heaven's sake."

Ian nods. "She does have a point..."

I take a deep, thoughtful breath.

"Well, we were already there. It's not that this trip was planned around this meeting. He usually visits her when he's in Baja, so this time wasn't any different." _Was it? No way! She hasn't got the tiniest clue. I'm sure both me and Daniel are on the same page. Enjoy the present..._

"If denial works for you, go ahead. I still think I'm right."

"Then let's agree to disagree."

She rolls her eyes dismissively and I twist my mouth.

After my second glass I start feeling too warm and somewhat tipsy; I strip down to my tank top and boyshorts.

"Last one for you, thank you," Tasha says, taking away my glass, completely disregarding my disapproving pout.

"Hey." I turn to Ian. "I wasn't going to say anything but," I halt for a second to gauge what I am about to say, and with both Ian and Tasha highly attentive I continue, "my Ken doll boss is going to invite you to an interview for a photo shoot of _YOU_ 's summer issue."

Ian's face lights up. "Is that so, gorgeous?"

"Hold on, there's more." I beam at him.

"What is it, Hales?" Tasha asks.

"The photo shoot is in the... Maldives! On some exotic island. I can't recall its name right now." _Alcohol_...

"Are you fucking with me?" Ian breathes.

"And I'm going too," I add.

"You are _kidding_ me," Tasha mutters, studying me carefully.

"Nope, all that's left is for Ian to wow the focus group at _YOU_."

"Easy part." Ian winks, ever self-assured.

"Guys, I will be so jealous," Tasha says, pouting.

"You'll have Rob," Ian mocks her and we all crack up into hysterics.

"So tired," I say, yawning.

"Come here." Ian offers his chest as a pillow and I'm cradled in his embrace, slowly dozing, half listening to them talk about the last guy Ian was "seeing" till I fall asleep.

## Chapter 31: From Zero to a Hundred in a Split Second

"Hey." I dream of Daniel setting up the bonfire in Baja. "Hales." He is talking to me. "Hales." Someone is lightly rocking me by my arm. Opening my eyes to a fine slit, realizing it's not a part of my dream, I look at the blurry figure bent next to me. Blinking a couple of times my vision clears.

"Daniel," I whisper, immediately elated. _What is he doing here? Did I sleep a whole day? Did I miss work?_ He smiles at me, his eyes gentle. As I comprehend that I'm still rested on Ian's chest I raise my head quickly.

"I'm dizzy," I whisper. Daniel tries to look upset, though his eyes, gleaming in the dark evening light, give him away.

"Drunk, half naked and on another guy's bare chest, all Girls Gone Wild-style. What am I going to do with you, Hales?"

I bite my lip, blinking at him.

"Come over." He lifts me up my hands hugging his wide neck.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, smirking, letting him carry me, enjoying his closeness.

"Too hard to be Hayleyless, I guess," he says, his animated eyes deep in mine.

"I'm glad." I blink at him again, this time adding a kiss, lingering on his addictive taste.

"Mmm, you smell so good." I nuzzle his neck, indulging in his unique scent. "Where are we going?" I ask as we reach the kitchen.

"My house," he says in a voice that doesn't leave any room to object. "How much did you have to drink?" he asks.

That obvious?

"Not too much, we didn't let her," Tasha answers flatly from her place on the sofa, watching something on the National Geographic channel.

"Thanks." Daniel acknowledges her with a nod.

"Here." He settles me to one of the kitchen stools. "Drink this." He hands me a large glass of ice cold water. I take some sips and am rewarded with a scowl ordering me to finish the entire glass. _Okay, okay, ugh._

"Now go get some stuff for a sleepover."

"Hey, am I allowed to say anything here? Oh mighty puppeteer, please release the grip on my strings, would ya?"

Daniel lets out a short raspy chuckle. "I've been called all sorts of names before, most far from being positive, but puppeteer's a new one. I got to give it to you for originality, Hales," he says, amused. "And no, you don't have any say. Nothing will stop me from taking you back to my place, not even you," he says with a blank expression and as a smile sneaks onto the side of his mouth he pulls me closer, tugging me by my hand. Pinning me against him, he leans his head close to mine. "No, you don't have any autonomy whatsoever." He slaps my butt and adds, "And I love you crazy." He kisses my forehead. _That's the perfect way to describe your love, D_.

"Well since you put it that way, Mr. Stark... though, for the millionth time, _I do not take orders_." I seal a fleshy kiss on his lips and wink before heading to my room to get dressed and pack an overnight bag, like the obedient puppet I am.

~~~

I get a double shot of espresso, hoping it will dissolve the last dose of alcohol still flowing in my bloodstream, before heading to visit Daniel who's training at his mini gym, if mini would be a suitable description given its size and equipment variety.

"Hey." A flushed and smiling face, covered with sweat, welcomes me from under a pushed-up barbell. His taut, muscled body lies firmly flat against the bench holding the overhead barbell arm's length above his carved chest, two large weights balanced at each side. He inhales loudly, descending; his biceps strain so alluringly as he places the pole back at its rack. His grey tank top is moist from excessive exertion. His blond waves are pulled back in a black hair band. I watch him, mesmerized. _Steaming hot_. In between aligning his breath, he mutters, "I'll have a quick shower and come find you." He pulls up the hem of his tank top to wipe his face, revealing his tan abs. I swallow the next sip hard. Resting my cup of coffee on the floor I say, "Oh no, you don't."

"I don't?" he repeats, turning his head, his eyes questioning.

"Most definitely not, so help me god if you do," I say, stepping toward him.

"Hales?" He watches me, trying to figure out where I'm going with this, though a hint of a smile buds on his lips. Nearing him, I lift one leg over the bench and turn to sit astride him, settling myself on his pelvis. "You look so incredibly hot this way."

"Sweaty and stinking?" he asks, side smile intact.

"Carnal and flushed." I correct him with a suggestive rise of my brow, feasting my eyes with his body from my closer position above him. _He could seriously give me a heart condition looking like this._

I lean to kiss him and the saltiness of his perspiration mixed with the divine taste of his mouth turns my blood to magma. I help him lose his top and his just-worked-out, chiseled body teases me, making my nerves spike with pleasure.

"By all means, baby, don't hold back." He grins at me and I can already feel his excitement against me. And there's no holding back, not here at the bench and not when we hit the shower together.

~~~

"I am so fucking grateful for your caffeine addiction and reckless abandon," Daniel says, kissing my lips as we lie in bed, closely, parallel each other, heads resting on our hands.

"Wow, thanks, I guess..." I return his stare with a dubious one.

"Without these great attributes of yours we would have never met..."

"I love you too." I kiss him and snort, giggling.

"Hales," he strokes my cheek and briefly flutters his lips on mine. "I'll take the risk of sounding impulsive and irrational but..."

_Like that is something that ever stopped you before!_ "What is it, Daniel?" I ask, smiling at him in the weak light of the room, my eyes level with his.

"I think you should move in with me."

I guess Miss Taylor is a bonafide prophet.

For a long beat I let his words sink in. _Is he serious_? _This must be just another one of those 'I am totally messing with you Hales, relax', things. He cannot be serious. Psycho and impulsive as he is, this is over the top nuts even for him._

"Hales, look at me. I'm right here." Concern erupts from his voice. I lift my troubled eyes to meet his and am taken aback by the seriousness his hazel depths transmit.

"You're kidding?" I say tentatively. "This is the part where you say just messing with you, right?" I question, swallowing hard, feeling my mouth gradually turning to cotton.

"No, Hales. I'm serious," he annunciates each word firmly, in a low voice. "I'm trying to tell you that I hate every minute you're not with me."

I feel the same way, but this is so soon, so wrong. This screams disaster waiting to happen, in capital letters.

"Daniel," I start and halt to reassess how I am going to deliver what I'm about to say. "I do feel the same way. Actually, I have never felt as right about someone as I feel about you. This is the first time I've actually fallen in love. I have never, in my entire life, felt anything remotely close to what I feel for you." I pause to take in a much-needed breath.

"This sounds like the beginning of a requiem of the idea to me," he mutters flatly.

"Daniel." I touch his face, grazing his mouth with my thumb. "Please listen to me."

"Go on," he says, not looking as keen as he seemed moments ago.

"But as confident as I am about you, I'm still not so confident about all of this relationship stuff. I feel that it's too soon for us to try to live together. This is all so new to me and I feel like it's completely taking over my life." I watch him, trying to evaluate whether what I am saying is getting through to him. _There is no fucking way I'll do anything to jeopardize what we have._

"I'm not dismissing your idea, I'm just saying let's take it one step at a time, let's not jump into this. It's just too new to both of us, D. Let's try and not be impulsive, though it might feel like the right thing. Believe me, I had to fight myself to not stand in your way when you left my apartment earlier today."

He smiles though the smile doesn't appear in his stare. "Hales, what I've learned throughout life—and believe me I did experience a few things to get to where I am—is that being impulsive isn't necessarily a bad thing. Impulsiveness and strong gut feelings are what brought me to where I am in life and I consider it quite a good place to be."

"That it is," I reply. _Who can argue with that_.

"So, to summarize, my gut feeling tells me I have found _the one_." He pauses to look at me with a penetrating glare, emphasizing the gravity of his argument. Hearing these two words I need to fight my urge to jump up and down and yell, "yes, I'll move in this minute and never ever leave."

"I don't think that acting passive rather than impulsive is the right way to go. But, my sweet Hayley, for once I'll let you have it your way," he chuckles.

_Thank you_.

"I don't want you running out the door," he adds, scornfully in what sounds like a non-negotiable concession. _D, the last thing I would do is run away from you willingly_.

I try to process everything he laid on me. He just doesn't stop dazzling me. _How fast did we get from 'I don't kiss if I don't mean it, I don't do relationships' to, well, this. 'Move in with me'..._

"Don't get me wrong, Daniel, in my heart I feel like I would do anything you want but when reason sets in and I take control of my Danielized brain, I know this isn't right."

He rests his hand on my cheek and brushes my lips with a tender touch of his. I kiss him back and think for a second.

"Tell you what," I say. "Let's start with a drawer and a key and see how it evolves."

"As long as you use it on a daily basis," he mutters deadpan, but that mischievous amused expression of his slowly sprouts on his lips.

How overbearing of you to summarize it that way. My long speech, and here we are back at square one.

A moment later a low, throaty chuckle rolls out of his mouth. I look at him trying to understand the source of this outburst. _Are we being bipolar all the way today_?

"Come here." He enfolds me deep into an embrace. "You've been Danielized?" he asks, highly amused. "I adore the hell out of you," he breathes into my hair.

"You are so beautiful," he says, his head rested on his propped arm as he observes me lying by my side on his bed. "I love these freckles." He gently runs his finger from one side of my face across the bridge of my nose to the other.

"And these eyes of yours." He bends to kiss my eyes softly, lingering there like a ritual. "They have the most fascinating color and I love the spark in them when you laugh."

He moves to briefly kiss my lips. "This mouth," he says, "drives me crazy." He holds my face with two hands and repeats, "Crazy!"

I tilt my head slightly back, giggling, enjoying every bit of his tour of my face. "It's so sexy. The obscene thoughts it brings to my mind each time I think of it. And yet it also produces these gorgeous smiles of yours that have me agreeing to whatever you want."

"God, I'm so whipped. It's pathetic," he snorts and I burst into fits of giggles.

Daniel then trails his index finger around the border of my mouth, taking his time, ending the journey by pressing gently on my lower lip with his thumb, allowing it entrance to my mouth. His stare is now a shade graver. Pulling softly at my teeth, he parts my mouth, bringing his face closer to mine and slowly but firmly brings his tongue to trace mine, causing a short circuit from my keen mouth to my center.

As our lips part I take the chance to take my own trip over his handsome planes. "Daniel," I touch the deep scar on his upper lip, this scar that could make my heart accelerate just by looking at it, "how did you get this scar?" I run my finger over the mark, stretching my neck so I can reach it and melt my lips on it. I move to deepen the kiss, savoring more of his drugging taste.

As I draw back he answers, "Nothing too exciting, just a dumb beginner's surfing accident."

_So this sexy contribution to his total rebellious look is thanks to surfing_.

"I thought it wasn't possible, but I love surfing even more now," I grin at him.

"You love surfing more now because it defiled my face?" He raises his eyebrows in animated curiosity. "You are weird, Hales."

I kiss him chastely, and then turn to kiss the scar on his eyebrow.

"And this one?" I inquire. His demeanor quickly changes. He tries to stay composed, though the sudden stiffness and the unreadable expression that take over his face tell me otherwise.

"I'm in too good of a mood right now," he growls, and adds more casually, "I'd rather just continue this thorough tour of you." I hear the message loud and clear. The subject has been closed to further discussion. Saying that, he starts yet another journey across me, although this one is much more profound and scarce with words. Once again avoiding what seems like something he would much rather not discuss, he buries himself in me.

## Chapter 32: Catching Up

_Did hell just freeze over? Did our impudent, young, disturbingly-pierced receptionist grant me with a healthy, sweeter than honey, smile?_ I take a step back.

"Good morning," I smile back at her, somewhat dubious.

"Good morning, Hayley. How are you today?"

I nod and smile, this time warmer. This is like the earth sending me a hidden message. _Should I go buy a lottery ticket_? Amused, I head toward my cubicle.

"Good morning." Josh meets me at the foyer of our open space.

"Good morning. How was your weekend?"

"Pretty good, though I didn't get to tan as much as you." He broadcasts his white, toothy grin at me.

"Where have you been?" he asks, looking actually interested.

"Baja." I think dreamily about our wonderful weekend.

"Lucky you."

_Most definitely lucky me._ "Staff meeting at eleven?" I ask, making small-talk.

"Yes, eleven," he says, contributing his trivial part.

"Would you need me before then?" I know he doesn't but ask just for the sake of continuing the conversation till I reach my desk.

"No, just be prepared to present the outline for the 'teen moms' piece."

As I settle in, powering up my computer, Josh appears back in my cubicle. I raise my head to face him, waiting for some sort of reaction.

"I'm calling your friend Ian now. Hope he'll be able to come by today."

"I'm pretty positive he'll find the time." I nod at Josh.

He pats the outer wall of my cubicle. "So, see you later." And I hear his steps distance, letting me start my week.

During our staff meeting, as Aaron from finance briefs us about the available budget for each project, I get a text message from Tasha asking me to come for lunch for the simple reason that she's missing some quality alone time with me. I immediately agree. _How can I say no?_

After the meeting I'm left with quite a task list for the week. I'll have to put all of my energy into completing my assignments before I leave for the weekend. _A weekend at home._ An iota of gloom follows the exciting thought. _A weekend with no Daniel..._

~~~

"You are so sweet for coming. I knew you would." Tasha sends me a friendly stare as we wait for our dishes to arrive.

"Well, gushing about quality time always does the job and we both know that," I say, and with a silent unified smile we agree.

"I had _the talk_ with Rob earlier," she utters without further ado, closely examining her hair as though looking for split ends.

"My eyes are here," I comment as I wait for her to go on. She shakes her head and the start of a smile forms on her lips as she lifts her stare to meet mine.

"I told him that I think we should take a step back, like you suggested." She halts for a moment, looking to see if there is a familiar face around, given the fact that the restaurant is right beneath the Stark Software building.

"How did he take it?"

"He tried to convince me we shouldn't, but I was more than assertive," she explains. "I just hope it won't cause any unnecessary drama." Tasha forces a weary sigh.

"Yes, this could really suck. I hope he'll take it like a man and not put you through hell at work."

"Here you go, ladies, two goat cheese salads and two sparkling waters."

"Thank you," we both say to the cheerful waitress.

"So Hales, how was it?" Tasha asks, and she doesn't need to elaborate that she's asking about my weekend. We don't need too many words between us to communicate.

"Sorry to disturb, ladies. Is this seat taken? Can I have your extra chair?" asks a sassy-looking redhead, interrupting us.

"No, you can take it," I reply to her oversized sunglasses.

"Thank you." We both nod curtly and continue with our conversation, now in lower voices.

"It was amazing, Tash, we had such a good time. We've connected on so many levels." I tell her about our surfing experience and what came right after.

"Wow, he actually sang to you?"

"Well he kind of murmured the words. If it had been anybody else I would have thought it was lame or that he was trying too hard. I probably would have needed a sick bag, but it wasn't like that with him. On the contrary. He just has this something about him." A smirk blossoms on my lips thinking about that evening and my heart makes half a somersault.

"Frankly Hales, it's still kind of hard to believe that out of the three of us you're the one in a serious relationship. And, with no less than _the_ Daniel Stark, ah?" She presses her lips into a foolish smile, and I nod in joyful confirmation.

"Yep." I say, popping the p.

"So, what is it about him besides being a total babe that made my best friend fall so deep and so fast?" Tasha takes another forkful of her salad.

"There are so many different layers to him; he never ceases to amaze me." I say, sighing with content. I take a sip of my water.

She pats a napkin to her lips, "and?"

"Well for one, we both know how domineering and impulsive he can be."

We trade knowing stares and snicker in stereo.

"Intimidating Mr. Stark," Tasha rolls her eyes and I counter with a side smile.

"But on the other hand, he has all those sensitive sides to him and the combination of them all just blows me away." I muse for a short second, fixated on my bubbling water.

"You know, Tash, he had quite a traumatic childhood," I say and add, "Can you imagine, his father walking out on him when he was just seven, leaving him and his mom with no more than a penny to live off." A shiver runs through me and makes me hurt all over deep inside, thinking about him that way again.

"Not to mention dealing with his mother's almost fatal disease when he should have been enjoying life and playing with other kids his age."

"That is so awful, but look what he eventually became despite all of it," Tasha says with an air of respect.

I take another sip of my water and a bite of the salad. "I'm not sure, but I think that one of his scars has something to do with his dad."

"Are you implying he was violent?" she asks, tentatively.

"His reaction when I asked him how he got it was very similar to how he acted the first time I asked about his father." _I hope I'm not right but somehow I have a pretty good hunch where that story might lead_.

"You've got to hand it to him, though, being so together and successful as he is, given his background," Tasha says approvingly. _I couldn't agree more_. "During those years that his mother was undergoing treatments he was passed between different homes. Some friends, some family. Imagine all that lack of stability for a young child."

Tasha nods, pensive. "Do you think any of that affected, you know, his lifestyle before you came into the picture?" I assess her words, forking another bite of my salad into my mouth, distracted by the redhead beside us asking the waitress for another coffee. I take the chance and order a soda.

"I actually do believe that all these expensive call girls he used to see had to do with his past, but it's also due to his current success, altogether a giant mess." I sigh, repulsed by the thought. _This would never be easy to get over._

"But I'm so in love with him, every bit. I know it's too soon, but I feel as if I really know him and I adore every part of what I've gotten to know: the good and the bad."

"I'm so happy for you, Hales. I could not be happier." She squeezes my arm.

"Here you go." The waitress hands me my cold drink.

"So how long are you visiting your parents?" Tasha asks.

"Saturday till Monday."

"I'm going to ask Ian to stay with me while you're away."

I smile, knowing Ian will immediately agree. "Just don't let our gorgeous man-whore bring anyone to my bed."

She laughs and places her hand on her heart in oath.

"Talking about our lovely hormonal teen, he's going to be called in today for the interview."

"Did I mention jealousy before?" Tasha says, absurdly sullen.

"Lamo..." Tasha wrinkles her pointy nose.

"What's up, Hales? Am I boring you? Why are you peeping at your watch every other second?"

"It is just that I don't have much time and all this Daniel talk makes me want to drop by and say hi."

"So 'Drop by and say hi', is what we call it these days, huh?" She backhands playfully.

"Go ahead, Missy. I will take care of the bill."

"I love you to the sky and back." I hug her tight.

~~~

"Miss Grace, nice to see you again."

"Hayley, Anne. Call me Hayley." _Will she ever get it_? "Is he in?" I ask Daniel's PA at the entrance to his office.

"Yes. He's with people, but it's nothing too important." She pauses, then adds, "In any case, I have an open instruction to pass all your calls or let you in regardless of who's with him."

My instant grin could not be wider.

I knock on the door to hear Daniel's annoyed voice reaching me through it.

"Yes."

I open the door, somewhat hesitantly.

Meeting my eyes, his light up. "Hales." A smile grows on his lips.

"Come in." He rises as I approach him to welcome me with a kiss and a hug.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb, I just came to say hello." I apologize to the guy sitting across the desk from Daniel's chair. He shakes his head gesturing 'no worries'.

"Wait, Hales, we're almost done."

"So just send me the complete plan and I'll review it later on." At Daniel's words the guy stands to leave and with Daniel's nod he does.

"No 'thank you'?"

"That's what the salary is for," he replies, flatly. "This is a nice surprise." He hugs me harder this time, and starts kissing my neck.

"Not that kind of visit," I say, not giving it a chance to escalate, and giggle at his immediate fallen expression. "I need to get back to the office; I have a very busy day. Just had lunch with Tash and needed a Daniel fix." I say, and am gifted with a heart-wobbling smile.

"Fix yourself out." He pulls me closer, his hand on my butt.

His phone beeps and he answers with the speaker. "Anne," he snaps.

Bet he pays her a lot, otherwise why would she tolerate him?

"Chris is here to see you," she says.

Daniel sighs. "Let him in."

When I try to move aside Daniel doesn't let go of me. "It doesn't mean you need to go anywhere." He kisses my hair.

A tall chubby guy wearing an oversized polo and khakis enters the room, taken aback as he sees me.

"Mr. Stark, just a few moments."

As he is about to sit down Daniel utters dryly, "A few moments isn't enough to get comfortable."

The guy looks completely ill at ease and remains standing. Inwardly I shake my head.

"Shock me," Daniel says in a dull voice.

"There is progress with the program's stability, but we still can't have a full run cycle without a crash."

Daniel heaves out a long sigh. His jaw starts working under his skin.

"Is it the décor in the room that makes people feel welcomed to piss me off?" he murmurs to himself. "Get everybody in here in thirty," he says firmly, rubbing his hand over the side of his face. Without waiting for further instruction, Chris nods and leaves the room.

"Troubles?" I question.

"More than I can tolerate." He answers crossly.

"Well, I'll let you be. I also have work to do."

"You are coming tonight." Daniel states rather than asks.

Knowing how annoyed he is I just let it go. "Okay, I'll see you tonight." I hug his neck and press a lingering kiss on his lips. He cooperates quickly, seeming relaxed again.

"I should have you by my side twenty-four seven," he says and adds, "You are my little blue pill."

I am not sure if he does have a little blue pill or whether it is just a metaphor, but a pill like that might come in handy here and there.

"Glad to be. Love you."

"Love you too, Hales." He breathes, pecks my head and lets me go.

## Chapter 33: The Stark Truth

"Gorgeous." Ian's familiar grin brightens my cubicle. He's standing by the entrance with Josh. I inch up to hug him over my desk; Josh is all smiles, even more than usual.

"Let's go, Ian. We have the interview and the focus group next." Ian nods and follows him.

"Good luck," I call after him and he sends me a quick, cocky wink.

Starting to work on my tasks, I get an upsetting call from the editor's assistant accusing me of not sending a job on time, which gnaws at me as, unfortunately, she's absolutely right. _Fuck_. I just hope this'll go down okay with Josh, I hate the thought of disappointing him. A message from Tasha helps fuel my irritation.

Tasha: Hell is starting.

How bad?

Tasha: Snaps, workload and frowns... just peachy.

Hang in there. You did the right thing.

_Asshole. Perhaps Daniel should fire him._ I play with the appealing thought.

Through my sheer concentration a few hours pass in the blink of an eye. I pause and head to the kitchen for some water and a needed stretch. Surprised to find Josh and Ian, both with plastic cups in hand, looking far cozier than an interviewer and an interviewee would or should be.

"Hey." I say, higher than my natural voice, observing them both closely, trying to read the undercurrent I sense going on.

"Hey gorgeous," Ian steps over to rest his hand on my waist.

"How did it go?" I ask, not sure that now would be the right time to ask with Josh still around, but the words have already left my mouth.

"Quite good," Josh answers my question, looking pleased.

"Okay. Ian, it was an absolute pleasure. Hayley can see you to the door."

"Thank you, Joshua."

_Joshua?_ They both exchange an enigmatic beam before Josh, _Joshua,_ leaves.

"What the hell, Ian?" I whisper behind gritted teeth.

"He totally came on to me."

"Josh? Are you kidding me?" I whisper even quieter. Ian smirks. "He's gay?" I ask, just to make sure I understand the clues that have been blinking from all over the place.

"I think that ever since you were Danielized your gaydar hasn't been working so well. Hell, Hales, most of the left side of your brain isn't doing such swell work lately either."

"Hilarious," I snicker, sneering.

Considering what's at stake, I warn him, "Ian, for all that's good in this world, _please_ , don't get involved with my boss." I air quote 'involve'. _As if Ian really gets involved with anybody. Ian doesn't do involved. He just leaves casualties as he swifts by_.

He looks as if he's actually contemplating my request. "Don't worry, I won't do anything to put your job at risk."

I hug him.

"And anyway, we both know I don't go for the Abercrombie type."

We exchange animated stares that lead to a short laugh.

"Now let's get you out of here so I can keep doing this thing I do around here that I get paid for."

Before Ian leaves he tells me that he should get an answer within a couple of weeks.

When I get back to my seat I notice a sticky note on my desk.

Come to see me. Josh

All of a sudden the new revelation about my boss's sexual preferences becomes nothing but obvious. _How have I missed this?_

"Close the door and sit down please," Josh requests, his expression hard to read. I close the door and sit waiting for him to begin.

"I got a call from Bryan earlier."

_Bryan as in Bryan the editor? Here we go. My first strikeout._ And before he actually says something I interrupt, "I didn't have the chance to tell you beforehand, but I take complete responsibility. For failing to send the work on time."

He studies me, making a visible effort when choosing his words.

"That happens, but I expect you to know how to manage people's expectations, especially with the content unit." He scratches an invisible spot at the side of his desk, gradually turning to face me. "In other words, Hayley, master the ability to evade any blame sticking to you or to our department."

Come again... Did he just tell me it's okay to mess up but not take the blame? This is definitely not what I expected.

_"_ Clear?" His eyes are solid on mine.

"I believe it is," I say tentatively. _And thank you for the office politics 101_.

And as though that were only a side matter not to be given too much attention, Josh says next, "Ian made quite an impression."

On whom exactly? You?

"Did the focus group like him?"

Josh grins, "As a matter of fact they did. A lot." He looks as if he's enjoying a private joke.

"He is quite the charmer," I confirm.

I smile fondly, thinking of Ian's irresistible charisma.

"The two of you are pretty close, aren't you?"

Where is he taking this? No, don't worry, we aren't a couple...

"Yes, we are. He's one of my closest friends."

"I see," he purrs, pensively, pauses for a brief while, perhaps considering further interrogation. But instead he just mutters, "It would be nice if they end up choosing him."

I nod in confirmation, and need to bite my tongue. _If I could only speak freely in some situations_. _Way too revealing, boss_.

"For you of course," he adds, a moment too late.

_Let's just say that didn't sound awkward at all and leave it at that_.

"Yes, I'd be thrilled," I add.

Not sure anymore if that would be such a good idea after all, given your Cheshire cat grin, boss.

"Okay then, Hayley, have a good evening," he concludes. He walks me to my station before he heads home.

I am left somewhat cross after Josh leaves. Beginning with the fact that I don't like having slip-ups with my name on them and continuing with the fact that I don't like my boss obsessing over my best friend. Nothing good can come out of either of the two.

Checking out the time, I realize it's already a quarter past six. I decide to work for another hour and then go straight to Daniel's. Thinking of how the latter part of my evening will probably end, my spirits immediately lift. When I'm deep into my work I'm distracted by my vibrating phone. Still absorbed I answer.

"Hayley, can you come out? I'm in front of your building."

_Daniel? Missed me too much, not able to withstand temptation?_ My lips instinctively stretch to a smile. "Hey," I reply. "Why don't you come in?"

"Just come out, okay," he snaps, and hangs up.

_Okay psycho, coming. What's eating him?_ He sounded kind of tired, I muse as I walk toward the exit, hoping his situation at work isn't too bad. I hate the thought of him being upset and annoyed.

~~~

Daniel leans on the parked Viper as he waits for me. Glad to see him I quicken my pace, though as I get closer I'm taken aback by the cold expression veiling his face. He is his usual radiant self though something is completely different about the way he looks at me; there is a hazel storm brewing in his eyes. I hate what I'm seeing.

Rather surprised by the fact that he doesn't leave his position at the car, I get closer and give him an awkward hug that he doesn't return. _That's a first_. _What's going on?_

"Aren't you in the middle of a busy day?" I try to sound casual to hide the dread building up in the pit of my stomach.

"I am," he grunts.

"But yet you came to see me?" I smile wholeheartedly.

"Just don't," he says in a stone cold voice that makes my heart hitch. I watch him, trying to understand what's wrong. In return he studies me coldly as if I were a stranger.

"What's going on, Daniel? You're scaring me." My teeth dig into my bottom lip, not sure what to think of his sudden inexplicable distance. He examines me for the longest, most excruciating few seconds and then pulls a white paper out of his back pocket. I watch him, trying to figure out what's going on while fear crawls slowly up my spine. He hands the paper to me.

"Read it out loud," he instructs in a grave tone, his eyes unnervingly burning into me.

I unfold the paper, literally shaking inside, glancing at him to check his expression once more, only to find it still unchanged. _Something is so immensely wrong._ I look at the paper and try to comprehend what I'm seeing.

"Out loud," he says, in that same clipped, cold tone, though now I sense some kind of internal battle waging within him. _What the hell is going on?_

"What is it?" I ask.

He rubs his face with both hands, throwing a flinty look my way, then snaps, "Could you read the god damn thing already?"

I swallow hard and my hands start to shake. I skim through the first paragraph and when I reach the second I ask in total disbelief, "What? What is this? Where did you get it?"

"Are you going to read it for fuck's sake or should I?" he asks, detached and impatient.

I start reading in a shaky voice, "Daniel Stark has made a name for himself as one of the business industry's most private tycoons, and at the age of thirty-four, with millions cushioning his bank account, he is one of the most mysterious and eligible bachelors on the market. Mr. Stark is an intriguing enigma, hoping to be solved by a vast number of single women."

My blood at once drains from my face as I read the next sentence. I halt to stabilize my voice and try to inhale.

"To our luck..." I choke. "To our luck the SF born multi-millionaire stud is now in a relationship with a less reserved sweetheart. Disturbing facts were revealed today as Stark's current beau conceded some juicy details about the magnate which made yours truly understand Stark's persistent preservation of privacy.

"Rejections, hookers, abundance and neglect were some of the words used to illustrate Stark's past and his now-questionable way of life."

I can't continue. My voice breaks. Cold sweat covers me head to toe.

"What is this?" I question, shaken to my bones. He disregards my question, the frozen depths in his eyes directing chilled tremors up my body, making the hair on the nape of my neck slightly rise.

"Did you or did you not say these things about me?" he seethes, in a deadly voice. I try to breathe in and find it extremely hard for the air to actually flow.

"Yes. No," my words break again.

"There's only one simple answer here. Yes or No." He tries to stay composed but I can see in his eyes the commotion transpiring within him.

"Yes," I say as tears prick my eyes and the hugest lump forms rapidly in my throat. "Yes, but not like that, not to, to a..."

"Stop!" His voice is harsh and loud. Though there is something else in his stare that make me ache terribly inside, there is a mixture of disappointment and pain in these eyes, caused somehow by me.

"Daniel, don't let this thing turn into something it's really not," I beg as I start to comprehend the implication of this insanity. The reason he broke up with his previous girlfriend sinks threateningly into my consciousness.

"I don't want to hear you," he says firmly, clenching his fists. He sizes me up for a few seconds more with a new look, a look that bring to my mind an unpleasant thought of loathing.

"Daniel," I try again, feeling both contrite and wounded.

"Let's take some time apart for both our sakes." _No..._ His voice is rigid. He then glimpses hastily right in my eyes and without further ado, turns to the driver side of the car.

Panicked, I call after him. He turns back for a brief moment and the only thing that comes to my mouth, dreading the moment that he'll leave, is, "Daniel, don't let this be the last thing we ever say to each other." I am regarded with a look of pure desolation. Shaken, torn, and in a daze, I watch him drive away. Tears fill my eyes and the sharpest pain spurs in my stomach. Breathing is not an option; my lungs are void.

As the car's rear disappears in the distance I slide till I meet the hard asphalt, and lean against the building's rough brick wall. My legs are too weak to hold me. Utterly shattered at the deliriously surreal event, I try to reread the piece in an attempt to make sense of it. A dark thought creeps into my paralyzed mind. _What must he think of me now?_ And that look of hurt before he left plays before my eyes.

The Stark Truth

Daniel Stark has made a name for himself as one of the business industry's most private tycoons, and at the age of thirty-four, with millions cushioning his bank account, he is one of the most mysterious and eligible bachelors on the market. Mr. Stark is an intriguing enigma, hoping to be solved by a vast number of single women.

To our luck the SF born multi-millionaire stud is now in a relationship with a less reserved sweetheart. Disturbing facts were revealed today as Stark's current beau conceded some juicy details about the magnate which made yours truly understand Stark's persistent preservation of privacy.

Rejections, hookers, abundance and neglect were some of the words used to illustrate Stark's past and his now-questionable way of life.

Was it his father's malice and abandonment at an early age, the violence, or was it his mother being consumed by a lethal disease when he was but a tot that led Stark to a licentious adult lifestyle of countless encounters with top of the line highly paid call girls? Is this the inscrutable millionaire's way of dealing with his past? Is he just a frightened boy fighting his entrenched demons?

And here's just a personal note to Mr. Stark from yours truly.

There's improvement to be sought in the girlfriend department. We expect nothing but the best for you, so why settle for mediocrity? I'm available. Gossip Fairy.

A representative for Mr. Stark could not be reached for comment.

The bitter aftertaste of guilt fills my mouth when I am done.

## Chapter 34: Nuclear Fallout

I'm not sure how I get home but evidently I do somehow. It feels like I'm caught in a nightmare I can't wake up from.

"Hales, is that you?"

I can't even manage to find the words or the strength to answer.

"Hales?" Tasha steps closer. The concern on her face manifests exactly what I feel.

"What's wrong?" A question entwined with panic.

_Everything_. I just hand her the paper and drop to the sofa. I concentrate on breathing as my chest hardly lets the air through. I feel like the walls are closing in on me. _Is this what a panic attack feels like?_ Tasha sits next to me, and her expression of dismay tells me she read the article.

"Hales, did Daniel see it?" she asks apprehensively, her small voice tinted with worry. I nod, still not able to form words.

"He was the one who gave it to me," I finally whisper and the tears erupt, flowing uncontrollably down my face.

"This is our entire conversation taken brutally out of context." She articulates what I've been thinking since the minute I read the article.

"What did he say?" A compassionate emerald stare caresses me.

"He didn't want to hear me out, Tash," I mumble between sobs.

Tasha lets out a quiet sigh.

_It hurts so much, and all I want is him_. I lie down, staring at the ceiling for what seems like a lifetime.

"I'm going to bed," I mutter wearily, eventually standing up, at first unsteady.

"You want me to come with you, Hales?"

"No, I want to be alone."

Once in bed I try to call Daniel, but he doesn't answer. Weeping, I fall asleep, entirely drained, an empty soul that only a few hours ago used to be me.

~~~

I wake up sweaty and confused, and I quickly realize yesterday's nightmare wasn't a dream as I see the worn piece of paper laying accusing and affirming on my night stand, reminding me of my new reality. With a dry, sore throat from excessive crying, I head to the kitchen for some much needed water.

"Hales." Tasha's velvety voice welcomes me as I step into the kitchen. "You look terrible," she says, trying to smile.

"Thanks," I murmur. All humor left me, a day ago.

"Are you going to work?" she asks as I take a sip of the cold water.

Shaking my head, I say, in a weary voice, "I am not able to physically do that."

She nods sympathetically. "You want me to stay with you?" Concern is reflected in her delicate features.

"No, I want to be by myself. I just want to sleep it off."

"Okay, if that's what you want." She sighs in surrender, letting out another prolonged breath then nearing to hug me into her comforting embrace. The floodgates of my eyes open again with the kind gesture, letting out a fresh batch of tears.

"Would you like me to call your boss?" she asks after a while. Once I respond that I'll do it, she lets me be.

When she leaves, I call Josh. As soon as he hears my voice he asks me whether I am ill which makes it easier to excuse myself from coming in. With that done I drag myself back to bed.

Sitting under the protection of my blanket, absentminded, I fetch my sketchbook from its hiding place in the first drawer of my nightstand. With the blank paper resting on my thighs, my thoughts turned inward, I doodle aimlessly, letting the charcoal pencil lead me. As I sketch, my attention is drawn to the unintended force of my strokes. My sketching leaves deep marks in the pad while I bring my morbid imagination to paper. I try to distract my mind with sketching rather than thinking, but without much luck. I carry on till my fatigue conquers me.

I sleep all through the rest of the day between rare waking moments and it is a comfort. It's like being dead which is exactly how I feel, though, without the actual liability to the eternity crap.

~~~

"Hales."

I sense Tasha's body mass pressing onto the mattress as she scoots next to me into the bed. I hear her but do not physically react. I finally turn my stare from the TV. _I'm not even sure what's on right now_.

"Poor little princess. Which book is this drawing for? Bleeding Beauty?"

I can't help the thin smile curving on my lips as I see the drawing in my sketchbook that is in Tasha's hands. The curly princess's guts spill out from an open, bloody wound; the teeth of a werewolf with furious eyes dig deeply into her flesh.

"A picture worth a thousand psychological analyses," Tasha comments dryly. "Twisted Missy at her very best," she adds, shaking her head.

She takes my hand in hers. "Hales, it's been three days." I turn to look at her, regarded in return by a motherly, tender response. _Have three days actually gone by? Did I sleep three whole days, lost in my colossal gloom?_

As though sensing my inner dismay she adds, "Time to get back to the real world."

"Tash, three days. He didn't even call. It's over," I say, feeling as though I'm under heavy sedation.

"You need to get back up on your feet and when you are strong and clear enough you should try to talk to him, but not now, not like this."

"What's the time?"

"Half past seven."

"Let me sleep just a little more."

She sighs.

"Hayley, seven thirty _p.m._. You slept through the entire day."

"Just a bit more," I murmur.

Left alone, I fall asleep again.

## Chapter 35: The Good Doctor

I lose track of time. I'm not sure how much Tasha has let me sleep but after a while she wakes me up again. Ungluing my heavy eyes I discover her smiling at me from her place at my doorframe. _Hey, smiling hasn't yet been declared a legitimate, allowed gesture at this stage._

"Instead of following what the doctor prescribed I decided to just bring the doctor instead," she declares, cheerfully. Once Ian's handsome face lights the entrance I can't help but give in to smiling.

"Ian," I call weakly, happily sniffing at his presence.

"Now gorgeous, the first thing we do is get your supreme body bathed."

Tasha giggles at Ian taking control of the Hayley situation.

"Up, girl. Or do you want me to carry you there?"

Yet another smile escapes my lips.

"You're not getting in with me," I scold, shutting the bathroom door on his intruding shoe.

"Like there's anything I'd like in there. Whatevs, Hales, just get sanitized so I can hug you."

An actual giggle bursts out of my exhausted mouth.

Bathed, cleaned and in a somewhat better mood I join Ian and Tasha on the living room sofa.

"Oh, much better. Now let me have some of you."

I surrender completely to his fond embrace; Tasha joins and hugs us both. _What would I do without these two?_

"Gorgeous, you lost too much weight, not good." He shakes his head. "Generally, I'm into heroin-chic, but not on you." He twists his mouth.

"Nurse, the medicine please," Ian says to Tasha.

I look at them both, amused.

"Is this one of those 'bring the tray with the goods, nurse and I'll let you play with my tools' scenes?" Tasha asks, and we all chuckle.

"Don't get frisky with me," Ian scolds her with dancing eyes.

Tasha obediently heads to the kitchen. After some clattering noises and opening and closing of the freezer door, she comes back carrying a tray.

"Here you go Dr. Tamura. Anything else?" She presents Ian with the tray, cooperating with his nonsense, as we always do.

"Yes, Nurse Taylor. Get your royal butt next to the patient."

I am so elated by the show they're putting on for me, knowing they'd do anything to make me feel better.

"So, Miss Grace, you must have at least ten full spoons of this. Nurse Taylor here told me you haven't eaten for three days now," Ian declares, absorbed in his act, looking stern. He digs a spoon inside the Ben and Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk container.

"Eat up," he commands as he puts the spoon in front of my mouth and I obey, like the good patient I am. Savoring my favorite ice cream, I realize that I am starving and nauseated at the same time.

By my third spoonful Ian sighs, looking thoughtful, taking a moment to watch both Tasha and me he utters, with an authoritative tone, "Now, as your physician and informal therapist, I'll allow five minutes Daniel talking."

I swallow the contents in my mouth, hard. _Am I ready for that?_ Ian nods reassuringly as though reading my deepest thoughts.

"I'm going to start," Tasha begins, brushing her bangs to one side. "Just so you know, Daniel isn't taking it any easier than you are."

_How does she know?_ I look at her, anxiously waiting for her to resume, thirsty for any information about him.

"Intimidating Mr. Stark turned into Terrifying Mr. Stark; he fired four people in the last three days. He has less than zero tolerance."

I observe her, irresistibly swallowing every piece of information coming out of her mouth. "I've talked to people who had the pleasure of being in a meeting with him and the horrors they survived to tell." She twists her mouth.

"His PA cried more than once, and some people avoid taking the elevator just not to run into him." She shakes her head judgmentally.

I shake off the thought, regardless of what happened. I hate to think of him in anger or pain.

"And Hales, he looks awful. Well, just like you do," she coils her mouth to a thin, bitter smile.

"Thanks," I murmur. I think about how I feel as if there's a missing piece in my heart. I'm light years away from being remotely fine.

"Now my two cents," Ian says. "A: You are going to work tomorrow, meaning you are going back to your life. B: As soon as you feel more coherent and less devastated you're going to talk to him and try to get you both out of this mess." He stares at me with a brotherly look, brushing a stray curl from my face.

"Will I ever feel less devastated?" I look at Ian, gloomy.

"If nothing else will help I'll convert for you, okay, gorgeous?" He strokes my hair warmly.

"Convert for me? My prince in shining couture?" I blink at Ian's grin.

"All the way for you. We'll even have eight drop-dead, gorgeous kids."

I snort and giggle. "You'll convert and we'll both turn Amish?"

As always, Ian knows just what to say to make me laugh rather than dive into sorrow. But then a thought sneaks into my mind: _Did Daniel and I go our separate ways three days ago? Was that the last time he was mine?_

"And due to this exact expression," Ian points at my fallen face, "I'm sleeping with you tonight."

I hug him tight, clinging to the security his hug covers me with.

"Gorgeous, you keep doing this, and I'll end up pregnant." He fakes a frown, and I can't help but giggle. _Dork_.

## Chapter 36: Like Sheep to the Slaughter

The first time I actually take a break from my PC is at lunch when Josh asks me whether I would like to join him for food.

"Maybe I'll just join you on your way and grab something to bring back."

"You can have a break you know," he responds, wearing an authoritative mien.

"I know, boss, but I would much rather make up for the time I lost."

He shrugs.

"Rain check?" I say with a forced smile.

The time flies by at work. By the end of the day I've accomplished half of my to-do list and can leave with at least a small feeling of satisfaction inside.

~~~

I decide on my way home in Daniel's car that tonight is the night. I need to give him back his car and keys and most importantly I need to try to talk to him. The sooner, the better. _I am not sure how much of this pain I can keep carrying with me._

The next song playing from Daniel's playlist fills my eyes with unbidden tears at the first few notes. Disturbed, I press the off button but the music doesn't stop. _I can't hear it. Shut up!_ Stressed, somewhat shaky, I hit the button again and instead of killing it the volume pumps up. These words are like salt on my open wound. It's the same song we listened to the last day in Baja just before retuning. The song that word for word expressed how we both felt. Finally, when I manage to stop the music, the tears are already pouring from my eyes, unstoppable, expending the soreness from my soul.

At home I do everything quickly and mechanically. I take a shower, dress up, put Daniel's house key in my front pocket and hurry to the car, all to avoid losing the only shred of courage I still have left.

~~~

As I stare at the security cameras I am in a different state of mind, completely different than the times in the past when I stood on this same spot, elated and anxious. As before, anxiety overtakes me, but this time there's the bitter taste of dread. I hope that he's at home; at the squeaking sound of the parting gates, my hope becomes a reality, a reality that makes my heart beat frantically. I can hear my own thuds now and the closer I get the faster and louder they chant.

In a momentary glance at the rearview mirror I realize that I am wearing my pink spaghetti top, the same one I wore the first time I came here. The irony of this fact stings, and I hope this time won't be a closure.

Far from being stable, I make my way slowly toward the house. He's not there waiting for me like he always has before; the closed front door screams volumes. Though it seems like an eternity, it's only a brief moment before Daniel opens the door. The air escapes my lungs at the sight of him.

"Hayley." An emotionless voice compliments his clouded features and the coldness that broadcasting from every fiber of his posture. He seems to have been in the middle of a workout; he's wearing his black sweat pants and the grey tank top. His hair, pulled back in a black hair band, juts out like it had the last time I saw him train not so long ago. Only something's different: still sinfully handsome, he doesn't look his natural vivid self. His eyes are bereft and dark, lacking the usual glee.

He doesn't wait for me to talk; he states, "I'm in the middle of something here."

_The last thing he'll do is make it easy for me._ "It won't take too long," I reassure, my voice fragile.

_How can he be so harsh_? Instead of letting me in he steps forward to lean against the door, drawing a stronger line between us.

"How are you?" I begin, hesitant.

"To the point," he snaps.

I search for his eyes but he doesn't look directly at me, deliberately avoiding contact, adding pain to my already sick heart.

"Can I have a chance to explain my side?" I start.

"Why?" he asks, annoyed. It seems like he's trying to mask his own anxiety. _You aren't indifferent to me, Daniel. I can see you do still care._

"Isn't there a statute of limitation on not hearing me out?" He twists his mouth and his stare tapers.

"Daniel, I did say all those things but not to the media, not to a reporter. I said them to my best friend and not as gossip, it was purely out of the deep feelings I have for you." I blink, shifting slightly to regain stability as my legs start to betray me. He folds his arms on his chest, shutting me further out.

"I am not sure how it got to wherever it got, but my words were viciously taken out of context."

He glances at me with an empty stare, his face revealing nothing.

"I am the same person I was a few days ago. Everything I said and did was real. How can you not see that?" There is a lump expanding wildly in my throat.

"Are you done?" His stare is glacial. "Is there anything else?" he asks quietly, too calm and low.

_Did he not hear anything I just said?_ There's a deep ache in my stomach, and it intensifies with every passing moment.

"I also brought you back your car and your house keys." For a moment he seems distracted, as though he forgot all about the keys and what they represented. _Yes, these same keys to your house that you gave me just a few days ago. How could he go from asking me to move in to being entirely cold toward me?_

I take the keys out of my pocket and hand them to him. As he extends his hand I can see that it's just as shaky as mine. _Why are you being so you? Why are you doing this, D?_

"I guess this is goodbye?" I ask, feeling timid at the distance he projects.

"What do you want me to say?" he says, his jaw tightly clenched. He lowers his eyes to the floor.

_This cannot be the person I fell in love with. This cannot be the same one. I shouldn't be as surprised by his behavior as I am. I've seen it too many times before. But he's never been this way with me, not even close._ I can't prolong this any further; I start walking as hastily as my trembling body allows me toward the gate. He doesn't make a move to stop me; he just stands there. That look is in his eyes again, a look that ravages my soul.

As the gate closes behind me, it hits me: he's not mine anymore and will never be again. The one thing I dreaded by coming here has become a fact, leaving me without him.

Was I just a witness to Iris' premonition? Is this what she meant then? "Don't give up on him even when you feel you should." But I cannot. I just can't. Not with him going out of his way to drive me away, to hurt me.

Dismayed at my own control of an unavoidable crying outburst, I suddenly realize there is something else burning within me other than the urge to cry. I feel a throbbing rage. I am furious to the core, mad at how he just treated me, mad that he not even once really stopped to listen, mad that he didn't consider me innocent before declaring me guilty, mad he didn't give me a chance, give us a chance. And just as I couldn't wait to get there to see him, I can't wait to get away.

It takes the taxi some time to arrive, giving me a while to reach the simple conclusion that I am as mad at him as I am in love with him.

Looking out the window and not really seeing the passing view I think about the fact that I left my scooter at his place, but the last thing I want to do is go back, not now, not anytime soon.

## Chapter 37: Prince Harming

I don't even manage to take my shoes off before I am fronted by two inquisitive faces. Immediately I start telling Tasha and Ian, who listen attentively, about the upsetting visit with what seems now to be my ex.

"I am so mad at him. But it doesn't matter anyway, it's over." I conclude.

"I wouldn't go and secure the gravestone on this love story just yet," Ian says.

Both Tasha and I stare at Ian with our brows knit, exchanging uncertain looks between us like we have many times before, trying to understand what he means.

"Weren't you present at the last fifteen minutes of the tale of 'Prince Harming'?"

I snicker bitterly at Tasha's most suitable nickname for Daniel.

"I most certainly was. I never miss anything that goes out of that gorgeous mouth," Ian says defensively.

I send him a small, gratified smile, which is mirrored with an affectionate one.

"So, by all means enlighten me, Ian," I plead. _Now I'm talking like Daniel? Urgh._

"You are so each other's termites," he casually states.

"I'm a termite now? And here I thought I was just plain, bitter single again," I comment matter-of-factly. "Look who's here," Tasha declares, her voice a few octaves higher. "Miss Grace is back with us and she brought her cynicism with her."

Amused, I roll my eyes. "You were saying, Darwin? Termites?"

Ian twists his mouth but before he can elaborate Tasha adds scornfully, "Yes, when I think of Mr. Stark, the first thing that pops to my mind is a termite."

Tasha and I share a witchy smirk, and Ian shakes his head, impatient.

"Termites?" I say waiting for the crux of Ian's grand theory.

"You're like termites because they mate for life." Nodding at his words, he continues. "You two will end up together. Even a nonromantic, coming of age, cynical gay guy can see that. It'll take more than a quarrel for you to really split up." He nods again and resumes, "Too deep, too emotional, too cosmic, too manic, too compatible. Just like a pair of gorgeous termites."

Tasha rises for a standing ovation as I murmur, "Whatevs, Ian," echoing his usual language. He flashes a cocky, knowing smile and I roll my eyes.

"Fine, well, we got your point. Now this termite's friend would like to go out. Shall we?"

"I'm with Tasha," I say.

"Some loyal termite you are," she winks at me.

~~~

It's only late that night after we return from clubbing and I am hidden deep under my covers that I let everything go. I am still utterly in love with him and I am mad at myself for not being more cautious talking about his personal life. I am as mad at him as I've ever been at anybody, for not trying, for turning his back on us as fast as he did. Most of all I hurt, deep inside, for the way he treated me, and because he let us, let me, go. And for the fourth cumulative night in a row, I fall asleep sobbing, strained sobs that have become the sound of my solitude.

## Chapter 38: Too Little, Too Late

Casual Friday at work turns out to be casual, high-spirits Friday. Everyone seems to be in a good mood, especially when Josh takes all of our team to a happy hour lunch at a bar close by. I am positively surprised by the fact that throughout the entire time I spend with my colleagues I don't feel down even once, not even when angry thoughts of Daniel invade my mind and threaten to derail me.

It's only when we start walking back and a lady I hadn't had the chance to be introduced to asks whether Daniel Stark is indeed my boyfriend that I get a twinge in my heart when I answer, "Not anymore." The words sound so disturbingly infinite as they leave my mouth, making that lump that's been traveling on and off my throat since the notorious post appeared online, swell up, provoking tears to prickle at the corners of my eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know," she replies, sizing me up. I feign a smile, shaking my head in dismissal. "Don't worry, I'm over it," I lie, appreciative of the fact that she doesn't linger on the subject. Instead she voluntarily starts telling me about her recent honeymoon in which she and her new husband spent a month traveling through South America. I cling to every word as if they were the deepest secrets of the universe, just to avoid dwelling on my fury entwined gloom.

~~~

By the time the office empties out I start to pack up too, pleased with my accomplishments this week. In spite of my feelings and my absence for the greater part of the week, by remaining undistracted and highly focused I managed to clear my desk from all the open tasks I had. When I finally do log off to go home for the weekend I'm pretty pleased, and so is Josh.

"Any special plans for the weekend?" he asks as he passes by my cubicle before leaving for the day.

"I guess plenty of resting is the grand plan," I say with a small shrug.

"That's a good plan, especially seeing as you were so sick this week; you should rest up."

If you only knew how right you are.

"How about you?" I ask, not caring too much, but trying to be polite.

"Some of this, some of that, mainly rest and a hike."

"Sounds like the ultimate combination."

"Yes. Well, have a nice weekend." He releases his special Colgate goodbye grin as he leaves.

Though I'm already packed and ready to go I wait a couple of minutes, trying not to get into any more small talk. _I'm not in the mood_.

~~~

To occupy my time and my thoughts I decide to pamper myself, beginning with a warm bath and cheerful music by "Madness" blasting from my player. Anything to keep me from fueling my anger. I continue with nail polish and end with the thought of making a nutritious shake. _A healthy body equals a healthy mind or some crap like that_. I shove almost every available fruit and vegetable into the food processor, turn it on and wait as I watch the bright, colorful ingredients turn into some slimy unappealing mixture. All of a sudden the idea doesn't sound as appealing as it initially did. Through the roar of the machine I can hear a faint sound of a knock; I stop the machine and clearly hear the sound of a firm knock coming from the door.

"Just a sec," I call taking quick steps through the hall, wondering who it can be.

My heart misses a beat when I open the door to find Daniel standing there, black tee and jeans, gorgeous, hesitantly smiling at me. _He is here and he is smiling at me now_.

My mental equilibrium is brutally tantalized looking back at him. Momentarily every part of me becomes frozen, not sure what to say or think. On one hand I am thrilled to see him here smiling at me, but as logic reasserts itself I am reminded how much pain he put me through and how easily he gave me up. The anger that possessed me in the last few days quickly overcomes my urge to throw myself at him.

"Hi, Hales."

_Don't Hales me_. "Daniel," I say, my voice betraying me by failing to sound stable.

"Can I come in?"

"Why?" I retaliate. Disregarding my question he takes a couple of steps forward to the entrance of our hall, and instinctively I take the equivalent steps backward. _I won't be able to control myself if he gets any closer._

"Can we talk?" His eyes rest on mine with an edge of anxiety.

Now? Just like that? Where were you a few days ago?

"Daniel," I say. "What took you so long?" is what comes to my mind and out my mouth with a jaded bite, and before I let him answer I continue, more firmly this time. "Let me do the talking." He nods, his eyes captivating mine, he looks weary but in his own handsome way.

Once I finally open my mouth, everything that was building inside of me just spills out.

"You gave me plenty of time since this unfortunate fiasco came to life, and you know what, time does makes you think hard, because that's all that's left to do when you're in tremendous pain. Fortunately, it put things in perspective and when the pain stopped overshadowing my right mind and the insane longing for you eased, I understood that it was you who broke us." Briefly, I watch him cringe and continue, "It was you who made a choice. The choice not to trust me, to not even try to understand. You chose to give me up, give us up and give in to your stubbornness and whatever it is that you so dearly protect from the world. I can assure you that what I told you by the fire was the truth. I have never felt this way about anyone before. Hell, I've never felt even remotely close to what I feel for you for anyone else. Ever. But you chose not to believe me by turning your back on me, by turning your back on us."

I stop to take a needed deep breath, highly conscious of my beating heart and unsteadiness. He doesn't tear his eyes from mine and lets me continue, his jaw clenched. His great effort to stay self-possessed doesn't escape me.

"Like I tried to tell you before, yes, I did say everything that was written in that article, but not the way it was written, not to the person who wrote it, and the main point is that it was said out of love, out of confessing my overwhelming feelings I felt for you to my best friend. And yes, it is unfortunate that a tabloid reporter overheard it all, and I am so sorry for that. I really am. But if you had only tried to listen, you would have understood that my innocent words were quoted out of context in the most cruel way. No, stop," I say, as he tries to speak. "Let me finish, please!" He does.

"And now you come here, tonight, after letting me go through the seven circles of hell. When you were the first one to walk away from us and then treated me as you did, I felt numb. You broke me. I can't listen to you now. I don't want you here, Daniel."

"Look at me, please," he says, quiet and firm.

It's too hard, don't you get it?

"Hales, I need you to look at me," he repeats. "Hales, open your eyes and look at me, goddamn it."

I tilt my head to look at him and there is so much pain in his eyes. _For once, he's listened to me._

"I'm sorry I gave up on us when you never did, but don't give up too, Hales. Don't be like me. You're far better than this." The emotion filling his voice is genuine. "Hales, I can't go on feeling this way. I need you. I need us. I love you."

My heart wrenches brutally from these three little words, and I know that if I look at him for a minute more I will break. I won't have the power to hold myself back. And I don't want that, I can't let him hurt me again. I won't survive a second round.

"I can't do this Daniel. I can't."

"Hales, don't."

"I can't, sorry," I murmur, bitterly torn. Grasping the gravity of my words, he takes a few reluctant steps back, his pleading stare not leaving mine.

"Please, just leave." And I close the door on him, but not before getting a glimpse of his utterly devastated eyes.

Once behind the closed door a silent cry burns me inside, evoking the pain again, this unbearable pain that consumes every part of me. I slide to the floor, rest my head in my hands and let it all go in the anguished realization that he was here just a moment ago with the intent to make amends.

~~~

A turn of the doorknob snaps me out of the hypnotic state I've been in since I closed the door behind Daniel.

"Hales?" Tasha calls as she tries to open the door. I scoot over a little to allow her enough space to get in.

"By the way you look I guess you know that Daniel's outside," she comments in an airy voice.

"He's still here?" I ask hesitantly, my eyes swollen and my hands shaky.

She nods approvingly. "He was leaning with his forehead glued to the door. It looks like he's in real pain, Hales."

The notion tears me up inside. I'm still a rollercoaster of anger and longing, torn by my need for him and the rational need to stay away. _What have I done_?

Assessing me, she adds, "He asked me to tell you something." Her green eyes are tender.

"What was it?" I ask, almost inaudibly, sniffing and wiping my eyes with the back of my hands.

"He asked me to say that he hopes you won't let this be the last thing you ever tell him." Hearing that, excruciating pain expands in my stomach. Tasha's enquiring, soft gaze rests on me.

"I can't endure this pain anymore, Tash," I exhale with a sob.

"It doesn't look as though you can," she says, as she sits next to me on the floor. "It seems that neither of you can, Hales," she adds, her voice small and cautious. "You need to let me in so I can know how I can help."

She listens carefully as I tell her in detail about Daniel's visit.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do because I can't. It's not my place. It's not anybody's, Hales, but yours." She tucks her hair behind her ears. "What was the main reason you let him go?" she asks, seeking my eyes.

I ponder her question. "Anger and fear," I answer and elaborate for the benefit of explaining myself, to both of us... "Anger at the way he treated me in that cold and detached way, anger about the fact that he didn't trust me enough to even confront me, anger because he assumed the worst, though I should be the one person he should trust the most." My voice cracks as I say it. I take a moment to compose myself, then continue. "Fear at the strong emotions I have for him, and how easily he could hurt me like he did."

"With what you've just said in mind, you need to think hard about what's more painful. Being hurt by him, since you know he's not exactly predictable, and no one can guarantee he won't hurt you again, or plainly being without him." She rubs her hands against her stretched legs.

"Numb?" I question, noticing her.

"Numb and hurting."

"Suffering for me. How noble of you, Missy." I contort my lips trying to smile at her through my immense suffering. She reciprocates with a hug.

"I need to pack for tomorrow," I say after a while.

"Do you need any help?"

"No thanks, not much to pack anyway; it's for a short visit."

"You know, Hales, I think we should have done all this talking at the airport." She regards me with a faint smile as she gives me her hand to help me stand up.

~~~

Flossing, I think about Tasha's last comment regarding the airport. There's something about airports that always calms me down. Over the years we've been friends I've managed to pass it on to Tasha, to have her embrace my refuge as her own. We've sat together for countless hours at terminal arrival halls spilling our guts, talking for hours and mostly watching people reunite.

~~~

Later at night, under the shield of my comforter, I turn to think about the evening's events and Tasha's words. There is a raging debate between my heart, which wants Daniel at any cost and my mind, which knows exactly the level of agony he can put me through. The debate ends in a deadlock.

## Chapter 39: Home Sweet Home

On the plane to my childhood home I think about the fact that I should pull myself together and act poised for my parents' sake. I don't want to them all about being wrecked by heartache. _What they don't know won't upset them._

They have enough worries with Steven being away. I don't need to add my sorrow, because I carelessly fell in love with someone my own intuitions warned me to stay away from. They don't need to know that I'm embracing sorrow as it consumes me.

That is it, Hayley. That's the last of it. No more obsessing about him. You made up your mind, and now you should go ahead and live with it. You're going to be home soon.

At the sight of my two loving parents waiting for me, my heart thuds with sheer excitement. I take the final steps toward the arrivals hall.

"Hayley, baby." My mom's teary eyes run over me head to toe in adoration right before she pulls me into a warm embrace. Her chubby arms enfold me, surrounding me with her comforting and familiar scent of vanilla and home. As she lets go of me, my father seizes the chance to lift me up for a firm hug.

"You've lost weight, baby girl."

That's what happens when you live on about ten spoons of Dr. Ian's miracle medicine and caffeine for almost a week.

"Let me look at you." He carefully puts me back on the ground. "Everything ok, baby girl?" he asks, looking fairly concerned.

"Of course it is," I radiate a fake reassuring smile, trying to add a cheerful note to my tone.

"Let her be, Derek." My mom protects me; I look at her fondly, appreciative.

"Have you heard anything from Steven lately?" I ask, watching them both from the back seat. My mom in a flowery sundress, her soft, golden curls in a half-do, a smile never leaving her face. My dad focuses on the road ahead, serious in a green polo shirt and short cargo khakis, firm hands on the wheel.

My mom turns back to look at me. "There was a short note a couple of weeks ago. Just same ol' Steven. The minimal amount of words needed to say 'I'm still alive, please don't worry'."

A thin curve takes place on my lips. Yes, that's a lot like Steven. Expressing his feelings and writing were never his strong suits. Thinking about it I realize I haven't seen him for far too long and can't wait to again. It's nearly a year since he embarked on the military aircraft that took him to a foreign, hostile, country, far away from us.

"Lely, anything special you would like to do while at home?"

"I guess surf and maybe meet up with some people?"

She nods with warm, gleaming eyes. "Thought you would. I brought your wetsuit back from the basement. It's hanging in your closet."

That's my mom, always considerate of my needs. My heart swells at the thought.

"Thanks, Mom." I beam as I stare out the window at the familiar view of the suburban landscape.

"Are you hungry, dear?"

"Not starving," I answer. _And that's an understatement for you. I'm not so into food lately, Mom. You know how it is when your heart is broken into a gazillion pieces_.

"Made spaghetti and meatballs."

How suitable. I quickly look away to keep her from seeing the storm whirling within me as I think about the last time I ate the same dish. _Don't go there. Stop thinking. Stop thinking before the tears show up. Not here, not now_.

I quickly start chattering about nothing and everything just to make sure I don't focus on the one thing I shouldn't. I volunteer information about my work, about Tasha, even about Ian. My mom can't hide both her surprise and excitement over my incessant gushing.

I'm glad when we finally arrive. _I've run out of insignificant topics to discuss_.

~~~

Convincing my mother that I would eat after a short visit to the lakes is an exhausting battle, though with some miracle she eventually caves in.

Ever since we were toddlers she has been obsessed with our nutrition. Given both Steven and I are relatively skinny she takes it as her own life failure to have malnourished her children and future descendants and every chance she gets she tries to make amends.

"Hales, can you come over before heading out?" my father calls from his office and home clinic, giving me a chance to escape my mom before she shoves something edible down my throat.

"What is it, Dad?"

He sits behind his desk looking all authoritative, his broad body filling out the width of his brown leather chair. Under his half-moon glasses, he studies me for some beats before replying.

"What's really going on, baby girl?" His eyes are tender brown with concern.

"What do you mean?" I try to look as casual as my conscience allows. _How can he see right through me_?

"My dear," he sighs. "You can radiate as many smiles as you want to try to cover up whatever's been eating at you, but you have to know your eyes aren't cooperating. Hales, it's been a while since I saw so much pain in these beautiful eyes of yours. Boy troubles?"

Leave it to the family doctor who's been taking care of people for more than two decades to see right through my heart.

"What if I told you that it's nothing that time can't heal, Dad? I would much rather not dig into it."

No matter how much time passes, I don't think I'll be able to remove him from my heart. I'm not even sure I'll ever be able to look at anyone else in the same way again. How can anyone even measure up to him?

My dad inhales heavily. "Then I would say that I'll respect your privacy and your wishes, and I would add that whenever you feel like talking I'll be waiting here with open arms." He looks deep in my eyes. "And as a certified physician I would say that talk and comfort ease a wounded heart."

I stare down at my red sneakers so I can stifle back the tears before looking back at him. Even though he means well I feel more vulnerable than I did before.

"Lely, I think your phone is dying." My mom's voice reaches us from the kitchen, giving me a good excuse to flee my dad's concerned gaze.

"I am pretty sure I haven't brought my charger with me," I murmur, annoyed.

"Perhaps ours could do the job?" she tries.

I shake my head, well aware of the fact that my parents haven't upgraded their mobile devices since the Clinton administration.

Looking at the two screaming red lines, I figure it could last at least until tomorrow—I don't plan to use it anyway.

~~~

Wearing my wetsuit, sunglasses and popping an Advil, I walk back to the kitchen to fetch the car keys. My mom's at the counter cutting vegetables on a wooden chopping board with oldies playing in the background. Her kitchen is as spotless as the rest of the house. Daisies enrich the air with their fresh scent from their place in a clear vase on the dining table. My mom hums to the music, occasionally adding an almost unseen sway. Sanity is the word that comes to my mind as I observe this scene, this place.

Between the hideous pain that doesn't leave my chest, work, Tasha, Ian's constant hyperactivity, and no Daniel, this is the best place I could be right now. My sane place. Turning back as though sensing me my mom says, "Dad already secured your board to the car, Lely."

_My safe, comforting place._ I smile to myself. _Though being snug in Daniel's arms beats even this_.

"Are you sure this is the best weather to surf?" my mom asks, looking skeptically out the window.

"Don't worry, I'll be careful. If it gets stormier I'll come back."

She nods, utterly unconvinced, but lets me be.

## Chapter 40: When It Rains It Pours

Nothing could be more symbolic of my current state than the great lakes spread in front of me with their raging gray waters. I need to battle the water, paddling frantically, to get to a point where I can catch waves; I am rocked by the manic water as I tread water waiting for the ultimate wave. _Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to surf in this weather after all_. _Do I have a death wish? Well, in my current state..._ When I catch the wave it throws me forward; I almost lose my balance but regain it quickly and tune with the ride till I get to the shallow waters where it ends. I tire quickly from fighting the conditions and the water and am unable to stay out as long as I had planned. Heading back to shore, trying to make my way against strong currents, I'm viciously toppled off the board by a violent wave. My board is flung aside, tugging my leash, and ricochets forcefully back to my side. An instant, deep bruise radiates from where it hits my ribs. I catch my breath at the pain. _I need to get out of the water_. Any additional moment I stay could be highly dangerous, especially with this deep, throbbing ache that clouds my mind.

I sit on the sand for a while, nursing my physical and emotional wounds. Staring at the endless waters, I try to focus my mind on the movement and the shadows without much luck, as a pair of hazel eyes invade every other thought.

I start to revive fragments of sentences from our conversations, starting with the perfect weekend in Baja when he told me for the first time that he loved me. He'd whispered the words I longed to hear: "I am in love with you, Hales." And how, when we came home, he told me he couldn't bear the thought of being away from me. The more I think about it, the more I miss him, if that's even possible. I miss every single part of him. The sense of security and serenity I felt in the indulging cage of his embrace, the body that makes my heart race at the mere thought of it, his taste, his unbelievable heavenly Daniel taste. I think about how perfect his weight feels pressed against me. How he played my song by the fire. The tenderness of his stare and the way it made me feel.

And just as the good memories swirl through my head, the less soothing ones appear. I'll never be able to forget the look in his eyes when he asked me to read that awful gossip column. A look of disappointment, agony and betrayal, the one look that said what we had was over. I can still feel the exact, sharp pain of seeing the look that shattered my soul.

And then, again, the sweetest memory intrudes on my ache. A memory of when he tried to convince me to move in with him. "So, Hales, to summarize, my gut feeling tells me I have found _the one_." Tears well up in my eyes from the unbearable, colossal loss. _I just can't do without him._

We had it so good. I never imagined I would connect to someone on that level. I never thought it was possible to love anyone that way. I can't grasp the fact that this pain won't subside. It began with a shock, evolved to numbness and remains, a steady scorching, at the center of my core. With every breath I take, I physically feel the aching. I miss him more than I can even begin to admit to myself.

~~~

"Dad, can you have a look at something for me in your office?" I ask, trying to mask the hurt in my voice for the sake of my mom, who's watching us closely.

"What is it?" he asks, while we walk side by side to his office. My mom's forehead continues to increase until we're out of sight.

"I got a little bump from the board."

"Show me," he demands, patiently wearing his physician's persona. His eyes narrow as I pull up my pink shirt. He observes the blue and purple bruise diffusing heat between my ribs and shakes his head with an audible inhale.

"Ouch," I breathe through gritted teeth as he presses against it.

"It doesn't seem fractured, but I would like to bandage it just to protect it." He turns to his mahogany and glass medicine cabinet while murmuring, "It must have been some hell of a blow," and shakes his head again.

"Come closer." I take two steps to stand next to him. "You should be taking better care of yourself." Behind his glasses his eyes wear a soft expression and I know there is so much more laying under his words.

He tips my chin up to look at him. "Promise?"

I nod in silent agreement as he secures the bandage with two clips.

"Thanks, Dad." I inch up to kiss his bearded cheek. He pulls me into a hug, carefully avoiding my bruise.

"Take these twice a day for the next few days. It should take care of the pain." He hands me a small container with painkillers. "Again, Hales, Doctor's orders. You... Take... Care." He embraces me again before I leave his room.

~~~

"Lely, should I heat up your food now?" My mom, anxious for me to eat, welcomes me as I get back to the kitchen. Just to refrain from breaking her heart I agree, and her face lights up in response. I look at her affectionately. _Such simple little things please her._

The phone rings. "You want me to get it, Mom?" I say.

She shakes her head as she starts the microwave with a faint beep.

"Hello," she answers calmly. "What is it, Amanda?"

I shift my stare to look at her, worried by the change in her tone. Her face has fallen and lost all its usual vitality and color.

"When did you hear that? How much does he know?" She listens, the knuckles on her right hand turning white from her intense grip on the counter. A cold shudder creeps through me, beginning at the bottom of my spine. It could only be something related to Steven; I can sense it too clearly. As she puts the phone on its cradle she turns to look at me, panic decorating her pale face.

"Is it Steven?" I ask, already knowing the answer but still waiting for some sort of dreadful confirmation. She looks at me, then her gaze slips away; introspective, she stares at an unmarked spot behind me.

"Is it Steven?" I'm shocked by my own loud voice when I repeat my question. My already loose nerves leave no place for composed behavior. I'm far from being able to control myself. _I cannot mentally or physically endure further agony_. My father's appearance in the kitchen distracts us, and we both turn to look at him

"What's going on in here?" He stares at us together, then at each of us individually. Finally, my mom snaps out of her shock and tells us about the call.

"Remember Ron, Amanda's son? The one that was deployed with Steven and returned last month injured?"

My dad nods affirmative. I gape at them.

"He was watching the news about an attack on our forces in Kabul and he said he could tell it was Steven's platoon by the few news shots he saw."

I sink into the nearest chair; I am too much of an emotional wreck to hear this standing up.

"They don't know for sure, but they're talking about some missing and dead soldiers." At the last fragment of her sentence her voice breaks. My father reassures us calmly, with a straight face. "There's no need for panic. We don't know anything for sure, which means we don't know anything. Let's go and check the news." He takes off his glasses and cleans them at the hem of his shirt. Putting them back on, he holds out a firm hand for my mom to hold and she takes it with her unsteady one.

"Are you coming, Lely?" His eyes ask me to join.

"I want to call Tasha first." I hug myself. There's a sudden chill over me.

~~~

"Hey, Tash."

"What's wrong?" she asks at the sound of my voice.

I scratch the side of my thumb with my index finger nervously. "It's Steven." My voice turns fragile.

"Steven? What is it, Hales?" Her response is shaky and at my momentary silence she goes on. "Hales, you are freaking me out here. What happened?"

I fill her in as best I can.

"Is there anyone who can provide you with some sort of information?" she asks.

"No," I sigh, in despair. All I can think in that moment is that I want to hear Daniel's voice, but I cut off the thought before it evolves further into agony. We speak for a while till Tasha has to go. Before hanging up she offers to fly over to be with us.

"No need, Tash. I'll be coming back in a day and a half." My voice is weary.

~~~

When I share the news with Ian, his serious tone amplifies the way I feel. When I hear the worry in his voice I find myself unraveling.

"So how are we really doing, gorgeous?"

"Nothing that a combination of hard booze, yoga and heavy sedation won't fix."

He chuckles. "I'm glad to learn you're uber fine."

I snicker. "You know I'm just a phone call away, day or night," he says as we hang up.

I stop myself before I dial the last digit of the number I so want to call and walk to the living room to join my parents.

We sit in silence, watching the repetitive news, even though they haven't revealed anything in the past few hours. We sit glued to the screen drinking in each and every word, holding on to any piece of information that might give us hope. Same headlines, same images, same information about the 'nine casualties in central Kabul today when a suicide bomber struck a vehicle in a military convoy'. The only elaboration is that of those killed in the attack, four were troops and five were civilians.

My eyes burn and my head aches. I'm nauseated, physically and emotionally drained.

"I'm heading to bed," I say listlessly, finding the mere task of standing up challenging.

"Good night, Lely." My parents' soft voices blend into one. I hug both of them. Passing by the kitchen, I grab my phone before climbing upstairs to my childhood den.

~~~

Everything looks so familiar and yet so alien: the innocent lilac wallpaper that has slightly started to peel and fade at the left corner, the soft white, twin-sized bed still neatly covered by the lavender duvet decorated with feathery white clouds. With my mother's preference for order my CDs and books are all in place. Only the fading shades and some stains on the cream rug in the center of the wooden floor reveal that it's been a long while since the room was in its prime.

The teen I used to be is far from recognizable to the woman I've become. It feels as if a million years have passed since I last slept in this place, in this bed.

Kicking off my shoes, I slip under the thick, soft duvet with my clothes still on. As soon as my head rests on the pillow the dam in my eyes breaks, releasing a stream of exhausted, weary tears. With the tears a realization strikes me hard, a realization that's been stewing for a while. There is only one thing that I want; there is only one thing that can release me from this excruciating pain. To be comforted with one embrace. I want to hear his voice; I need to hear his voice. I need him to tell me that everything will be okay and that he still loves me, just like he tried to a few days ago.

With trembling fingers I dial the number I've been fighting myself from calling for far too long. I close my eyes and wait to hear his voice.

At the first ring he answers.

"Hales?"

My name is a prayer of redemption on his breath. Tears block my throat. I manage to whisper, "Daniel, I need..." _You_ , I whisper to a lifeless line and the faint beeping sound of my phone as it dies, along with my courage.

_It's a sign. I shouldn't have. Think with your head, not with your heart._ I bury my face in the pillow and sob myself to sleep.

## Chapter 41: Daniel

I gotta do something about this restless anger ragging within me. Ever since that fucking article, I feel like kicking the life out of everything that breathes. I'm on edge at the smallest thing; rage has invaded every part of me with no end in sight. I'm too hazardous for my own sake. _You need to blow it off, Daniel._

I think about her big, beautiful, agonized eyes just before she closed the door on me. It seemed so infinite, that look, and it makes me feel like shit. Hopeless. _I don't do hopeless._

_Fuck, what's become of me?_ I shake my head at the thought. I need to focus. I need to let this restrained violence free, and the sooner the better. An idea crosses my mind; I should call Ted, have him set me up in one of those fight club matches I used to do. _Daniel, don't even think about it. Leave your past behind._

My tolerance is running among the lines of zero to none. I can't even fully concentrate at work, which has never happened before. Even there, the hours drag. It was the only place that really made sense, but not anymore. _Hayley's divine body is the real temple. The ultimate cure is to bury myself in her._

I walk down the hall to the only place I can do something about it, the only legal way to be as violent as I need to be. And, at this stage, I need to be. _Damn, I really screwed it up this time._ I can't stop picturing her angelic face, her golden hair, those eyes... _Fuck._

_Where are the goddamn gloves_? I turn up the music to a disturbing volume; Metallica will be the perfect companion for what I have my mind set at. I shrug the first glove on, adjusting the tie to hold it firmly in place. For the other I use my teeth to pull it tight against my wrist. Parts from my last conversation with Hayley sway through my head as I face the bag. "It was you who broke us. It was you who made the choice not to trust me, to not even try to understand. You chose to give me up, give us up." She was right.

The first punch throws the punching bag up towards the ceiling; at its return I catch it with both hands. The contact of my next blow with the leather skin is so strong the hit rises above the music, but it doesn't help. I keep dissecting these thoughts in my mind. _Goddamn it, Daniel, pull yourself together. You're like some virgin obsessing before the first time. For fuck's sake, what's become of me?_

My body heats up, the adrenaline kicks in and I start to sweat more heavily with every swing. I throw my fists at the bag repeatedly, which absorbs the hits and asks for more. As my damp clothes start to cling to me, I take them off, throw them into a pile in the corner of the room and continue, with just my boxers on and the AC turned to freezing.

I hiss through gritted teeth, increasing the momentum of the next punch. I feel the intensity of the strike even through the protection of the gloves. _This is good; I need to feel the pain_. I yank the gloves off my hands and resume my assault on my inanimate opponent bare-handed. The pain is sharp but it clears my mind. _This is exactly what I was looking for, exactly what I need_.

I punch and punch, channeling my strength with better efficiency. My punches get gradually faster. With each swing I find within me more anger, more force, to hit more precise and with greater strength. I only stop when a layer of warm, thick blood coming from the wounds at my knuckles starts to stain the punching bag, leaving moist smudges of dark, rust red.

The physical urge to blow off my murderous violence lessens and I feel somewhat relieved. Now the music is a disturbance, and I kill it before it adds to my already overflowing annoyance.

Exhausted, I slide to the floor at the corner of the room. I rest my pulsing head against the wall. The cracked skin of my knuckles burns, but the sting is a relief. Drops of sweat saturated with my frustration roll down my temples in small trails to my jaw and neck. I glance at my phone, tossed onto the pile of what used to be my day's attire and breathe, rhythmically, slowly, in and out, working to even my heartbeat.

I go through the clusterfuck of failure based decisions I've made since that first time Brian, my PR guy, sent me that fucked-up gossip column. Even now I can revive the rage and disappointment that conquered me on the spot. I saw red, a dark crimson sheet waving in front of my eyes. I should have never jumped to conclusions; I should have never let her go. I should have immediately made someone get to the bottom of that shit, just like I eventually did, too late. _That sorry excuse for a "reporter" is going to live her life regretting the moment she ever laid her damn fingers on a keyboard with the defamation lawsuit my lawyers have prepared especially for her._

I can't help but also think about the other senseless, meaningless idiotic mistake I made just to get back at Hayley, to hurt her. _If I ever get a second chance, this will never go down simply with her, if at all. Fuck, what have I done_?

_Christ_. The way I've treated her, the words I've thrust upon her, infused with sheer poison and aimed to cut deep. "yes, I did say everything that was written in that article, but not the way it was written, not to the person who wrote it, and the main point is that it was said out of love, out of confessing my overwhelming feelings I felt for you." She confessed and I didn't listen. I should have known it all along. _I should be the one taking a beating. What the fuck have I done?_

And through all the obscurity clouding my mind I can't help the instant smile forming on my lips as a memory of the way we met appears in my thoughts. I remember walking into my private kitchen to the sight of that teasing, plump, pear-shaped ass under tight jeans, focusing my vision on nothing but that supreme body of hers. When she said that provocative "fuck me", even before she turned and I was able to see her face, I already wanted her buck naked and bent over the counter. When she finally turned to look at me I found myself immediately lost in those eyes.

And as she started speaking, bashing the hell out of me, I instinctively imagined doing things to that sassy, pouty mouth. I had to shove my hand into my front pocket to conceal the bulge forming in my pants, the same one that distracted the shit out of my mental balance. Right there and then I knew there were two things I must do to her at whatever price. Have her in my bed and put her in her place. Unfortunately, I knew it would not be in that particular order.

I want her so much that I can conjure up everything about her. The touch of her flawless, silky, honeyed skin. Her sweet, childlike freckles. The way her flushed face and parted sweet mouth looked above me. Her soft hair and that incredible scent of clean, cinnamon, and Hayley. She's the only thing that's right. The only thing that matters. _I gotta get her back_.

Damn, she even made me think more than once seriously about the dreadful combination of the words settling and down. And I even liked the sound of it.

I grab my phone from its resting place on my clothes and check out the damage of not being connected for a few hours. _Damn_. So many emails; it never ends. _Delegate, Stark, delegate._

And just like an answer to a silent prayer my phone rings and it's her.

"Hales?" I breathe, instantly picking up.

There is so much fused into that one single name—my anxiety, my exhaustion, my constrained frustration and a whole lot of longing. _What's happened? What did she just say? "Daniel I need..." What, baby, what is it that you need? Hales. Damn, she's gone._ I try to call back, but her phone is switched off. _What the fuck?_

_I have to talk to her. Where is she? She mentioned something about visiting her parents. Chicago, was it? I'll try Natasha; she must know how to reach her. What's the time? 10 p.m_. Natasha finally answers after the fourth or fifth ring. Anxious, I almost break the phone with my grip, waiting.

"Who is it?" she asks, hesitantly.

"Daniel Stark."

There's a short silence on the line. _Don't play games with me now; I am far from being in the mood_. I try to compose myself before I bark out something I might end up regretting.

"Hayley just called me and the line went dead. Do you know where she is or how I can reach her?"

She clears her throat and replies. "She's at her parents, in Chicago. She'll be coming home tomorrow evening."

"Do you have her parents' number?"

"I do. Daniel," her voice sounds weary, "but it's one a.m. in Chicago now, I don't think it's a good time to call their landline." She sighs and goes on, "Given what they're going through, I'm not sure a call in the middle of the night will do any good."

"What do you mean, 'given what they're going through'?" _What happened? Is Hales okay?_ Restless, I stand up and start pacing the room.

"It's her brother. There was a situation with his platoon in Afghanistan and they aren't sure." Her voice cracks. I bite my lips and slam the wall with my palm. _Fuck_.

"'Not sure' what?" I know my voice is less than calm but fuck if I care.

"Not sure if he's missing or if he's even alive." Her voice is full of concern.

I force out the air trapped in my lungs.

"Natasha, can you give me her parents address and her brother's full name, and whatever information you have about him?"

She does without any arguing. I thank her before ending the call.

I feel like the greatest jerk alive. Hayley is somewhere all agonized, worried about her brother. She's suffering and I'm not there for her. Hell, I'm even responsible for causing her pain in the first place. I need to make it right; I need to be there for her.

I walk to my office and book the earliest available morning flight. Providing my Amex details I think about the fact that it's time to make a use of my White House connections besides the Thai deal. _It's not my thing. I usually shy away from calling in favors, but for Hales I'll do it_. It's too late to be calling that prick Davidson; there's a four hour difference between San Francisco and DC. I'll call him tomorrow before the flight. I'll even spread my legs for him if he wants, that arrogant, corrupted son of a bitch. But for her I'll do almost anything. I'll get the damn information about her brother at whatever the cost.

With the thought of seeing her tomorrow and a burning determination to get her back pulsing from every organ of my body, I hit the shower.

This is your chance, Stark, don't fuck it up again.

End of Book One. 
An excerpt from Inner Core, Stark #2

Chapter 1: One in Seven Billion

The arrivals hall at O'Hare is relatively busy, particularly for a Sunday morning, but it's a good thing. The larger the crowd, the more people I can spy on, like some twisted stalker. I can't help but wonder what a professional would say about this questionable habit of mine.

I needed distraction. I had to get out of the house, out of the bubble of emotional and mental torture. I was going insane. I had to get away from the tense gloom that had descended unbidden over my parents' home since we got the horrifying news about Steven, my younger brother who's a combat medic deployed in Afghanistan. We are a fraction of a family, waiting to hear news of the segment that makes us complete, desperately hoping that we will be whole again. Each one of us in our own way dreads the thought we won't. It's been a nerve-wracking twenty-four hours that seem like a lifetime of waiting, waiting for any sort of news that will either shatter our lives or ensure that our Steven survived the suicide bomber that exploded next to his platoon's convoy in Kabul.

I wade through people standing in groups and those waiting solo, making my way toward a bench just in front of the sliding doors that are continuously pouring with passengers from incoming domestic flights. Abruptly I halt, taken by my image as it reflects on the glass doors ahead. I am pale. I am disheveled, my long wavy blonde strands pulled up in a messy bun, my usually dark brown eyes without their vivid glee. Even my freckles don't seem to add the liveliness they usually do. I guess I look as worn as I am inside.

I settle on the bench and think about how the airport is the best place to defuse some of the frustration, anxiety and pain I've been abiding for far too long now. It's a place that has always proved successful in seeding hope in me, like a parallel universe which brings people together, which helps cease longing. And with the thought of longing, the thought of Daniel involuntarily drifts into my mind, accompanied by the unbelievable ache I've been carrying inside my heart since we went our separate ways two weeks ago.

Truth be told, he never really leaves my mind. The thought of him hovers constantly, whether I like it or not.

The sound of his voice when I called him last night plays vividly in my head now. How my name sounded like a prayer of redemption coming from his lips. How my heart missed a beat at his emotionally saturated tone. How every part of me drew to it, in hope. And how reality and sense crashed down, strong and illuminating, at the faint sound of my dying phone.

It was a wakeup call in the form of a dying line. And just like that, he was gone again. Gone like my courage and the confidence that getting back together was the right thing to do. As much as I want him—with an almost irrational need—I also clearly know that I couldn't possibly let myself be vulnerable again, as I unquestionably am when it comes to Daniel. I cannot imagine ever going through so much agony as I went through by this breakup.

I need a timeout from these voices echoing Daniel's name through my head; I can't do this now. It feels as though I'm about to lose it. _You need a quick exorcism, that's what you need_. I can't have him occupying my thoughts this way. _I'll deal with everything Daniel when I get back home_. I can't handle both the anguish of worrying about Steven and the ache for Daniel. There's only so much my heart and my brain can take at a time if I don't want to risk being committed.

An unpleasant numbness slowly spreads over my backside from the hard plastic surface of the bench, prompting me to shift in my seat. I watch the scene before me, of the expectant crowd as they wait for their loved ones. A sparkle reflected from a mylar red balloon floating above even the highest of heads in the herd draws my attention. A breeze from the automatic exit doors tilts the balloon hypnotically from side to side, encouraging my gaze to deeper fixate on it and the background gradually blurs away. I stare at the fine string that tethers the balloon to someone's hand. A security announcement funnels in the background, urges people to not leave their belongings unattended. I drop my stare lower, to the chubby little hand holding the balloon. It belongs to a child standing with a woman who I guess is his mother. I study the delicately freckled features that ornament the child's sweet round face. My heart flutters when my gaze pauses on his hazel eyes: a shade lighter, and they would be identical to the ones I so long to drown in. And I recycle, yet again, my memories of Daniel, of the call last night and his voice that manifested relief for us both.

_Did I make the right decision not to call him back?_ The dying line took away my courage and any bit of assurance I had in me when I dialed his number. _You did the right thing, Hales. Stop beating yourself up. Just stop!_

And through my mulling a sudden spark draws my focus, the light of joy. Joy that could only be enticed from the lips of a cheerful child. The little boy holding the balloon giggles and runs to a man who waits, squatting, to receive him in his open arms. My heart swells at the sight; this is the very moment of why I love watching people at airports. As disturbing a habit as this is, these kinds of encounters are just priceless.

My gaze drifts to the herd of people coming out of the automatic doors behind the boy's father. I gape at them, absorbed for a long while. I shake my head, take a deep breath, and check my watch.

_I should go before I show up on airport security radars as a suspected sleeper cell agent_. Ungluing my body from the seat, I start to walk toward the exit that leads to the parking lot.

Paid parking stub in hand, I buckle up and start the engine. Fragments of songs are blending into each other as I scan the channels, shifting the car into drive, and with nothing better to listen to, I leave the radio on a talk show. I roll my eyes at the idiocies that come out of the hosts' mouths. With a sudden urge for an iced caramel latte I start tapping my fingers nervously at the wheel. The swanky rental car in front of me doesn't move, nor does it make any signs of moving soon. I inch forward, trying to see the driver causing this setback, and shake my head when I see a fluffy bob and a hunched shoulder that probably belongs to some older woman. _C'mon!_ I honk once but it doesn't seem to bother the person ahead.

Grandma, you of all people should know we live on borrowed time. Let the rest of humanity proceed with their lives. Urgh...

My impatience grows with every passing second, I step out of the car, slam the door, and, cursing under my breath, stride toward the hazard.

I thump the window in subject, looking ahead while composing a quick tirade in my head. My feet, with a mind of their own, irritably stamp the ground and I grimace, waiting for a reaction from the nursing home tenant on the run.

When she says, with the sweetest smile, "Yes sweetheart," I just shake my head and return a sheepish grin.

I say, "Have a nice day ma'am," then turn on my heels and take my shamed self quickly back to my car.

Okay Hales, time to get it together. You might be a total wreck inside but do not let that loose on the general public. Get a grip, and fast.

After I leave the oh-so-blessed Starbucks, gulping the much desired cold, sweet, caffeinated beverage, I head back to my parents' house, though it's the last place I really want to be. A taxi that stops right outside their gate distracts me while I try to rear park the sedan in the narrow slot next to my mom's hybrid. _STEVEN?_ My heart speeds up at the thought. When I anxiously step out of the car the taxi's passenger door opens and I gasp. Even though I'm surrounded by an infinite amount of oxygen, none of it seems to enter my lungs. I gape at the passenger as he leaves the vehicle, and for a beat I actually lose my balance. The world around me stills; I am cemented to the asphalt, unable to move or preform any action, including breathing, other than to watch him, hypnotized—as though he were a figment orchestrated by my wild imagination. _What the hell is he doing here?_ If I weren't immobilized I would pinch myself.

Daniel takes a few cautious steps toward me. His eyes are tense, assessing me from a distance. It all takes barely a moment—one that drags sluggishly, that feels like a lifetime—during which my heart beats in double time, wildly pounding in my ears.

When he is finally a step away, I squirm absently, afraid my erratic heart will leap out of my ribcage. He halts inches away, gazing at me with his beautiful hazel eyes, just a thin layer of air separating us. I tilt my head up to look at him: Daniel, standing very much real right in front of me, his face stern, and his stare unfathomable. He crouches slightly, leveling his eyes with mine. There are countless emotions swaying over his handsome face. I try to take them all in til the most desired one appears and stays. The one I've been waiting much too long for.

"Tell me what to do, Hales." He breaks the tense silence with his familiar, low, hoarse voice, capturing my stare firmer with his.

I watch him, dazed. My lower lip starts to tremble and I bite it to stop. Emotional tears prick at the corner of my eyes.

"'Cause I really don't know what you want, and I don't want to screw this up any further." His voice is gentler as he watches me, searching for my reaction, his eyes clearly hinting at his anxiousness. To my astounded silence he adds, "I hope it's not too late, and that I didn't cross too many of your lines, and there's still a chance to go back."

I blink, while experiencing the most severe heart pang, silently, standing there before him.

He lets out a faint, soft sigh, "Please, baby, tell me what to do."

"Just hold me?" I manage to say weakly through my trembling lips while my heart makes its way to my throat, full with an overwhelming need for him. The first cathartic touch of his body against mine sends wild currents up and down my spine. I let myself lean into him, dissolving into his firm embrace as he swaddles me closely. I take in every ounce of the familiar, incredibly indulgent scent of fresh, lust, and male that is him. I close my eyes and melt into his warmth.

"I thought it was over. I thought you gave up on me," he whispers in utter relief into my hair, his lips fluttering gently over the crown of my head. He tightens his embrace around me too forcefully, as if he isn't about to ever let go. But it is so welcome; I cling to it with every single molecule of my grateful body. And it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

"As if I'm even capable of doing that." My words are a gasp of ultimate surrender, ultimate delighted surrender to my inner will, to him, to us. After two excruciating weeks I finally feel that I am exactly where I belong. And these fourteen days of painful eternity end in a single necessary, deeply desired embrace.

_D, you are so my one in seven billion_.

"Steven is fine," he says next in a soothing, low tone, still holding me close to him with my head resting over his hurriedly beating heart.

My eyes shoot up, pursuing reassurance of what I've just heard, staggered. He bobs his head once, the empathetic, thin smile on his lips backing his words. My eyes fill with a glossy layer of tears as I cock my head questioningly, still not fully believing.

"He's fine, Hales," he repeats, calmly. My lips part reflexively in dismay. So many questions rush through my head. I can't even catch up with my own train of thoughts. _What is he doing here? How did he know I would be here? How did he know about Steven? Where did he get the information about Steven being fine?_ And before I can ask any of them, I am lost in the mixture of longing and relief transmitting through his eyes. They morph from hazel into something deeper. Something that stirs me deep inside. His lips slightly part, and his stare burns on my lips. He slowly inclines his chin toward me and with the slightest tilt of his head his lips drop to mine.

I gasp.

The first touch is feather-like, hesitant. He slants his head back just enough to look at me closely, seeking my consent, his breath caressing my face. Next his mouth crushes to mine fervently. I part my lips to allow his tongue inside so it can recouple with mine. Our encounter is affecting every part of my body. His tongue traces the length of mine, commencing a thorough, demanding, delectable tour of my depths, taking me over. And with one sole kiss I am again utterly drunk on his taste, on his feel. It's like therapy. _Therapeutic recreation._ After long moments in which we are floating in our own bubble, physically reuniting, kissing each other senseless, we reluctantly break our intense contact to come up for air.

"What are you doing here?" I finally manage to ask, breathless.

"I came for you," his eyes owning mine.

"You called me and you needed something, but I couldn't reach you, so I came."

I gape at him with various emotions twirling through my head; they all conclude with just how much I love him. Regardless of everything that happened, I simply love him.

"What was it that you tried to tell me last night?" He brushes aside a wayward golden curl that has landed on my cheek and deepens the intensity of his stare, looking right through every barrier inside me.

"That I needed you," I answer in a quiet voice and return his gaze from under my lashes. He counters by squeezing me to his firm chest, wrapping me entirely in his calming hold. My head nestles comfortably in the nook under his chin as he breathes me in.

"How are you, Hales?" he asks into my hair.

I take in a deep, liberating, though still troublesome breath and bury my face against his chest.

"Everything is fine now, baby," he whispers, pulling me closer, taking a firmer hold of me—an embrace that lasts many calming minutes.

INNER CORE NOW AVAILABLE

**Also by Sigal Ehrlich**

Inner Core, Stark #2

Outer Core, Stark #3

Leaving Me Behind

Retrace
Acknowledgments

Writing Layers was an absolute remarkable journey. But, like everything in life it had its tough times, setbacks and a whole lot of doubts...

Layers wouldn't be what it is without the help and support of some truly extraordinary individuals that stood by me throughout this voyage.

My Beta readers, I cannot thank you enough for your support, feedback and patience that cannot be measured.

Sylvie, Tali, Merili, Evelyn, Hila, Liis, Kriistina, Sirle, Beth, Sima; big, fat thank you all for falling in love with the story and D together with me.

Nicole Hornbaker, for being my gateway before stepping into the real world. I wouldn't have the courage to turn Layers from a manuscript to an actual book without you.

Cassandra Marshall, for being one of the most professional, honest people I've worked with. It is thanks to you that Layers eventually become what I've envisioned it to be.

Regina Wamba, for taking my imagination and crafting it to a better reality.

The team at Telemachus Press led by the wonderful MarryAnn Nocco, for being as good at your work.

Shachar, for being an inspiration and such a gorgeous one... You absolutely ROCK.

Hila, my soul mate, for believing in me more than I ever did. How much you mean to me can not be quantified!

My three nutty, amazing kiddos, Tommy, Bar and my own private Daniel, you make my world better.

My husband Gal, THANK YOU so much for supporting me like I never thought possible. I must have been a saint in my previous life to have gotten you. I. LOVE. YOU!

And last, but certainly not least, to all those who read, reviewed and spread the word. Thank you so much!
About the Author

By teen age, Sigal already lived in three different continents where she was lucky enough to experience and visit varied places, meet unique people, which only helped fuel her overly developed imagination. Currently, Sigal calls Estonia home where she lives with her husband and three kids.

Not exactly sure where they will end up next...

Sigal would love to hear from you, please visit her on her website, Twitter, and Facebook.

<http://www.sigalehrlich.com/>

@Sigal_Ehrlich

https://www.facebook.com/sigalehrlich.author

http://www.pinterest.com/authorsehrlich/

auhtor.sehrlich@gmail.com
