

Determined

Book I of the Determined Trilogy

Elizabeth Brown

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

First Edition © 2014 Elizabeth Brown

All Rights Reserved.

Revised © 2015 Elizabeth Brown

All Rights Reserved.

Edited by Chelsea Kuhel (www.madisonseidler.com)

The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.

Cover Design: Wicked By Design

# Chapter 1

"Is that level?"

I craned my neck toward Eve, the other gallery assistant. It was almost five o'clock and, of course, we were still hanging the last few canvases for the opening tonight. No matter how much you prepare, it seems like gallery shows always come down to the final moments.

She pushed a curly black lock away from her face. "Just a little higher on the right, Sam."

I moved the edge a miniscule amount. "Like this?" I craned my neck back toward my co-worker.

"Perfect!" She exhaled, her voice full of relief. "Thank you so much for coming over early, Samantha. There is no way I could have finished getting this show up by myself." She glanced down at her outfit and then back up at me. "Do you mind setting up the wine? I'm going to run to the restroom and change my shirt."

As she ran off, I made my way over to the desk we were using as a makeshift bar for the evening. After setting out paper napkins and clear plastic cups, I uncorked a few bottles and poured a celebratory glass for Eve and I, being careful to not spill on the new dress I was wearing. I liked my new dress a lot: it was white and sleeveless, with a fitted bodice and a flared skirt and cost more than I normally spent on clothes in a month. As I waited for Eve to return, I sipped my wine and examined the room. The show looked fantastic.

The Kinsler Gallery was a modest yet modern space, smack in the heart of the burgeoning gallery scene in Oakland, California. It wasn't huge, just three rooms, but the generous fifteen foot ceilings made it feel airy and light. The walls were, of course, stark white, and the wood floors were well-worn and warm colored. I surveyed the canvases in the room. Clean, modern pieces by three different artists lined the walls in neat rows. The gallery owner had done a great job of pulling the works together, but I was also proud to say I had actually recruited one of the artists, Leah, that was showing tonight. I was beyond in love with her large canvases of soft, creamy colors. I really hoped she'd sell something.

"Sammie?" a familiar, honeyed male voice boomed from the front door.

"Hey, Curtis!" I put my wine down and absentmindedly smoothed my dress. Curtis was the gallery owner... as in Curtis Kinsler. He was one of the warmest people I'd ever met and I loved working for him. He was a consummate businessman and a real people person— and since I have shut-in tendencies, I tried to follow his lead whenever I could. He was super affable and even when he was being tough, there was a teddy bear quality to him.

"It looks great in here," he stated definitively as he walked around the room. He had on a brown fuzzy sweater that looked like it was made from a Muppet, yet he was pulling it off; it was a playful twist to his round tortoise-shell frames and tweed pants. But it did absolutely nothing to discourage the teddy bear analogy.

I'd come to work for Curtis as an intern during my final semester at UC Berkeley, but to be honest, I'd never set out to work in a gallery. I had actually been a very ambitious sociology major until I took an amazing art history class sophomore year and found out I had a knack for it. So I continued studying art history, and felt really thankful to have secured a paid internship with the Kinsler Gallery my senior year. I fell in love with our tiny space and gleefully accepted a part time job after graduation. The schedule allowed me time for myself and time to continue volunteering at a children's center once a week. It was a pretty sweet life, and I adored our little gallery family.

Curtis circled around the room. "This is going to be a great show. The curator must be a genius," he affirmed as he put his hands on his hips. The corners of his mouth twisted up in a smirk.

"Such a genius," I agreed and walked across the room to welcome him with a hug. "Thank you again for including Leah."

"Sam, I want to be clear." His tone suddenly turned serious, and he looked me straight in the eye and wagged his finger in my face, "This is not a handout. I do not show the work of anyone I do not seriously believe in. No acting like a charity case tonight, capisce?"

I exhaled and smiled. "Capisce."

"Now, may I have a glass of that wine?" He eyed the refreshment table.

"Gladly." I smiled and poured him a glass. As he took a swig, Eve came out of the back room. She looked great, every bit a hip gallery girl. She'd piled her gorgeous, dark mane on top of her head in a thick bun, and her dark bronze skin glowed against the white of the walls. The Oakland gallery scene was a bit different than San Francisco's, a bit more edgy—definitely no stilettos or designer handbags here. Eve played the part perfectly, haven traded her Superga sneakers for low-heeled black booties and switched out her t-shirt for a sleek black silk top. Together with tight gray jeans, she looked effortlessly cool.

"Evie, come join us," Curtis cooed. "Shall we toast?" He poured himself a glass, and we all gathered together. "To a great night!"

"To a great night!" We cheered as we tapped our plastic cups together.

As soon as the clock struck five, the crowds started sauntering in. It was nice having a job with the public. Aside from hanging out with Carrie, my best friend, I didn't really get out much. But tonight, I met all the artists, Curtis introduced me to several of his art world friends, and Eve even introduced me to a couple of her girlfriends who stopped by. I had lots of fun chatting, and everyone seemed to love the show. Hell, we even made a few sales. By 9:30, the place was packed, and I wasn't sure which was louder, the music on the stereo or the buzz of the crowd.

I was floating back from the restroom when someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned around to find a man in a dark red button down shirt staring at me.

"Oh, hi... can I help you?" I asked, cupping my hand around my ear so that I could hear him above the music.

He leaned in. "Excuse me, but they tell me you are Samantha Sharp."

"That's right!" I exclaimed, perhaps a little too eagerly. I looked him over. He was attractive in a traditional sense; as tall as me, with balanced features and light brown hair.

"Fantastic. My name is Evan Carmichael. I run Carmichael Gallery over in SF." He held out his business card, and his eyes peeked out over thin wire frames. "I'm told you are the one who found Leah's work." I nodded, and he continued. "I was wondering if you'd like to get together and talk art sometime."

Talk art? Who talks like that? I chuckled to myself as I examined his card. But then he flashed a toothy grin at me, and it was dorky enough to put me at ease.

"Sure, happy to. I am so glad you like the show. Do you know Leah?" I pulled a pen off the nearby countertop along with one of the postcards for the show. I scribbled my email address on it and paused before handing it to him. I hoped I wasn't violating some un-written gallery world law by talking to another gallerist. After all, it's not like I had a contract with Curtis. I was just a part-time staffer. I scanned the room anyway, looking for the fuzzy brown sweater. It was no use, I couldn't see through the thick crowd of bodies undulating around me.

He started to say something else when I was jolted and knocked off my balance from behind. All of the sudden I felt liquid streaming down my backside as I was forced forward, onto Evan. I braced myself against his arm, and after a moment, managed to turn around.

"Oh my God, I am SO sorry!" I was greeted by an effusive strawberry blond. "Oh no, your dress!"

I looked down. Of course. From my hip to the hem, a deep red gash now marked my white dress. Served me right. Way to go, Sharp, I berated myself as I mourned the dress. Crap. I'd dropped a few day's pay on it, and it was ruined.

"Are you okay? I am such a dolt. It's these new shoes; I am clearly not adept at walking in them yet." She said, motioning down to her feet, which were clad in gorgeous leather sandals; shoes that would have been sensible if it were not for their six inch heels.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." I looked down at my dress again and winced. Starving gallery girls should not wear white, I mentally note, my life lesson for the day.

"Oh, and ponte too..." she trailed off, muttering, looking sad as she fingered the edge of my dress.

The strawberry blond turned to a man next to her, and my eyes followed her gaze. Wow. How did I not notice him until now? He was maybe twenty-nine... maybe thirty? Taller than me. Probably about six foot two. He had dark brown hair, and his skin was colored with a light tan. His eyes were dark, and well-balanced with his thick brow. He was wearing dark dress pants, which showed off sturdy hips, and a white dress shirt and tie under a gray sweater that half-zipped. His jaw showed just a hint of a five o'clock shadow. His eyes locked with mine and my heart skipped a beat. Had he been staring at me this whole time? A shiver ripped through me.

Finally, Strawberry shook his arm and he blinked, sending us both back to reality.

"David, are you there? Earth to David. David, I said, can we please do something for... I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name."

"Samantha," I whispered, my mouth dry. I cleared my throat. "Samantha Sharp," I glanced back up and dared to meet Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome's eyes again. He continued to hold my gaze, and my legs started to quiver. Suddenly I wondered if perhaps I'd had too much wine.

"David, can we do something for Samantha? I feel so bad that I ruined her dress."

My stomach flipped. "Uh, would you excuse me for a second?" I said, bracing myself against the wall as I looked around for a chair.

"Are you okay?" The handsome stranger asked, concern in his eyes.

"I think I need to sit down." Suddenly, the crowd was too much—pulsing, hot and heavy. I was too warm, lightheaded, and overwhelmed. I needed to get out of there. But I didn't want to leave.

"Let's get you some air," he said firmly, directing the statement right at me. He cut through the crowds and ushered me outside, his hand on the small of my back. Out on the street, the air was cool, and the light of the gallery streamed onto the sidewalk. He sat me down on a bench and studied me carefully.

"Is this better?" he asked, his voice deep and close to my face. I closed my eyes, and let his words reverberate through me. My skin felt charged and electric.

"Yes," I took a deep breath. "Thanks. Sorry about that."

"No apology necessary, Samantha."

"I am such a klutz," My eyes fluttered back up at the squeaky voice. Strawberry was still right there next to us. As I regained my other senses, our surroundings came into view. The cars on the street, the other pedestrians. Were they looking at us? I didn't care. Strawberry chirped again.

"Are you sure you are okay? I really am so sorry about the dress. "

"I'm fine, really. Don't worry about the dress. I should know better than to wear white to an event with red wine." I turned to look at her. She was sweet looking, younger than I first thought... probably twenty-one or twenty-two. Delicate features, bright blue eyes, very classically pretty. I could see why Mr. Gorgeous would like her. "Sorry—I don't know what happened in there. I think it was just too warm. Thanks for coming outside with me."

At that point Eve stumbled out the front door of the gallery.

"Sam, are you okay? I saw you from across the room, and you didn't look too good," she glanced down at me and gasped, "What happened to your dress?"

"I am fine, really. I think I might just be coming down with something," I lied. What was I supposed to say? I drank a bit too much wine and then got flustered when I met a gorgeous man? Right.

Eve nodded slowly, and glanced around at my companions, her eyes resting longest on Mr. Gorgeous.

"Oh, Eve, this is..." as I gestured, I realized I didn't know their names.

"Jenna," Strawberry stepped forward and offered her hand. "And this is David. I am the horrible person who ruined Samantha's dress," she joked, offering a weak smile. She returned her focus to me. "Are you one of the artists? We're here because our friend Michael is in the show, too. Do you know each other?"

"Oh, no I'm not one of the artists. I work here as a gallery assistant with Eve." I nodded at my concerned co-worker. "But I've met Michael, yes, really sweet guy. He is a brilliant painter." I wished I could say more, but I was still regaining my strength. I looked over at David. His eyes were still burrowing into me. Full of concern—and maybe warmth? But something else was there too... something darker. I glanced over at Eve. Her arms were crossed, but she nodded her head. I knew that look. She was skeptical of whatever was going on. But nothing was going on.

Jenna continued. "Michael and I go way back, we went to the same summer art camp every year when we were little. Needless to say, he's done much more with the experience than I ever did." She grinned and continued. "Congratulations on the show; it's really great."

"Thank you." My eyes darted back to David. David, of course. What an appropriate name. Jenna didn't seem to notice me ogling her date and continued.

"Samantha, please. We have a car. If you aren't feeling well, it might be for the best."

I glanced over at Eve. Okay. Maybe something was going on, but she nodded. "I think that is a good idea, I mean, no sense in staying out if you aren't feeling well. I can tell Curtis. He'll miss you, but he'll understand. I'll get your purse." And with that, she disappeared back into the gallery.

Well, now I'd done it. Now I was going to miss not just the opening party, but also more time with David. I started to mouth an objection, but he cut in.

"That settles it. I'll call the driver."

David whipped out a sleek dark cell phone and hit a button. Call the driver? Who the hell has a driver? I considered my best friend Carrie lucky to have a beat up old Volvo. Who the heck was this guy?

"Thomas, we're ready to go." He then hung up without saying goodbye and put the phone back in his pocket. Well, he is certainly all business. Maybe that warm concern I felt earlier was a fluke. Michael popped out of the gallery at that point and darted over to check on things.

"Hey, I didn't know you guys knew each other. Is everything okay?" he said, directing the question to Jenna.

"Hey, Michael. We just met actually. I am the terrorist responsible for that lovely stain on Samantha's dress. We are going to need to take off now, though, Samantha isn't feeling too well, and we are going to take her home."

"Oh bummer, sorry to hear that, Sam. We will miss you. Thanks for taking care of her, Jenna."

Eve re-emerged from the crowded gallery with my brown leather shoulder bag. She took her time handing it over to me as she raised an eyebrow. I flushed and tried to make apologetic eyes movements, silently promising that I owed her one.

A few seconds later, a large, dark SUV pulled up to the curb. A man got out of the driver's side and opened the rear passenger door. David helped me to my feet. I glanced up at him and as our eyes met, another shiver burst through me. He gently eased me into a soft leather seat, and I relished the accidental contact before he went around the car and took the seat next to mine.

"Tell Curtis I'm sorry I couldn't say good-bye. I will see you both tomorrow?" I pled with Eve. Curtis was hosting his annual Autumn Soiree the next night, and we had both planned on going. She nodded, smirking, as if she was privy to an inside joke. My stomach somersaulted, and she shut the car door.

David turned in his seat to face me, the heft of his body directing all his energy toward me, building the electrical charge between us. "So where to, Ms. Sharp?" he asked, his voice smooth and masculine.

"Uh, it's not too far. I live just up at Alcatraz and College," I managed to say, my voice sounding like a squeak.

"Alcatraz and College, Thomas," he told the driver as he sat back and stretched his arm along the back of my seat. I inhaled deeply; he smelled amazing, like soap and mint and his closeness was driving me crazy. It had been a long time since I'd been with a man. Hell, maybe I never had. The guys in college, those were boys compared to whatever this was sitting next to me. And I liked this quite a bit more. David was quiet as the SUV pulled out into traffic, and the lights of the evening started to glide by.

"Sam, can I call you Sam? Sam, I am so sorry about your dress." I whipped my head around. Strawberr—I mean Jenna was in the back row and it was sobering enough to bring me out of my fog. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

I looked down at my beloved, now soiled, dress. "What? Oh no, really, it's okay." Unless you want to lend me your boyfriend. I promise to return him in perfect condition. I cleared my throat. "Just the cost of doing business. Really. The ride home is more than enough."

"Well, what if I take you out to eat? My treat! What about Sunday, brunch at the Palace Hotel? Gives you a day to re-coup!" Her eyes gleamed. She really was very excited about the prospect of brunch. I guess I understood—the proposition of champagne and hollandaise sauce could do that to a girl.

"I wish I could, but I have plans." Carrie and I often got brunch on Sundays, and we did, in fact, have plans for this weekend.

"Oh bummer. Well some other time, you aren't getting off the hook..." she trailed off. She looked genuinely disappointed and I felt a small pang of guilt until I realized that we were getting close to my place and that my time with Mr. Gorgeous was limited. I decided I needed to keep her talking, if only to remain in his presence a little longer.

"We should get together some time, though, just to hang out. Let me give you my cell." She handed me her phone, and I pulled up the address book and punched in my contact information. I felt a pang of guilt, knowing full well that what I really wanted was to spend more time with David. But I was willing to tolerate his girlfriend if that was what got me there. I am going straight to hell.

We approached the intersection by my place. David looked at me, and with a small nod indicated that I direct the driver. "Just take a right and then it's the third house on the right." The man followed the instructions, and then expertly pulled up alongside the curb.

From the street, the picture perfect craftsman-style home glowed from within and looked warm and inviting. But I didn't live there. I lived in a little studio behind the main house. The property owners were an older couple named Clark and Leslie who had spent years meticulously restoring the main house. They'd originally built the studio in back to generate rental income for the restoration, since period restoration can be an expensive hobby. The studio was small, tiny really, but that kept it affordable—and that's what made it work for me. Plus, Clark was an excellent cook, and they were always foisting containers filled with delectable treats on me. It was a pretty sweet arrangement.

I turned back to Jenna. It was time for me to go.

"It was good to meet you, Sam. I'll give you a call next week, and we can hang out. And I promise not to spill anything on you this time!"

"Good to meet you, too. Talk to you soon. Give my best to Michael."

While we said our good-byes, David got out of the car and whipped around to my side and opened the door.

"I am going to walk Samantha in," he informed Jenna. He offered his hand, which I took, and the electrical pulse quickened my heartbeat as he led me up the walk. Sa-man-tha. Just hearing him say my name stirred something deep inside me. I was thankful for the dark cover of night, because I felt myself heating up and turning beet red from head to toe. Jenna must have been very confident in their relationship, to be okay with him walking me to the door. It seemed a little odd to me; if I was his girlfriend, there would be a strict hands-off policy for all other ladies.

I paused about halfway up the walk. "I actually live around back, in the studio," I said, indicating the little trellis off to the side that covered the walkway to the backyard. He nodded and pressed his hand to the small of my back, allowing me to lead the way.

Little twinkling garden lights lined the pathway to the back studio so that you didn't lose your footing on the stone path and the air was cool and heavy with the scent of fall leaves. I took a deep breath and drank it in, hoping it would calm my racing heartbeat as we approached the little studio in silence. My hands shook as I unlocked the front door and flicked on a small light, flooding the doorway with a gentle amber glow.

"Well, this is me. Thank you for taking me home and walking me in," I paused, "David." I silently wondered if saying his name aloud had the same power over him as it did with me.

"My pleasure, Samantha." He reached down and picked up my hand, closing my palm in on itself and wrapped his hands around it. He was only about six inches taller than me, but his hands totally eclipsed mine, making me feel small and delicate. He looked into my eyes and lightly dusted my knuckles with his lips. My breath hitched. "Are you sure you are feeling better?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, honestly, I am feeling much better" It wasn't a lie. I felt amazing. My body was now acclimated to the mix of alcohol and pheromones and I felt energized. Awake. Blood and hedonism coursed through my body as a thought flittered across my mind. What if I were sick? If I were sick, would he stay?

Straight to Hell.

"Do you live here alone?" He glanced around the dark interior of the studio with suspicion written all over his brow.

"Yes."

"Is it safe?"

"Well, yes, except for the burglars and gangs." His eyebrows furrowed further. He wasn't amused. "I'm kidding, it's fine. I've lived here for three years. My landlords live in the house and look out for me."

His eyes became cloudy and he looked above me, distracted. What was that look, I wondered. Then I realized... he must have been thinking about Jenna. I was keeping him. Duh. Why did I ever think someone like him would be interested in someone like me? And she was only a few steps away in the car. "You can go. I'll be fine." I shifted in place, his hands still enveloping mine.

He paused for a few beats and then spoke. "Very well." Was that resignation in his voice? His eyes refocused on mine and I cringed inside. Don't go. "It was a pleasure, Ms. Sharp," he repeated. Was that a flutter of disappointment across his face? I was probably imagining it because I didn't want him to leave. Stay. I wanted to kiss him, but I could barely breathe, let alone move. "Perhaps we will meet again soon, I hope?" His eyes blazed, but his mouth was a flat, emotionless line.

"I hope so."

And then he was gone, lost in the darkness.

# Chapter 2

Sun poured through the back window of my studio, and I turned away from it, trying to avoid waking up. The mourning doves cooed and I glanced over at the clock on my bedside table. It was still early. I must have fallen asleep shortly after getting home last night. I picked up my phone and sat up in bed, re-adjusting myself against the pillows. So many text messages—I must've left my phone on silent. There was a message from my best friend Carrie, asking how the show went. And there were several messages from Eve and Curtis, concentrating around the events from the previous night. Of course. I read Eve's messages first.

Hey did you get home ok?

Hey are you there?

U better be at home and asleep. I am worried.

Text me in the morning so I know you are ok!

I didn't want her to worry. I texted her back quickly:

Hey Eve, got home fine. Fell asleep right away, sorry to worry you. We can talk later!



Extra smiley faces always helped. Done. Now on to Curtis. I scrolled over.

Hey Sam sorry to hear you don't feel well. Feel better.

Sam - Michael just told me you went home with DAVID KEITH? Wha? CALL ME.

PS: Leah sold out!

Whoa. I sat up straight in bed. Sold out? That was awesome! For a second, I was over the moon with excitement, then my eyes flicked back to his second message. David Keith. The night before came flooding back to me and all the fine downy hair on my arms prickled. Gorgeous, handsome David. A crushing feeling of lust washed over me just thinking about him. There was heaviness in my belly, something deep and dull, like a hangover. Keith. I felt like I knew that name for some reason, but I couldn't place it. But why was Curtis freaking out? He must have known David through Michael, and he must've not known about Jenna. It was too early to call, so I texted Curtis back.

Awesome about Leah! So excited. Feeling much better. What about David? Do you know him?

I waited. He didn't text back. He must have been out late last night celebrating. Good for him; he deserved it. I smiled. I guess the mystery of David Keith would just have to wait.

I swung my feet over the edge of my bed to the floor and reluctantly pulled myself up. I pattered over the cool, polished concrete floor to my kitchenette. Looking through the cupboards, I came upon something horrible.

Out of coffee.

I sighed and looked around. Well, it was early and a beautiful day.

I pulled on some dark jeans, a big chunky sweater and popped into my postage-stamp sized bathroom to apply some pink lip gloss and attempt to remedy my long brown hair. It was wild, unruly, and quite a bit matted from the night before. Sighing, I resigned myself to a ballerina-style top-knot and headed out the door, grabbing my purse and phone along the way.

The cool morning air felt refreshing on my neck as I wandered down the street toward College Avenue. The city was just beginning to wake up, and the fog had almost completely burnt off. Rockridge was a district of Oakland that catered to the DINK (Dual Income No Kids) and young family demographic. It was an adorable neighborhood; a stone's throw from UC Berkeley and California College of the Arts, and was lined with small 'mom and pop' stores and restaurants. Early this morning, most of the folks on the street were parents with small children and couples outfitted in running gear. I popped into a little French bakery that had all sorts of golden delights heaped in the window. The line inside was long, but it moved quickly as it satiated the neighborhoods craving for buttery croissants and cinnamon sugar morning buns. I exchanged a few bills for an almond croissant and a paper cup of coffee and took a seat on the bench outside next to an older man and his golden retriever.

As I sipped on my coffee, my thoughts, of course, turned back to the night before. Okay, not the night. Just one particular man from the night. I just couldn't shake him from my mind... the way he'd looked at me outside my studio. There was something quiet and almost... primal... about it. I hadn't ever felt that before.

I scolded myself. I mean, Jenna was in the car. He went home with her. It had to have been the wine and my imagination. My stomach filled with butterflies, the crushing feeling of lust not unfamiliar to me. But this felt different. Heightened. His body somehow had managed to communicate with mine in a silent, instinctual way. And if I was honest, I'd give my left leg for more of that feeling right now. My imagination started to take over. What would I do if he just showed up right now and asked me to run away with him? Would I go? Give up my career, my family, the life I've spent so long creating? I shook my upper body, as if to snap myself out of the thought.

You don't even know anything about him, Sam. And you're probably never going to see him again. Even if you go to brunch with Jenna.

I nibbled at my croissant and tried to refocus on the events of the day. Tonight was Curtis's annual Autumn Soiree. How this man managed to have an opening one night and a big blow out bash the next was beyond me, but if anyone could do it, Curtis could.

I mentally reviewed what I was going to wear. Carrie had lent me a chic black sweater dress that went well with some black boots I had. It was the perfect autumn outfit for the unpredictable Bay Area weather and was still stylish enough for a party. I sipped the rest of my milky, lukewarm coffee, and got up to head back home. The streets were already starting to fill with cars and shoppers, and I was glad to retreat to my serene studio.

~

I spent most of the day puttering around, trying not to think of David Keith. I cleaned my shower, put away laundry, and even alphabetized my bookshelf. In the afternoon, I took a break and turned the television to a brainless reality show while I perused the internet, catching up on what my friends were up to via social media. Those who had relocated to the East Coast after graduation were already posting pictures of golden leaves and snowmen.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Curtis.

Is he with you?

I stared at the text for a moment. I knew he meant David. God, Curtis, what presumption. Just because he gave me a ride home? I texted him back.

No!

No, like he left already?

I sighed.

No, no like he was never here. He gave me a ride... that was it!

My phone vibrated with an incoming call. Guess who.

"Hi, Curtis."

"Sammie my dear, how you feeling?" His soft voice came gliding over the phone. He always used that tone when he was trying to butter me up, but this time I knew it wasn't that he needed something packed and shipped. He wanted gossip.

"I'm doing much better, thanks. I don't know what came over me last night."

He snorted. "I do, honey. His name is David Keith."

I groaned into the phone.

"Spill it girl, what happened? Did he take you to his castle?"

"What are you talking about, Curtis?"

"Do you know anything about the man you bummed a ride from, Sam?" he asked, teasing me. "David Keith is the head of Keith Ventures. The venture capital company?" he said, as if it should ring a bell.

"Never heard of it," I replied dryly, trying to pawn off my interest. But my body couldn't deny it. Just hearing his name made my skin sensitive and my pulse quicken. I picked up a stress ball from my nightstand and started to squeeze it.

"Sam, Keith Ventures is one of the most powerful companies in the country, if not the world, right now. They are a primary funder of a lot of new tech and bio-tech companies in Silicon Valley and around the country. I think he's a billionaire. He's always on the San Francisco's hottest bachelor lists—much to the detriment of my community, might I add." He chuckled. "But, Sammie, he's notoriously hard to pin down, I don't think I've ever seen a mention of a serious girlfriend, so be careful. Have fun, but be careful."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa Curtis, I didn't even say anything happened. Besides I think he has a girlfriend now. There was a strawberry blond with us last night, and they left together. They both dropped me off at home. That's all that happened." I tried to keep my voice upbeat and positive.

"Girl, don't let that stop you. Did you see a ring?"

"No, but I don't think I'll be seeing him again soon, so it's probably a moot point. We just don't move in the same circles. Hey, do you need me to bring anything to the party tonight?" I said, trying to change the subject.

He took the bait. "Oh no honey, we've got everything. Just bring your fabulous self, and don't eat before you get here, we'll have tons of food. And men. In case you are hungry for that."

I laughed. "Curtis, I have an inkling the feeling won't be mutual." I knew that all these 'men' he was talking about wouldn't be interested in anything I, or my gender, had to offer.

"Whatever Sammie, more for me!" he cried gleefully. "I will see you at seven?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. See you then. Bye Curtis." I pressed end on my phone, and sighed in relief. Successful deflection.

But then just as quickly I returned to our conversation. Keith Ventures? I went back to my computer and Googled it. The search results were pretty dry. It looked like the company was based in San Francisco, but Curtis was right, they did have offices all over the world. I clicked images. There he was. David Keith. David Keith in his corporate photo. David Keith at various galas and charity events, each time with a different woman on his arm. David Keith in a Forbes article. Hmm. Wow. He looked really good in suits. David Keith in Esquire. That photo had a bevy of blondes surrounding him at a conference table with a headline proclaiming, "How He Thinks". Thinking it might shed some light onto last night, I clicked on the link and started reading. The interview started with a quick summary of how he started his company. I learned that he made he made his initial investment money by gambling on sports when he turned twenty-one and then used that money to take a popular internet service from start up to initial public offering. I gazed at the picture of him in a suit. Damn, rich or not—he was hot.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. My heart flipped. Maybe it was him. I mean, he did know where I lived, right? I sped over to the mirror to smooth my hair, berating myself for not staying reasonably presentable on my days off. Another knock. I shook my arms to get rid of my nerves, after all, it was probably just Clark with some quiche. Calm the fuck down, Sharp.

I opened the front door and a delivery driver was standing there.

"Delivery for Samantha Sharp?" He looked at me, slightly bored.

I glanced down. He was holding two large boxes. One was flat and the other was rectangular. Neither had a label.

"Uh, that's me."

"Sign here," he said as he pushed a clipboard at me. I picked up the pen and scribbled something that resembled a signature. He took the clipboard and left, leaving the two boxes on my doorstep. I brought them inside, feeling bewildered. It wasn't my birthday, and it wasn't close to the holidays—and I didn't remember ordering anything online recently. I grabbed a key from my keychain and ran it the length of the packing tape, opening the first box. Inside was a box from Banana Republic with a big bow. I untied the bow and opened the box. Under a few layers of cream colored tissue paper was a white dress. The same white dress I wore the night before at the gallery opening, in my size. This one obviously didn't have a red wine stain on it, though.

How the hell...?

I picked up the tissue paper, searching for a clue as to who sent it, but my gut already knew. My pulse quickened. I found a small white card at the bottom of the box. In elegant script it said,

With heartfelt apologies,

David

No. Fucking. Way.

Who was this guy? How did he find the same dress, let alone know my size? And in only a couple of hours? I re-read the card. Heartfelt? Was he embarrassed by his girlfriend, or...? I glanced back down at the dress, pleased. I did really like that dress. Then I remembered the other box and pulled it over. It was heavy. I used my key to cut the tape, and inside was a second box, dark grey. I opened it and a heady scent flooded my studio. Dozens of white roses. Three dozen, to be exact. And a beautiful crystal vase. I took the vase to the sink and filled it with water and then grabbed some scissors and cut the ends of the stems to fit the vase. I spent a few moments arranging them. Gorgeous. I put the bouquet in the middle of my small table and stepped back to admire them. Elegant. I went back to the box in search of a card, but there was nothing.

What the hell does that mean?

I glanced at the clock. Shit. It was later than I thought. My best friend—and ride tonight—was going to be by soon, and I needed to get ready.

I turned on the shower, and while it warmed up I brushed the knots out of my hair. In the shower I went to town—shaving my legs, deep conditioning my hair, and slicking body oil over everything after I toweled off. It felt good... purifying. I was finally refreshed and ready to psych myself up for a fun night

I pulled on the sweater dress and my black boots and returned to the bathroom to blow-dry my hair into a sleek style. At the mirror, I pulled out a box full of makeup. I don't normally wear much—usually just tinted moisturizer and pinkish lip-gloss. But tonight I was feeling brave and a little bold. Maybe it was the hormone hangover from last night. I got close to the mirror and rimmed my eyes with dark kohl and laced my lashes with two coats of black mascara. I leaned back, checking my work. Not bad. Looking sharp, Sharp!

# Chapter 3

I shut the door to the studio behind me and headed out to the street. The evening air was damp with fog, and the heavenly scent of Clarks beef stew wafted from the main house. I trotted to the sidewalk and waved to my best friend Carrie, who was idling in her beat up old Volvo.

"Damn, Sam. You look hot!" She whistled as I slid in to the passenger side seat.

I blushed.

"Thanks. Thanks again for lending me the dress. It's so good to see you!" I gave her an awkward hug over the gear shift. "I can't wait to hear about L.A." Carrie was just down visiting her Dad for his 50th birthday, and while she missed the show opening, she did vow to be my date for the party, so all was forgiven. I hesitated. "Are you sure I look okay?" I'd never really been one to dress to impress.

"Heck yeah! What about me? What do you think?" She did a mock turn in her seat.

"Wait, let me see..." I looked her over. She was wearing a flowing navy dress with a seventies vibe. On someone else it might look like a mu-mu, but on Carrie it looked cooler than cool.

"Do you like it? I got it in L.A.!" she exclaimed before I could say anything, her eyes bright with delight. She knew she looked pretty good. Although it was hard for her to look bad. Carrie had those all-American good looks—blond hair, tan skin, the body of a cheerleader. She was one of those annoying people who would look great in a trash bag.

"Love it. You'll be the hit of the party," I said as we drove off.

Carrie regaled me with stories about her time in L.A. during our short drive. She'd only been gone for a week, but I'd missed her hard. Carrie and I met while we were both undergrads at UC Berkeley— she and I were in the same Introduction to Sociology class. I liked that she was so outgoing. If it hadn't been for her, I probably would have spent most of my undergraduate career buried in a book. She was also one of my few friends who had stayed in the area after graduating, and I was glad to have her as a party-partner tonight.

Curtis Kinsler lived by himself in Berkeley, in one of the big, old houses near the university. He had inherited the place from his parents. The entire block was comprised of homes as big as apartment buildings, built when land was cheap and plentiful. We parked a few streets over, lest any of his more accomplished guests see us for the beat-up-Volvo-driving vagrants that we were. Arriving at the Kinsler residence, we paused at the front gate and took it all in. Curtis had really gone all out. Little twinkling white lights covered everything from the wrought iron gate all the way up to the front door. He must have worked on the set up for weeks. Carrie and I turned toward each other and took a deep breath.

"Ready?" She looked at me.

"Let's do it." We opened the gate and ventured in.

Inside, it was as if the old home was meant to host parties. The bones of the home were from a time now long past, with dark wood paneling, inlaid floors, and a gorgeous grand staircase in the foyer. Curtis was positioned to greet all the guests as they came in, and I could tell the house was already packed.

"Sam! Carrie! So glad you could make it!" He reached out and bestowed a pair of air kisses on each of us.

"The house looks great, Curtis," I remarked, stepping back to take it all in. Save for a huge chandelier in the entry way, the entire house was lit only with candlelight.

"Yeah, you've really outdone yourself," Carrie chimed in, "Thanks so much for inviting us."

"Always glad to have you, dears. Besides, we needed some ladies to balance out all the um—male energy here." He smirked and gestured to the space surrounding him, which was filled with a disproportionate amount of attractive young men. "Now, go get yourselves a cocktail and have some fun." He pulled me closer and mock-whispered, "And I will find you later, missy! I still want to hear about last night." He wiggled his eyebrows at me over his tortoise-shell frames. Carrie shot me a curious look as we walked away.

"Drinks first, then I'll tell you all about it," I placated Carrie, patently aware that there was nothing, really, to tell.

Given the size of the house, the candlelight and darkness could have been eerie, but honestly, I found it beautiful. We wandered and found ourselves in a large living room. Coffered ceilings and leaded glass windows floated over the scene. The traditional style was accented by exquisite contemporary artwork that decorated the walls and beautiful people were lounging on leather chesterfield sofas, engaged in conversation. On the opposite side of the room was a full bar with two model-esq male bartenders dressed in crisp white shirts and black vests. We bee-lined for them.

"Ladies." One of the bartenders made eye contact. "What's your pleasure?" He wiped his hands with a bar rag and leaned forward.

"Jack and ginger, please."

"Make that two," added Carrie.

"Coming right up." The bartender swiftly mixed our two cocktails, while Carrie and I surveyed the crowd.

"Do you recognize anyone?" Carrie whispered.

"Not a soul."

"Here you go, ladies," the bartender said, as he proudly placed our drinks in front of us. I dropped a couple of bills into his tip jar, and we picked up our glasses.

"Cheers, love!" I said with a fake British accent.

"Cheers, baby!" mirrored Carrie. We clinked our glasses and turned around, taking in the scene.

"You know, this house totally looks like a serial killer's house." Carrie said, taking a sip of her drink.

I looked over at her and laughed as I shook my head. Carrie was obsessed with true-crime television. "Carrie, seriously? It's beautiful."

"No way. I mean, I like Curtis and all, but if I didn't know him, I'd think there was a sound proof basement or something." She pointed to the bookshelves across the room "Like if you pulled on one of those books, and it opened a door to a secret room."

I was rolling my eyes at her when from across the room, a familiar profile pulled my attention.

"Oh my God," I whispered.

"What? Sam, are you okay?" Carrie looked at me quizzically and followed my gaze to the doorway. Standing there was David Keith. He was dressed differently, in a perfectly tailored gray suit and a white shirt that was undone at the collar, his hands shoved nonchalantly in his pockets. But his body was the same. I knew it from having studied it intently the night before.

"It's David." I breathed. "I met him last night at the opening." My pulse was racing and I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest.

"Oh, nice! Is he the one Curtis was talking about? He is really good looking, I love that suit," she said with approval.

But to be honest, the suit was just the icing on the cake. His maleness cut right through it. My skin tingled, and I felt an invisible pull to him and I couldn't look away. My ears were buzzing and suddenly I was hot all over. And this time, I was sure it wasn't the cocktail.

"Let's go talk to him," Carrie urged, "You can introduce me."

I couldn't respond. What was she saying? My mind had turned to mush.

And before I could muster an answer, it was too late. He was cutting across the room, making his way toward us. Act cool, Sam. I took a big swig of my drink.

"Hello, Ms. Sharp. It's a pleasure to see you again." He looked at me like we were the only two people in the room. His eyes tunneled into mine and my knees buckled as the rest of the room fell away.

Before I could recover or respond, a petite bundle of energy dressed in purple cut in between us, wrapping its arms around me in an enthusiastic embrace, forcing a mass of strawberry blond hair into my mouth.

"Hi, Sam!"

"Jenna, David, I didn't know you would be here tonight." I managed, finally finding my voice. I was truly surprised and confused. I briefly introduced them to Carrie.

"Michael had invited me to come weeks ago, but this guy here," she gently jabbed David in the ribs, "just decided to come today," she joked at him, lovingly, and reached up on her tip toes to muss his hair. She really was much shorter without those six-inch heels, probably just barely over five feet tall. Her black flats gave me more than a few inches on her. Carrie and Jenna engaged in mutual compliments regarding their outfits, allowing David plenty of time to stare at me. I found myself having a hard time holding his gaze. It was too powerful. Instead, I sipped it in, moving my eyes between each person in the group in a purposeful and egalitarian manner. But the only one I took note of was David. His masculinity was so distracting. Tall and strong, without being obnoxiously muscular, I could tell there was a powerful body beneath that suit. And all of a sudden I was sure: I wanted that mouth on my neck, and I wanted to feel those hands in my hair. It didn't make any sense, but as his eyes burned over me, assessing me, the area between my legs became wet, and my chest felt heavy with need.

"David!" A man in a brown sport coat and dark jeans came up behind us and cut into the conversation. "May I borrow you for a moment? There is someone I would like to introduce you to. It will only take a minute."

A brief scowl passed over David's lips, but he responded to Sport Coat.

"Certainly. Ladies, please excuse me for a moment. Don't go anywhere," he raised his eyebrows, and looked pointedly at me. Why did that feel like a command? A threat?

With David out of the room, I tried to compose myself. Carrie and Jenna were really hitting it off. I stood there for a few moments, dizzy with lust, and realized I needed to be by myself for a few minutes. I needed to give myself a Samantha Sharp Pep Talk. They wouldn't miss me if I took a few moments.

"Guys, I am going to run to the ladies' room. I'll be right back. Carrie, can you hold my drink?"

"Sure thing, Sam. Hurry back." Carrie smiled and took my glass.

I headed down the dark hallway toward the restroom, candlelit sconces illuminating the way. I rounded the corner and ran into a tall, hard figure, dressed in gray.

It was David. I froze.

"Hello Samantha." He didn't touch me. He just stood there, his eyes sparkling in the low light.

"David, I'm so sorry, hi," I mumbled back, looking down, staring at my boots. He didn't say anything, so I ventured to look up at him, and was caught instantly in the fire of his gaze. His dark eyes blazed at me, and everything around us faded away.

"Where are you going?" He demanded gently, the corners of his mouth twitching up as he looked around— as if trying to suss out his competition. The air crackled between us.

"Nowhere. I mean, I was looking for something, err. Sorry," I trailed off, feeling flustered. I wasn't ready for this, I didn't know what to say to him— I didn't have my game plan ready. Oh hell, who was I kidding— plan or no plan, I didn't have any game to speak of. It wasn't fair, this power he had over me. I mean, I barely knew him. I went mute and wished I could start over. Without saying anything, I turned on my heel and headed back down the hall.

"Wait." He grabbed my hand and spun me back to him, so quickly I lost my footing. I grabbed his arm for balance, and he steadied me with his other hand. "Where are you going?" He reached up to my chin and pointed it up to his. And then he touched his lips to mine. Kissing me softly at first, and then deeply. He dominated my mouth as he pulled me into him. One of his hands trailed up my back to my neck and then cradled my face and he pulled his head back and looked me deeply in the eyes, cupping my ass with his other hand, pulling me into him. I remained speechless. He gazed at me a moment longer, and then released me.

Oh holy hell that was hot.

"Come," he commanded, and before I could respond, he had grabbed my hand and was pulling me down the hallway and outside onto the backyard veranda. The sound of the party faded away as we moved further from the door. From a distance, I looked back at the windows, the party glowing inside. I knew no one could see us. The fog had rolled in and the air felt cool and moist on my hot skin. I looked over at David.

I didn't know what he was thinking. I didn't care. I just wanted him to kiss me like that again. My heart was pounding, and my breath was shallow. He led me to a low stone wall and we sat down next to each other, the energy between us erotic and explosive. David sat forward with his knees parted, fingers laced together. He looked over at me, his eyes dark with desire.

"Samantha."

God, I loved the way my name came out of his mouth.

"Are you attracted to me?"

Uh, yeah—duh—my subconscious murmured. I don't normally go full open-mouth make-out with just anyone.

"I think you are. And I am clearly attracted to you."

He was? I mean, he had kissed me, but my mind still did mental cartwheels, relishing the verbal validation. My stomach flipped. David Keith was attracted to me. The thought alone made me blush, the cover of night saving me again.

There was only one small problem.

"But what about your girlfriend?" I managed to eke out.

"Girlfriend? What girlfriend?" He looked over at me, bewildered.

"Jenna," I whispered, looking at the ground.

He tilted his head back and laughter bellowed out.

"That won't be a problem."

"It's a problem for me," I said quietly. And this is how it ends...

"Jenna is my sister, Samantha."

"What?" My face snapped back to face him. "But I... but you don't look alike." My body was confused, but somewhere my subconscious was doing a victory dance.

"I'm adopted, Samantha," he explained.

I looked at him for a moment, my mind registering what he had just said.

"Oh thank God." I whispered to myself as I sighed with relief.

"But what about you, Samantha?"

"Me?"

"I need to know that you aren't hiding a boyfriend anywhere. Or a fuck-buddy. I am not too keen on STDs, so it's best you tell me now. I'm a very busy man, and I prefer not to waste both of our time."

"No... nothing." The last boyfriend I had was in college, we were each other's first, and we broke up when he transferred to another college. It was fine, though. The relationship had run its course. But this was strange. Why did it feel like we were negotiating? Was I seeing David Keith, the businessman? Why did I suddenly feel like I was his new venture?

"What about birth control?" he asked in a no-nonsense tone. Geez, who is this guy? I paused, surveying him for a moment. Normally, I'd be flustered by all the intimate questions. But before I could think, I found myself rattling off an answer.

"Well, if you must know, I am on the pill. What about you?" I asked. It was only fair to flip the question.

"No girlfriend, no wife, and disease-free," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Is this how you romance all your conquests?" I was getting braver now. Sassy even. I held his gaze. He seemed to like it.

"Yes." He glared back, challenging me. I was really not used to this brand of romance, and had no idea how to respond.

"I have a car. Let's get out of here."

I stopped. "I, uh... I can't," I stammered, feeling confused and stuck. "I promised Carrie that we'd go to this party together. I can't just ditch her." I died a little bit inside. I must be the greatest friend in the world. Surely very few women would be able to resist David Keith.

He looked at me with laser focus, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. He paused like this for several moments and then finally stood.

"Come with me." And with that, he pulled me up by the hand, and I trailed behind him as we re-entered the house. My whole body vibrated with electricity at his touch. We slipped down a hallway in silence, and he opened a door on the right. There were no lights on. He pulled me inside the small room and then leaned in and kissed me deeply... deeper than before, sealing his lips around my mouth, and then kicked the door shut behind us, causing the darkness to envelop us.

In the small black room, he pushed me up against the wall, bracing me with his hips as he continued to devour my mouth. I heard something fall and roll away. I didn't care. My breasts heaved with anticipation, and my nipples grew hard as he pushed his hips against mine. I could feel the length of his manhood throbbing against my thigh. Shit. He was big. He shoved the bottom of my dress up and tore off my panties like they were made of tissue paper. I inhaled sharply.

Pushing me against the wall, he ran his hands under my dress, up to my breasts, fondling and squeezing them with animalistic greed.

"God, you are so fucking hot," he rasped before slipping his hands down to my hips, cupping my ass and pulling me into him with such strength I was lifted off the ground for a moment. Once he put me down, he returned his hands to my hips and then slowly moved to my sex. He ran a finger over the length of it.

"Samantha, you are so wet. Are you wet for me?" he whispered.

He knew the answer, but I indulged him anyway.

"Yes," I murmured into his ear, inhaling deeply as I took in the heady scent of soap and aftershave. My answer surprised even myself, but I was too turned-on to care.

"That's right, baby. I want you, too. I want to be inside you."

I angled my hips so his fingers slid along my sex.

"Fuck, Samantha," he groaned softly into my ear. My knees went weak. "Do you know how fucking sexy you are?" He slipped his hands back over my hips to my bare ass, caressing it, pulling me into him. Hot, sexual energy ripped through me, and I knew I had to have him inside me.

I pulled on his belt and released the clasp on his trousers. Panting, I tugged down the zipper, and his full length was freed. I reached out to grab his thick cock and gently stroked it back and forth, adding a little bit of spit to make it slick.

"Fuck, Samantha." He groaned.

Hearing him say my name was almost as good as the dirty talk and made me lusty with desire. I probably should have questioned what I was doing with a stranger in a pantry, but he started to rub my clit, and all rational thought melted away. As I pushed against him for more friction, he responded, giving me exactly what I needed. I tried to be quiet, but let out a little moan of pleasure and just as I reached the edge of orgasm, he pushed up one of my legs and slid two of his fingers into me, and I inhaled sharply. With his fingers inside, his palm massaging my clit, I was again brought to the brink of orgasm. And then in one quick movement he removed his fingers and slid me onto him. The fullness surprised me; it'd been a long time. It felt good, no... more than good—it felt amazing as I stretched and expanded to take him. I wrapped my leg around him for balance and leaned against the wall for support. He started slowly, building, circling his hips. It was pitch black, but I could feel him staring at me.

He leaned into me and inhaled. "God you smell so good." He panted.

"Oh God," I moaned. I was so turned on. How did he know exactly to touch me?

We were both on the edge of orgasm and moving in a perfect rhythm, our hips crashing in time with each other. And then we were there. My nails carved into his back, and he gripped my ass, pulling it closer and shoving himself even deeper into me as we both exploded into each other. Everything else faded away, even the darkness. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't, knowing there were probably party guests just ten feet away. I splintered into a million directions and fell back against the wall. David was there, lingering over me. We stayed there for a moment, paralyzed by pleasure.

"Damn, Samantha," he whispered while catching his breath.

I was, of course, thrilled with the feedback, but a simple, "Uh huh," was all I could manage.

I heard his zipper and figured he was all cleaned up. "Oh shit," I whispered. "My panties."

"Sorry about that, I got carried away."

I could tell that he was smirking through the darkness.

"I have them, but I'm afraid they won't be of much use to you." His words were apologetic, but his tone wasn't—it was almost as though he was egging me on. I pushed the hem of my dress back down, hoping that would do the job.

All of a sudden the door was thrown open. Shit! It was a member of the wait staff. He stood there, frozen.

"Oh hi," I stammered "We were just checking out the goods in here. We'll be leaving now." I flushed. David grabbed me by the small of my back and directed me out to the hallway, out of the way of the staff, who graciously did not say anything.

"Checking out the goods?" David teased, once we were out of earshot. "Smooth, Ms. Sharp."

"Well excuse me," I hissed "I don't normally do things like this. I didn't prepare a speech. Besides, they didn't see anything. For all they know, we were checking out his labeling system." I smirked. Even I didn't believe myself. I liked David when he was lighthearted though. I hadn't gotten to see much of that boyish, humorous side, but now I knew I wanted more. I turned to him. "How do I look?"

"Like you just had sex in a pantry." His eyes gleamed, and the corners of his mouth turned up. He was obviously very pleased with himself.

"Shit. I need to find a mirror."

David slipped his hands into his pockets and indicated a door with a nod and a raise of his eyebrows. "I'll wait here."

I closed the door to the powder room behind me and flicked on the light. It was a dark purple jewel box of a room, but the light bulbs were blinding compared to the candlelit house. My eyes struggled to adjust as I examined at myself in the ornate mercury glass mirror. Pantry sex, indeed. My dress looked okay, but my hair was all mussed up. I did my best to smooth it out with my hands. My lip gloss was smeared, so I grabbed a tissue and wiped it off completely.

That'll have to do.

I looked at my face in the mirror and couldn't help but grin. What kind of saucy minx was that in the mirror? I'd never had sex anywhere except in a bed before, certainly not in a pantry in someone else's house. My boss's house. And certainly not with someone I barely knew. I stared back at my reflection, confused but proud. Something about this man just brought out the complete animal in me. I barely knew him, but one thing I did know was that any other attraction I'd ever felt paled in comparison to the attraction and fascination I was feeling with David. I couldn't wait to get back to the hallway to see him. I slowly opened the bathroom door.

David was right where I left him.

We wandered back to the living room together, David holding the small of my back as subtle gesture of ownership—and one I was completely fine with. Carrie and Jenna had taken up residence in a corner of the room on a couple of leather sofas, and as we sat down to join them David sat next to me and stretched his long arm along the back of the sofa behind me.

The night passed in flashes. My mind kept darting back to the time in the pantry and I silently wondered if I smelled like sex. Either way, I did my best to keep my knees together and hoped no one could tell I didn't have any panties on.

David turned out to be quick-witted and funny; a delightful party guest. He charmed Carrie, and she shot me approving glances. He also teased Jenna, gently, as only a brother can. Their relationship was so obvious now, I felt silly for ever thinking otherwise. I also learned that Jenna worked in marketing for Banana Republic, and suddenly it all made sense. She must have recognized my dress and helped David replace it.

At one point, Curtis came by with a tray of appetizers, and we all indulged in little bites of feta and spinach while he regaled us with tales of his time in Europe. He had spent five years in his early twenties hitch-hiking around, working odd jobs to pay his way. He was gleefully explaining the drag scene in Amsterdam when Jenna stood up.

"I'm going to grab another drink, anyone else want anything?"

"A vodka soda would be a dream," Curtis chimed in.

"You got it!" she said, as she headed off to the bar.

It was late. Guests were starting to come over to Curtis and say their good-byes. I looked over at Carrie. She was asleep next to me on the sofa.

"Carrie, honey, wake up," I said, gently shaking her knee.

"No..." she murmured.

"Carrie, can you drive?" I wasn't sure if she was drunk or just sleepy.

"Sorry Sammie, too sleepy," she whimpered in an angry whisper. Shoot. I loved Carrie, but I've seen her like this before. When the girl gets tired, she is down for the count. I should have known, a full week of travelling had taken a toll on her.

David leaned in. "I'll take you home," he said softly.

I looked up at him. Even in the short time I'd known him, he'd had an interesting way of anticipating my needs. I vacillated for a few moments, weighing my options, and then turned to Curtis.

"Curtis, is there any way Carrie can sleep here tonight? I don't want her driving if she is tired."

"Of course honey, me casa es Carrie's casa. We have plenty of room. I could just give her a blanket and she can keep sleeping right there. But how will you get home?"

"I've got that covered," David interjected.

"Of course." Curtis nodded, giving me a knowing look. However, I was willing to put up with all the teasing from my boss because the reward would be worth it. Besides, I had sex in your pantry, I chanted in my mind. I stood up, and David followed. Curtis and I said our goodbyes, and I looked around for Jenna. Where did she go?

"Jenna already left with Michael," David said matter-of-factly, again, reading my mind. He pulled out his cell phone and pushed a button. "Thomas, we're all set."

We left through the front door and traipsed down the walkway, surrounded by glittering white lights. When we arrived at the wrought-iron gate, the black SUV was already at the curb, idling. Thomas jumped out and opened the door for me.

"Miss Sharp," he greeted me, with a little nod of the head.

"Thomas," I greeted him back with a smile. And I slid into the dark cocoon with David. We sat as close as possible. I leaned my head against his chest and felt the subtle rise and fall of his breath. I knew it was crazy, but I felt like I could live right there, forever, and be blissfully happy with this man I barely knew. He stroked my hair gently as we crisscrossed through the streets of Berkeley, on the way back to my place.

"Shit." I sat straight up.

"Samantha? Are you okay? What is it?" David looked at me with concern in his voice.

"My keys are in Carrie's purse." I cringed. Carrie had a large leather clutch that evening, and when she offered to hold my keys and phone, I accepted all too willingly.

"Do Clark and Leslie have a spare key?"

"It's too late to bother them. They go to sleep around ten." And it was way past ten. I didn't want to go back to Curtis's; he was probably on his way to bed by now.

"You'll come and stay at my place," he stated. And before I could answer, he pressed a button and the divider separating us from Thomas lowered. "Thomas, take us home, please." Thomas nodded, and the divider went back up.

"But I don't have my things, and I have to work tomorrow," I protested.

"We'll figure something out." He looked bemused, like somehow this was his plan all along.

Thomas turned onto the on ramp, and the SUV roared to life as it picked up velocity. We sped past the sparkling city lights and the glow of the Port of Oakland as we made our way onto the Bay Bridge. Passing through the mid-span tunnel, my eyes closed and the amber lights dimmed. I put my head back against David's chest and drifted off into a beautiful sleep, dreaming of moonlight and darkness.

# Chapter 4

I was hiking in the redwoods. The trees were tall around me, and the fog was so dense and thick, I couldn't make out much more than twenty feet in front of me. The damp air made me shiver, and I was lost, I couldn't get my bearings. I was alone and there was something, some animal in the bushes, following me. I increased my speed, and broke into a run, but it kept pace. I ran harder, darting up and down fern-filled canyons. Finally, I came to a deep, rushing river, and there was no way around it. The animal was catching up to me. I heard it growl, and I turned around to face it, my heart thumping.

And I woke up, sitting straight up as I tried to get my bearings. I was in a bed, but the shapes weren't familiar. This bed was soft and big, much larger than mine. I was alone, and it was early—gray light was just starting to break through the curtains. The room was huge. Bigger than my whole studio, with soaring, vaulted ceilings.

I rubbed my eyes. I remembered falling asleep in the car, and... Did David carry me inside? Oh, God, David. Where was he? The events of the night before came crashing back to me. The meeting in the hallway, the conversation on the veranda. The pantry. I was sore, and I blushed as I remembered why.

I didn't know where he was, but I decided to take advantage of his absence to freshen myself up. I scampered out of bed and into the en-suite bathroom, locking the door behind me.

Flicking the light on, I looked in the mirror. I was dressed in a large men's t-shirt that just covered my ass. I wasn't sure what had happened to my sweater dress and boots. As I looked around, I spied a toothbrush and toothpaste.

Why not?

As I brushed away the cottony feeling in my mouth, I surveyed the rest of the bathroom. It was all pale marble and glass, very chic and modern and as big as my whole studio. I leaned over the huge soaking tub and peered out the window.

Wow, we're high up. Somewhere downtown. Despite thin ribbons of fog, the view was great.

I rinsed the toothbrush before putting it back and splashed my face with water, using a tissue to tidy up the mascara rings left on my face from the night before. There wasn't a lot I could do with my hair since I didn't have a brush, so I settled for smoothing and twisting it with my fingers. Bedhead was supposed to be sexy, right? I was just going to have to hope that David was into that kind of thing. I headed back to the bedroom to check what time it was.

Just as I re-entered the cavernous room, the door opened. It was David. He was already dressed in dark jeans and a light blue button down.

"Ah, she wakes." He flashed a low-key smile as he cut across the room. He pecked me on the forehead and handed me a glass filled with something green and frothy.

"What is this?" I said suspiciously, sniffing the liquid. It smelled like grass.

"Green juice."

I eyed him skeptically.

"My special blend—kale, wheatgrass and apple. Drink it. It's better than it sounds, I promise."

"So are you some kind of health nut?" I put the glass up to my lips and took a small sip. It wasn't bad. It was horrible. I lowered the glass.

"I do what I can." I think he was enjoying watching me. "So, how did you sleep, beautiful?" he said, gazing over at me, clearly ignoring my matted hair.

"Um, good. You? I mean, did you...uh," I stammered. I gripped the glass of juice with both hands.

He smiled, and I could feel his stare boring into me, carving out territory with those dark eyes.

"Don't worry, nothing happened last night. You fell asleep in the car, and whilst I find you impossible to resist, I ventured to guess that a rape-y vibe is not something most women look for in a man. So I carried you up here. I slept in the guest room."

"Oh," I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. I looked down at my unfamiliar clothes.

"Did you undress me?"

"Yes." His eyes were entirely unapologetic.

"I see."

"Ms. Sharp?"

"Yes?"

"Would you like to join me for breakfast?"

I'll take anything, as long as it's not more of this green stuff.

"That sounds great"

"Very good. Do you eat eggs?"

"Yes." Hallelujah, real food.

He typed something into his phone and then glanced back at me. "I had Hilde press your dress. It's hanging in the closet. Take your time. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

"Sounds great," I replied, still bewildered that I'd woken up in this man's apartment. This was just not something I normally did. He clearly, however, did. My dress was pressed? I wondered if this was routine for him. My jealous streak murmured inside me as he disappeared out the bedroom door.

I opened the closet door, expecting a single rung, and was surprised to find a whole room. It was like a high end men's clothing shop, outfitted in dark wood with a center island flanked by rows and rows of suits and neatly stacked sweaters in serious colors. Next to the island of drawers, was a garment rack with my dress hanging on it. My boots were right under it, along with my bra, on a smaller hanger. The only thing missing were my panties. Oh, right. Those were long gone; I smiled, thinking of last night. The remnants were bundled up and pocketed by Mr. Panty Stealer. Did he really expect me to go panty-less again this morning?

Well, I thought, my eyes glinting with mischievousness; two can play at that game. I started to open the drawers in the center island, rooting around until I found an underwear drawer. Neat, precise rows of subdued squares of color. White, gray, black, mostly boxer briefs. I looked through them and found a pair of white Calvin Klein's with a red waistband that were shorter in the leg than the others. I slipped them on. Kind of loose, but they'd do the job. Plus, they looked kind of cute. And I had to admit, I liked the idea of having David so close to me. I smiled, threw on my dress and boots, and sauntered out of the bedroom.

David's apartment was huge. It had to be the penthouse—the ceilings were so high. I wandered around looking for the kitchen. I passed a living room with a large, sleek marble fireplace and deep, low profile sofas. The whole house was decorated in neutrals like the bedroom, yet it had a masculine vibe. There was very little art on the walls. The real stars in each room were the windows. I walked over to one and peered out. The enormous glass wall looked out on the city of San Francisco, and by now the fog was starting to lift.

God, what a beautiful city. The pale buildings, like piles of seashells, were heaped over the rolling hills created by famously violent earthquakes. The bay, sparkling and reflective already had several boats out on it. The other skyscrapers downtown provided a reminder of exactly how high up we were. The view here at night must be spectacular, and I quietly wondered if I'd ever get a chance to see it. Curtis did say this man couldn't commit, and my Google search yesterday did nothing to quell that statement. I silently accepted that this was going to be just a one night stand.

Suddenly I felt a hand on the small of my back. I jumped and turned to find David behind me. At this distance, the heady scent of soap and lemon verbena wafted over me. I inhaled deeply.

"Get lost?" he teased, grinning.

"I just wanted to check out the view," I explained, gesturing toward the window. Why was I nervous? He brought me here.

"I do love a good view," he said, his eyes dipping down to the hem of my dress, and not the million-dollar backdrop. I blushed. Again.

I wanted to flirt back, but I couldn't. The blood was starting to rush my system again and it was making me stupid. I looped my arm around him instead, letting my body do the talking.

"Come on, I bet you are starving." He said, pulling me toward the kitchen.

The kitchen matched the rest of the house in its minimalism. More white marble and stainless steel. I silently marveled at the vastness of the space as we made our way over to a round white table, flanked by several contemporary curved chairs. The table was next to yet another window, this one looking out over SOMA, the South of Market district of San Francisco. The city was just waking up, and the few people out on the streets looked like tiny ants. There was already food on the table. Where did that come from? I look around and didn't see any dirty dishes anywhere.

It was quite a spread. Carafes of orange juice, individual French presses filled with coffee, a large plate of cut fruit, and two plates full of handsome looking omelets. I breathed in the aromas, and my stomach roared to life. Loudly. David looked amused.

"Don't they feed you over there in Oakland?"

"What can I say, I worked up an appetite last night," I said, my tone humorously dry.

"Indeed," he agreed, his eyes shooting right into me. At that moment, his phone went off in a series of beeps. He looked at it and frowned.

"I have to take this. Please excuse me. Go ahead and start." He nodded to the food and then slid open the glass door to the terrace and slipped outside.

I admired him through the glass and recognized his stance from the night before. It was serious and full of control, yet casual, with one hand shoved into his pocket. He'd used a similar stance with me and it seemed clear that whether it was for business or pleasure, he was a man who knew what he wanted and had no qualms about getting it.

My gaze was interrupted by my stomach, which wasn't so happy about playing second fiddle, so I returned my focus to the meal in front of me. I munched away quite contentedly, glad that I didn't have to play down my appetite, while he finished his call. I was just finishing up my omelet when David returned.

"So sorry about that" he said as he took his seat.

"Business?" I guessed.

"Yes," he replied, "but let's not talk about that."

"What would you like to talk about?"

"I'd like to talk about today, Samantha" His statement was innocent enough, but the directness was provocative, just like last night. A heat built inside me and I found myself wondering if this was how he was with all women.

"What about today?" I mumbled, trying to swallow my mouth full of food. He hadn't touched his omelet yet. His eyes were fixed on me.

"I have tickets to the symphony tonight, and I'm wondering if you'd be my date."

Date? Me? I swallowed again, hard. Suddenly, I needed liquid in my throat. I grabbed my coffee and gulped it down. My stomach did somersaults, and I was suddenly painfully aware of what I'd been feeling. The worry I held from last night. I hadn't wanted to be just another notch on his belt. One of the women Curtis had warned me about. But this was good, right? He wanted to see me again. Mr. Can't Commit wanted to see me again. But the symphony? I'd never been to the symphony. I didn't know a thing about classical music. In an instant I pictured myself falling on my face as we climb carpeted steps toward beautiful people, a kind of counterfeit Cinderella; one without a fairy god-mother. All of a sudden, I felt out of my league. My last 'date' was at a Starbucks.

"I don't really know much about classical music," I said finally, my voice full of hesitation. I looked down at my empty plate, and contemplated stealing some of his omelet just to have something to do with my idle hands.

"Please, Samantha. What is there to know? You just sit there and let the music wash over you." Or we could just stay in, and you could wash over me, I mused, silently. I desperately wanted to keep him around, but was hesitant to commit to his terms.

"I have to work today until five," I said evasively, hoping that my work schedule might save me from potential embarrassment.

"Perfect. The show starts at seven. Thomas will pick you up at six."

Dammit.

"I don't have anything to wear to the symphony," I protested, not even knowing what an appropriate outfit would look like.

"Not a problem. I will send him over with something for you," he said, without skipping a beat. This man was able to massacre any excuse I threw at him.

"Why do you want to go with me?" Ha! Finally, a question that would frighten every Mr. Can't Commit all over the world. I wanted to hear him say it before I agreed. I needed to hear him say it. Not that he loved me, but that he liked me— or at least have him acknowledge the electricity between us. That's right: Your move, David!

He didn't say anything for a moment and it felt like the quiet stretched on forever. Finally, he turned his whole decadent body to face me, his arm perched on the back of the chair. He rubbed his jaw with one hand and stared at me. I was shaky with anticipation. He took a deep breath and the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

"Samantha, you interest me. I'd like to take you out. Why are you fighting me?"

I exhaled in a rush. Indeed. Why was I fighting him? God, he was gorgeous. There was a rich-beyond-words prime specimen of maleness sitting across from me, wanting to take me out on a fancy date. And I was making it hard for him. I must have been crazy. What was wrong with me? I rocketed back to earth.

"Okay. But make it five o'clock. He can meet me at work, because I'll need to get dressed," I replied, sealing the deal.

He exhaled and looked enormously pleased.
Chapter 5

After breakfast, Thomas took me back across the bridge, to Curtis's house. As we drove, I went over the events of the previous day in my head. Had that all really happened? Had I just done it in a pantry? This was so un-like me. Then again, David was so un-like anyone I had ever met. His control and confidence sent me spinning, and I slowly moistened as I remembered each detail.

The morning was still cool, and the outside of Curtis's house had a very different feel compared to the night before- the windows were dark, and leaves covered the brick pathway leading to the front door. It seemed quiet inside and I didn't want to wake anyone, but I needed to get my things. I knocked lightly on the huge wooden door.

No response. Crap. Maybe they were all still asleep. I tried to peer through a stained glass window, but it was no use—I couldn't see anything. Maybe Carrie was still asleep on the sofa. I decided to cut through the side yard toward the rear of the house.

From the back side of the house, I saw that Carrie was no longer on the sofa where I had left her the night before, and I started to worry she had already gone home. Then I spied a light on in the kitchen and walked toward it, over the deck.

Oh, thank God.

Curtis, along with Carrie and a few other guests from the night before were all seated around his breakfast table. I approached the sliding glass door and waved.

"Sammie!" I heard a muffled exclamation from Curtis as he leapt up to open the door. "Sammie, what are you doing here?" he asked and welcomed me inside with a hug. He was still in a plush terrycloth robe, and everyone was devouring tall stacks of pancakes. "Come in, come in, have some pancakes and coffee."

"Oh thanks, but I already ate."

Carrie got up from her seat and came over to give me a hug.

"Sorry about last night, Sam, I didn't realize I was so tired," she whispered apologetically into my ear.

"No problem," I whispered back.

"So I hear you got another ride home from David Keith, Sam," Carrie continued, loudly this time, so that the whole group could hear.

Everyone was looking at me with raised eyebrows, and I quickly figured out that I had been the topic of conversation around the table this morning.

"Well, that was the plan..." I said mildly, "until I realized I had forgotten my purse and keys here."

"Paging Dr. Freud," quipped Curtis, and the table erupted in laughter.

I tried to give Curtis a hard look, but broke out into a smile. Huh. Maybe I did do that subconsciously. Wow. If so, my subconscious was pretty daring. I blushed and braced my hands against my hips, continuing.

"So he offered to take me back to his place, and his driver brought me back this morning so that I could grab my things."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Curtis interjected. "Girl, you just skipped over a big part of that story." He started with a battery of questions. "What happened once you got back to his place? Where does he live? Is it one of those mansions on Nob Hill? No, I bet it's someplace more hip than that. His driver brought you back? Did he come? Is he here now?" Curtis pretended to crane his neck behind me.

"Whoa, guys! Calm down." I motioned for them to slow down, holding my hands up. I loved Curtis and all his ebullience, but sometimes it was awkward to have a friend who was also your boss. "Nothing happened. I fell asleep, we had breakfast. That is all." I made placating motions with my hands.

Carrie cut in with a touch of best-friend concern in her voice.

"Were you safe, Sam? You didn't go anywhere dangerous did you?"

"Yes, yes, of course. We literally only went between his car and his apartment." Carrie looked relieved.

Curtis continued, making a keen effort to reign in his enthusiasm. "So... when are you seeing him again?" Leave it to Curtis to cut right to the chase.

"Uh, tonight." I glanced around at the table, which was peppered with smirks and wide-eyed astonishment. I looked at the ceiling. "He is taking me to the symphony."

Curtis couldn't contain himself. It was like he was living vicariously through me. "Of course he is. Of course he is!" he said as he clasped his hands together.

And all I could think was 'I had sex in your pantry.'

~

I managed to peel myself away from the formal debriefing squad and collected my things quickly enough to get shuttled back to the gallery in time for opening the doors at eleven. Saturdays at the gallery are pretty low key, mostly window shoppers come through and if I'm lucky I can get in a few enjoyable conversations with patrons. Today was unusually busy, which was awesome. The new show that had opened two days before was bringing in a lot of new customers, and I was grateful. It kept my mind off the night before and the night ahead. Towards the end of the day, just as things were starting to slow down, the phone rang.

"Kinsler Gallery, this is Samantha, how can I help you?"

A friendly, even-toned voice answered. "Hello Samantha. This is Evan."

Evan... I tried to place the name.

"Evan Carmichael. We met at the opening?"

"Oh right! Before I got drenched, right?" I joked.

"Yes, that's right," he replied, calmly, with humor in his voice. "We didn't get to finish our conversation."

"Oh, that is true, I am sorry about that. What can I do for you, Mr. Carmichael?"

"Please, call me Evan."

"What can I do for you, Evan?" I parroted back.

"I was wondering if you'd want to swing by my gallery this week. Perhaps we can talk a little about the art business. I have a proposal for you."

Ugh. There was that 'talk art' statement again. I hated it the first time he said it, and I still don't like it. But if this was going to be my career, I needed to network and make connections. Curtis told me that all the time.

"Um, sure, how about Monday morning?" I didn't have to open the gallery until noon.

"Monday morning is perfect. Shall we say 10:30 at my gallery? We can grab a coffee. I promise not to spill it on you." I could hear him cracking a smile over the phone.

"Sounds great. See you then, Evan."

"Looking forward to it." The phone clicked.

Hmm. I wasn't sure exactly what I had just signed up for, but I shrugged, figuring this was just how these things go. I returned to my closing duties.

The dark of night was in full effect as I turned off the lights and locked up the gallery. Thomas was outside at the curb, waiting with the black SUV. Despite being a self-professed public transit devotee, I found myself thinking I could get used to this.

"Miss Sharp," he greeted me, opening the door.

"Thomas," I said warmly as he helped me into the car.

We got back to my place quickly, and as Thomas helped me out of the car, he handed me a set of shopping bags, including a long garment bag with a hanger at the top.

"For you, Miss Sharp. Compliments of Mr. Keith."

"Uh, thank you, Thomas." I took the bags and eyed them carefully as I walked along the path to my studio. I was curious to see what David sent but made myself hang up the bag and shower first. The distraction was no use— I managed to soap up and shave my legs in record time. Once I was done and wrapped in a big towel, I opened the bags.

I started with the smallest one. I pulled out the tissue paper to find a set of delicate gray lace panties and a bra. I probably should have found a gift of lingerie presumptuous, given that this was our first official date, but they were exquisite. I put them on. They were as light as the tissue they came in and very feminine— nothing like the boxer briefs I'd been sporting all day— and they fit perfectly. I still wasn't sure how he knew my size and how he had time to do all this shopping— I mean, didn't he have an empire to be running? I turned my attention to the garment bag and unzipped it slowly.

Wow. Inside the dress bag was a long gown, glittering with ivory sequins from head to toe. I took it out. All the sequins made the dress quite heavy. I slipped it over my head and turned to face the mirror. It had long sleeves, a wide neck, a fitted bodice, and a deep slit up the front. I hadn't ever worn anything like it. I couldn't imagine having an occasion that would call for such a gown. But it fit like a glove and I loved it.

As I reached for another bag with a box in it, I found myself guessing the contents.

Yep, I knew it. Shoes.

I lifted the lid of the box to find a delicate pair of metallic heeled sandals. I knew the brand from magazines, but had never worn a pair. I was just not the type to spend half a month's rent on a pair of shoes. I sat down at my desk and slipped on the shoes one at a time. The heel was high, but something about the design made it manageable. I stood in front of the mirror again. I barely recognized myself and I couldn't help it: a huge grin encompassed my face. Then I remembered who sent the gifts, and I flushed.

I glanced at my bedside clock. Crap. I really had to hustle. I didn't want to make us late. Traffic on the bridge to the city was notoriously bad on Saturday nights. He had said the symphony started at seven. I hurried into the bathroom and surveyed my hair. Luckily, with a dress like this, you didn't need jewelry or a fancy hairstyle. I took my brush and brushed the hair back, off my face, and into a high, elegant bun. I leaned in and quickly added eyeliner and mascara. "Good, good," I said approvingly to the reflection in the mirror. I grabbed some clear lip gloss and looked back towards the bags at the door. Maybe...

Yep, he had. There was one bag left. I rooted around in the tissue paper, and it was there. This man had thought of everything. I pulled a cream-colored clutch out of the paper bag, and deposited my lip gloss, phone, and credit card into it. I took one more quick look in the mirror and bolted out the front door and into the waiting SUV, my dress sparkling in the moonlight.

# Chapter 6

Having someone drive you to the city was really the way to go; it made the entire experience stress free. As I reclined in the soft leather seat, the lights slid by in the distance and I checked my phone. There was a text message from Carrie.

Have fun tonight. Be safe.

Don't let the billionaire boss you around :P

I texted her back

Don't worry, I will

And I won't

I smiled inside. I was so lucky to have such a good friend. We'd always looked out for each other, even when we were being stupid freshmen and getting into the kind of stupid trouble eighteen-year-olds get into when first greeted with total freedom. I remembered once when she pretended to be my overprotective lesbian girlfriend just to get a guy to stop hitting on me at a house party. She practically started a fight, just to make the charade convincing. I smiled and looked out the window, amused at the memory.

"Temperature okay, Miss Sharp?" Thomas's voice brought me back to the here and now.

"Oh, yes, Thomas, thank you. Perfect," I replied, and I wondered if I should use this time to do a little reconnaissance work.

"Thomas, how long have you worked for David?" I asked brightly, easing into conversation.

"I've worked for Mr. Keith for about five years, Miss Sharp." His language is matter-of-fact but kind.

"And what did you do before that?"

"I've been in private security for about ten years, and before that I was in the Marines." Ah, his clip and tone made sense now. I had some cousins in the military. They all shared the same no-nonsense way of speaking. Thomas looked like he was about forty, maybe forty-five. I wondered if he had any family.

"I see. How do you like working for Dav, err, Mr. Keith?" I asked, referring to David the way Thomas preferred.

"I like it very much. Excuse me for a moment, Ms. Sharp." We had exited the freeway and were just down the street from David's building. Thomas pushed a button and a phone rang on speaker.

"Go ahead,"

"We are just pulling up, sir," Thomas said to the voice.

"Very good, I'll be right down." It was David on the other line. His voice sounded different on the phone. Not bad, just different. More business-like. No-nonsense. My stomach wrenched with excitement, and my body grew lush with anticipation. God, did he realize the power he had over me? It was stupid and rushed and probably borderline insane, but I felt like one look from him was worth more than all the men in the world. No wonder he had a reputation. I imagined he would be impossible for most women to resist.

We pulled up to the valet stand. A bellman opened the door for David as he exited the building. My heart stopped as I spied him through the window. He looked amazing. Clean-shaven, in a black tuxedo, one hand shoved nonchalantly into his pocket—like he'd been wearing tuxedos all his life, like it wasn't a big deal. And oh, that bow tie. What was it about bow ties? The feminine shape always just seemed to accentuate masculinity in the most glorious way. I was glad I was already seated, because I totally would have gone weak in the knees. The valet opened the door, and David climbed into the car, his tux straining against the strength of his legs and shoulders.

He turned his whole body toward me and looked me up and down.

"Wow. You look amazing," he said, hungrily surveying me from head to toe. "Nice dress."

"This old thing? Just something I found lying around," I joked, trying to play off my nerves.

He leaned in, kissed me deeply on the lips, and whispered, "Just lying around, eh? Well, don't get too attached to it. That dress is going to be lying on the floor next to my bed later tonight. I hope you weren't counting on getting much sleep."

I flushed, and smiled weakly as he reclined in his leather seat. "Thomas, Davies please." Thomas pulled out, and we were off.

Davies Symphony Hall is located in downtown San Francisco, close to the ornate City Hall building. We pulled up to a crowd outside the imposing gray structure, and as we got out of the car, flashbulbs erupted. A couple of beefy men dressed all in black helped usher us past the mob, as camera operators shouted David's name. They clearly knew him, or at least knew of him. I looked up at him as he escorted me up the stairs, his arm wrapped firmly around me.

Inside, the mood was celebratory and light and the lobby was full of beautiful people. The women were all in floor length gowns and glittering jewelry. Thank God David knew what to dress me in. I would have shown up in entirely the wrong thing. I caught several approving glances as I walked with David. I also received a few ice cold stares, but I figured out those were more related to the person I was with, rather than my glittering dress.

Sorry ladies, he's mine, I thought to myself. I was suddenly very proud of my date—if only because of how handsome he was. I cajoled myself quickly afterward, Nice Sharp, real shallow.

People kept stopping David to say hello, which would lead to the mutual introductions of various dates, spouses, and girlfriends. David introduced me as none of those, but rather a clinical sounding, "Ms. Samantha Sharp," all the while keeping me close, his hand at the small of my back.

An older gentleman came by and engaged David in conversation about some resource opportunity. I stood there for a while, but after a few dull minutes I cut in to excuse myself to the restroom. He raised an eyebrow at me, but nodded.

"Don't go far," he commanded quietly, so only I could hear. I winked. He raised the eyebrow further as I turned away.

I skipped the restroom and instead cut over to the bar. I got a glass of champagne and lingered, watching the crowd. It was a truly beautiful affair, but it was awkward not knowing anyone. I took my phone out of my clutch and checked to see if I had any texts. Nothing. I sighed. What I would have given for a clever jibe from Curtis or a quick reassurance from Carrie at that moment. I sighed again and put the phone back inside.

"Enjoy him while you can," a husky voice intoned behind me.

I turned toward the voice and saw a tall brunette next to me. She wasn't just beautiful; she was exquisite. Model thin and with cheekbones that could cut ice. She was wearing a fitted black lace gown that looked like it was straight off a runway in Paris.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, calling on one of my grandmother's favorite expressions.

She looked at me and nodded her head across the room toward David.

"David Keith. Enjoy him while you can," she repeated. For a moment, I couldn't tell if she was trying to size me up or be my friend, but then I recognized something in her voice that was almost menacing or competitive.

"What do you mean?" I asked lightly, playing off her comments as I trolled for more information.

She shrugged. "Just that. Enjoy him while you can, because he never sticks around for long. He can't. It's like, programmed into his being."

I looked at her quizzically.

"Don't take it personally; it's just, like, a scientific fact. I'm Vanessa, by the way." She put her hand out to shake mine. "Girlfriend number 176."

"176?" I asked, and eyed her skeptically. But inside, I'm entirely thrown. I know Curtis said David dated a lot, but 176? I started to do mental calculations.

She caught me trying to process the math, and threw her head back and laughed. "Well no, not really, but you get my drift."

Suddenly a deep voice cut in.

"Vanessa." It was David. He joined us and quickly resumed his position cradling the small of my back. My body was greedy for the touch, and I leaned back into him. "Are you bothering Ms. Sharp?"

His nostrils flared a little. I could tell he was not pleased. The devil on my shoulder whispered: Winning!

"Just... introducing myself... David." Her words were slow and serpentine and suggested a familiarity that I was not comfortable with. I did not like her using his name. It was not hers. Not anymore, at least.

"Samantha, this is Vanessa. We dated once in college." Was that a trace of a southern accent? I hadn't heard that before.

"At Berkeley," she offered, as if it was some claim to intimacy.

"Oh," I said, understanding. College. That was a long time ago for David. I started to feel better, more confident. I smiled. Vanessa's expression soured ever so slightly.

The house lights flashed, indicating the performance was about to commence.

"Good-bye, Vanessa," he said curtly, and without waiting for a response he turned and ushered me away. I felt Vanessa's stare punch into my back as we walked away, but I didn't look back.

David led me down a narrow hallway, and we emerged in a private box situated on the side of the concert hall.

The concert hall was enormous. It was full of soft lighting and oddly shaped undulating walls, which I assumed did something for the acoustics. The orchestra was on stage, all dressed in black. It was probably the most elegant event I'd ever been to. Scratch that. It was definitely the most elegant event I'd ever been to.

"This is beautiful," I breathed, completely overwhelmed by the space.

David looked at me with a tender sweetness I hadn't seen before. It occurred to me that this was the first time we were out together, on his terms. Jenna had dragged him to the gallery, and I had a funny feeling that he followed her to Curtis's party just on the off-chance I would be there. It certainly wasn't his scene, not if this was the kind of thing he was used to doing.

"I hope you like the program tonight. The conductor tonight is visiting from London, and he's widely regarded as the top conductor in the world right now."

We took our seats, and I glanced around our private little space. Dirty thoughts floated through my head, but I banished them when I realized we were effectively on show to the rest of the hall. The lights went down. He wrapped his arm possessively around my shoulder, and I wondered if our placement was no accident. By sitting here, he was effectively broadcasting me to everyone in the hall. I wondered how many other ex-girlfriends were in the audience? Would I be one of them soon? Was I being a fool, gallivanting around with someone who had a reputation as a heartbreaker? Would I end up like Vanessa in another week—a sad grumpy shadow of myself, hell-bent on chiding new girlfriends who are overconfident in their ability to lasso this dark horse?

I glanced surreptitiously over at David. He was lost to the music. I decided to put aside my worries for the evening as I sipped my champagne. Maybe I would regret this man, but I would not regret enjoying myself. I leaned into him, and drank up his scent of soap and aftershave. Yes, this was fine, for the moment.

At intermission, the audience erupted into applause. I had no basis for comparison, but judging by audience reaction, this was clearly an excellent performance. David turned to me as the crowd started to leave the concert hall.

"What do you think so far?"

"It's awesome. I love it," I said.

"Mmm," he murmured approvingly. He turned his focus to my body, surveying it with those piercing eyes. He reached out and slid his hand into the slit of my dress. He caressed my thigh and leaned in to kiss me on my neck, inhaling deeply.

"Samantha, do you know how beautiful you are?" he said quietly. He reached up and pulled my face toward his and looked longingly at my mouth. "Do you know the effect you have on me?" His voice was quiet, but filled with fire and lust.

My whole body tingled back to life. My skin was charged, pricking—reacting to his bold masculinity. I arched my back a little, pushing my tender breasts forward, and my hips rocked gently back and forth, begging for his touch to move up, to the space between my thighs. If he wanted me here, now, in front of the entire hall I was fine with it. I didn't care, I just needed him. I needed a sweet release from this cruel torment. But he kept his hand on my thigh, unwavering—teasing me, torturing me. He leaned in and nibbled on my neck.

"I need to have you, Samantha." He whispered.

It took all my might to tease him back. "You haven't even bought me dinner yet."

"Are you hungry?"

He wasn't talking about food.

"Yes," I whispered and moved my legs so that his hand could slip a little deeper into the space between my thighs. "Does this place have a pantry?" He pulled back, and his eyes flashed, that familiar electricity pulsing between us. His mouth curled up into a slight smile.

"Come," he barked and whisked me out of my seat. We rushed down the hall and out through the crowd. I followed him, my whole body revving with greedy, carnal need. David politely parted the sea of people, while he pulled me along, keeping me close, protecting me.

"David!" A jolly voice stopped David in his tracks. He pulled me in next to him.

"Robert," David said politely. "Good to see you. How is Marie?"

Why has he stopped? Who is this Robert? My whole body heaved. I needed a release, and waiting was too much. I took a deep breath.

"Marie is fine. She is in Florida visiting her sister, so I'm here with Will and Katherine tonight." He gestured toward a crowd of people on the far side of the room. "Listen, I just wanted to thank you for your generous donation."

Donation? Ah. Of course. Mr. Moneybags was a philanthropist, too. A little ember of pride glowed within me.

"Of course, Robert. You know why UCSF means so much to me. I was just so pleased to be able to support the project."

Robert beamed. "Well, I don't want to keep you from your evening." He smiled, glancing at me. "I'll see you at the board meeting in two weeks?"

"Indeed, sir," David replied, and the two shook hands. As soon as he was gone, David turned back to me. "My apologies, Ms. Sharp."

"Indeed, Mr. Keith," I teased back, daring him with my eyes.

We resumed our dash for the car.

~

The ride back to his place was quick. Thank God. We didn't touch each other the whole way, which was good, because I didn't think I'd be able to stop once we started. The wait itself was erotic as I stole glances at David from my side of the car. He'd easily been the sexiest man at the entire event. After ten excruciating minutes, Thomas dropped us off at the front of the building, and we flew inside, past the valet, the bellman, and security. Getting into the last elevator, David ran a key card along a black panel before punching a single button marked "P." Turning around, his eyes dark with desire, fixed on mine. My knees wobbled, and I leaned back against the elevator wall for support. The elevator ride felt like an eternity. We surveyed each other. David looked so good, dressed to the nines. So neat and elegant. It made me want to mess him up. He looked me over, and I wondered if he could see my heart beating below the swell of my breasts. The anticipation was painfully sweet, both of us knowing full well what was coming, and I reveled in it as we rocketed toward the top floor. Finally, a bell rung, and the doors parted directly into his apartment.

Inside, he pulled me down a hallway toward his bedroom.

"I suppose I should offer you something to drink."

"I suppose so."

He stopped and looked back at me. "Do you want something to drink?"

I shook my head gently.

He managed to keep his mouth in a thin line, but I could tell a fire had erupted behind his eyes. We resumed our rush down the hall.

In the bedroom, the lights were dim. He didn't touch me, and instead I stood by the bed as he took off his tuxedo, keeping eye contact with me the whole time.

First came the bow tie. Oh, God, that bow tie. He placed it on the dresser nearby. Then he took off his cufflinks one at a time and added them to the bowtie. The irony was that this suit that looked so good on, took forever to get off. With each button on the shirt I felt myself getting warmer and warmer. By the time he had peeled off the shirt, and exposed his taut torso, I felt like I was going to burst into flames. His countenance was unwavering; his gaze fixed on me. Finally he was naked, save for a pair of black boxer briefs.

"Turn around," he ordered. I followed his directions and turned around so that he could unzip me. He came up behind me and grasped my hips and started kissing my neck softly. I could feel his length against my ass, and I ground into it a bit, impressed with its strength. He pulled down the dress zipper slowly, torturing me. Once it was down, he turned me around to face him again, and with one quick movement, he tugged it off, leaving a pool of sparkles around my ankles.

"Leave the heels on," he whispered lasciviously in my ear, as he eased me down onto the bed. I complied, silently, moving my mouth to his. He kissed me softly at first and then deeply, exploring my mouth as if he owned it.

His hands traced the delicate outline of the bra he'd bought for me, and then pulled my breasts free of the cups. He skimmed my hard nipples with the pads of his thumbs.

"Great fucking tits," he murmured.

My hips rocked against him. He instinctually understood what I wanted and moved one hand to the nape of my neck and the other toward the top of my thighs. Sliding his hand between my legs, he pressed on me lightly with the tips of his fingers.

I groaned. More my body begged.

I pressed myself into him. He moved faster.

Oh God, don't stop.

But then he did. He moved his hand deeper, slipping it under my soaking wet lace panties, parting the folds of my flesh.

"Samantha," he said, "you are so wet." He was obviously pleased. I couldn't look at him. "Do I make you wet?"

"Mmmhmm," was all I could say. I might have been blushing. My secret was that I'd been wet all day for him. Just the thought of him was enough. He slipped one, then two fingers inside me. My hips rocked against him.

"Samantha, I need to fuck you."

"Yes, please." I breathed, my eyes closed shut in a state of frenzied desire. I couldn't stand it anymore.

"But not yet."

What? No! Why not? I opened my eyes. My head was swimming, lost in a sea of pleasure.

He moved off the bed and pulled me so that my ass was on the edge. Slipping off my panties, he hooked my legs over his shoulders and started to kiss my thighs. Uh, oh. I knew what was coming, and it made me nervous. I hadn't done this before.

His mouth moved slowly but methodically toward my sex and something began to tremble inside me. Before I knew it, his lips and tongue were on me, tasting me slowly and deliberately. Then he went to work, licking and sucking at my cleft. My back arched, and I pressed back against the sublime pressure, amplifying it. My body was craving it.

He paused for a moment. "You taste so good, Samantha." I couldn't even look at him. He went back to work, and I proceeded to lose myself in the sensation. My clit became hot and throbbed with delight. The long, smooth strokes gave way to shorter and faster licks, and I could tell I was about to climax. My thighs tightened, and my stomach clenched. I pulled my shoulders up and looked down at him. I was heavy with longing. Please don't stop, not now.

"Keep going," I pant. My eyes locked on his as his face was half buried in my sex. It was the most erotic sensation I've ever felt. I was building and climbing higher and higher, up and up, and then all of a sudden my hips jerked and tremors poured out from inside me and I started to tear apart from the inside out.

"Oh," I groaned softly, falling back into the bed, my body throbbing, thick with pleasure. My head was whirling.

I laid there, panting for a moment, as David climbed up next to me.

"Where'd you learn that," I gasped, catching my breath.

"You are so fucking sexy when you come, Samantha," he responded with a small chuckle, not answering the question. He pulled himself back onto the bed and took my breast in his hand and massaged it as he looked at me. Then he adjusted himself, moving closer to me, and I felt his length inside his boxers, pushing up against me. I decided I needed to have him again, so I pushed his boxers off, letting his manhood spring forth. Damn. It was hot, thick, and throbbing. I pushed my thigh against it. Yes, I was ready for more.

"Tsk tsk. Not yet, Samantha."

I moaned, confused. What? Why was he making me wait?

He reached down and pushed my legs open and ran his finger along the lips of my bare sex, teasing me as he slid back and forth against the wetness. I tried to angle my hips to get some sweet friction, but he dodged me, skimming me over and over. He circled slowly and dipped his fingers into me, testing my tolerance. I cried out with pleasure.

"God, you are so responsive, Samantha."

He brought his fingers toward the front of my sex and started to circle leisurely around my clit. He caressed the swollen nub with smooth slow strokes, and I started to quiver with arousal. He circled inward, landing on my clit, and finally I was set free. Gently and easily, my toes curled against my high heels as his touch sent me into a rolling orgasm that managed to eclipse my vision for several minutes.

I laid on the bed as David watched me find my way back down from my climax. I spent a few moments recovering and then turned to him. His manhood was heavy, and I found myself moving toward it, pushing him against me.

David took my cue and pulled himself up over me as I spread my legs. Bracing himself with one powerful arm, he used the other to angle his approach. I felt the head find its way, and he looked down at me, as if to ask permission.

"You are so beautiful, Samantha."

I reached up to kiss him. I had never wanted something more than I did right now. I needed to feel all of him. I was craving it.

He saved me and slid all the way inside. It felt so good, so full. His size pushed me to my limits, but I loved it. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him in further, taking all of him.

"God, you are so tight," he grunted, clearly approving as he started moving his hips back and forth. He pulled me with him, and then against him, varying the sensation.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his voice thick with desire. I was lost again, surfing the waves of carnal delight, building and building with each passing moment. I could feel his decadent length growing even larger. It was rubbing something inside of me that made me tingle down through my toes. It filled me past my breaking point.

"I'm going to come," I whispered, and a moment later my hips twitched to attention and my sex convulsed with pleasure. He was brought him to the brink of orgasm, and I felt hot liquid shoot inside me. We exploded together, our voices crying out, guttural with pleasure. We held in the same position for a moment, quivering in the afterglow, and then collapsed onto the bed together, in each other's arms.

We laid still for a few minutes, neither one of us wanting to be the first to disturb the quiet. Our breathing slowly returned to normal, and eventually I finally decided to break the silence.

"That was really nice," I said, without looking at him. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked over me, surveying my breasts and navel.

"Indeed," he agreed quietly, rubbing his face with one hand.

"I'm going to use the bathroom," I tried to say in a dainty, girlish way, but the attempt was thwarted by my husky post-orgasm voice. I slipped off my heels, impressed that they had stayed on this whole time.

"Of course. There is a robe in there, if you would like. Not that I'd prefer you use it," he quipped, his tone mischievousness.

I flashed him a flirty smile and an eye roll as I snatched my discarded panties from the floor. I closed the bathroom door and walked toward the sink. The cool marble tile felt amazing beneath my feet. I didn't need to use the bathroom, but I did want to take a few moments to collect myself. I looked in the mirror, and I couldn't help but break into a smile. Who was this staring back at me? My hair was a mess, the neat bun now hopelessly askew, tendrils falling everywhere. My cheeks had a healthy flush going, but my mascara was smudged, and I smelled like sex. I took the pins out of my bun and let the brunette locks fall down around my shoulders in waves. In lieu of actual clothing, it provided some temporary modesty. I washed my hands but decided against taking a shower. I liked smelling like him. I took a tissue and wet it with the faucet and ran it under my eyes. Better. I glanced around me and spied a closet on the far side of the bathroom. Opening it, I found a set of white terry cloth robes. I took one and shrugged it on, fastening the belt tightly.

When I returned to the bedroom, David was upright in bed, dressed in his own matching white terry cloth robe, checking his phone. He put the phone on the nightstand and turned toward me.

"Is one of your companies in the robe business?" I joked, climbing into the huge bed.

"My companies?" He chuckled. "You've been doing your homework, Ms. Sharp."

"Eh, just a little internet research"

"I see." Was he egging me on?

"I wanted to make sure you weren't a psychopath," I explained, sweetly.

"And what else did you find out, Ms. Sharp?" he looked at me with lightness in his eyes. I think he was amused.

"Just that you run a very successful venture capital company, and that you have a reputation as quite the ladies' man..." I trailed off, indicating that perhaps he could address the rumors. He looked at me hard, flirting with his eyes.

"Well, I do in fact own a very successful venture capital company. And as far as the women, I enjoy them, present company especially."

"Hmmmmm," I replied slowly, furrowing my brow. I gave him a confident stare. "Are you always this slick?"

"Slick?"

He looked hurt. Or, wait, was he mocking me? I couldn't tell. Did I offend him? I decided to clarify.

"I mean, you know, with all the ladies you bring back here. You somehow knew that my dress was going to end up on the floor of your bedroom tonight, and look," I gestured to the pool of sequins, "there it is. You clearly have your routine down, not that I'm complaining..." I trailed off.

His eyes darkened, and his smile faded into a thin line. I stiffened. Crap, was that too far? I didn't mean to insult him— I thought most man-whores were pretty smug in their status.

He looked away and took a deep breath.

Shit, he is mad. I fucked this up. Way to go, Sharp. You just had the best fucking sex of your life with a hot man-god, and now you've blown it. A pit opened in my stomach. I took a deep breath and braced myself.

He turned back to me.

"You seem to have me all figured out, don't you Ms. Sharp?" His tone was cool and neutral. I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Don't I?" I tried to project confidence, but I was trembling inside. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear what was next, but I knew I needed to know. Even if it confirmed what I'd been trying to ignore. If I was going out, at least I was going out guns blazing.

"Well, no, Ms. Sharp." He stood up and slipped on his boxers before he continued. "Do I go on dates with a lot of women? Yes. In my line of work, I have a variety of social engagements that I must attend as part of my job, and a date is often foisted upon me. Being single and straight in this city also means I am often at the receiving end of every mother and grandmother with a single daughter. Now, I am a polite man, and unattached, so I have very few good reasons to refuse a date. So, yes, I do go on a lot of dates. But those dates are different than what is going on here. This," he gestured to the space between us, "in case you haven't noticed, Samantha, is electric."

My heart flew, and I tried desperately to keep a grin from taking over my whole face. He continued.

"Just so we are clear, I do also have sex with some of my dates, kill me, I'm a man. I have needs." He shrugged his shoulders and sat back on the bed. "But I never bring them here."

His tone wasn't angry, but he was more animated than I'd seen him. I didn't know what to say. We sat there for a moment, staring at the foot of the bed.

"Did you know I was going to be at Curtis's party?" I asked quietly. I stole a glance at him from the corner of my eye. I had to know.

The corners of his mouth perked up and a devilishness returned to his eyes.

I knew it. I didn't know it until now, but I knew it all along. It was the confirmation I needed.

"Let me be clear, Samantha, it took all my strength to not sleep with you that night I dropped you off at your studio. And I was willing to wait longer if you had wanted me to, but you were sending off fuck-me signals like crazy."

"I was sending signals?" I looked at him, amazed at his assessment of the situation. "You bee-lined right for me at the party. And told me you wanted to fuck me."

"Can you blame me?"

"Well ..."

"I was just being honest," he said, trying to repress a grin.

"I like honesty." I leaned in, locking eyes with him, smiling and hoping he understood the double entendre.

The silence dripped with sexual tension, which was then interrupted by the growling of my stomach. Shit, again? How embarrassing.

"Sorry!" I said, quickly bringing my hands to cover my stomach.

David chuckled. "That's okay. I think we both could use some sustenance." He picked up his phone. "Do you like raw food? I know a great place that delivers."

I cocked my head at him. "Seriously?"

"What?" He looked up at me.

"You are not seriously craving kale and tofu in the middle of the night."

"Tofu isn't raw, Ms. Sharp."

"Whatever, Mr. Keith. Come on, live a little." I leaned forward letting my robe slip open just a little. "A little illicit late night salt and fat is good for the soul."

"Hmm." He furrowed his brow as he scrolled through the contacts on his phone. "There is a Chinese place around the corner."

"Now you're talking." And I laid back into the pillows as he called in an order.

Less than twenty minutes later, his phone buzzed.

"Food is here. Care to join me for dinner?" He stood and offered his hand, which I took, gratefully.

We held hands as we padded down the hall barefoot to the kitchen. I couldn't believe I had just been there that morning. It felt like forever ago. The space looked so different at night, the city lights twinkling below. The table was set with plates, napkins, and chopsticks, and white and red boxes were scattered in the middle. I settled in and David sat down too, pulling his chair in close to mine.

I dished some broccoli and beef onto my plate and passed the box to David. Somehow this felt so easy, so right. I scooped a little brown rice out of a carton, drizzled it with soy sauce, and licked an errant drop off my finger. The salt was a welcome replenishment, and I realized just how ravenous I was. While I chowed down, David ate slowly and deliberately, spending an inordinate amount of time looking at me. I tried to make conversation between bites.

"So I read this other article about you online."

He gave me a skeptical look.

"I told you before; I was just doing my homework."

"I suppose that's only fair." An amused smile crept up on his lips.

"What do you mean?"

"You think you're the only one who has ever researched the person they were seeing?"

I looked at him puzzled for a beat, and then I started to feel suspicious.

"Wait, what exactly did you do?"

"Whoa, whoa, Samantha, nothing crazy. Calm down. My security team runs a background check on anyone I spend a large amount of time with."

My heart leapt. He had been planning on spending a large amount of time with me? I mean, that's what he said, right? I knew I was supposed to feel violated, but I was excited.

"Mmmph," I grunted, trying to feign anger. "I see."

"So what did you learn about me, Ms. Sharp? From the article?"

"Just a little about your company." I looked down at my plate. "And that you made your initial money through gambling." I peeked up at him, sideways, trying to gauge his reaction.

He didn't flinch and instead shrugged his shoulders. "Well, that's true. I studied the principles behind the table games and went to Las Vegas with five hundred dollars and came back with a lot more." He took a bite of food and chewed thoughtfully. "But I guess it's all the same, though, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"My business. Venture capital. It's gambling. You take ideas and the seeds of small companies and add a lot of funding. But you are never one hundred percent sure of the outcome."

"I guess so." Hmm. David, the gambler. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I decided to change the subject.

"That man tonight, Robert? He seemed very appreciative of you."

"They appreciate my money." He smiled and brought a hand up to play with my hair.

"You have lovely hair, Samantha."

He is trying to distract me.

"Thank you." I said, not taking the bait. "It's good of you to donate to a hospital."

"It's a very important cause to me." His words were vague but full of meaning. He reached for a carton of noodles.

"Why is that?" I asked carefully, sensing that this was an area I should tread lightly. But I wanted to know more about him; hell, I wanted to know everything about him. I looked at him, and urged him on with my eyes.

"UCSF is one of the leading cancer treatment centers." He paused and fixed his gaze on the space above my head. "They took very good care of my mother, while she was dying," he finished quietly.

Whoa. I didn't know what to say. He hadn't volunteered much about himself up until now. And this was not something small either. In a way, I was shocked. I had just assumed someone like him would have had an upbringing that was flawless and without strife.

"I'm so sorry," I offered quietly. "How old were you when she passed away?"

"Ten." His voice shrunk so much it almost disappeared. He held his chopsticks still and moved his eyes to the dark window.

My heart died a little for him. For a child to lose their mother is heartbreaking at any age, but I pictured a young little David, and I felt the sadness in his voice.

"Was this your birth mother?" I asked, remembering that he was adopted.

"No, this was my adoptive mother." He wasn't looking at me. His posture was still strong, but he appeared different, more vulnerable. He continued to stare out the window into the dark, and this time, I didn't try to steal his gaze. The moment was too intimate, like a confessional chamber at church. But I pushed on, gently, desperate to learn more about this enigmatic man.

"Can I ask what happened to your birth mother?"

"She was a single mom. We were in a bad car accident when I was five. Guy fell asleep at the wheel and crossed over the median." He paused and looked down at his plate of food. "I lived, she died."

I let out a little gasp, and listened quietly as he unraveled in a very matter-of-factly way.

"I lived in Louisiana at the time, and there were three nurses on my floor when I was in the ICU. Everyone knew I was an orphan. One of the nurses and her husband had been trying to conceive for years with no luck. She had issues with her ovaries. So they adopted me. We spent one more year in Louisiana, before moving to California so my dad could become chief of surgery at UCSF."

"But if your mother couldn't have kids, what about...?" I trailed off, hoping that my questions weren't too pointed.

"Jenna was a surprise. And so was Jake a couple years later." A smile started to sneak onto his face. "I remember my parents both being so happy." He sighed.

I kept quiet, hoping he would continue.

"The cancer came quickly. Three months, and she was gone." He picked up his chopsticks, paused, and put them back down.

"My God." My heart shattered. For a moment, I could see past the confident, masculine exterior and into the soul of a young boy. A boy left behind by his mother, not once, but twice. Life should not be so cruel to a child. I looked up at him, and wanted him now more than ever. He gazed into my eyes, the normal blaze replaced with deep, broken passageways. I wanted to explore them, heal them. I leaned in to him gently and put his hand in mine.

"Jenna was three, and Jake was just a baby. I'm the only one who really remembers her."

"You must miss them both."

"I do. Every day." He sat up straight in his chair and picked up his chopsticks, and refocused his eyes on mine. "This is all rather heavy for a first date, isn't it? How about you, Samantha? I've shared something about me, but what I'd really like to talk about is you."

I looked at him, perplexed. Really? You can just drop the subject of your dead mother like that? This guy sure was a puzzle. I swallowed

"What would you like to know?" I asked, meeting his request. I wasn't sure what I could tell him that would be of interest. Truth be told, my life was pretty humdrum, up until about two days ago. Until then, it would have barely registered on the Richter Scale.

"Everything," he said, his eyes trained on me.

"You already ran a background check." I pushed back. How much did he already know about me, I wondered?

"That was just to cross things off the list. What I want to know, what I am really interested in, Samantha, is what the rest of you is made of."

I wasn't sure where to start, so I rattled off the standard stats, hometown (Saratoga), college (UC Berkeley, Art History major). He listened intently, fixed on me. When I started to talk about my family, a tinge of guilt and nervousness took over.

"My mom is a retired preschool teacher and my dad is an aerospace engineer, and works at the NASA Ames Research Center."

"Do you get along?"

"We do." I couldn't help but smile. My parents gave me a pretty idyllic childhood. "My mom always pushed me academically, but I'm thankful for that. My dad is more low-key. They balance each other out."

He sat back in his seat, smiling.

"Mmm. I'd like to meet them some day."

What the heck? Did David Keith just say he'd like to meet my parents? This guy sure moved quickly. I was not sure what to say, but he saved me by hammering me with more questions.

"Siblings?"

"I have a younger sister, Erin. She has Down Syndrome, but she is the sweetest. She lives with my parents and goes to a special school for adult students with disabilities."

David smiled, so I continued.

"She cracks me up. Lately she's been on a word kick. Actually, do you know what consecotaleophobia is?"

"What?"

I held up my utensils. "Fear of chopsticks."

"I'm glad I don't have that phobia."

"Me neither." I stuffed some noodles into my mouth. "Because I like Chinese food too much."

David cracked up. Seeing him laugh was rare and quite a treat.

"How long have you worked at the gallery?"

"About six months. Curtis hired me right after I graduated last June. I had been an intern for about three months before that."

"You must be good at what you do. How do you like it?"

I paused. "Yeah, mostly. I love Curtis, and Eve is sweet. The sales part, not so much. Sometimes I want to do more, something with real meaning. I was actually a sociology major before I switched to Art History."

David wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I see. So, what is the goal? To own your own gallery? Or do you want to do something else?"

This conversation suddenly felt like I was explaining myself to my parents.

"Maybe. I'm not sure." It was true. I had always been very ambitious, and to be honest, this was one of the first times in my life I wasn't absolutely sure which direction I was headed. "The gallery scene is very competitive. I'm just beginning to explore the possibilities. For now, the part time work is good, because I can volunteer and have time for other things. Actually, on Monday, I'm having a meeting with the owner of the Carmichael Gallery; I met him last Thursday at the opening. I don't know what it will lead to, but I figure it is good to be open to possibilities."

David's eyes darkened.

"Is that the man you were talking to when we met?"

"You mean when you staged the intervention?" I chuckled. "Yes, that was Evan Carmichael."

"I don't like him."

"Do you know him?" It was starting to seem like David knew most of the Bay Area.

"Yes. No," he paused, "I know of him." He continued, "I've just heard rumors."

"And we both know how accurate rumors can be," I teased him, as we were both keenly aware of our conversation an hour before. "He seems normal enough. Besides, it's just coffee."

"Just be careful, Samantha." His face got serious. "I'm not normally the jealous type, but something about you is bringing out new sides of me."

# Chapter 7

I woke up in darkness. Huge, heavy blackout drapes shielded the floor to ceiling windows in David's bedroom. Reveling in the feeling of our warm, bare bodies together, I laid there for a few moments, spooning with him. Was he a spooner, or was this just because he was asleep? The few guys I'd slept with hadn't been, and I was beginning to think guys who liked to spoon were a myth. Keeping still, I reached out and was just able to reach my clutch on the nightstand. I took out my phone to check the time. It was nine, and I was supposed to meet Carrie for brunch at 10:30 in Berkeley.

Shit, I groaned inwardly. I guess this means I have to get up.

I moved slowly, gently unwinding myself from David, and walked over to the windows. I was surprised to find that I was still sore. I smiled at the memory of last night and tugged open the drapes just enough to peek outside. Sunlight streamed in and David roused.

"Hey," he said softly, rubbing his eyes. "Come back here." He beckoned me to return to the bed.

I practically galloped back and flung myself on top of the covers.

He reached over to the nightstand and pulled on a pair of dark-framed glasses.

Oh. My. God. I didn't think he could look any sexier, but those frames gave him a boyish, bookish quality that I found hard to resist.

"Good morning," I greeted him with a peck on the forehead. "I didn't know you wore glasses." He pulled me down next to him and wrapped his arms around me.

Damn, he was sexy in the morning. His dark locks were matted and sticking out in the most delicious bedhead ever. He was naked except for his boxer briefs, which were not doing a very good job at disguising his morning erection. His torso was glorious, strong, and taut. The outlines of his stomach muscles and hip flexors pointed down, leading my eyes to an area currently covered in fabric. I reached out and caressed what was mine.

"Good morning to you, Samantha. Someone is perky this morning." He reached up and ran his hands through his bedhead. "I normally wear contacts. I'm blind as a bat without them. What do you think?" he replied with a turn of his head.

"Very sexy," I purred. "You should wear those next time."

"Next time what?" He reached out with a flourish and rolled over me, covering us in a sheet, cocooning us together. He pulled me on top of him.

The scene echoed last night, and my body roared to life. I straddled him and rocked my hips, grinding on him. He responded, sensing my urge, and gently stroked my rear. "You know you have a fine ass, Samantha."

I chewed on my lip a little before responding. "Thank you."

His hands worked their way down to his thighs, and he freed his length from his boxers. I wanted it inside me. David moved his hand toward my sex, and stroked the length of it, slowly, before plunging two fingers into me.

"Always ready, are we, Ms. Sharp?" he teased me, marveling at my wetness.

"Only for you." I stared down at him. He smiled, and a darkness overtook his eyes. Like he was possessed. Maybe I was, too. I didn't care. I wanted this man. I needed him. I felt like the building could be on fire and I would stay right here with him until the smoke overcame me.

He pulled me up by the hips and then slowly lowered me onto his cock. A glorious fullness took over. I shifted a bit to accommodate his size and once I settled he started to rock his hips, slowly bouncing me up and down. He looked at me through his frames, and my sex clenched around him.

"Let me see you, Samantha." Doing as commanded, I sat back on my heels, balancing on top of him. I was fully exposed, naked, and his eyes were locked on mine, my breasts bouncing with each thrust. I wanted all of him, as deep as he could go. I leaned back, showcasing my tits and letting my dark hair cascade down my back. I moaned, and he lengthened inside of me, pushing me to the limit.

"Dammit, Samantha, you are so hot," he grunted, his voice throaty and animalistic.

Having him so totally and completely enthralled by me sent me over the edge, and I started to come. My insides tightened, and my hips convulsed, and I braced myself by holding onto the headboard. My sex pulsed around him as I moaned with pleasure. The sensation brought David to orgasm too.

"Fuck," he sputtered, and he held my hips to his and rocketed into me, his eyes rolling back into his head.

After the last thrusts were over, I peeled myself off of him and laid by his side, settling in post-coital bliss.

He exhaled and then looked over at me, brushing a tendril of hair out of my face.

"I don't know what I am going to do," he said gently.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a business man, Samantha. I usually work seventy hour weeks. But now it seems I had to go and get addicted to you. I might just have to retire and make you a kept woman."

"Ha, not so fast. I'm busy too, you know." I said, my feminist upbringing feeling empowered after the romp in the sack.

"Are you now?" he countered, his eyebrow arching up over his glasses.

"I am. In fact I am supposed to get brunch with Carrie this morning."

"Brunch? How very society of you." He teased.

I blushed. "Hush. I just meant I have obligations. A social life is nothing to be ashamed of. Don't you have friends?"

He ignored my question. "Why don't you have her over here? Hilde can make something." He smiled lasciviously.

"No way. I'm not bringing my best friend to some strange man's apartment for brunch. She would feel like a total third wheel!" I exclaimed. Was he serious? He couldn't be serious.

"Strange man?"

I shook my head. "You know what I mean. Strange to her."

"Very well, Samantha," he resigned. "I suppose I can occupy myself for a few hours."

"It will have to be more than a few hours. I am also having dinner with my landlords tonight, and then I have that meeting on Monday morning."

His forehead pinched together.

"So when do I get to see you again?"

He wanted to see me again? It was stupid, but my insides flipped and somersaulted. I finally admitted a big part of me was hesitant to expect much, given his reputation.

"Monday night."

"It's a date." Now that the business negotiation was done, he got off the bed, and wrapped himself in a robe. "I suppose I do have a meeting in New York at eight a.m. tomorrow, anyway."

That little twerp. I made a face at him. He had been making feel all guilty about leaving when all the while he had other obligations, too!

"Would you like to take a shower?" he asked innocently.

I did. I couldn't show up at brunch smelling of sex. Carrie would never stop teasing me.

"That would be great," and then I remembered. "Shit."

"What?"

"All I have to wear is the dress." I motioned to the pool of sequins, still at the end of his bed. I imagined the look on Carrie's face if I strode into the restaurant in a full-length gown.

"Check the nightstand drawers." He indicated the large bedside table with a nod of his head. "I'm going to make some coffee. Cream right?"

"Yes, please."

I rolled over and pulled open one of the drawers of the large wooden nightstand. Inside were neatly folded stacks of brand-new clothing, tags still attached. A few pairs of denim, a printed skirt, blouses and sweaters in a variety of colors and tones. I pulled open the drawer above. Underwear—lacy bras and panties. All in my size. A flood of questions came over me.

When did he buy all this? At the same time he purchased my white dress? That would have been pretty presumptuous. I wanted to be mad, and knew I should be mad, but then my girlish impulses took over.

New clothes!

Thank God. Saved from a walk of shame. It was really quite... considerate, in a way.

I removed a pair of dark jeans, a soft blue sweater and some fresh underthings from the drawers and headed to the bathroom. I turned the stainless steel knob in the shower and let the water get warm. Rummaging through the vanity drawers, I found a brush and managed to detangle my severe case of bedhead, before stepping into the mammoth shower. Inside the glass doors, the warmth felt so good on my sore muscles. I let the water run over me for a good while and then remembered that I had a date at 10:30. I shampooed, skipped the conditioner, and used an expensive-looking body wash that smelled like David.

After the shower, I dried and dressed, grabbing the jeans and the sweater. They fit me perfectly, and the muted blue color really brought out my eyes.

I walked out into the bedroom, and David was still gone. I went over to his closet, guessing at what I might find. Yep. On one of the shelves was a set of shoes. Some black flats and a pair of cream-colored leather pumps. I knew they'd be my size. I pulled on the flats, shoved my wallet and lip-gloss into my pocket and looked in the mirror.

Looking sharp, Sharp! I smiled and wandered down the hall to find David.

~

Back in the East Bay, Thomas let me off in front of the restaurant. I was meeting Carrie for brunch at our usual spot in Berkeley. Rick & Ann's is a homey restaurant near the foot of the Claremont Hotel. The street was lined with beautiful maples, which were only now turning color in our temperate climate.

I greeted the hostess and made my way in, looking for Carrie. I spied her at a far table against the back windows. As I approached, I realized she was deep in conversation with someone.

"Hello!" I chirped, alerting them to my presence as I came up to the table.

"Sammie!" Carrie exclaimed and leapt up to hug me. Someone was perky this morning. "Sammie, I want you to meet someone. This is Derek." A slim guy with dark blue-black skin, maybe twenty-three, twenty-four stood up and offered his hand. He was wearing slim black jeans, black high tops, and a black hoodie and felt vaguely familiar.

"It's nice to officially meet you, Sam." His smile was pleasant, but I had to laugh: Carrie couldn't take her eyes off him.

"I'm sorry. I don't think Carrie has mentioned you before." I looked to Carrie and raised one eyebrow. I didn't know this guy from Adam.

"Sam, I met Derek at Curtis's house. On Friday. Or was it Saturday?" She turned and grinned at Derek.

"It was Saturday," he clarified, grinning back. "We met at breakfast."

"Oh. Cool. That must be why you look familiar," I surmised.

"Derek can't stay Sam; he was just dropping me off."

"Are you sure?" I asked, trying to be polite and interested in my best friend's new boy-toy, even though I really wanted to get her to myself. I needed a second opinion on my current predicament.

"Yeah, I gotta study." He turned to Carrie and gave her a peck on the lips "See you tomorrow?"

"Text me," she said, her eyes full of stars. Oh, she was crushing hard on this guy.

"Will do. Sam, nice meeting you." He gave me a nod and then turned on his heel and left.

Once he was gone, I turned to Carrie.

"Study?" I teased.

"For your information, he is a graduate student in Psychology at Berkeley." She grinned at me.

"Huh. Cool. He seems young for that."

"The word you are looking for is youthful. That's what I like about him—his youthful spirit. He doesn't take life too seriously," she mused.

Oh yes, she had it bad for this boy. Although Carrie had a new crush practically every other week.

"That's a nice sweater. Is it new?" She pointed at my top from Mr. Moneybags.

"Uh, yeah. I got it while you were in L.A." It was a white lie. I didn't want to paint the wrong picture of David right off the bat.

The waitress came by, and we both ordered eggs benedict and coffee.

"You got it. I'll be right back with your coffee."

As soon as she was out of earshot, Carrie leaned in.

"Ok, lady, spill it. How was your date with David Keith?" I noticed she used his full name, like it was a brand name.

"It was... really nice," I said slowly. Suddenly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to pour my heart out to her. Or at least not all the gory details. I started to edit the conversation carefully.

"Did you end up going to the symphony?"

"Yes, I didn't know what to expect, but it was really lovely. The building was beautiful."

Carrie shot me a look.

"Sam, I don't care about the building. Tell me about what happened with David."

Oh shit. That's when I realized she didn't know. She didn't know we had already had sex in the pantry by the time we all sat down together at the party. She was expecting to hear an update on which base we were at. Not that I had rounded home again and again. I blushed. The waitress dropped off two mugs of coffee. I picked up the little metal pitcher on the table and added cream slowly, buying myself time.

"Sam, don't hold out on me."

"We slept together." I desperately tried to keep my face from breaking out in a full blown-grin, but I failed. Miserably.

"Sammie!" she exclaimed. A couple other diners glance over at us, and she lowered her voice. "You did not." She looked at me incredulously. Carrie knew, more than anyone, that I was not the sleep-with-someone-on-the-third-date type, let alone a sleep-with-someone-on-the-first-date type. In fact, I was normally more of a 'I'll sleep with you after we've been dating for three months type.' Hence, the number of sexual partners I'd had could be counted on two fingers.

"Well..."

"Samantha Sharp. I didn't know you had it in you." She looked stunned but quickly regained her composure, driven by a thirst for details. She leaned in closer, her voice low "Okay, so tell me everything. How was he? He's so hot, Sam, I bet he was fucking amazing, wasn't he?"

"Uh ... yeah." I grinned down at the table. I felt like a teenager, rather than a grown woman.

She finally sensed my hesitation and backed off slightly.

"Okay, okay. I won't give you the third degree, but when are you seeing him again?"

I pursed my lips. "Mmm, I think Monday night. I'm busy today and have to work most of Monday."

Carrie cocked her head. "Don't you have your family trip to Tahoe on Monday after work?"

Shit, she was right. How did that slip my mind? It was already the end of November, and my family goes up to Lake Tahoe each year during the week of Thanksgiving. We were planning on driving up on Monday night to avoid the traffic.

"Crap, you are right. I need to tell David." I was beyond sad to realize I wouldn't get to see him for almost a week. I know we only met a few days ago, but I felt like my body was already in sync with his bio-rhythms.

The waitress came over and set two plates heaped with food in front of us. I changed the subject to Derek, Carrie's new plaything, and she was properly distracted as I picked at my hash browns.

~

After a few caffeinated hours of girl talk, Carrie dropped me off at my. I wandered down the stone path to the backyard and found Clark and Leslie at work in the garden. Clark's tall frame was raking leaves into a huge pile, and Leslie was kneeling on the ground with a small shovel. They were both bundled up in thick fisherman sweaters, as the fog still hadn't yet broken. Leslie spied me as I entered the yard.

"Sammie. There you are," she said as she sat back on her heels.

"Hey, Leslie. Hey, Clark." I waved across the yard at Clark.

"We were looking for you. Still on for dinner tonight?"

"Definitely."

"Great. Clark is making coq au vin."

"That's great Leslie. I wouldn't miss Clark's coq au vin for the world."

"Wonderful. How about 6:30?"

"Sounds perfect. I'll come by then."

I retreated to my little studio. Shutting the door behind me, I closed the blinds and flung myself onto my bed. I needed a little time to rest and digest what was going on. But after a few minutes of quiet, I was hit with an urge to call my mom.

I pulled my phone out. Four missed text messages. One of them was from my sister, asking about what board games she should bring for the trip. Another was from Carrie, warning me that she was bringing a 'surprise' to brunch. So much for that. And the two others were from David. My heart stopped as I slid the screen to read them.

Thank you for the pleasure of your company last night.

What a gentleman.

I am looking forward to an encore on Monday night.

Thomas and I will pick you up from the gallery at five o'clock sharp.

Be ready.

Crap. He was not going to like it when I tell him I can't see him for a whole week. I braced myself and texted back.

I am so sorry, but I forgot I have to go to Tahoe with my family this week.

We leave Monday night.

Please don't hate me.

I waited for a reply. Nothing. I hoped he was on the other end, furrowing his brow, trying to figure out his next move. Still nothing. Maybe he was already on the plane to New York. I tried to calculate the time difference and gave up.

I pressed a few buttons on the screen. I heard the phone ring. A woman picked up.

"Hi Sammie!"

"Hey, Mom." I was so relieved to hear her voice; a tear launched itself down my cheek. Maybe I wasn't the worldly woman I had been pretending to be over the last few days. Maybe I couldn't handle this brand of romance. I couldn't confess everything to her, but it was good just to hear her voice. And I was grateful for the physical mask the telephone provided.

"Sam, I'm glad you called. Could you bring an extra baking sheet tomorrow? I was thinking it might be fun to have a cookie baking marathon, like in the old days. What do you think?"

"That would be great, Mom. Sounds fun." I just wanted to reach out and have her hug me. My mom was the best hugger in the whole world. I couldn't wait to see her and my dad tomorrow.

"Are we still on track to pick you up at the BART station?"

"I'll be on the 5:45 train."

"Perfect. We'll save room for your suitcase. What else is going on honey, any new boyfriends?" She always asked this. Normally I would groan and tell her to stop, but this time I was grateful.

"Well, actually, I have been seeing this one guy."

"Oh yeah?" She tried to play it cool, but I could practically hear her eyes light up over the phone. My mom had always been a little boy-crazy. "What's his name?"

"David Keith." I wondered if she would recognize it.

"That's a nice name. Don't think I know any Keiths," she said, referring of course to the populace of the small town I grew up in, which was also coincidently her reference point for the entire universe. "So, how'd you meet? What's he like?"

"We met at a show opening," I offered, selectively withholding the story about the wine. I didn't think my mother would appreciate the symbolism of a white dress ruined with red wine. "He's sweet. He took me to the symphony the other night."

"Oh that's very nice, dear. I'd like to go to the symphony sometime." I could tell she was jabbing my dad as she said it. I heard him call out.

"I'll take you to the symphony any time you want dear, as soon as you go snowboarding with me."

My parents might have a cabin in Lake Tahoe, but my mother had always been adamantly opposed to skiing and snowboarding, instead preferring to tend to the shopping, cooking, and homemaking while my sister and I joined him on the slopes.

"Sorry, dear." She said, coming back to me. "He sounds lovely. We should all get together for dinner sometime."

"Mmm. Yeah." I murmured into the phone. "Anyway, I was calling to see if there was anything else you needed me to bring tomorrow."

"I don't think so honey, the sheet is it. I think we've got everything else all set."

"Okay. See you tomorrow then?"

"5:45 at the BART station."

"Ok, see you then. Bye, Mom"

"Bye Sammie."

I felt a little better. I checked my phone. Still no text back from David.

I decided to go for a run and work off some of this excess worry. I stripped down and threw on my black running tights, a white Cal sweatshirt and located my running shoes under my bed. As I headed out the door, I nabbed some ear buds and my iPhone.

Out in the yard, I noticed Clark and Leslie were gone, and once I hit the sidewalk I broke into a brisk walk. I thumbed through my phone, looking for some good running music.

At the end of the block I started jogging just as a pop song started blasting in my ears. I ran hard, keeping mostly to the residential streets because they didn't have traffic lights to obey. Cutting through a shopping center, my endorphins started to flow, so I headed up toward the cemetery. I love running in the cemetery, it's so peaceful and beautiful. There also happens to be a big hill, and I charged up it, the beat of music pushing me on. At the top I stopped, and bent over to catch my breath. My chest pounding, I looked out, the hill providing a clear view of San Francisco. The days were much shorter now, and the sun was already starting to dip behind the city.

The fog had enveloped the city, and I stared into it, painfully aware that David was not there. I wondered what he was doing at that moment Was he thinking about me? I quickly tried to put the thought out of my head. I didn't want to be at the mercy of this man, not yet. After all, we barely knew each other. It was crazy and stupid and probably reckless, but this I couldn't deny: my body craved him.

I stayed there, watching the city, until the sun slipped below the horizon, and then I picked myself up off the ground and jogged back home, stopping at Market Hall to grab a bottle of wine.

As soon as I got in, my phone buzzed. I put down the bottle of wine and looked at my phone. It was David. My stomach turned with excitement.

I swallowed. "Hey." How does one greet their lover properly?

"My apologies, Samantha, I was in the air. I just got your text. Where are you?"

"It's okay. I just got back from a run."

"A run? It's after dark over there. Were you safe?" I could practically see his jaw tense over the phone.

"Yes, sir, I was safe. I have managed to make it to twenty-four years of age without any major incidents."

"Samantha, was your text serious or a joke? Are you really going away Monday night?"

Oops, back to business. I took a deep breath. "It was serious. I can't believe I forgot. We go up to Lake Tahoe every year for Thanksgiving. It's kind of a tradition."

The line was silent for what felt like a long time.

"Samantha, I am already going more than twenty-four hours without seeing you today. I don't think I can make it a whole week." I could feel his intense gaze through the phone.

"It's not a week. It's five days..." I trailed off weakly. Was he really going to break it off with me just because he couldn't wait five days? I wasn't sure what he wanted me to do about it—I mean, I wasn't going to abandon my family for a guy I'd just met, was I? No. Of course not. I braced myself for rejection.

"What if I came with you?"

Huh? It took me a second to digest what he was saying. He just said he wanted to come with me on a family vacation. Did he realize what he was proposing? Not just a vacation together, and not just a dinner with my parents, but an intensive, full-on family inquisition lasting multiple days. I paused.

"Um, it's up to you," I finally said. And really, it was. There would be plenty of room, thank God, because my parents would insist he sleep in a separate room. But I knew my mom and dad would be fine with it. Last year my dad brought his old college roommates to Thanksgiving. They've always been 'the more the merrier' types. But... did I want him to come?

"Do you want me to come?"

Fucking mind reader. Well, yes. I did. I could feel it all over my body. I could barely tolerate being without him for a few hours, let alone a few days. I could put up with a little family inquisition if it meant keeping him nearby.

"Yes."

"How are you getting up there?"

"My dad usually drives. They were going to pick me up at BART."

"Nonsense. We'll take the jet."

Jet? I rolled my eyes. Of course he has a jet.

"I get in tomorrow night at six. I can have Thomas pick you up from work and meet us at the airport."

Um, okay. I could just imagine all the crap my family was going to give me for this extravagance.

"Samantha? Are you there?"

"Sorry, yes, that sounds great."

"Samantha," Fuck, just the way he said my name made my blood run hot.

"Yes?" I could feel the electricity crackle through the phone.

"I miss you."

Whoa. Look who showed up: Mr. Tender.

"I miss you, too." I wanted to confess that my whole body was yearning, aching for him.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, Ms. Sharp." I could tell he was smiling over the phone.

"Have a safe trip back."

"Always, baby."

~

It was 6:30, so I headed over to the main house. It was dark by now, and the house glowed from within. I could smell the coq au vin as I traversed the deck and knocked gently on the back door. Leslie came over and let me in.

"Hey Sammie. Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for having me. This is for you," I said, handing the bottle of wine over the threshold.

"Pinot Noir. Delicious," she said, admiring the label. "Thank you, Sammie dear. Come on in." Leslie turned and headed down the short hall toward the kitchen. It was full of early 1900's character, complete with warm-colored woods and a vintage stove. "Clark, look what Sammie brought," she said, showing him the bottle.

"Thank you, Sammie" He was distracted, sampling something from an enamel pot on the stove with a wooden spoon. He put the spoon down and wiggled his white mustache.

"Oh, Sammie, I forgot to tell you. There was a moving van across the street today. I invited the new neighbor to join us tonight."

One half of the duplex across the street had had a for rent sign in the window for a while. I was glad to hear someone had finally moved in.

"That's great. A couple?"

"Just a single man. He seems sweet."

"Cool. It smells amazing in here, by the way." Clark and Leslie sure enjoyed the finer things in life. I was lucky to be at the receiving end.

"So how is the gallery, Sammie?" Leslie asked as she opened the wine and filled a couple of jelly jars halfway. "Didn't you have an opening last week?"

"Oh, yes. The opening went really well. Almost everything sold. Curtis is really happy."

"That's fantastic! Hey, will you help me put the silverware on the table?"

"Of course."

I was putting the final touches on the table when the doorbell rang. Leslie tended to the door while I lit the candles. I was blowing out a match when I heard footsteps come up behind me.

"Sam, this is Greg, our new neighbor."

I turned around. Huh. Greg was more attractive than I expected. He had a young face, but dark salt and pepper hair. He was carrying a white bakery box in his hands.

"Hi, Greg. Nice to meet you." I reached out my hand, and he shuffled his box to free up his right hand to meet mine.

"Good to meet you, Sam."

"Greg, I think I told you, Sam lives around back in the cottage."

I smiled. I always thought it was cute how Leslie referred to the tiny studio as 'the cottage.'

"I sure do. How are you enjoying the neighborhood, Greg?"

"Oh, day one has been great. Everyone has been so friendly and welcoming. Present company included." He handed the white box to Leslie "I almost forgot. This is for you. It's a pear tart. I got it from the bakery down the street."

Leslie peeked inside the box. "It looks lovely, thank you, Greg. That was very thoughtful."

Clark appeared in the doorway with the enamel pot. "Ladies and gentleman, dinner is served."

We gathered around the dining table as Clark dished up the fragrant coq au vin. The table murmured in appreciation as we tasted his creation.

"Clark, this is amazing. Seriously, you should be a chef."

"Actually Sam, has Clark ever told you how he learned to cook?"

I thought for a moment, "No, I don't think so."

"Clark, do you want to tell it, or should I?" Leslie's eyes sparkled.

"Go ahead, dear."

"So, you know Clark and I both met while we were in law school, right?"

"Yes, at Yale."

"That's right, Sam. Well, we had just started dating, and I thought maybe he didn't like me, because whenever I'd try to see him, he had an excuse." She smiled at him. "It was always, 'Oh I've got chess club' or 'Oh I have a rugby game'." I thought he was the busiest man on the planet. I couldn't figure out how he was keeping up with his studies with all these extracurricular activities. Lord knew I was barely keeping up with the classes myself."

I looked over at Clark, and he was sitting there, smiling at her. It was obvious he was still entirely smitten with her. It was sweet.

Leslie continued. "So one day, I was ready to break it off with him, but something told me to go down to the field. Clark was supposed to be at Rugby practice that night. So I climbed onto the bleachers and watched, looking for him. But he wasn't there. So I marched back to his dorm and planted myself outside until he came back. Finally, after two hours of waiting in the cold, he showed up in chef whites, smelling like garlic. It turned out he had been working as a line cook at a restaurant in town. He'd been working that job as a way of paying his way through school, but he'd been too ashamed to admit it."

"Now, you have to understand, Leslie was from a very well-to-do family," Clark explained.

"Which was nonsense. I knew then and there that he was the one for me. Any man who wasn't above working hard for a living was the man for me." She took Clark's hand. "Plus, he started to bring home food for me, and I got to avoid the dorm food."

"I always thought it was funny that she believed I had a body for rugby," Clark muttered, and the entire table laughed. Clark was a tall, slim man, and none of us could imagine him holding up on a rugby field.

"Did you play any sports, Greg?" Leslie said, angling the conversation back to our dinner guest.

"Oh, not really. I played basketball in high school, but I was never much of an athlete. I was a marketing and communications major."

"Are you in marketing now?" I asked.

"Yes, in a way. I'm in sales for a pharmaceutical company."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"For the most part, yes. It allows me to travel. I moved to California so I could take over the western region for my company. Next month I'll be up in Washington, and then in Arizona after the holidays."

"That sounds fun. I'd love to travel more," I said.

"Have you been many places, Sam?" he asked.

"No, not really. My dad was always working when I was little, so it was hard to get away."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find a way," Greg said.

I smiled and refocused the conversation back to Greg. "So where did you move from, Greg?"

"Oh, I was in Indianapolis before this, but I've lived all over."

"Do I detect a southern accent, Greg?" Leslie asked.

"Yes, ma'am. I have spent time all over the south." He grinned, letting the accent take over. It was charming and reminded me of David.

~

The rest of the meal was easy and relaxing, and I left after helping Clark with the dishes, knowing full well that I'd need a good night of sleep for tomorrow. Luckily, the commute home was short, because it had begun to rain. I darted through the back yard and into my studio. Full of wine, coq au vin and pear tart, I knew sleep would come fast. I checked my phone, hoping for something from David. He delivered.

What are you doing?

It was from about 15 minutes ago. I texted back.

Just got back from dinner with Clark and Leslie and the new neighbor.

We had coq au vin.

He replied immediately.

No one attractive, I trust.

I hesitated, and typed an answer.

Only my secret boyfriend.

I could picture him seething on the other end.

Don't rile me up Ms. Sharp.

I have half a mind to come back to California right now.

And fight the guy.

I grinned.

Besides, I thought I was your secret boyfriend.

I paused. Goosebumps washed over my skin. Did David Keith just say he was my boyfriend? Be cool, Sharp. How to play this? I was about to text back when he beat me to it.

Although I don't like the secret part.

My heart did somersaults. Who was this guy?

You can be my non-secret boyfriend.

As long as you don't have any secret girlfriends.

Glad we have that settled.

What are you doing now?

I'm actually getting ready for bed.

I'm jealous of that bed.

Are we still on for tomorrow?

I wrote back.

Yes, I'll meet the cock after work.

Dammit!

CAR. I will meet the CAR after work. Stupid autocorrect.

He enjoyed my malapropism.

LOL

Well, technically you are meeting the cock after work too.

Mine, not Thomas's, just to clarify.

I smiled and typed a reply:

Yes, looking forward to that.

Good.

Good night, baby.

Sweet dreams

Good night, sir.

Have a safe trip back.

I pressed the power save button on the phone and crawled into bed. Usually, I found the nickname 'baby' so cheesy, but when David used it, I really, really liked it.

# Chapter 8

Monday morning came quickly. My alarm went off, and I flung myself out of bed, excited to greet the day. It was going to be a long one, and I had to get started. First things first, I finished packing my duffle, adding the extra baking sheet my mom had asked for. I also texted her and let her know about the additional guest. Judging from the number of smiley faces on her response, she seemed really pleased. It had been years since she'd met a boyfriend. Hell, it had been years since I'd had a boyfriend. I dressed in what I hoped was an appropriate outfit for a jet-setter: tall boots, dark jeans, large drapey knit sweater, and a big scarf.

I slung my duffle over my shoulder and headed for the sidewalk. No sooner than I hit the curb, did I hear my name.

"Miss Sharp."

I whipped around. Thomas was there waiting at the curb, with the black SUV.

"Thomas?" I look at him bewildered.

"Mr. Keith asked me to take you to your meeting and to work today, Miss Sharp."

Oh he did, did he? Part of me wondered if Mr. Boyfriend was spying on me from afar. But it was a gray drizzly day, and to be honest, I was happy to not have to lug my duffle in and out of the BART train station.

"Oh? Uh, well, very well. Thank you." And handed my bag to Thomas, and I pulled myself into the open car door. Thomas took my bag around back and put it in the trunk before joining me inside the car.

Shutting the driver's side door, he turned around to face me.

"So where is your meeting, Miss Sharp?"

"49 Geary, in San Francisco, please." I felt a little like I was placing a pizza order. I needed to get better at this chauffeur thing.

"Very good, Miss." He checked his mirrors and turned out into the street.

As we drove over the bridge, I decided to take advantage of my time with Thomas, again.

"Thomas, will you be coming with us to Lake Tahoe tonight?"

"Yes, Miss, we accompany Mr. Keith on all his trips, Miss. But don't worry; we will be staying at a hotel."

"We?"

"Security detail."

"Oh, I see. I didn't realize." Taking care of a billionaire is a lot of work, it seemed.

"Thomas?"

"Yes?"

"Does Mr. Keith normally have you drive around his... dates?" I wasn't sure why I was asking, but wanted to keep the conversation going.

Thomas shot me a kind smile via the rearview mirror.

"No Miss. Just you."

I smiled and look out the window.

"And for the record, there haven't been as many... dates, as one might think."

I blushed and glanced back at him in the mirror.

We rode the rest of the way in silence, and finally pulled up to a curb in the middle of downtown San Francisco. It was still morning, and the city had a light veil of fog. The mix of people on the street had a distinctly San Francisco air to it. Financial district men in their suits and dress shoes waited at crosswalks with tourists from out of town dressed in shorts and t-shirts. I shivered just looking at them.

Thomas held the door as I got out of the car.

"I should only be about half an hour. I have to be back at the gallery before noon to open."

"Very good, Miss. I will be here."

I looked up at the building and went in. 49 Geary was a vintage San Francisco building with double-hung windows, four stories high. It housed many of the city's notable galleries.

Carmichael Gallery was on the second floor. The space was fully renovated, very modern, with white walls (of course) and polished white floors. There was a Lucite desk at the entryway and a hip blond woman dressed in all black was seated behind it. She was on the phone, but motioned at me to come in, so I took the opportunity to take a look around. It really was a beautiful space. Large pastel canvases hung throughout. I thought at first they were completely abstract, but upon closer inspection, the canvases had hundreds of small plastic toys embedded into their surfaces.

"So, what do you think?" a voice behind me asked, and I whipped back, surprised.

"Mr. Carmichael, hi. Good to see you again." I put my hand out.

"Didn't I tell you to call me Evan?" he countered, taking my outstretched palm. His handshake was friendly, but he held on just a bit too long for my liking. He was wearing a pinstripe suit. He looked good, like a professional art dealer, which reminded me of why I was there.

"This is a great space, Evan. And these canvases are superb. Who is the artist?"

"It's John Vazquez. I discovered him during my last trip to L.A. Pretty fantastic, right? He says the pieces are a meditation on the beauty of memory."

"Mmm." I agreed, returning my gaze to the artwork "How it has a collective ability to blur everything."

"Quite right, Samantha. Quite right." He looked impressed. So far so good.

"Trina, Samantha, and I are going to grab coffee. Would you like anything?"

"No thanks, Evan. I'm still working on mine." She held up a white mug.

"Very good." He turned to me. "Shall we go across the street?"

I nodded.

We zipped downstairs and ended up in a sliver of coffeehouse across the way. We got our drinks and settled in at a little table by the window, chatting as we sipped our drinks. Evan asked me where I had gone to school, and I asked him about his career in the gallery world. Turned out he started in Santa Fe, selling knick-knacks in his family's gallery.

"Or at least that's what they called it. It was really more like a tchotchke shop, but it got me used to the business. And then I moved out here with a friend who was going to school, and I started working with local artists." He smiled at the memory.

"Wow. That's pretty impressive." I always loved hearing stories about how people made something of themselves.

"So Samantha, you are probably wondering why I've asked you here."

"You said you wanted to talk about art..." I ventured.

"Well, yes, but more than that. I am leaving for Art Basel in Miami at the beginning of December, and I need someone with a good eye to come with me. You were the one who found Leah for the show at the Kinsler Gallery, right?"

"Well, yes ..." Was he going to ask what I thought he was going to ask?

"I'm wondering if you'd come with me. It's only a few days, and I'd pay for your flight, and room, and everything. I think it would be great experience for you." He put his hand on mine.

I gently moved my hands out of his grasp and picked up my drink. Miami!? Curtis is always encouraging me to network and get my name out there. Maybe this would be a good step. I mean, it was experience, right? I don't think Curtis was even going to Art Basel. This was a big deal, and Evan was being really generous.

"Wow, that's a great offer, Evan. I have to check with my boss to see if I can get the time off, and run it by my boyfriend, but if I can, yes, I'd love to go."

How exciting! Little Samantha Sharp, flying to Art Basel in Miami! I was starting to get excited.

"Awesome. I will email you the details. Please get back to me as soon as you can. If you can't make it, I'll have to find some other up-and–comer to replace you." He grinned. "Thanks for coming by today, Samantha" He offered his hand again. We got up to leave.

"Thank you for the opportunity. I'll look for your email."

"Great. I really hope you can go, Samantha. I think we'd make a good team." He turned around and jay-walked back across the street to his gallery.

I collected myself and looked for my ride. I spied the black SUV a few cars down and practically skipped toward it. I could be going to Art Basel in Miami. One of the hottest events in the entire art world. This was unbelievable! Thomas let me into the car, although honestly I wasn't sure I needed a ride, I could have floated to work that day.

I breezed through the front door of the gallery and found Curtis already there, sorting through some files.

"Hello, Sammie. Happy Monday." He greeted me.

"Happy Monday to you, too, Curtis!" I exclaimed, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

"And what has you so happy this morning? Or should I say who? Does it start with a 'D' and end with an 'avid Keith'?"

I tilted my head back and laughed. Oh, if he only knew. Luckily I had something else to blame for my ebullient mood.

"Actually, no, it's related to work."

"Oh yeah?" He raised his eyebrows at me and looked over the rim of his glasses.

"Do you know Evan Carmichael?"

"Of Carmichael Gallery? Yes, only a bit. We see each other at industry events. Why? Don't tell me you are leaving to work for him." His tone was mocking, but I could tell that he actually would be hurt if I left. It was sweet.

"Oh, no, no nothing like that."

A smile returned to his face.

"Well what then? Spit it out, lady!"

"He asked if I wanted to go to Art Basel with him in Miami." I tried to play it cool, but it was clear—I was excited.

"Oh yeah?"

I couldn't tell what he thought, so I continued.

"And you are always telling me how I need to grow my network and meet people, so I thought you'd be happy." I flashed him a sugar-coated smile. He sighed and put down his folders.

"Of course I'm happy for you. I think it's a great opportunity."

"So... I can go? I'd be gone Wednesday through Sunday."

"Yes, yes, you can go Sammie. You can even do some recon for the Kinsler Gallery while you're there." He winked at me.

"Ah, awesome, thank you Curtis!" I refrained from hugging him, and instead did a little happy dance in place.

"All right lady, but before you go, we've got a lot of work to get done since so many pieces sold last week. Come and help me out. You can plan your globetrotting later."

We spent the day filling out registration and shipping forms that we'd use once the show came down mid-December. Paperwork: it's the very un-glam side of being a gallery girl. But I didn't care; I was so stoked about Miami. I wanted to text David, but figured he was probably in the air. The day passed quickly, thank God, and we paused around 2:30 for some pizza.

"So what are you doing for Thanksgiving?" I asked Curtis as I reached for a second slice.

"My sister and her family are coming in for the long weekend, and we're all going to cook at Casa Kinsler. What about you?"

"A few days at the cabin. David and I are headed up tonight, and we're going to meet everyone there." I kept my eyes trained on my pizza, but I could feel his reaction. I blushed from tip to tail.

"Oh REALLY?" he bellowed, "Meeting the parents already, hmm?"

"Hush," I tried to placate him, "It was actually David's idea."

Curtis stared at me, smirking.

"Big step." Dammit, I loved Curtis, but he could drive me nuts sometimes. "Well, have fun, kiddo. Enjoy it. He's a hottie."

I finally looked up and smiled.

I knew it. My hottie.

# Chapter 9

It was finally after five, and I was in the car with Thomas on the way to the airport. I felt like the traffic couldn't move quickly enough. I was so excited to see David. It had been over twenty-four hours, and my body was aching for him.

We turned off the freeway and were headed toward the airport when Thomas turned off onto a side road.

"Where are we going, Thomas?" I asked, concerned about the sudden change.

"Tarmac, miss."

Of course. Why would one need to go through the airport if they were flying on a private jet?

We sped across the tarmac, and ended up in front of an aircraft that was much bigger than I had imagined. I don't know why I had been picturing a small four-seater, but this was not that. It was large, sleek and had 'Keith Ventures' written across the side in script. Very... sexy.

I followed Thomas out of the SUV and up the stairs to the cabin door. David was standing there, waiting for me.

Our eyes instantly locked. Fuck. This man was fucking gorgeous. He was dressed down, in dark denim and leather boots, with a black North Face jacket over a dress shirt and tie. I eyed the tie as I walked over to him.

"Hey, baby." He wrapped his arms around me.

"Hey, boyfriend," I whispered in his ear.

He looked down at me and pulled my chin up so that our eyes met.

"I like that," he murmured with a twinkle in his eye. "I missed you. Remind me to never go away ever again." He said it with a slight smile, and then he pulled back; suddenly I was aware that we were not alone.

"Let me introduce you to the crew."

I turned around to face the rest of the cabin.

"Ron and Ian, our pilots. They are former Air Force Special Operations, best in the business." They nodded at me, and I returned the nod. "And this is Lucinda, who is in charge of cabin operations." An older blonde woman dressed in a black sweater and skirt stepped forward and offered her hand.

"Lovely to meet you Miss Sharp." She had a British accent.

"Lucinda," I almost curtsied, but I stopped myself.

"And I believe you've met Thomas and Cooper." He gestured to Thomas, who I did know, and another large man, all dressed in black, standing close to the door. He moved forward and offered his hand.

"Actually, I don't think we've formerly met," I said reluctantly as I shook his hand.

"I've known you from a distance, Miss Sharp," he said. Oh, I see. I was starting to understand how this whole 'security detail' thing works. I prayed quietly that I'd been clothed all those times.

"How are we looking for take-off, guys?"

Ron replies, "On time, sir. We can begin taxiing now if you'd like."

"No time like the present," David agreed and turned to me. "Would you like something to drink?"

"That'd be great." Between seeing him again and flying on my first private jet, my nerves were working overtime. I'd welcome something to sooth them.

The plane was spacious inside, as well. Much larger than I thought. The cabin was outfitted with cream-colored leather seats and rich, handsome wood inlay.

Lucinda came up gently behind us.

"We are ready for take-off, sir." She handed us two glasses with an amber liquid in them. I took a sip. Brandy. The warmth coated my throat, and I exhaled.

"Thank you, Lucinda." David turned to me. "Ready?"

"Ready." I swallowed. My excitement was starting to take over.

He led me to two supple leather chairs, and we buckled our seatbelts. Lucinda, Thomas, and Cooper strapped themselves into chairs toward the front of the plane. With a gentle jolt, we began to move. It was dark outside, so I couldn't tell how fast we were moving and could only judge based on the lights in the distance. We jolted again, stopped, and then the engines roared to life as we prepared for take off. I gripped David's hand tighter, and he looked over at me. I nestled into his shoulder as the plane picked up speed, growling as it hurtled through space. And then suddenly, quickly, the vibrations stopped, and we were airborne. I looked out the window and the sparkling city came into view as we banked a turn, and then faded away into darkness as we headed toward the mountains.

The flight was quick, and we landed at the small Lake Tahoe Airport within the hour. It was dark, and the cold air bit at me as we exited the plane. The weather in the mountains always surprised me. I was glad I had worn my boots. David wrapped his arm around me as we sprinted for a set of Audi SUVs waiting on the tarmac. Thomas and Cooper put our luggage in the back of the first one, and we settled into the heated cabin. Thomas got in front to drive, and Cooper got into the matching SUV behind us, as we set off for my family's cabin.

Snow had been falling pretty consistently in the area for the past two weeks, and the soft, white landscape was an exquisite background for our drive toward the cabin.

My family's cabin was situated on the north edge of Lake Tahoe, a gorgeous, blue mountain lake that boasts crystal clear water. It makes an exceptional backdrop for skiing in the area, but is also popular year-round for boating and fishing. The cabin was built by my dad's grandfather in the early 1950s when the area was just starting to become popular with the weekend road trip set. He used to spend entire summers here as a child, and since his dad passed away, it has been his to maintain. It was a beautiful traditional wood cabin; three stories tall, with a peaked roof, and huge windows that looked off toward the lake. As we pulled up, I noticed the lights were on, but no cars were in the drive. Jeannie, the neighbor who's lived next door forever, always prepped the house for us so that we didn't have to fuss with the furnace or gas when we got in late at night. She was a sweetie.

"We must be the first ones here," I said, turning to David.

"Benefits of air travel," he mused, his eyes glinting with a dark fire.

I knew that look. Suddenly, I had to have him. I had waited over twenty-four hours and then endured a plane flight and car ride. My body wanted him. Needed him.

"Let's uh, get our stuff inside." My eyes looked into his, trying to convey my real meaning: Can we make this quick?

"Let's," he agreed; his voice was full of understanding and dark intent.

We both practically jumped out of the car, and David went around the back to grab the bags.

"That will be all for tonight, Thomas," he said as Thomas came to assist.

"Very good, sir," Thomas said obediently, and he retreated to the second SUV with Cooper.

David turned to me and threw the bags over his shoulder like they weighed nothing at all.

"Shall we?" he said. The coals smoldering inside me suddenly erupted into a hot blaze. I needed to have this man. I fumbled to find the key on my key ring and finally let us into the house.

I turned away from him to lock the door behind me. "Would you like a tour?"

All I heard was bags drop to the floor. I started to turn around and then David was on me, drawing me into him, kissing me deeply, roughly. He pushed me up against the door, and I took in the weight of his body. There was no denying it; I needed this man like air and water.

"Yes." He breathed into me as he pulled back, looking down at me, admiring my body.

I stared at him, understanding. I led him by his hand down the hallway, towards the room I usually used as my bedroom. I mentally calculated how much time we had until—eek! My parents got here. If they left around six, we had an hour, maybe two. Air travel was awesome, I concluded.

He caressed my hips from behind as we headed to the hallway, and I felt my whole body roar to life. My sex was aching and wet.

Fuck, just take me now, I thought silently.

Without hearing me, he stopped and whipped me around, pulling me against him. His leg angled between mine. He removed his jacket and then loosened his tie in a rush. I started unbuttoning his shirt, kissing his neck. He was warm, hot to the touch.

"Dammit Samantha, I need you," he rasped, inhaling deeply at my neck.

He pulled off his white undershirt, and I peeled myself out of my sweater. He released me from his hold so that I could remove my boots and jeans, and I was out of them in record time. Once I was down to my bra and panties, he yanked me closer once again.

He was still wearing his jeans, but had the top button undone. His torso, lean and muscular, gleamed in the soft glow of the cabin. He grabbed my breasts, pulling them free of the bra cups. He rubbed the nipples between his finger and thumb, making them hard. I guided my hand down to feel what was waiting for me on the other side of the jeans. He was so hard. My whole body quivered with excitement. I unbuttoned his jeans the rest of the way, and tugged them down, exposing red boxer briefs. I rubbed his manhood from outside the fabric for a little while, and then yanked the briefs down, too, exposing the thickness. I used one hand to feel the power of his length. It was so strong. I needed him inside me. My body screamed for attention, and my hips jerked forward, grinding onto him. He caressed my torso, his hand finding its way down onto my sex. He slid a finger inside my silk panties. I was dripping wet, and I knew the panties showed it.

"Fuck Samantha, you are so ready." I blushed. I was still not used to how this guy talked. But his interest in me was very arousing.

He picked me up, and we made our way to the nearest flat surface, a leather sofa in the living room. The windows overlooking the lake were wide open, and the lights of the house, while dim, were on.

I hope no one is boating tonight. They would have a free show.

My boyfriend, the gambler.

He positioned me tenderly on the couch, and he pulled off his boots and pants. Damn, this man was so fucking hot. He stared down at me, savagely, as if he had been wandering the desert, and I was an oasis. It was too intense, and I had to look away. I shut my eyes.

"Open your eyes, Samantha. I want to see you," he commanded, softly. He was on top of me and pushed my legs open, positioning his manhood at the opening of my sex. He stroked my sex with his cock, gently, and my hips rocked toward him, angling for more resistance, more pleasure. He teased me again and again, understanding exactly how to bring me to the edge of orgasm, and driving me crazy with desire.

Finally, I begged him.

"Please."

"Please what Ms. Sharp?" There was playfulness in his voice.

"Please."

Oh, why was he doing this? My body ached with lust. Don't make me say it.

"Tell me what you want, Samantha"

Oh fuck, I loved it when he said my name.

"Fuck me."

"What's that?" Oh, he was cruel.

"Fuck me, please." I could not believe he was making me beg for it.

"With pleasure." And with that, he plunged his huge cock into me, and I felt waves of fullness and pleasure course through my body. He continued, pounding me with a delicious rhythm. He knew exactly what my body wanted. I felt my core heave, as it tightened with delight. My hips meshed with his, and I pushed myself to gain more friction until I exploded into a thousand little pieces.

My sex still pulsing with orgasm, I brought him to the edge. He pulled me close and deep guttural sounds echoed into my ear. His body tightened, and his hands brought my hips to his. I felt the hot cum rocket hard and deep inside me. We both groaned in delight, giving ourselves over to the pleasure.

We fell down onto the leather sofa, and laid there for a while, naked, catching our breath.

"That was really nice," I ventured, carefully.

"Samantha, that was better than nice. That might have been the best orgasm I ever had. I feel a little high right now."

I grinned from ear to ear, and was glad he couldn't see my face.

"Mmm," I agreed.

"Remind me to never go away again," he said, again, for the second time that evening.

"No problem. You can just quit your job and become my sex slave," I teased.

"Sounds good to me, Ms. Sharp," he murmured, wrapping his arm around me.

And we laid there for another twenty minutes or so, just listening to each other's breath, before straightening up for my parents.

~

We had just built a roaring fire and uncorked a bottle of wine when headlights appeared in the driveway. I turned to David, who was now fully dressed in his fleece and jeans.

"That must be them."

He nodded. Did he look nervous? I couldn't tell. Whatever it was, it was definitely not an expression I was used to seeing on him.

"Ready to meet the parents of the girl you are fucking?" I joked, trying to lighten the mood. He swallowed.

"I am ready to meet my girlfriend's parents," he corrected me. I sparkled inside. Hearing that was never, ever, going to get old.

The front door flew open.

A small torpedo of energy bounded through the front door and jumped upon us.

David's face erupted into a huge smile, and he got down on one knee to meet the giant fur ball.

"Hey boy," he turned to me, "and who is this?"

"That is Rex. He's my family's dog. I forgot to mention he'd be coming. I hope you aren't allergic." Rex is a ten-year-old English sheepdog. He's big and so fluffy you can't see his eyes. I bent down to hug him. I loved Rex. We got him when I was a sophomore in high school, after I begged my parents for a dog for years.

"Rex, this is David," I said, bending over to pet my beloved dog.

"It's nice to meet you, David," chirped a perky voice. I looked up. My mom was in the threshold.

"Hey Mom!" I went to the door and threw my arms around her. She looked beat from the drive, but she was smiling, and she was looking right at David. I couldn't blame her, he was hard to resist. It was so good to see her.

"Mom, this is David Keith, my boyfriend," I said, trying out the new moniker.

David put his hand out.

"Excellent to meet you, Mrs. Sharp. It is very kind of you to have me this week."

"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way." My mom ignored the hand and went straight in for a hug and I think I saw David blush. "It's been a while since Sammie has brought anyone by," she said as she eased off him.

I shot her a look and almost died.

"And we always say, the more the merrier. It's Thanksgiving for heaven's sake!"

"Can I help you unload?" David motioned to the car outside.

My mom's expression melted.

"And such a gentleman," she said, directing her comments at me. We ventured out to the car to unload. On our way down the stairs she leaned in to me and whispered, "Is his father single?" I looked at her, and she winked.

Very funny, mom. I was glad my dad didn't hear. But I was also glad she approved.

~

My whole family seemed to like David. After we unpacked the car, we settled in around the fire with glasses of wine and some cheese and crackers. David draped his arm along the back of the sofa, keeping me close. My dad spoke excitedly with David about the different ski slopes available nearby, and I think he was pleased to have another male around for once. My sister regaled us with stories of her new favorite television show; a reality show covering sports injuries on one of the cable channels.

"And then they took the sheet off his leg, and the bone was pointing one way and his leg was pointing the other way." She gestured with her fingers.

Everyone groaned. Erin looked very pleased with the reaction.

"Erin, please," my mother coaxed gently.

"It was so gnarly!" she continued, laughing. She was enjoying the disgusted looks on our faces.

"Enough, Erin, we have guests," my father urged.

David chuckled. "It's okay. My dad was a surgeon, and my mom was a nurse, so I'm used to all sorts of horrible body-talk around the dinner table." Damn, he was good at charming them.

"Actually, I think it's best if we turn in," I say, cutting into the conversation. "It's been a long day." I tried to act nonchalant and sleepy. Could they tell that I had sex a few hours ago on the sofa they were sitting on? I hoped not.

"David, I can show you to your room," I added, before my Dad could make some awkward joke about separate rooms. "We'll see you guys in the morning, good night."

"Sleep well, you two," my mom said with a smile.

I took David down the hall toward my bedroom. The cabin was huge, and there were plenty of rooms. I normally slept in one of two bedrooms on the main floor, and everyone else usually slept downstairs. There was also a sleeping loft above the living room, which had four beds, in case we had extra guests. No need for that tonight, though, I was putting David in the room directly across from mine.

I walked him in. The whole house was done in a classic mountain lodge theme, and this room was no exception. There was a big knotty pine bed covered in a red and brown quilt. David pulled me in closely.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to stay with me?"

I lowered my voice. "Are you kidding? My parents would kill me."

"You are twenty-four years old."

"I know, but to them I'm a completely virginal teenager" I hissed. Being at my family's house was making me nervous. I mentally reminded myself to check the functionality of the door locks tomorrow.

"Hmm," he cooed, nuzzling his nose to the nape of my neck. The feeling was so familiar; my body knew what to do next. I wanted to pull him in, and let him have his way with me again but I couldn't, knowing that my parents were just down the hall. I pulled back.

"I can't."

"Okay, but just tonight. You win only because I'm exhausted from fucking you on the sofa."

I playfully slapped his chest and glared at him, smiling.

"Good night, Mr. Keith."

"Good night, Ms. Sharp." I retreated to my room and fell asleep amidst thoughts of snowflakes and jet planes.

# Chapter 10

The next morning I woke up lazily to the smell of waffles and bacon. It was heavenly. My mom always made waffles and bacon on our first morning at the cabin. I made a quick stop in the bathroom to make sure my hair wasn't behaving too badly and swished some mouthwash around before heading out to the living area.

Turns out I was the last one up. My whole family, along with David, were seated around the big wooden breakfast table. David had not shaved yet that morning and was sporting a substantial scruff. It was hot. I made a mental note to ask him not to shave later. My dad was fully animated, telling David a joke we all had heard a thousand times before.

"...so then the pilot said, 'This gravity keeps bringing me down.'" My dad clapped his hands to punctuate his joke, and everyone tilted their heads back and groaned. My dad is such a nerd sometimes, but David seemed genuinely amused by his enthusiasm. I took a seat in the empty spot next to David at the table.

"Good morning," I said brightly to everyone, and I rubbed David's back, careful not to show too much affection lest my younger sister rib me for all eternity. David, of course, knew of no such fate and leaned in, pecking me sweetly on the cheek.

"Sleep well?"

Before I had a chance to answer, my dad interrupted.

"Sam, did you know David here has a plane?"

"Oh, uh." I looked at David helplessly. How much of us, of him, has he revealed this morning? "Yeah, I did."

"A couple, actually," David managed to make the statement sound modest. "I have to travel a lot for work," he explained.

Oh really? Actually, I wasn't surprised. Of course he had a fleet of planes. He's David-fucking-Keith.

He continued "In fact, we came up here in one of them," he said without a trace of gloating.

My dad's eyes widened, and he looked over at me with an, 'And when were you going to mention this?' expression. He was an aerospace man through and through, and would get on a goose if it would get him up in the air. I couldn't even bear to look at my mother or my sister, and instead trained my gaze on the plate of waffles in front of me.

David continued. "I'm happy to give you guys a lift back, if you would like. My driver could always take your car back."

"Ang, baby what do you think?" There was boyishness and hope in my dad's voice as he turned to my mother for approval."

"I think as kind as the offer is, I'd rather stick to the highway, John," she coaxed. My mother, unlike my father, had never favored air travel. "You two have fun."

My dad looked resigned but happy, aware that his chances of getting on that or any plane were always slim.

"So what are we doing today?" my sister cut in.

"Well, you guys could hit up the mountain," my mom started, when David gently interrupted her.

"Actually, I have a surprise planned for everyone." We all turned and looked at him. They had known him for barely a day, and already he was working his David Keith magic?

Erin's eyes opened wide, and she bounced in her seat. "What is it?"

"Well, I'd like to treat the ladies to a day at the spa..." My mother's eyes lit up. She loved pampering but rarely indulged herself. David continued, "And while the ladies are being polished and massaged, I originally thought Mr. Sharp and I could go skiing, but knowing where his passions now lie, perhaps we could take a little zip around in the plane." My dad's face lit up like a kid on Christmas, and David glanced at my mom and raised his eyebrows sweetly. "Pending Mrs. Sharp's approval, of course."

My mom's brow furrowed, and for a second it seemed like she might put the kibosh on the idea, but then she cracked a smile. Yep—no woman was immune to his charms.

"Oh, I guess I have to let you boys be boys some of the time. And please, David, call me Angela."

"Hey wait, I want to go on the plane, too," Erin piped up in her usual forthright way. She'd always been a bit of a tomboy, and I knew a spa day would try her patience. We all looked at my mom.

"Oh, fine," she said, exhaling. "Just please be careful."

"Of course, Angela." David flashed one of his charming grins, and it was set.

After breakfast, we packed into two cars, and went our separate ways.

~

As Thomas pulled up to the Ritz-Carlton, I peered out the window at the hulking mountain lodge, picture perfect in its rusticity. A valet came around to our door and whisked my mother and me into the grand lobby. A polished young Asian woman dressed all in navy greeted us.

"Ms. and Mrs. Sharp? Welcome to the Ritz-Carlton. My name is Amanda, and I will be your concierge for the day. If there is anything I can do to make your visit more comfortable, please let me know, as it would be my privilege to be of assistance. May I show you to the spa?"

We both nodded and set off, following the young woman down a beautiful hallway trimmed with timbers and slate. Once behind her and out of sight, we turned to each other and made knowing faces at each other.

The spa was gorgeous and seemed to stretch on forever. Amanda brought us to a private changing room where we changed out of our flannel and boots and into plush white terrycloth robes, while we sipped mimosas. We were just getting comfortable on leather loveseats when Amanda knocked.

"Ladies, if you would follow me." She gestured for us to accompany her. What followed was four hours of indulgence. We were led to a dark stone grotto where we were buffed and polished and massaged with exotic scented oils until we fell into a state of hypnotic bliss. My sex-sore muscles appreciated the attention, and I almost managed to forget about David. Almost.

After, we were supposed to go to a relaxation room, but Amanda took me down another hallway that led to a lobby with elevators. David was there, standing, his lips curled up, those cheekbones on display. Amanda quietly slipped away, her work done.

"Hey," I said, breathless and bewildered. What was he doing there? Damn, he looked fucking hot. He was wearing a dark plaid button down and thick leather boots. His hands were shoved into his jean pockets. He didn't say anything but instead took my hand and led me confidently to the last elevator. Inside, he swept a room key across a sensor and pressed a button.

As the elevator climbed, I purposely kept my distance across the small car and noticed he did the same. Was he gripping the rail behind him? Where was he taking me? He looked at me with ravenous intensity and I returned his gaze. I hadn't seen him this charged before. Finally, he stepped close to me and pulled a way-ward brown tendril off my face

"Nice outfit." He looked down at my spa robe.

"I didn't know you were coming"

"That was the plan," he said, his eyes trained on mine. My groin tingled as he stared at me.

There was a quiet ding, and the doors opened right into the foyer of a huge suite. I'm sure the space was gorgeous, but as soon as we crossed the threshold, it all faded away. David pulled me into him, and then lifted me up and slung me over his shoulder, reaching under my robe to slap me on the ass. I squealed, delighted with the display of raw, caveman-like, masculinity. He took me to a large bedroom, flung me onto the bed, and proceeded to remove his boots and peel off his clothes. I was just expected to sit there and watch this lumberjack striptease. I loved the way his dark jeans hung off his hips. I opened my robe and slid a hand in, touching myself while I gazed at him. He caught my brazen gesture, and held my stare as I massaged myself.

He rubbed his jaw and looked at me.

He didn't need to say a word. He looked at me in awe. His manhood on full view, he sauntered over to me. I felt a rush of power come over me. He was so turned on by me, and I could pleasure myself without him. What an interesting situation. I undid my robe, allowing my plump, swollen breasts to fall out. I think I heard him inhale sharply. I was so aroused, so ready for his cock, but I wanted to give him more first. I rubbed myself faster and massaged my breasts slowly, tilting my head back as I groaned with pleasure. He just stood there, transfixed, his cock hard and raw. I kept my eyes closed and continued. Was he going to stop me? I wanted him to take me right then and shove that cock inside me, to give me relief from the building need inside me.

But he didn't. He just stood there, mesmerized. Finally, he slowly started rubbing his length, and I opened my eyes to watch. It was quite a sight to behold. Such a strong and attractive man; a man who could have any woman he wanted fuck his brains out—brought down to touching and pleasuring himself. Because he just couldn't help himself while he was watching me.

It was enough to send me over the edge. My sex started to quiver and shake, and I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, trying to pace myself, but the climax took over and ripped a chasm of pleasure into me, radiating outwards, pulsing and convulsing with sweet intensity. I moaned with pleasure.

Once the tremors had passed, I opened my eyes, and David climbed over me in the bed. He put one of my breasts into his mouth, attempting foreplay. I redirected him.

"Just fuck me," I ordered, breathlessly.

He met my eyes and flashed a wicked grin. He redeployed his efforts and flipped me around, pulled off my robe, and pushed me down on my hands and knees. Shoving my legs wide, his hands reached around and felt me with his fingers.

He slipped two fingers in and rubbed the inside of me. Then, he brought them around to my mouth. Salty.

"Do you like the way you taste?" He teased me. I sucked on his fingers harder. "I know what you were doing just now, and I hope you're ready for the consequences."

"Yes. Fuck me please." I breathed, again begging for his cock.

His southern accent roared to life. "Yes, Ma'am." And with that he thrust his full length into me. I let out a little yelp as it filled and stretched me.

This angle allowed him to penetrate me deeper than he had before. He went all the way in and then pulled back with his hips, creating a heart-stopping rhythm. I arched my back and glanced over my shoulder. His gaze was fixed on me, his abs contracting with strength at every insertion. His eyes lost with sexual need.

I was building again, more quickly than I thought, and was soon back at the precipice of orgasm. He slapped me again on my ass, and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the sensation. Then the pace quickened, and I grabbed at the bed to steady myself against his thrusts. But the pressure was too much, and I succumbed to him, my sex convulsing around his cock, a guttural sound emitting from my throat. He came also, his hips pushing deeper and deeper into me, and I felt his hot cum gush inside me.

He pulled back and came down next to me. We both lay there for a moment, catching our breath, reveling in the post-sex haze.

"Hey," he said softly, propping his head up with his hand.

I smiled and turned toward him. "Hey yourself." I paused. "Not to ruin the mood, but where are Erin and my dad?"

David chuckled. "Downstairs, engaged in some ice-skating. I told them I had to make a few business calls."

"I'm a business call now, eh?" I teased.

"I wish all my business calls were like this."

He paused and then continued.

"Hey, I was thinking—maybe we could all grab some dinner together in the restaurant. I know the chef, and he is spectacular."

I looked over at him and smiled. I knew my mom wouldn't mind not cooking, especially after spending the day at the spa.

"I think they'd love that."

~

Eventually we sauntered down to the main lobby and waited for everyone by the grand fireplace.

We people-watched for a bit, enjoying the spectacle of wealthy ski-bunnies with their Louis-Vuitton printed snowboards and fluffy fur jackets. They were very out of step with the normal, understated, and casual look Lake Tahoe was famous for. Something caught David's eye, and he looked over at me.

"Just leave this to me."

Huh? What? I scanned the crowd in the direction he was looking. A young blond woman dressed in head to toe black nylon approached us.

"David, funny seeing you here."

I could tell David was surprised, but he kept his expression cool.

"Hello, Laura." His voice was polite, but uninterested.

"And who is this?" she said, gesturing to me.

"Samantha, this is Laura DeKalb. We know each other through the hospital. Laura, this is Samantha Sharp, my girlfriend." Laura raised her eyebrow at him but offered her hand to me. It had a huge diamond engagement ring on it.

"Girlfriend? Well, I never thought I'd see the day." She looked me up and down and then looked back at David. "What are you doing here, David?"

"Samantha's family and I are spending the week." His speech was clipped, short.

"Ah, I see." She began to sense that her presence was not welcome. "Well, I'd better be going. I have an appointment at the spa. It was good to see you, David." She nodded at him, "And so nice to meet you, Samantha." She leaned in to hug me good-bye. "Don't waste your time," she hissed, quietly, so only I could hear. My eyes shot daggers at her as she walked away.

"Just ignore her," David said softly.

"Let me guess— another ex-girlfriend?

David scoffed. "Hardly. We went to a charity ball together. Her mother is a big donor to the hospital," he offered, as if that explained it all away. I didn't like it, but it seemed like this was the routine. Each time we ventured out in public, some society girl was there, ready and waiting to pounce.

"Hmm...I see." Normally I would be annoyed, but the post-orgasmic glow kept me still. I closed my eyes and leaned back into him, inhaling deeply. I remained there, for several minutes, until the melodic voice of my mother broke in.

"Hey guys!"

My mom strode in languidly, her body language telling us that she was in a state of corporeal delight.

"How was your time at the spa, Angela?"

"It was so relaxing. Thank you again, David." She turned to me, "Honey, you look blissed out."

Oh, she had no idea.

~

Once Dad and Erin returned from the ice rink, we wandered down to the restaurant together.

"Keith, party of five," the hostess greeted us, before David even had the chance say hello. "We have you at the Chef's Table. Please, follow me".

We followed the hostess across the elegant dining room and through a door into the kitchen. To the side of the prep area was a beautiful table set for five. We were eating in the kitchen?

"The chef will be with you shortly," she said as we sat down.

"No menus?" my dad began to say, when a tattooed man, dressed in chef's whites came up beside David.

"David, good to see you." He extended his hand to David, and warmth radiated from his voice.

"Eric, thanks for fitting us in tonight," he said, meeting the handshake. "Everyone, this is Eric North, the head chef here. Eric, this is Samantha, my girlfriend, and her family—Angela, John, and Erin. I've been telling them what a gift you have."

Eric's eyes shined. I knew chefs were famous for their egos, and David was stroking his skillfully.

"David, you are too kind. Well, ladies and gentleman," he said, turning to us "If you would, please sit back, relax, and let us entertain you." And as soon as the words left his lips, five waiters appeared to our sides and placed small white plates in front of us. On them were wire contraptions that held miniature ice cream cones.

"An amuse-bouche," Eric explained, "to whet your appetite for what is to follow."

We all looked at each other. David gave me a little nod, and I lifted the small object into my mouth. The creaminess literally exploded on my tongue.

"Foie gras ice cream cone," Eric explained, "the foie gras is heated so that the center is liquid. What do you think?" He looked at us, his eyes full of hope.

"Delicious!" my father proclaimed. He'd always fancied himself a bit of a foodie, and this was right up his alley.

The chef retreated back to the kitchen and returned periodically to explain each dish that was brought to us, each one more inventive than the next. Wine was rotated during the meal as well, starting with a crisp white and ending with a beautifully aged cabernet. Though each dish was small, the sheer number of them had us groaning with fullness by the end.

We made our way through three versions of dessert, and just when we thought we were done, a tray of beautiful sweets was placed in the center of the table, and coffee and liqueur were served. I took a coffee with cream, and sampled a translucent pink square of jelly that tasted like roses. It was perfect. I leaned into David, relaxing as he regaled my family with tales of his childhood growing up in Louisiana. They couldn't tell, but I knew he was being careful, guarded, about what details he shared and which he withheld. However, he was so charming and funny; they never knew the difference.

~

The rest of the week passed in a warm blur. We spent mornings on the mountain, and evenings drinking wine and playing board games. David snuck into my room each night, and we had quick, silent sex, hoping Rex and my family wouldn't hear us.

On Thanksgiving, the oven went out. Rather than freak out, my mom ordered Chinese food, and we ate off of paper plates in front of the fire.

"Hey, David."

"Yes, Erin?"

"Do you know what it's called when people are afraid of chopsticks?"

"I believe it's called consecotaleophobia." David shot me a wink.

She stared at us, mouth hanging open and eyes wide with delight. After a few moments, she returned to her chow mien and announced very matter-of-factly: "Sam, I like your boyfriend."

I smiled. I liked him, too.

~

Eventually, Saturday came, and it was time to leave. I had to work on Sunday, and Mom and Dad liked to beat the traffic. I was sad to go. I loved my family, and we didn't get to spend a lot of time together these days.

"Are you guys sure we can't give you a lift?" I hugged my parents one last time, and looked at them expectantly.

"No, no, don't be silly, we will be fine. You two have fun." My mom shooed us out of the house. I could tell my dad kind of wanted to come with us, but that he'd go wherever my mom wanted. I shot him a knowing smile.

"Thank you again for hosting us, Angela." David reached out and kissed my mom on the cheek and she blushed. He shook my dad's hand. "Next time you want to go up, give me a call, John."

My dad beamed at him. A boyfriend with a collection of airplanes. He couldn't have been happier if I'd brought home the President.

We turned, and Thomas opened the door to the Audi. David put our duffle bags in the back, and we climbed in. I waved goodbye to Erin and my parents as Thomas turned down the driveway.

# Chapter 11

The trip back was quick, and before I knew it, we pulled up to my place.

"I'm sorry I have to work today." He looked pained as he put away his phone. It had been buzzing incessantly since yesterday.

"It's okay," I placated, "I know it was probably hard for you to take the week off." He smiled weakly at me.

"Maybe I'll just retire and buy an island. We could just sit on the beach every day, and drink things out of coconuts," he said wistfully.

"Hey," I cupped his face. "This week was wonderful. Thank you." I kissed him, trying to cheer him up. I think it worked. His expression changed.

"Are you free on Sunday night?" he paused. "It's Jenna's birthday, and my family is having a little get together at my dad's place." He examined my face for a reaction. "I can pick you up."

A family get together? At his Dad's place? He wanted to introduce me to his parents? Man, this guy moved fast. My mind flew in ten different directions and I swallowed hard.

"If you are free, of course..." he trailed off. Little things like that reminded me that we had barely known each other for more than a week, even though it felt like forever. He had met my whole family and knew my body more intimately than boys I'd dated ten times as long. But if I was honest with myself, I still knew so little about him, about where he came from. I also longed for proof that I was something more than another Vanessa. Meeting his family—was this validation? Validation that I mattered, that I was different than all the other girls? Meeting his family certainly felt like a big step. I took a deep breath, excited. The occasion would also allow me to do some reconnaissance. I smiled at him.

"I'd love to meet them. I have to work from ten until three, but I'm free after that."

"Perfect. We'll go up for dinner. I'll pick you up at three."

~

Thankfully, worked passed quickly on Sunday. Eve and I were on together for most of the shift, since Curtis was hoping for a good pre-Christmas shopping weekend. And he was right, the gallery was hopping. We sold four pieces, which was three more than we'd normally sell on a Sunday. For each piece that sold, we had dozens of folks who were just browsing, enjoying the art. I've never minded those types, they are fun to talk to and often less pretentious than the actual buyers. Three o'clock snuck up on me. Eve peeked out the window.

"I think your ride is here," she said, grinning. I rushed to grab my purse before heading out the door.

Exiting onto the sidewalk, I expected to see Thomas with the black SUV. Instead I was greeted by David, perched coolly on the edge of a gray Aston Martin coupe. Thomas was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey," he said, standing up and pulling me in for a hello kiss.

"Hey yourself," I kissed him back and then paused, "Nice car. Where's Thomas?"

"I gave him the night off," he said confidently, ever the master of his universe. He opened the door for me, and I dropped myself into the smooth leather cockpit. He walked around to the other side and settled in on the driver's seat.

"Buckle up," he commanded, full of assurance. We pulled out into traffic effortlessly. The Aston Martin was a fine car. Sleek, powerful—exactly the kind of car I'd pictured him driving. He hit a button on the steering wheel, and music surrounded us as we got on the freeway headed north. As we accelerated up the onramp, he expertly shifted gears, and the engine thundered to life. He glanced over at me, and we locked eyes with a knowing glance. The energy in the cockpit sizzled.

"I missed you, baby," he said, trying to bat down a smile.

"Me too," I murmured as we flew down the highway.

I realized I didn't even know where we were going.

"So where does your dad live?"

"In Napa. Julie—his new wife—her family started McNeary Vineyards, and she inherited it. My dad moved up there when they got married to start a country life." He seemed pleased about their union.

"Must be nice." I paused, "So it's Julie, your dad, Jenna... anyone else?" I ask, starting my line of inquiry for the night. I needed to be as prepped and ready as possible.

"My brother Jake is going to be there. He's still in school at UC Davis, but he's home because it's Thanksgiving break."

David switched the conversation to my day at the gallery, and I played along, waiting to find out more about him once I was at his family's house. I was also painfully aware I hadn't mentioned my trip to Miami yet. I had decided before Thanksgiving to wait until the time was right. He'd probably find a way to join me, and I really wanted to go on the trip alone to prove that I could hold my own in the art world. The last thing I needed was Mr. Control Freak inserting himself, no pun intended.

The Aston Martin expertly hugged the curves of the wine country roads. As we passed through the gates of McNeary Vineyards, the sun was just starting to dip, and we were surrounded with row upon row of bare vines cast in golden light as we drove up a long winding gravel driveway. The estate appeared over the horizon. It was a true California-style winery, nothing like the grand chateaus of France. A low, sprawling complex made of redwood and glass. We parked the car in the large roundabout and walked together to the front door of the living quarters.

"Any last tips?"

David stopped at the base of the steps and turned toward me. He shot me a quizzical look.

"No. Samantha, I haven't done this before." His shoulders shrugged ever so slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"I've never introduced a girl to my family." His eyes locked with mine, heavy with seriousness. Whoa. Really? All of his dates, and none of them had met his family? My subconscious grinned from ear to ear with the acknowledgment. I was about to be privy to something way more intimate than sex; a very special club. David's personal life was a closely guarded secret, and we were in unexplored territory, together. The notion gave me a silent thrill. I kissed him on the cheek and pulled him up the steps alongside me.

~

David's family was amazing, of course. I don't know what I had been so nervous about. Julie and Jack were both super laid back. It was hard to believe Jack used to be a surgeon. I couldn't picture his easy southern drawl in the operating room. The wine country life, Julie included, seemed to suit him. The two had an easy way between them, and spent the evening lobbing jokes back and forth. Jake, David's brother, was a spitting image of his father and shared Jack's brand of humor.

While dinner finished cooking, we sat around the fire pit on the back patio, the cold November air tempered by heat lamps and wool blankets. We shared a bottle of the latest McNeary zinfandel, and relaxed, unfolding into easy conversation.

"So David, I don't think I've heard the story about how you two met." Julie turned to us, topping off our glasses. David looked up from his phone, his brow furrowed. I figured something must be up at work; he didn't normally check it constantly.

"What's that?"

"I was asking how the two of you met."

"Jenna and I went to an opening at the Kinsler Gallery in Oakland. Samantha is a gallery assistant there." He pocketed the phone, and before he could continue, Jenna cut in.

"And we all met because I spilled wine all over her dress!" She cringed at the memory. Everyone looked mildly shocked.

"You did not!" scoffed Julie.

"That's our Jenna," teased Jack. "You know, we used to let her run around naked at home when she was little, because she was always spilling something on herself."

"I think I've improved significantly since I was five, thank you very much," she shot back, "well, except for that night. But, hey, you can't argue with results," she said, nodding toward David and me.

David smiled and pulled me in closer.

Julie cut in. "So Sam, how long have you been at the gallery?"

"Oh, let's see, almost nine months. I was an intern during my last semester at Cal, and then continued working there once I graduated."

"And you like it?"

"Oh, it's great. My co-workers are awesome, and it's part time so I have lots of free time, which is good. I volunteer at a children's center once a week, so I like to have time for that."

"Oh, that is so nice. Where is the center?"

"It's in Oakland too. I help with admin stuff and run some of the activities—crafts, sports, stuff like that."

"That sounds lovely."

"It is. I love the kids. They are the best, they have so much energy and such a positive outlook on life; it's really grounding."

"Children do have that power." Julie shot David a knowing look. I didn't dare look up at his reaction. I decided to change the subject.

"So, Julie, how did you and Jack meet?"

Everyone broke out in a collective groan.

"What?" I asked, bewildered at their reaction.

Julie answered. "Oh, no, don't worry Sam. You didn't know what you were bringing up. I take it David hasn't mentioned the epic rivalry we have going here?"

"Oh, no. He hasn't," I replied innocently while jabbing David playfully in the side.

Julie continued. "Well, should I tell the story Jack, or do you want to?"

"Go ahead. I'll correct any parts I object with."

She scrunched her nose at him, but continued, "Well, Sam, you first need to understand that my family are proud fourth generation Californians. Some of the first people here during the gold rush." She sat up proudly as she announced this fact. "So, of course, it goes without saying, we are 49ers fans."

Ah, football. Got it.

"So I was downtown in San Francisco one day with some friends watching the game at a sports bar. It was San Francisco versus New Orleans."

"The Saints," Jack added.

"Right, the Saints. So I'm there, in the bar with my friends, and we're having this great time, when all of a sudden this man next to me buys me a drink. He was very handsome, and we started talking. You would have thought I'd have noticed he was rooting for New Orleans!"

"But it was too late! She was so dumb-founded by my good looks; she didn't notice my Saints sweatshirt until she had already agreed to go out with me on a date."

"So you went anyway?" I asked.

"Yeah, he convinced me by arguing that at least I knew what his fatal flaw already was. I didn't have to find it out later."

"And it has all worked out, hasn't it honey?" Jack said to Julie.

"Every day except Sunday," Jake added, and everyone laughed.

We continued talking about football for a few more minutes until a woman in an apron poked her head through the back door.

"Dinner is served."

We all gathered our glasses and headed inside. Julie lagged and pulled me aside.

"Hey, Sam," her voice was quiet, and she kept glancing toward the house, "I know we just met, so don't take this the wrong way, but I was wondering... I don't know if you've had a chance to talk with David about his..." she paused, trying to find the right word, "... past."

I nodded solemnly. "He's told me a little."

"The universe doesn't cut us all an even share." She glanced away, and ran a finger under one of her eyes. "I've tried hard to be a good mother figure, but it's hard to replace ghosts of angels. I always figured he kept his distance because he didn't want to be hurt again, and I was fine with that." She exhaled, "But it's killed me to see him go so long without female companionship. It's like he just deadened the part of himself that could feel anything."

My heart broke. All this time, did I have it wrong? All the dates, the numerous women, was it really that he wasn't willing—or able—to feel deeply? To feel love and connection? Julie continued.

"But tonight, I am seeing a different side of him. I don't know what you've done, but I haven't seen him this..." she searched for the right word "happy—in ages."

I smiled. I didn't know what to say.

"He makes me very happy, too."

"I'm so glad, Sam. And thank you. That's all I wanted to say." She smiled gently at me. "Come on, I'm sure everyone is dying to eat."

She put her arm around me, and we rejoined everyone for dinner inside.

~

After the plates had been cleared, and cake had been eaten, we said our good-byes. John and Julie both gave me big hugs as we left.

"Don't be a stranger, now!" Julie shouted after us as we walked down the stairs toward the car.

I nuzzled into David's side. "Your family is so sweet."

"They are. I think Jake has a little crush on you." It was true; Jake had been staring at me during dinner.

As we walked to the car, I remembered something. I stopped in the midst of the gravel driveway, and turned to face David.

"David... can I ask you something?" I said playfully.

"Of course," he pulled me in closer, but I pushed back against him.

"You didn't, by chance, push Jenna into me at the gallery opening?"

David's pupils dilated, and his mouth, forced into a tight line, showed signs of pulling up at the corners. He looked up past my head, like he was keeping a juicy secret. He let go of me and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Are you accusing me of purposely ruining your white dress, Ms. Sharp?" he shot back a look that ripped right through me.

"I think I am, Mr. Keith." I paused for a beat. "I think you pushed Jenna into me so that we could meet." I glared up at him with a confident smirk. I had him figured out.

"Hmm, that would have been a genius plan." David smiled as he contemplated the story, and pulled me in under his shoulder as we resumed walking to the car.

"I thought you were a gambler, David. You didn't want to leave it to fate?"

"I am a gambler Samantha, but that doesn't mean I won't go to lengths to put the odds in my favor."

# Chapter 12

The city was abuzz as I stepped out of the black SUV, carefully to keeping my legs together so that my skirt didn't flash everyone on the sidewalk. I was in the city to meet David at his office for lunch.

"I'll be here when you are ready, Miss."

"Thank you, Thomas." I looked up at the tall glass building, the home of Keith Ventures.

So this is where he spends his days. I chuckled. It was only fitting that I met David's family before getting to see where he works. His company was such a big part of his identity, it felt almost more intimate than kin. A doorman opened the heavy glass doors as I entered the lobby. I spied a counter manned by three beefy security guards.

"Excuse me, could you tell me which floor Keith Ventures is on?"

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Uh, um. Yes. With David Keith," I stammered. I didn't want it to seem like I was one of those girls, or that I was name-dropping.

"Ms. Sharp?" I nodded. He picked up the phone and after a beat another security guard appeared at my side.

"Right this way, ma'am." I followed him across the lobby to the last elevator. He led me in, swiped a card and pressed the top button before exiting, leaving me alone in the car.

I expected the ride up to the 31st floor to take a while, so I glanced at my phone, checking my texts. Just one from Carrie asking about lunch next week. She had been spending every spare moment with Derek lately, and I ventured to guess she was totally smitten. It would be good to see her.

Finally the car dinged, and the elevator doors parted, revealing an expansive lobby. The ceilings had to be at least two stories tall—a perk of being on the top floor. Everything about the space was super masculine but airy, all glass and sleek stone. It felt familiar. It was very... David.

I approached the reception desk. It was staffed by an attractive young African American girl, wearing a crisply pressed black suit. She looked up with a smile as I approached.

"Hello, I am here to see Da, err, I mean Mr. Keith."

"Very good, Ms. Sharp," How did she know it was me? David must have alerted them. "Dana will take you back." Almost out of nowhere another young woman appeared at my side. She was tall with platinum hair styled in French twist. Equally attractive as the woman at the desk.

Don't any men work here? I wondered as Dana led me down a hallway to a smaller reception area and past an empty desk. She stopped outside a large door.

"Go ahead." She nodded, indicating I should go in.

I pushed open the heavy door and tiptoed into the huge space. David was standing at his desk, on the phone, with one hand shoved in his pocket. He was wearing his glasses today I noted, pleased. His posture was confident, and his tone was calm. He motioned for me to sit down. His office was impressive. There were huge floor to ceiling windows lining one side with a full view of downtown San Francisco. The office was furnished with a heavy-looking glass conference table and a seating area with leather sofas. It was all sleek, masculine, and very Alpha Male. Seeing him in his domain really turned me on. I was here with two objectives: the first one—some afternoon delight, but the main one being to tell him about my upcoming trip to Miami. I wasn't sure how he'd react. I dropped the bag with our lunch on the table, and made eye contact with him while I unbuttoned the top button of my shirt. He ran his hand through his hair.

"Charlie, I have to go. My next meeting just arrived." And he hung up the phone, I think, without waiting for a response.

A restrained grin passed his lips and he motioned for me. "Come here, baby."

I looked around the room speculatively.

"Don't worry, there aren't any cameras."

I walked over, slowly, savoring the sight of him. He was in his business uniform—charcoal dress pants, crisp white shirt rolled up to the elbows, and a black tie. There was a suit jacket hanging nearby. Something about seeing him so neatly pressed made me want to tear him apart—mess up his hair, undo his tie, and smear lipstick all over his collar, claiming him as mine. He sat down, and I sat on his lap. I felt him getting hard through the fabric. He kissed me on the lips, and then I pushed his face into my décolletage.

"Remind me why we haven't had lunch before?" he said, looking up with a naughty grin on his face.

"Some of us work for a living."

"I work."

"No, you run your universe. It's different."

"I see. Well. Maybe you should come and work for my universe." He stared at me hotly, challenging me with his eyes. "Then we could have lunch every day."

"Wouldn't you like to lock me away here in your tower?" He started kissing my neck. I moaned.

"I would throw away the key," he whispered.

"Are you hungry?" I tried to redirect our attention to lunch, but it was already too late. It was crazy how hot the prospect of sex at his office made me feel. I felt around and unbuttoned his pants. He hiked up my skirt, revealing the garter belt I wore as a surprise. He stared at me, eyes full of wonder.

"Fuck, Samantha. You are incredible, do you know that?" I started to take my heels off, when he stopped me. "Keep those on," he ordered, his eyes dark with need. He stood up, scooping me in his arms and took me over to the conference table. He set me down softly and then took a step back.

He stood there silently for a moment, examining me. He was still fully clothed, with just his pants unzipped, hands thrust into his pockets. I unbuttoned my shirt further, my breasts heaving over the fabric. He took one hand and rubbed his mouth and neck, contemplating his course of action.

His control was so arousing. I was soaking right through my panties, and my sex longed for the relief that could only be granted by his thick cock. Thankfully, he finally spoke.

"Spread your legs."

I obeyed. He ran his thumb over my panties, feeling the wetness. He smiled wickedly at the sensation.

"Good girl. Now touch yourself," he commanded.

I reached down and rubbed my clit slowly, propping myself up and staring him down while I did it. He leaned in, pulling me closer to him.

"That's right, Samantha. You have a greedy little cunt, don't you?"

"Mmmhmm."

"I'm not going to let you keep it all for yourself. "

"So bossy," I breathed, barely able to speak.

"You have no idea."

His eyes narrowed, and he licked his lips. He pulled his cock free and jerked me to the edge of the table. He pushed my panties off to the side, and slid his length into me in one quick hard thrust. My back arched in an attempt to accommodate his size.

He took me over and over again, and I gave myself away to pure animalistic fucking. I pulled at his ass, forcing him deeper into me. I adjusted myself, looking to capitalize on the rhythm. I lost myself in him and then I started to I feel him get even bigger, and his breath changed. I could tell he was close.

"Oh, God, you fuck me so good." I hissed. That was all it took. He pulled on my hips and ground into me, sending me into the throes of orgasm. He erupted inside me, and I could feel hot cum filling me, lubricating his cock. I kept coming, surfing my orgasm as I used my hips to greedily extract every bit of his semen. We both groaned with pleasure and collapsed in on each other.

After a minute, he leaned back and slowly peeled himself off of me. I sat up and pushed my skirt back down while he zipped his pants.

"Restroom?"

He pointed toward the back of the office, too tired to speak.

I flicked the light in the small room and washed my hands. I examined myself in the mirror and made sure no errant cum had deposited itself on my outfit. I attempted to smooth my just-fucked hair and walked back into the office.

"Hungry?" I asked, nonchalantly picking up the lunch bag. He turned to me and raised an eyebrow.

"For lunch," I clarified. "I brought sandwiches." I arranged the spread at the other end of the conference table.

"You are the best," he murmured, staring at me, his mind still clearly on the previous meal. I really needed to talk to him about Miami. I couldn't put it off anymore

"So, I wanted to run something by you."

"Sure baby, what is it?" he asked, unwrapping his sandwich.

I loved it when he called me baby.

"Well," I took a deep breath as he took a bite of his sandwich. "I have an opportunity to go to the Art Basel show for work."

He chewed and raised an eyebrow. I had to wait a moment until he swallowed.

"Switzerland?"

I shook my head. "Miami." I paused. "This weekend."

"That's soon."

I couldn't read his expression. "I know. It just came up." A white lie.

"Who are you going with? Curtis?"

The question I was dreading.

"Uh, no. Evan. Evan Carmichael." He looked at me skeptically. I tried to explain. "He thinks I have a good eye. He's paying for everything."

David's nostrils flared almost imperceptibly. "There is no need for that," he said sharply, a hint of southern twang surfacing. "Here, use this." He reached into his wallet and placed a black credit card on the table. I looked down at it— Keith Ventures. "I'd prefer to be the man who takes care of your needs." I didn't usually get to see this side of David. He usually played everything so cool. But this was Mr. Possessive and Jealous, and it was kind of hot. I liked it.

"Won't they get mad at you, for you know, using company funds on me?"

"It's my company, Samantha. What I say goes."

I took the card and slipped it into my bra. "You got it, boss." I batted my eyelashes at him.

He relaxed and sat back. "So when will you be gone?"

"I'm flying out on Thursday and coming back on Sunday."

I could see the gears cranking in his head. He was about to impose himself. I knew it.

"What if I met you out there on Friday night? We could do some... sightseeing."

We both knew the only sight we'd be seeing was the hotel ceiling.

He continued. "I actually have to fly out tomorrow night."

It was my turn to look surprised.

"There's been a bit of a situation developing at our Tokyo office, and it's best that I'm physically there." I can fly out on Thursday and be in Miami by Friday night." He went over to his desk and jotted something down on a piece of paper. "Make a reservation here, and use my name. They will take care of you."

I looked down at the note. It was a hotel, but not a Hilton or anything I recognized. I realized this meant I had his blessing. I was going to Miami.

"Oh, thank you David. I'm so excited!"

"You don't like this Carmichael guy, do you?"

David Keith, insecure? A rare moment, to be sure.

"Of course not. You are the only one I'm interested in." I reached out and caressed his face.

He narrowed his eyes "And Thomas is going with you."

"David. I am a grown woman." I sat up straight in my seat, as if to demonstrate this with my posture. "I do not need an escort."

"Nonsense. You are my girlfriend. You need a security detail."

"If I don't need one in California, why would I need one in Florida?"

His hard stare eased, and he looked at the space above my head. I was starting to learn to be suspicious of that look.

I gasped. "Do I have a security detail?"

David avoided my eye contact.

"David. I asked you a question. Is there someone following me? Watching me?"

"It's for your protection. They don't interfere in your life. They just watch you from a distance, when Thomas isn't around."

I remembered Cooper's comments in Tahoe, about knowing me from afar. It was all starting to come together. I wanted to be mad, but there was part of me that understood why. This man had lost two of the most important women in the world to him. Having me detailed was his strange, twisted way of taking care of me, and to my surprise, I was actually touched.

"They have to keep their distance," I acquiesced. David's eyes soften, and he smiled. "I don't want everyone thinking I'm some woman on a leash."

"Acknowledged."

# Chapter 13

Tuesday morning, Thomas drove me to the children's center. I felt like such a heel for pulling up in a chauffeured car, but David had insisted. I was surprised though, when Thomas got out of the car and started to go inside with me.

"Do you need to use the restroom?" I asked, as I looked around nervously. I would never hear the end of it if some of the kids saw me with a driver.

"No, Miss. Mr. Keith asked that we do a security sweep of the location."

I looked down at the pavement for a moment and then back up at him. In a careful, measured voice I responded, "Absolutely not."

"Mr. Keith insisted."

"Thomas, I have been volunteering here for over three years. All you are going to find in that building are a bunch of kids who are really excited because they have unlimited access to apple juice and basketballs. It is safe, trust me."

He looked at me, his expression not revealing his thoughts.

"Besides, we don't allow outsiders. Kids and staff, only. You can wait outside, if you must."

This seemed to do the trick.

"Very well, Miss. I will be here if you need anything."

"Thank you, Thomas." He turned and walked back to the SUV.

I smiled as I walked to the entrance of the center. I was keenly aware that David hadn't meant any harm by the request. It was just his warped way of showing that he cared. He hadn't been able to control his entire lot in life, so he grasped tightly onto what he could now. It wouldn't be a problem, as long as he listened to my limits. I put the issue out of my mind, and turned my focus to the afternoon ahead.

Pushing through the front door of the center, I was greeted by silence. It was still early, and the kids hadn't come in from school yet. I walked through the center, passing empty activity rooms until I got to the back office. Wing and Linda, the couple who ran the center were there, sitting on the floor, affixing labels to a stack of letters, deeply engaged in conversation.

"Hey guys," I said brightly, interrupting them. They both looked up.

"Sammie!" Linda exclaimed, putting down the letters, and pulling herself to her feet. She came over and gave me a hug.

"How are you honey? We missed you last week. How was your time with your family?"

"It was good, thanks. Did you guys have a good Thanksgiving?"

They looked at each other and chuckled.

"Wing and I were just talking about that. My sister and her kids drove up from Monterey, and we tried to do one of those deep-fried turkeys."

"Uh-oh." Linda had a reputation for mis-fires in the kitchen. I wasn't quite sure why she had attempted something so ambitious.

"Uh-oh exactly. The good news is I didn't set fire to the house." She glanced over at Wing.

He looked up. "The bad news is; she forgot to defrost the turkey."

"No one told me I had to defrost it first."

"Oh, Linda."

Wing continued from the floor, "She cooked it for three hours, and it still wasn't done on the inside."

I turned to Linda. "Seriously?"

"So, we had a turkey-less turkey day. It was fine though. One of my sisters' kids is a vegetarian now, anyway."

"Well, to be honest, we had a turkey-less Thanksgiving, too. The oven broke while we were up at the cabin, and we ended up getting Chinese food."

"Must have been a full moon that night," Wing offered.

I chuckled and looked at the floor between them. "What are you guys up to?"

"Just sending out end-of-year donation reminders," Wing said as he peeled off a label and affixed it to an envelope.

"Oh, guys, you should let me do that kind of stuff. You have more important things to do."

"Nonsense, we are almost done, anyway. I was actually hoping you could set up the art room today. Kathy is home sick with the flu," Linda said.

"Oh, for sure. Which activity was planned for today?"

"Clay," she said with a hopeful smile.

I was glad I had chosen to wear my old jeans. The clay class was notoriously messy.

"Awesome. I will go get set up."

I wandered down the hall, past the gym and snack room to the art room. It was decorated on every wall with artwork by the kids who frequented the center. I glanced around and noticed some new watercolors. Most of them depicted happy scenes: sunny days, princesses, butterflies. I was amazed that these kids were able to have such happy thoughts, knowing full well the circumstances most of them came from.

I grabbed an apron off a hook and went over to the supply room. I opened the cabinet marked 'Clay Supplies' and removed a big slab of grayish-brown clay wrapped in plastic and took it over to the table. I went about slicing off fifteen smaller hunks, and set them on the table along with sponges and various types of sculpting tools.

I was just finishing setting up when I heard a rumble, like thunder. The kids were here. I counted silently as I heard the rumble getting closer and closer. Finally, a few small faces appeared in the window of the door, pressed up against the glass. I went over to let them in.

"Miss Sammie!" Two little girls screamed as I opened the door. They tore into the room and gave me a big hug.

"Hi Ariana, Hi Kayla," I said, patting their heads.

"Sammie, what are you doing here today?" Kayla put her hands on her hips, scolding me. "Miss Kathy was supposed to be here."

"Miss Kathy is sick today, so I'm helping out."

"Okay!" she said brightly, immediately accepting the change. "What are we doing today?"

"Clay!"

"All right! It's clay day!" she screamed, clasping her hands together. "It's clay day everyone!" She exclaimed to the other kids as they sauntered into the room. Kayla was a firecracker. I had no doubt she'd go on to be a leader in whatever field she chose.

I ushered the kids into their aprons and got them settled in their seats before handing out the trays of water that promised to make the tabletop a soppy mess in about forty-five minute's time. The kids were nuts about the activity. They always were. There was just something about the tactile nature of clay—it was accessible for most kids. When you did watercolors or pastels, there was always a kid who was tentative, hesitant, to make the first marks on a page. But with clay, you could just dive in. If something didn't work, you just smashed it and started fresh. It was fun to watch.

I was handing a garlic press to one of the kids so they could make clay 'spaghetti,' when Linda popped her head in the classroom.

"Sam, can I ask you a question?"

I walked over to her.

"Do you know a man who drives a black SUV?"

I groaned inside. Oh, no what had Thomas done? Had he tried to come into the center again?

"Um, yeah, why what's up?" I said. I pushed a tendril of hair out of my face with my arm, as my hands were completely covered in clay.

"Oh, okay. Good. Wing just noticed him sitting out there, and it was a little odd, so he went to talk to him. He said he knew you."

I paused and tried to clean off my hands with my apron. How much of this story was I going to tell? I decided to go with the truth. A limited version of the truth. "Yeah, I know him. He's fine. He's actually my boyfriend's driver. He dropped me off and is going to take me home after my shift."

Linda raised her eyebrow at me. "Boyfriend?" she asked.

"Um. Yeah. His name is David."

"And why is this the first time I've heard about him?" she said, excitement peppering her voice.

"Oh, well, we haven't been dating that long," I said, hoping to make it sound like more than the week and a half it actually was.

"Hmm. Well, tell me more. Who is he? What does he do? When do we get to meet him?"

I shook my head and laughed. I had known Linda and Wing so long they were like family. Of course they felt they were entitled to meet the new man in my life.

"His name is David, and he works in finance." Well, he did technically. They didn't need to know he was a worldwide mogul. "And you can meet him soon. I promise. He's just super busy. He's actually flying out to Tokyo tonight," I added, hoping that she'd understand if I didn't bring him around for a while.

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes in mock frustration.

A scream erupted from behind us. I whipped around to find the face of one of the younger boys covered in clay. He started to cry. Ariana was standing next to him with a blank look on her face.

"I didn't do it," she said emphatically.

I looked at Linda. "Clean him up. I'll watch the group," she said.

"Ariana."

"What?" she asked, innocently.

"Ariana, what happened?" I asked, as I led the boy to the sink.

"Victor, he smashed my clay. I told him not to touch, and then he smashed it."

"And then what happened?"

Ariana looked down at her shoe. She didn't say anything.

"Ariana, you are much older than Victor."

"So?"

"So, sometimes little kids don't know what they are doing."

"I'm little."

"But you know that throwing clay at someone is wrong, right?"

"Maybe."

I sighed as I moistened a washcloth and wiped the clay off Victor's face. He had calmed down.

"Ariana, what are you going to do next time someone tries to mess with your stuff?"

She looked like she genuinely didn't know. I wanted to laugh, but I kept a straight face, and crouched down on my knee.

"How about you ask your teacher for help?"

"Okay," she said softly.

"Okay, good. Now, back to work you two." They both scampered back to the table and resumed their art-making.

I resumed my conversation with Linda, but this time, we both kept our eyes on the table.

"So, how is everything at the gallery, Sam?"

"Oh, good. You know. Same old. We had a show open the Thursday before last, and it went really well."

"You know, one of these days, I'm going to convince you to quit that job and come work here."

Linda and Wing had made that joke ever since I started at the gallery. But the center was always just scraping by. As much as I'd love it, they could barely afford to pay themselves, let alone another staff person.

"Oh, you know what, that reminds me. Guess where I'm going this weekend?" I said, with a glimmer in my eye.

"Where?"

"Miami."

"Miami? What's in Miami?"

"Art Basel. It's a big contemporary art fair. I met another gallery owner, and he offered to show me the ropes."

"Wow, that sounds like a great opportunity Sam. Just don't go moving off to New York or something."

"Don't be silly. You know I love the Bay Area," I said, lying through my teeth. I had always told myself that I had to be ready and willing to move should an opportunity open up. I thought it was an important part of being able to move up in the world. I didn't ever want to feel trapped and unable to pursue my dreams. No one was more surprised than I that I had stayed in the Bay Area for a part time job. But until that opportunity came, I was content.

~

At seven, we locked the doors of the center, and I said goodbye to Linda and Wing. As I turned around and walked down the sidewalk to the waiting SUV, I felt their eyes on me. I knew I'd have to answer another battery of questions next time I saw them. But that could wait. For now, I climbed into the car, and Thomas whisked me across town to meet Carrie for dinner.

Carrie and I had planned to meet at a Thai restaurant on College Avenue. It was our spot. We had spent many a night there during college, gossiping with friends over spring rolls and Pad Thai. Even after most of our college friends had left the area, we continued to frequent it as a twosome.

"Thomas, can I get you something to go?" I asked, leaning forward in my seat.

"No, Miss, that is quite all right. I will be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Miss. Enjoy your dinner."

I acquiesced. "Okay, I'll see you in an hour or so."

"Yes, Miss."

I opened the car door and crossed the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Pushing open the glass door to the restaurant, the bells chimed gently, announcing my arrival. The restaurant was dimly lit by little multi-hued Christmas lights that rimmed the room. The space was pretty full for a weekday, a testament to the excellent food, no doubt. A slim Asian woman looked up from the hostess stand and recognized me almost immediately.

"Hey Sam, two for dinner?"

"You know it."

She led me to our favorite seat, a table that looked out onto College Avenue from the front windows.

"Menus?"

"Nah," I said with a smile. Carrie and I had practically memorized the menu.

"I'll be right back with some tea and water."

"Thanks, Dara."

She disappeared into the back, and I pulled out my phone. There was a message from Carrie.

Running late. Be there in ten.

I checked the time on her message and then the time on my phone. That meant she would be there in about—

The front door jangled, and Carrie burst through the door. She did a quick scan of the room and gave me a little wave when she spotted me.

She settled into our table with an apologetic grin, just as Dara was delivering the tea and water.

"Hey, Carrie."

"Hey, Dara. How are you?"

"Good, good. What can I get for you guys?" she asked, pulling out her notepad.

Carrie and I exchanged glances. She gestured at me to order.

"Spring rolls, green papaya salad, and Panang curry with brown rice, please."

"Chicken not beef, right?" she confirmed, as she scribbled down our order.

"Yep."

"You got it. Thanks guys." She stuck the pen behind her ear and headed back to the kitchen.

I turned to Carrie, but before I could say anything, she started.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. My car wouldn't start. I had to leave it in the lot at work. I ended up taking a bus, but I forgot how much longer that takes."

"No worries. I just got here, anyway. Sorry about your car—what's wrong with it?" Carrie's old Volvo had served us well through college, but we both knew it was only a matter of time until it was time for it to retire.

"I don't know. It started making a whirling sound yesterday and then today it just wouldn't even start."

"Yikes."

"I know. I'm really not in the mood to dip into 'le vacation fund,' but I might have to."

'Le vacation fund,' was Carrie's name for her Paris savings account. We both had one. The plan was for each of us to save up enough money to spend a few weeks there. We had both missed the chance to study abroad when we were undergrads, so putting a few dollars each month toward 'le vacation fund' was how we were going to rectify that mistake. The plan was to stay in hostels, eat street food, and spend the days wandering the city and flirting with French men. At the rate we were both saving, it would take us forty years to get there, but hey, it was a wonderful dream.

"I feel like I should contribute, since you are always driving me around," I offered. I had a little more money in my account than usual, since David had been covering most of my meals and transportation costs.

"No, no. Don't be silly. I don't even know what's wrong with it yet."

"So how was work?"

"Good. Bad. Horrible. The usual." Carrie was a social worker at a free clinic in Berkeley. It was a rough gig. She had majored in sociology and had wanted to change the world. But reality had set in, and lately she'd been realizing that paperwork and red tape were a required part of the job.

"You're doing good work, Carrie. Important work."

"I know, that's what's so hard. I mean, you just see these people come through, and sometimes they are at just the lowest point of their life. And then I have to give them a form. A form! Can you imagine going through something horrific and painful, and then having to deal with bureaucracy on top of it?" As she spoke she grew more and more agitated.

Thankfully, Dara came by and put the springs rolls and salad on the table. We took turns spooning the food onto our plates. I used the break in conversation to announce my big news.

"So, I met David's family on Sunday."

Carrie stopped mid-bite with her spring roll. She looked shocked.

"It was Jenna's birthday, I explained." Carrie swallowed and took a sip of water.

"You met his family already? Sam, that is like, major."

"I know." I picked at my salad.

"So, what were they like?"

"Really nice, actually. I don't know what I was expecting. They were really laid back, well, except for Jenna."

"The one who spilled on you, right?"

I blushed, remembering my conversation with David after the party. I wasn't about to tell Carrie that my new boyfriend was the actual culprit.

"Yeah. I remember her from Curtis's. She's a ball of energy." Carrie took a big forkful of salad. "So, any hot brothers for me?"

"He has one brother, but actually David is adopted."

"Adopted? Really? Did you know that?"

"Yeah, he told me a while ago," I paused, debating how much to share about his upbringing. "He's actually from Louisiana. His mom died when he was young, and the Keith's adopted him out there before moving to the bay area."

"Oh, good thing. Otherwise he might already be married with kids."

"Carrie."

"Hey, hey, calm down. I'm just kidding. Half my family is from Kentucky, remember?"

I shook my head at her, amused. She could be so inappropriate sometimes.

Dara brought our curry. The steaming bowl of peanut flavored sauce smelled amazing. I spooned some rice onto my plate and then handed the container to Carrie.

"So where is Moneybags tonight?"

"He's flying out to Tokyo. Something about having to be at that office for a meeting. He's coming back on Friday, and I'm meeting him in Miami."

"I'm gonna get you some new business cards—Sam Sharp, Jetsetter."

"I'm not the one flying to Tokyo," I explained.

"But you're going to Miami, and your boyfriend is flying in from Tokyo to meet you." She gesticulated widely for emphasis, almost knocking over her water glass.

"Okay, okay, I get what you mean. It's weird for me, too, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up."

"So what are you going to do while you are there, anyway?"

"Not totally sure. Evan said he would show me the ropes. I think there are a few evening events we are going to attend, and then during the day the entire city is basically transformed into gallery space. I guess I'll just follow Evan's lead and soak up as much as I can."

"Is this Evan guy quality stuff?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do I have to worry about you while you are gone. Is he creepy? Does he drive a big van with no windows? Does he have a moustache?"

I laughed. "No. He actually seems way more normal than most of the people in the art world. I'll be fine. Besides, Thomas is coming with me."

"So you have security now?" Carrie's jaw dropped. "Is he here now?" She pretended to crane her head around the restaurant. "Can he give me a ride home?"

I chuckled. "Yes, we can give you a ride, but no, I do not have security now." I lied not wanting her to think poorly of David. "Not normally. It's just being away for so--"

"David wanted to keep an eye on you?"

"Not exactly."

Carrie did not look convinced.

"It just comes with the territory. Besides, Thomas is nice enough. It will be fine."

"Okay. But you have to call me if you get into trouble. One text, and I'll be on the next flight, okay?"

"Thanks Carrie." I was humbled by her offer, however outlandish.

She put her fork down and looked at me sternly. "You're my gal, Sam. We look out for each other."

"You're the best."

"I know." She grinned.

"So," I said, changing the subject, "How is Derek?"

"Oh, he's good." Carrie squirmed in her seat and started blushing.

"He must be very good if he's eliciting that reaction," I teased.

"You know, he is on a full-ride for his graduate work—did I tell you that? He is so smart, Sam. We just stay up late talking about human behavior, and it's..." she paused as she searched for the right word, "inspiring, you now?"

"Mmmhmm," I said, my mouth full of curry.

"It makes me wonder if I'm in the right line of work, you know? Like, I used to feel that way when I was in undergrad, but now, it's like that passion, that zest; it's just missing or something."

Leave it to Carrie to perfectly articulate what I'd been feeling but couldn't define. I swallowed.

"I think I know what you mean. I've been feeling a little like that at work lately, too."

Carrie sat back in her seat. "I mean, it's not like I'm going to get up and quit tomorrow, but being with him, it just reminds me of what's possible, you know?"

"Yeah."

"I just want a life full of passion."

And I realized that that was what I had with David.

# Chapter 14

The flight into Miami was rough. We hit a lot of turbulence somewhere over the Midwest. Lucinda told me not to worry, but I hated being up in the air without David to keep me calm. When we finally landed, I was surprised to find Miami a sunny 75 degrees.

Thomas drove us from the airport in a rented SUV. Downtown Miami was a beautiful place. Palm trees and bright colors were everywhere. We pulled up to the Setai and got out. The hotel managed to be both opulent, yet understated. The lobby was lush with greenery and vibrating with beautiful people. I looked around for the check-in desk. A woman in a linen sheath dress with the Setai logo appeared at my side.

"Hello, Mrs. Keith." I jumped. "Welcome to the Setai. My name is Danielle. May I show you to your room?"

Did the rich just get used to this? Random people just sneaking up on them?

"Uh, yes, thank you." A bellman came up and took my bag. Thomas followed as we cut through the lobby to the elevator.

As the elevator rose, Danielle continued.

"I'm very glad you chose to stay with us this weekend, Mrs. Keith. I do hope you enjoy the suite." I smiled at the misnomer, and glanced at Thomas. I was sure he noticed, but he didn't let on or correct her either. Once we reached our floor, the doors parted, and we exited into a light-filled penthouse at the top of the hotel.

"Ten-thousand square feet spanning the entire top floor of the hotel." She led us through the suite. "Four bedrooms, private rooftop pool, fully-equipped kitchen, and private dining room. And of course, complimentary chef, butler, and valet service are available to address any needs that may come up during your stay." She handed me a small cell phone, with only one button. "If you require their services, please don't hesitate to call."

I was overwhelmed. This "suite" was insane.

Danielle disappeared back into the elevator. Thomas turned to me.

"If you don't mind, miss, I am going to do a quick security sweep. Could you please have a seat?" he gestured toward a sunken sectional that overlooked the ocean.

I was about to protest, but it looked so comfortable, I decided to oblige.

I flopped onto the sofa and realized how tired I was.

Oh, yeah, Sharp. Tough life, jet-setting across the country in your boyfriend's private jet and then having to wait while your security detail sweeps your giant hotel suite. I shook my head at my silly thoughts and pulled out my cell phone.

Nothing from David. He might still be on the plane. I decided to text him.

Got in safe. Wanted you to know. The hotel is great. Hope Tokyo is going well. Miss you.

I waited for a response. Nothing. Oh well. I put the phone away.

Thomas returned. "All clear, Miss."

"Thanks Thomas. Which bedroom do you want?" I assumed he'd take one of the four.

"Oh, no, Miss. I will be in the attached security quarters." He pointed to a door near the elevator. "Just knock or call if you need anything. I will be literally twenty feet away." Security quarters? What kind of patrons did this hotel normally host?

"Oh, okay. Thanks. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I'm just going to unpack and catch up on email."

"Very good, Miss." He turned on his heel and vanished through the security door.

~

Unpacking took all of three seconds. I had only brought a couple of dresses and an equal number of shoes. I pulled out my laptop and ventured out onto the deck, making myself comfortable on a chaise lounge chair.

I turned on my computer and scanned my inbox for David's name. Nothing. Just an email from my mom asking about Christmas plans. As I sat out there in the warm breeze, Christmas felt months away. I shut my laptop and promised myself I'd answer her later. I put the computer off to the side and closed my eyes.

I was just drifting off to sleep when my phone buzzed a couple of times. I rubbed my eyes and rolled over to check it. It was Evan.

Samantha, are you in town yet?

There's a party tonight at Collins Park.

A lot of the New York gallerists are going.

It would be good for you to come.

My introvert instincts wanted to stay in, order room service, and take advantage of the hotels free HBO. But I didn't fly halfway across the country to be a hermit. I did it for my career, for networking. I probably wouldn't get another chance like this again. I texted him back.

Hey, yes, just checked in.

I'll be there. What time should I meet you?

I waited.

Nine o'clock.

I'll meet you at the main tent.

I fired off a response.

Great. See you then.

I breathed a sigh of relief. That gave me almost six hours just to relax and recoup. I set my alarm and laid back in the chaise, returning to my nap.

~

That evening, I emerged onto the sidewalk outside the Setai. It was dark, but the air was still warm. I was wearing one of the dresses I had packed—a lightweight poplin number, and I tugged on its hem as I headed down the street. I knew Thomas was somewhere behind me, keeping his distance. It was oddly comforting in this new city. The park was less than a block from the hotel, so I got there quickly. Scanning the area, I saw Evan across the square, typing furiously into his cell phone. I called out, and he looked up as I approached.

"Hey, Sam, glad you made it." He leaned in and gave me an awkward mock-hug.

"Hey, Evan. I'm so glad to be here. Thank you again for inviting me. This place is awesome." I looked around at the string lights that decorated the park. They had done up the place as an outdoor exhibit space. There were installations and sculptures sprinkled throughout the space, accented by tons of beautiful, artsy looking people. It was intimidating but very glamourous. Evan looked at me.

"So, where are you staying?"

"Oh, the ... uh," I paused, "The Setai." I glanced down at my feet and then out into the crowd.

"Oh of course. So you are dating David Keith?"

How did he know?

"The hotel give it away?"

"Well, I'm staying at the Hilton. Just saying." He flashed a grin at me, and then I remembered—he probably saw us at the gallery that night.

"So, how does this event work?" I asked him.

He looked at me, amused. "Well... we walk around... and talk with people... and look at art." He spoke slowly, like he was explaining to a child.

I blushed. Sheesh, I'm new at this. You don't have to be a jerk about it. I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering myself.

"Lead the way." And I gestured forward with my hand. I was determined to get something out of this trip, even if it meant putting up with a pompous gallery owner.

"Something to drink?"

"Please." We walked over to the bar and Evan got us a couple glasses of sparkling wine. Once we got out amongst other attendees and got some alcohol into us, Evan's attitude improved. He really was an excellent networker. He knew lots of people there, and he introduced me to all of them. We were on the south side of the exhibition when Evan saw yet another person who he knew.

"Camille!" Evan waved across the lawn. A young blond woman raised her head and looked over at us. Her eyes lit up, and she walked over.

"Evan Carmichael. Long time no see." She hugged him.

"Hello, Camille. How is Mike?" Evan looked genuinely glad to see her.

"He is good, good. He's in Finland this week and was so bummed he couldn't be here."

"Camille, this is Sam Sharp. Sam works for the Kinsler Gallery in Oakland." I stuck my hand out. "And, she is dating David Keith."

Her eyes widened at the mention of David. I glanced at Evan—why did he have to say that? I didn't want to use David's name to my advantage at this event. I wanted to make it on my own.

"Oh really?" Her eyes trained on me as she took my outstretched hand.

"Um, yeah," I stammered.

"And how do you like the Kinsler Gallery? Curtis is delightful, isn't he?" She was smiling, but her eyes were like ice.

"He's amazing."

"Sam, Camille runs Essex Gallery, both the New York and San Francisco branches." His phone buzzed. "Excuse me for a moment ladies." He turned to the side to take the call.

Camille pulled me in close, her eyebrows raised.

"Can I give you some advice? Woman to woman?" She didn't wait for a response. "Don't bother with David."

"Pardon?"

"Don't waste your time. Look, I don't know you, but clearly you are young and beautiful. He never stays with anyone for long, so don't get too comfortable."

"Did you two...?" I asked, probing for more information. I was starting to get really tired of these 'helpful interventions. 'I figured I might as well start using them for research.

"Oh, no," she laughed, "but I've had friends get their hearts broken. I'm just trying to help. Besides, Evan seems keen on you."

She pulled back as Evan rejoined the conversation, and her face quickly returned to an expressionless state. It was bizarre.

"Evan dear, I have to go say hello to someone, but we really should get a drink next time I'm in the city."

"Of course, Camille. Give me a ring next time you are around." He leaned in and hugged her goodbye. She moved over to me, repeating the gesture.

"Good luck," she whispered, and I couldn't tell if her words were sincere. I stared at her as she walked away and cool anger started to slowly build inside me. She didn't know my situation. She didn't know David—and she didn't know who David was with me. I made a mental note to steer clear of her for the remainder of the weekend.

~

At the end of the night, Evan walked me back to the hotel. My feet were exhausted, and I was ready to hit the sack.

"So, Sam, what did you think of your first Art Basel experience?"

"Great. Overwhelming. But great. Thanks again for letting me tag along."

I was ready to go upstairs, but Evan didn't seem to want to leave. I tried to ply him with questions.

"So, um, tomorrow. What's the plan?"

"Exhibition Hall. Do you want to meet for breakfast?"

It was late, and I was beat. It was time for a little white lie. "Actually, I thought I might go for a run in the morning. Do you want to meet after that? I can text you." I had no intention of waking up early for a run. I was going to use the time to sleep in.

He looked at me, and I couldn't figure out what he was thinking. Was he mad? Or disappointed? His voice didn't betray any emotion.

"Yeah, Sam. That's fine. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

I was too tired to fight. I said goodnight and headed into the hotel, Thomas at my heel.

~

Friday morning I woke up around nine and ordered room service for breakfast. Once it arrived, I settled down at the coffee table and texted Evan.

Hey, I kind of want to try my hand at networking on my own this morning. Would that be okay? Please don't hate me.

He responded a minute later.

Sure, fine. Have fun.

It was a short response, but I didn't give it another thought, and instead chomped on my French toast while watching the morning news.

It was just after ten o'clock by the time I arrived at the Exhibit Hall. The floor was all mine for the morning.

I wandered the hall, decked out in my official purple ID tag, awash in an enormous sea of art. Most of it was very contemporary—bright and strange, shiny and grotesque. I loved it. I gave out all of my business cards.

By about 2:30, however, my feet were hurting, and I was starving. I decided to head back to the hotel and treat myself to some more room service. After all, I had to pace myself. This show was several days long, plus David was finally coming in to town tonight. I was so excited.

~

Back in the suite, I turned to Thomas as he retreated to his room.

"I'm going to order some room service. Would you like anything?"

"No, thank you, Miss. I just had a protein bar."

I eyed him, skeptically.

"Thomas, would you like the afternoon off?" This guy had been at my side for about forty-eight hours straight. I could use some breathing room, and I'm sure he could, too.

"I don't think Mr. Keith would approve."

"Mr. Keith doesn't get in until eight o'clock," I said conspiratorially. He looked at me, not sure how to respond. "Come on Thomas, live a little. I'm just going to be here chowing down and watching television. I'll be fine. Why don't you take a trip to the beach or hit up a museum?"

He looked at me, mentally weighing his options, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I do suppose I could use a round at the hotel gym. I haven't been able to keep up my routine while we've been on the road."

"That's the spirit, Thomas!" I smiled and put my hands together.

"I'll be back in one hour. Promise me you won't go anywhere?"

"Scouts' honor." I held up my hand.

"Very good, Miss." He retreated to his room, reemerging a minute later in shorts and a t-shirt.

"Have a good time, Thomas."

"I will be right downstairs. Please call me on my cell if you need me."

"Go, Thomas."

"Yes, Miss Sharp," he said as he got into the elevator car, "See you soon."

As soon as the doors closed, I exhaled and smiled. Alone at last! I glanced around the penthouse suite, and realized that I hadn't really been able to relax while I'd been there. Having a security detail will do that to a girl, apparently.

I changed into a hotel robe and ordered a cheeseburger with fries from room service. I flipped on the television, and found Pretty Woman playing on cable. I stretched across the sofa, taking up as much space as I could. Watching Julia Roberts in the hotel suite, I couldn't help but draw parallels to my own current state.

But you're not a prostitute, I told myself firmly. David had you before you even had an inkling of who he was. The attraction, it was animal. You didn't have a choice in it. I sat there recalling the details of our first meeting, the role he played with the spilt wine, and a smile appeared on my face. I checked the time. Almost four o'clock. Only four more hours until I would see him, and my body ached for him. During a commercial break, the front door chimed, and a hotel staffer brought in an elaborate cart, complete with fine silver and a white tablecloth.

"Your meal, Mrs. Keith," she said, as she glanced around the suite, "Where would you like it?"

"Oh just by the table is fine." I ran over to the table in the foyer and snatched a few bills from my purse. As she left, I handed them to her. "Thanks very much."

"Have a wonderful day, Mrs. Keith." My stomach danced at the salutation as the elevator doors closed. I couldn't wait to see my Mr. Keith in a few hours.

I took the silver platter over to the coffee table and leisurely settled into my meal while Julia Roberts wrapped her legs around Richard Gere.

I was halfway into my burger when the hotel phone rang. I reached behind the sofa to answer it.

"Yes?"

"Mrs. Keith? This is the front desk. I have an Evan Carmichael to see you?"

Evan? What was he doing here? Strange.

"Send him up." I figured I might as well find out what he wanted.

The elevator dinged, and I walked over to greet him. Evan stumbled out of the car. It wasn't even five o'clock in the afternoon, and he reeked of alcohol. His shirt was untucked and partially unbuttoned. Was he drunk?

"Evan?"

"Hey, Sam. There you are. I've been looking for you." He smiled languidly at me.

Looking for me? Why hadn't he just texted? Boy, he really didn't look good.

"What's up, Evan? Are you okay?"

He stood up straight and braced himself by putting his hands on his hips. He walked past me and down the hall, and as he walked he let out a long, slow whistle.

"Damn, Sam. Pretty nice digs. David must be quite the sugar daddy."

I frowned. "Thank you, but it's not like that."

"Oh, yeah? Look at this place. Don't be ashamed, Sammie, most women love money." He picked up a glass seashell, examined it, and placed it back down on the table. "And shoes. And cars. And fancy hotel suites." He looked around the room and made motions with his hands. And there it was again, that patronizing tone from last night. I hated it. He wandered over to the kitchen and started opening cabinet after cabinet.

"Evan, is there something you need?"

He didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled out a bottle of rum from a cabinet under the kitchen island. A few moments later he found a glass above the sink and poured himself three fingers worth of the amber liquid.

"I just wanted to check in and see how your first visit to Art Basel was going, Sammie." He gulped the rum and dried his mouth with his sleeve. "Has the trip been... pleasurable?"

He rounded the island, moving closer to me.

"It's been great. Thank you for inviting me," I said tightly, my polite core unwavering.

"Great, yes." He paused, taking a big gulp from his glass. "Sam, can I ask you something? I felt like last night went really great, but now you're avoiding me." He leaned in, his breath hot and foul. "What gives?"

I took a step back. "I'm not avoiding you," I said carefully.

"Yes, you are." He snapped, narrowing his eyes at me. He stepped forward again, prowling closer to me. I took another step back. "Sam. I brought you here. I can make you a star gallerist if you work with me. But you would rather be anti-social and stay here," he gestures widely, spilling his rum, "in your palace. You know, all you gallery girls, you're all the same. You show up, all 'please, yes, teach me,' you say you want a career, but all you really want is someone to bankroll your spin classes and tropical vacations."

I look at him, horrified and dumbfounded. What the hell was he talking about? What was wrong with him? I was beginning to think I'd made a huge mistake. Dammit, why did I tell Thomas to go? Evan was too close, too angry. He continued, his speech hot and spitting. He put his drink down on the counter next to us.

"You're just a tease, Sam. You don't want to be known as a tease, do you? Aren't you serious about your career?" He pressed his body into mine, and started kissing my neck. I tried to duck away, but he was stronger than I expected. I thought about screaming, but who would hear me? I closed my eyes. I gave one final push and broke loose. I dashed across the kitchen.

Evan resumed his pursuit and quickly grabbed me, pinning me against the dining room table.

The elevator dinged.

Oh thank God, Thomas. But the cadence on the marble floors was different, familiar. It approached us. Evan and I both turned our heads up to the sound.

"David."

David was standing in the threshold. He stared at us for a moment. Me, in my underwear and robe, Evan with his shirt undone. David made eye contact with me, and his face dropped. In an instant I knew he had the scene all wrong. And I knew he wasn't going to wait for an explanation. I knew he couldn't. And he didn't. He turned right around and got back on the elevator. I couldn't follow him because Evan still had me pinned to the table in what probably looked like a scene from a romance novel.

"David, wait!" It was too late. The elevator doors closed. The interruption was enough to rocket Evan back to reality. I turned to him and pushed him off me, the balance of power now restored.

"You jerk. Look what you have done." I wasn't screaming. I was growling. "You fucking pig; get out of here."

Evan actually looked hurt. He rubbed his face with both hands.

"Sam, wait, I'm sorry."

I turned to him and lowered my voice even further. "I said get out of here. Now."

He scooted to the elevator.

A moment later it opened, and Thomas got off, his shirt soaked through with sweat.

"Sam, are you okay?" He looked suspicious. I noted that he used my first name.

"Please get him out of here." I indicated to Evan with a nod. Thomas turned to accompany Evan to the lobby. "And don't let him back up." The doors closed behind them, and I propped myself against the wall.

Fuck, what just happened? Where was David? A huge, black pit formed in my stomach. What did he think he saw? I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and dialed his number. It went straight to voicemail. I tried two more times with the same result. I texted him.

Hey are you there?

It's not what you think.

Please call me.

I waited. Nothing.

Please come back so I can explain.

He came on to me, I didn't do anything.

Please

Nothing. I sat down on the sofa and stared out the window. Thomas reappeared.

"Are you okay, Sam?" He looked genuinely concerned.

"I'm fine. Thank you for getting him out of here."

"What happened? Are you sure you are okay?"

"He was drunk. Things just got out of hand. Thank you for coming so quickly."

"He's banned from this floor. You can relax."

"I need to see David."

"Isn't he due here soon?" Oh, shit. Thomas didn't know that David had walked in on the mess.

"Can you find him for me, please?" Thomas looked confused, but nodded his head. And I sank deeper into the sofa, pulling a blanket over me to block out the setting sun.

~

"Sam... Miss Sharp..." Thomas was gently saying my name. I opened my eyes slowly; it was dark. The lights of Miami were glittering outside the huge windows.

"Miss Sharp?"

I roused slowly, my body exhausted. What time was it? The events of the afternoon started to flood back to me. I grabbed my phone. It was 9:30 p.m. No texts back from David. Where was he? My stomach was tied in knots, and my head hurt. My half-eaten burger was still on the coffee table.

"Thomas?"

"Yes, Miss Sharp." His eyes were sad.

"Have you found David?"

He looked down at his feet for a moment before answering. "Mr. Keith has flown back to California, Miss Sharp."

Silence. I couldn't breathe. What? Flown back? Without me? I tried to process what he was saying. He spoke again.

"I'm to accompany you for the rest of the trip, Miss Sharp, as well as the trip home."

I could barely hear him. A high-pitched buzz reverberated in my ears.

"He went home?"

"Um. Yes, Miss." His eyes were pained.

"Did he say why?"

"No, Miss."

"When did he leave?"

"About forty-five minutes after the... incident, miss."

This wasn't happening. I thought he'd be upset, sure, and he'd need to go for a run or have a drink—whatever. And then he'd come back and I'd explain and we'd work it out. He wasn't supposed to leave. He left me here? My heart crumbled.

"We're going back," I said quietly.

"Back, Miss?"

"Back to San Francisco. Tonight." I looked up at him. My voice was soft, but my eyes were firm.

"Yes, Miss."

# Chapter 15

I was packed and on the plane within the hour. The pilot mumbled something about turbulence, but I wasn't paying attention. I tried texting David again.

Are you there?

I can't believe you left

Why aren't you answering me?

Even if you are mad, please just say something.

Do you really think I'd choose Evan over you?

I resolved to not give him the gory details over a text message. I needed to see his face, weigh his reaction. I waited for something, anything.

Nothing.

The flight was bumpy, and even Lucinda looked strained as the cabin tossed about. But I didn't give a damn. The plane could crash for all I cared. Then maybe David would feel what I was feeling right then. I looked out the window and into the darkness. Hurry up. Finally, I couldn't hold it in anymore, and my eyes started leaking. I cried quietly for a while. Lucinda took pity on me and offered me a brandy and a blanket, allowing me to slip into a horrible, restless sleep.

~

I woke up when we touched down at SFO. It was still dark outside, and the rain had given way to fog. As we taxied, I shifted in my seat, my body raw and tired from being so tense. My eyes were parched and used up. I staggered down the stairs from the plane, and crumpled into the backseat of the waiting SUV. I checked my phone again. Still nothing. I double checked the connection. Nothing.

Rounding the onramp, the SUV picked up speed. We flew down the freeway, alone in the dark except for the occasional big rig. I waited silently, watching to see if Thomas would take the exit to David's apartment, or if we'd continue straight on to the bridge, toward my home. I felt the tug of the right lane as we approached the last exit to San Francisco, but we stayed in the firmly in the center lane. I wanted to ask Thomas where we were going. But I knew. I knew that Thomas already knew if David wanted to see me. We didn't slow down, and the exit passed. Tears returned to my face, and I folded into myself as the lights of the city fell behind me.

Crossing that bridge had never been so painful.

# Chapter 16

The next day passed in a slow, dull, blur. I languished in bed, hiding under the covers. The sky was overcast and gray, and since I was supposed to still be in Miami through Sunday, I had no practical reason to get up. I tossed restlessly, wandering in and out of sleep, my pillowcase stained with tears.

I checked my phone for an email, a text. Nothing.

~

By the time the sun finally went down, I was feeling a little more lucid. I kept replaying the scene in my head. I couldn't believe David actually thought I'd cheat on him with Evan. I thought we trusted each other.

Why wouldn't he just call me back? Or believe me when I told him what happened? He was just too used to being hurt. It was like he was expecting the world to fuck him over. But he won't have that. No, Mr. Master of the Universe had to go and stop anything good before it could hurt him. My sadness was giving way to anger now.

Why the fuck wasn't he calling me back? How dare he think he's right about this? I was the one who was fucking attacked, and he ran like a fucking coward. I grabbed my phone and punched out a message.

Never mind. Don't fucking call me.

You only care about yourself. So run.

Fucking run. Run to the next girl.

Nothing.

I slammed my phone down on the mattress and pulled the covers over my head. That night, I slept like the dead.

The next morning, I awoke to a hard rain. I laid in bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling. I wasn't hungry, but forced myself to get up, finally, to make a pot of coffee. I took a mug back to bed, and sat under the covers, and sipped the hot liquid slowly, trying to break out of my funk. I had one more day before I had to go back to work. I really didn't want to face a battery of questions about Miami. What was I going to say? That in between seeing some of the most exciting art from all over the world, I managed to lose the best thing that had ever happened to me? No one knew the deep connection I felt with David. They wouldn't understand why Sam Sharp, the girl who was determined to make something of herself, would leave an event like that early. And I didn't want to appear to be exactly what I was: a woman so hooked on a man that she allowed it to disrupt her career. So I decided then and there to not tell them. Not Curtis, or Eve, or even Carrie. They didn't need to know. I could at least pretend to be okay. I had to.

After an hour or so, I pulled myself up and wandered to the bathroom. Turning on the shower I looked in the mirror for the first time in two days. It wasn't pretty. My wild hair was matted, and my eyes were splotchy from crying. I stripped down, out of the lacey bra and panties David had bought for me, and slipped into the stream of hot water. It felt good. I stood under it, letting the warm current wash away the grime I had carried home from Miami.

I took my time washing and deep conditioning my hair, giving myself the care that I wasn't going to get elsewhere. Eventually, the warm water started to fade, and I turned off the spray and stepped out and into a large, soft towel. I went over to my dresser and picked out clothing that was soft and kind—stretchy black leggings and a gray hoodie.

I spied my suitcase by the door, where Thomas had left it twenty-four hours before. A suitcase, filled with clothing David had bought me, none of it my own. A dress that I wore as I navigated the exhibit halls, networking and trying to build my career. A dress that I had planned on wearing the night David got into town. Those clothes, I never wanted to wear them again. I hated that suitcase and what it represented. I wanted to burn it. But instead, I shoved it under my bed, grabbed my dog-eared copy of Jane Eyre, and settled back in under the covers.

I spent most of the day like this, cocooned in my bed, lost in the familiar rhythm of northern England, only pausing occasionally to refill my mug of coffee.

Around four o'clock, my phone buzzed. It was David calling. I contemplated picking it up for a moment. But, in a rare show of strength, I sent the call to voicemail. I was still too mad at him.

He sent a text.

Samantha, please pick up. I need to talk to you.

Fuck you, David, I thought. See how it feels?

Hello?

I switched the phone to silent and put it down. I went back to my reading, but couldn't concentrate. Did I hate him? Yes. No. Ugh. I was so conflicted. I hated what he had done to me. All this grief. I hated that he had put me in a place where I would be so vulnerable to him. I had opened up to him, I thought we had a connection. I never planned on being someone who would be at the mercy of a man. I always thought I was stronger than that. More practical, resilient.

I was so embarrassed. Why did I care so much about a man that I'd known for less than a month? My anger started to build again. Why did I even put myself out there? How did he do that to me? But more importantly, how did I let myself be swept up in this? How did I allow myself to be so hurt? I was so mad at myself. Before long, I was halfway through my novel, with no recollection of having read the pages.

I backtracked, trying to find my place in the book when there was a knock at the door. My heart leapt for a moment – Maybe it's David. And then I got angry again, for letting myself get excited. I wasn't sure what to feel, let alone what to do.

Another knock.

"Sammie? Are you in there?"

Leslie. My neighbor. I sighed with relief and slipped on my flats.

"Coming," I croaked, my voice still raw from not having spoken yet that day. I checked my reflection in the mirror and opened the door. Leslie was standing there in rain boots, carrying a big umbrella and a pot with a lid.

"Hey Sammie! I wasn't sure if you were back from your trip yet."

"Yeah, got in early." I tried to smile, but I was too tired. And I didn't really feel like going into the events of the trip.

"Ah, very good. Thanks again for coming over last week. Greg said he really enjoyed meeting you."

The thought of my cute new neighbor managed to perk me up a little. "Thanks for hosting. Tell Greg I say hi if you see him."

"I will Sammie." She shifted in place and lifted the pot she was carrying. "Well, we thought you could use some food. I know it's always a pain to have to go shopping after being out of town. Clark made butternut squash soup." She handed the pot over to me, and then slapped herself on the forehead. "Oh, and strudel. I forgot the strudel. Clark made strudel for dessert. These rainy days send him on quite a tear in the kitchen."

"Oh, don't worry; the soup is more than enough." I smiled kindly. I really did have the sweetest neighbors. And I was hungry. I hadn't eaten much more than a cracker since Friday. Leslie cocked her head at me.

"Sammie, are you okay, hon?" Her words were so kind, so unlike the last few days, that it took all my will just to keep myself together. I wanted to open the floodgates and share my story with her, but I couldn't. Not yet. I hadn't even sorted it out myself, yet. I pressed my lips into a tight smile and opened my eyes widely.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just tired. Long plane ride, you know?"

She looked at me, concerned. "Sure honey, of course. Well, you rest up. I'll be back with the strudel."

"Thanks Leslie. And please thank Clark for me." I shut the door as she walked back to the house, and brought the soup into the kitchenette. I popped open the lid. It smelled heavenly.

There was another knock on the door. Strudel delivery. They really did spoil me. I threw the front door open.

I stopped.

It was David.

He was standing in the rain—his jeans and fleece jacket, quickly soaking through.

I stared at him. My heart dropped into my stomach, and my voice was almost silent.

"What do you want?" I could barely speak. I looked up at him and then at the floor.

"Why wouldn't you answer my calls?"

"Why did you leave?" I retorted, as my eyes snapped up to meet his gaze. Yep, I was still mad at him. Fuming.

"I'm sorry."

"That's not good enough." I fought the sting in my eyes, determined not to show him how much he hurt me. I wasn't going to let him know how much he had affected me.

"May I come in?"

"No."

He braced himself against the frame of the door and stared into me, his piercing dark eyes eclipsing everything. The rain continued. It was strange to be in the same space as him, and not touching. The electricity crackled between us, in a familiar way. I hated it.

He ran a hand through his wet hair. "Samantha, I saw the tapes."

My body froze. "What tapes?"

"Thomas had private cameras set up in the suite. He just showed me them. I saw everything." He swallowed. "Samantha, I am so sorry I didn't believe you."

I paused, watching him for a moment. So now he knew. Good. It was his turn to hurt.

"You left me."

He nodded. "I know. I left you with that monster. I am never going to forgive myself for that, Samantha." His voice trembled with hatred for what he had done.

"You left me," I repeated.

"You're right. I was a coward, and I am sorry. I left because it hurt. It hurt too much to see you with another man."

I tried to speak, but he stopped me.

"I ran, because... because I had vowed long ago to never allow myself to be affected like that." His tone was confessional. "But after that plane ride, I realized something important. I realized that I hurt so much because I care about you so much. I care about you in a way that is so deep and intense that it frightens me, Samantha." His voice broke. "I realized that I could physically run away from you, from us, but that the distance didn't mean anything. I can't eat, I can't sleep; I am a shell of a person without you in my life. Whatever pain I've experienced in my life was nothing compared to the pain I've experienced over the last forty-eight hours, thinking I'd lost you to another man." He paused and looked down... "And then when I saw the tape... I was sick Samantha. Sick. I couldn't believe that I left you with that monster." He looked back at me, searching my face for answers, for a clue as to my reaction. "I am so sorry."

I kept still, processing.

"Please say something." He said.

I paused and looked at him. At this beautiful man, soaking wet and standing in the rain, braced against the door frame.

"I thought I lost you," I whispered quietly.

"You can't lose me. I won't let you. You mean more to me than you will ever know. I love you, Samantha. I can't be without you."

He loved me? I couldn't say anything. It was too overwhelming. One moment, the world as I knew it was in ruins around me, and now this man, the man I was miserable without was standing in my doorway, declaring his love for me? I could barely keep up. I had to be sure.

I started to cry. "Coming back across that bridge alone was the most horrible moment of my life." I took a breath and looked at him in the eye. "Don't ever do that to me again."

He met my eyes and nodded solemnly.

"Never. I love you, Samantha."

He pulled me in gently, and I put my head against his chest. It was warm, wet, and familiar.

"I love you, too," I said quietly. He pulled my face up to his and kissed me lightly on the lips. I felt my whole body exhale into the comfort of him.

And we stood there, in the rain, for a while. Just holding each other, soaking through to the skin.

# Chapter 17

Life was back to normal. Or, at least the new normal. Whatever normal was as the girlfriend of David Keith.

After David and I made up, I went back to work on Monday. Curtis and Eve knew nothing about what had transpired in Miami, and I didn't intend to share any of it. Instead, I volunteered a few anecdotes about gallerists I had met and artists I had seen. They seemed satisfied and impressed. I did, however, share my opinion about Evan Carmichael.

"He's a real jerk, you know?"

"What do you mean?" Curtis asked.

"He just has a way of talking down to you. Like he thinks you should be grateful for his help or something. He can be a real asshole."

"What can I say Sammie, not everyone in this biz is as awesome as me."

I looked over at Curtis and felt really thankful.

"It's true. You're the tops, Curtis."

Work passed quickly each day, with the buzz of the holiday season keeping us busy.

David and I were back on track. I spent fewer and fewer nights in Oakland, and more and more mornings on the bridge with Thomas. A few days after David and I were back together, Thomas and I were gliding across the bridge in the evening, and I remembered something important.

"Thomas?"

"Yes, Miss Sharp?" He glanced in the rearview mirror at me.

"Thomas, I never thanked you."

"I'm sorry, Miss?"

"I never thanked you. For showing David the tapes. And for getting Evan out of there." I was sure David had been in no mood to watch a recording of the incident.

Thomas paused, his face not forgiving his thoughts.

"Just following orders, Miss. Mr. Keith had been explicit that I do everything I could to keep you happy, so showing him the tapes was just a means to that end." He paused and smiled, "Also, and this is off the record Miss, but he was a mess without you."

I smiled and looked out the window. I knew not to press. I was overwhelmed with gratitude as we sped past the lights on the bridge. Grateful for Thomas, for my work, my friends and family, but especially for David. He was the love of my life, and I could feel his soul pulling me a city away.

When we finally arrived at the apartment, I practically floated up the elevator shaft, eager for what was awaiting me.

When it opened into David's private foyer, he was there to greet me.

"Hey, girlfriend." He said with a glimmer in his eye.

"Hey, boyfriend."

And he pulled me up into his arms and whisked me off to the bedroom.

# Author's Note

Thank you, reader, for joining me at the beginning of Samantha and David's story. If you enjoyed it, I hope that you will share a review— indie authors depend on reviews from nice folks like you 

Keep reading for a FREE look at book two in the Determined Trilogy, Determined To Love.

Want something fun? Try my newest series of forbidden-love romantic comedies. The Off-Limits series. It starts with The Lessons, where 30-year-old virgin Natalie Reese hires a sex therapist to take her virginity.

Okay, that's all for now! Thanks again for reading!

XX - Elizabeth

PS: Come visit with me online! I love to hear from readers: liz.brownish@gmail.com

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#

# Excerpt from Determined: To Love

# Copyright 2015 Elizabeth Brown

# Chapter 1

January. Never been a fan. Until now.

I awoke slowly, the buzz of my phone alerting me to the fact that I should, really, be getting up now. If I wasn't careful, I was going to be late for work, but I reached out and tapped the screen with my one free hand anyway, buying another few minutes of laziness. I was sharing a bed with David Keith, a stunning man whom I had come to know as my boyfriend.

A man who happened to be one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in America, if not the world.

A man who I was hopelessly and desperately in love with.

I sunk back into him, letting the warmth of his body envelop me. He pulled me closer and nuzzled into my neck.

"Hey, girlfriend."

"Hey, boyfriend." I smiled, twisting back around to face him. "How did you sleep?"

"Mmm. Good, baby," he said as his powerful arms encircled me. Normally an all-consuming workaholic, David had recently revealed to me that he only had started to sleep through the night since we'd been seeing each other. Well, that is, when we slept. Half the time we were up late, enjoying the perks of an adult relationship.

"It's time to get up," I said reluctantly. I didn't want to get up, either. I just wanted to lie in bed with him all day. Today was my first day back at work since the New Year, and I had become accustomed to waking up late. I glanced up at him, his face still sleepy and relaxed, and ran my hand along his back. He smiled and opened one of his eyes, looking down at me.

"You are a cruel woman, Ms. Sharp."

"Not all of us have the pleasure of being the boss, Mr. Keith," I teased him.

David was President and C.E.O. of Keith Ventures, a massive venture capital company. He'd started it while still in college, and in less than eight years, had transformed it into one of the largest and most powerful firms in the world. KV specialized in the technology and bio-technology fields, and while there were branches all over the world, the home office was here, in San Francisco.

"But if we stay in bed, you can be pleasured by the boss." He smirked at his wry joke. "You know, you don't need to work, Samantha. I could take care of you. You could be my kept woman."

I pushed back off of him and gave him a long, hard look. His mouth curled up at the edges. I knew he was joking, but still I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Whoa, calm down, I'm just kidding, baby."

"I know, I know. I just want to make sure you don't forget. You know I wouldn't be happy doing nothing all day."

Yes, I was dating a billionaire. And yes, if I wanted to, I could spend my days jumping from spin class to the spa and back again. But that life held no interest for me. For as long as I could remember, I'd been determined to make something of myself. I had worked hard in school, and graduated in the top of my class at U.C. Berkeley. I'd always been stubborn and independent, and was adamantly opposed to relying on anyone. Even a sexy-as-hell billionaire.

"You wouldn't be doing nothing. You'd be doing me." He grinned lazily at me.

I frowned at him.

"Hey, hey, I'm just kidding. I know you aren't content to just sit around, baby. I love that about you." He pulled me back into him, and I granted him a kiss. "Besides, I know you are just using me for my body." He grinned down at me.

"Can't blame me for that." I replied, wrapping my legs around him. He rolled over, hovering above me. It was early, and he was just waking up, but the primitive part of his body was already awake and ready to go. I felt his length push against my belly and a familiar pull started deep inside me. My body hungered for this beautiful man. Since we started seeing each other, I'd become accustomed to sex at least twice a day, and my body was in a heightened state of arousal any time he was nearby.

"Ah, so now you have time, Ms. Sharp? I thought you had to get up and go to work?" His naked cock teased me against my panties. My hips flexed automatically, angling for the glorious pressure.

"I'll skip breakfast," I murmured, pulling him in closer.

"You are insatiable, Samantha," he murmured as he pulled me in and kissed my neck.

His touch sent pulses of electricity through my body, priming me for him. We'd been together for more than a month and there was no sign of our lust slowing down. I was still completely captivated by him. I grabbed his ass with one hand, pulling him in, begging for his cock.

"Not so fast, baby. I want to make sure you are ready."

"I'm ready," I groaned impatiently. What was he waiting for? He pushed my silk camisole up and found my breasts. My chest heaved as I pushed them into his hands and he responded by fondling them hungrily. Then he slid his hand down my hips and circled my ass, caressing it gently. I moaned, the wait killing me.

Finally, he dipped one hand to my sex. Gliding one finger into my cunt, he purred approvingly at the wetness. I pushed him deeper into me.

"You have a greedy little cunt, don't you Samantha?" he chided me, delaying the inevitable. It was tortuous.

"Only for you."

He stroked me, slowly, brushing my clit gently with his thumb. I couldn't take it anymore. His finger on the edge of my sex was too much. My hips pushed against the pressure.

"Fuck me," I gasped.

"What's that?" I knew his joke. He had made it before. He wanted me to beg for it. He angled himself over me.

"Fuck me, please." I moaned.

"Like this?" He said, as he teased the opening to my sex with the head of his cock.

"Yes!"

"Ah, that's a good girl." And with that, he plunged his thick length into me, filling me to my limit.

I took a sharp breath as he paused inside me for a moment, with him looking down at me as I stretched to accommodate him. We'd made love countless times, but my body had never become fully accustomed to his size.

"God, Samantha, you're so fucking snug." He murmured as he kissed my neck. "It makes me so hard."

Slowly, he started to grind his hips into me. He grunted softly with pleasure as he took me again and again, his primal reflexes taking over. I looked up at him, this gorgeous man. A master of the business world, a controlled professional, yet with me he let it all go. It was intoxicating to see him go from poised and refined to dark and animalistic and a major turn on to have him so completely entranced and enthralled by me.

He moved with a steadily increasing rhythm and held my hands in place over my head, so that I had to give myself over to him completely. I wasn't a virgin when I had started seeing David, but he had opened me up to a whole new world, sexually. I had never placed sex high on my list of priorities, but now I craved it, like an addict. If I didn't get my fix, I would get cranky and irritable. I thought about it from the moment I woke up each day, until he fucked me to sleep at night. He had amazing stamina, and I was still learning to keep up.

As he met me, I started to feel something deep inside building. With each thrust he went farther, hitting that sensitive spot inside me over and over. I started to come, hard, my sex wrapping around his throbbing cock, jerking and pulsing until he started to come. Hot liquid shot into me in short strong bursts, creating a slick welcome as his hips slammed against me. We moaned in pleasure, together, ravaged in carnal delight. And then we collapsed in on each other, a worn out pile of sweaty flesh, panting as we caught our breath.

We laid there for several minutes, unaware of what time it was. All that mattered was that we were together. I had met this man less than two months ago, but already he dominated my life. He needed me just as much as I needed him. This amazing man, so strong, confident and commanding, had secrets that made my heart break. Secrets he only shared with those closest to him. His life had over-served him sadness and loss, and I wanted to spend every moment I could bringing pleasure and love his way.

Eventually, my phone vibrated again, stirring us from our orgasm-induced haze.

"Ok, I really have to get up now. I have to be out the door in fifteen minutes," I said stretching my arms and looking over at David.

"What if someone bought all the art in the gallery today? Would you still have to go in?" He smirked at me, his eyes dark and full of a devilish delight.

I climbed on top of him, pinning his wrists down on the bed. "First of all, for your information, yes, I would. There is a lot to do at a gallery besides sell rich people art. And secondly, don't you dare. The last thing I need is more teasing from Curtis."

Curtis was the owner of the gallery where I worked. I had good reason to be worried: our working relationship was casual and easy— sometimes a little too casual. I knew I'd never hear the end of it from him if David bought out our latest show. Lord knew I already had had an earful from him about various other gestures from David.

"Okay, okay. Message received. Go jump in the shower. I'll make you a smoothie to take for breakfast." He pushed free of my arms easily, my body weight obviously no match for his strength, and scooted me out of bed.

Once inside the marble and glass bathroom, I showered in record time, opting to not wash my hair and instead pulled my wavy brown locks into high topknot. I brushed my teeth and slipped on some lip gloss and mascara before darting over to the closet for an outfit. After we first met, David set up several drawers full of clothing for me at his place, which was more than enough. But a couple weeks ago, after we came back from spending Christmas in Lake Tahoe with my family, he brought me into the bedroom. I was blind-folded, and he claimed he had a special surprise. At the time, I thought he was trying a kinky new sex thing, so you can imagine my surprise when he pulled off the blindfold and we were inside a room I hadn't seen before. It was a beautiful walk-in closet, full of gorgeous, expensive clothes that were just my style. That is, if my style had a killer stylist.

I took a black and white dress off a hanger and pulled it over my head. I always believed dresses were the easiest thing to wear when you were in a rush—no mixing or matching prints or colors. I popped on the diamond stud earrings that David had given me for Christmas, and slipped on some killer yellow heels—a shot of sunshine for the gray January day.

Out in the kitchen, David was seated in the breakfast nook, and Hilde, the housekeeper, was chopping vegetables.

"Good morning, Hilde."

"Good morning, Miss Sharp," she said with a sweet smile and a thick German accent. Hilde was petite with short gray hair, strong arms, and a no-nonsense way about her. She put her knife down and quietly slipped out the kitchen door. Somehow she always knew when to give us privacy.

"Hey, baby." David stood up as I approached. "You look amazing. I like those shoes." He pulled me in and kissed me on the side of my mouth, being careful to not disturb my lip-gloss. Then his voice dipped low, "Wear them later for me."

I smiled at him. I loved how even a few months into our relationship, we were still so into each other. "Gotta run." I said, coyly.

"Here. Take this with you." He handed me a clear-lidded cup with a straw that contained some sort of greenish brown liquid.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Spirulina, wheatgrass, apple, and beet." He explained, "Trust me, it's better than it sounds."

"It can't sound much worse." I teased him gently, staring at the liquid.

One of the unresolved tensions in our relationship was in regard to food. More specifically, David favors the earth-crunchy, hippy-dippy kale-with-everything side of the aisle, whereas I like normal food. Like pizza. Lasagna. But, more often than not, we compromise. So here I was, offering to drink a smoothie made from lawn clippings in hopes that he might be willing to barter the dinner hour. Life was all about balance, right?

"I love you, baby. You better get going. Elliot is downstairs with the car for you." He swatted my ass to get me moving.

I glanced at my phone. He was right, I needed to leave. I grabbed my purse as David walked with me toward the elevator. Smoothie in hand, I smiled at him as the elevator doors closed between us.

"Love you, too. And it's burgers tonight."

Out on the busy city street, I only had to glance straight ahead to see the black SUV waiting for me. David's lead security officer, Thomas, used to shuttle me between David's place in San Francisco and my place in Oakland. But after a while, David came to realize I would be sticking around for the long haul, so he contracted another security officer and car strictly for my use. I liked Elliot; he was ex-military like Thomas, and about the same age, but not quite as serious.

"Good morning, Sam," he said as he opened the car door. "Another seaweed special, I see?"

"This one has spirulina," I intoned, my voice full of mock-seriousness as I climbed into the car. "Let me know if you ever want one."

He walked around to the other side of the car and slipped into the front seat.

"Ha, no. That's quite all right, you enjoy it. Are we headed to work, Sam?"

"You know it."

"Very good. One trip to Oakland, coming right up."

He pressed a button on the dashboard. Upbeat music flooded the cabin, and I sat back in the soft leather seat, sipping on my smoothie. It actually wasn't that bad, but I'd never admit that to David. I looked out the car window and smiled as we pulled onto the bridge.

~

I waved to Elliot as I turned the key in the front door of the gallery and let myself in. Kinsler Gallery was a respected gallery in an up and coming area of Oakland. I loved the space: it was small, but had soaring ceilings and clean white walls that made it feel much bigger than it actually was. Plus, the wood floors were amber-hued and well worn, which gave the space warmth that you didn't always feel in other art galleries.

I'd started out as an intern for the owner, Curtis Kinsler, during my senior year in college, and he then hired me on when I graduated, and I've worked for him since. Besides me, there was another gallery assistant named Eve, and the three of us were like a little family. Sales had never been my bailiwick, but getting to talk to people about art all day was fun.

I walked through the gallery, savoring the quietude. I loved the gallery in the morning. Before anyone else got there, I had a little routine. I would come in, boot on the computer, and make a pot of coffee. Then, I would take some time and just stroll through the three rooms, looking at whatever was on the walls; soaking up the quiet. Then, finally, coffee mug in hand, I would flip on the lights, and turn around the little abierto/cerrado sign that we kept in the window. It was rare that anyone was waiting with bated breath to get into the gallery right when we opened, so at that point I usually settled into my desk to catch up on emails from the previous day.

Such was the case today. I had just sat down on the rolling desk chair and pulled myself up to the computer screen when my phone buzzed.

How was the smoothie?

I broke into a stupid grin and was glad no one was there to see me go so ga-ga for this man.

It was ok. I tried to convince myself it was a milkshake.

Did that work?

Heck no.

But the burger will be worth it.

I love you.

I love you too. Thanks for the sendoff this morning.

I should be thanking you.

What time will you be home tonight?

Ready for round two already?

I'm always ready for you, baby.

I wanted to go for a run

I can be over around eight

Are you going to be safe?

You know Elliot will be there

Good. I will see you at eight

And wear those yellow heels

;)

I put the phone down on the desk, leaned back in my chair and took a deep breath. This man was going to be the end of me. I clicked through a few emails, my mind hopelessly lost in lust.

~

I spent most of the morning doing inventory and paperwork, making sure the back room was organized after the busy holiday season. Around noon, I was buried knee-deep in boxes when I heard the front door open. Making my way out of the back room, I heard a warm, booming voice.

"Happy New Year! I have kale salad!"

It was Curtis, loud and ebullient as ever. He was a short, stocky man, with close-cropped hair, tortoise shell glasses and lots of... presence. His ever eclectic fashion sense had him dressed today in cream-colored jeans, worker boots, and a bright orange scarf. On anyone else it'd probably look crazy, but on him, it read as cool and artistic. He presented a bag to me.

"Happy New Year to you too, but, kale?" I peeked into the bag. "Don't tell me David got to you."

I took the bag to the counter and pulled out a couple of plastic to-go containers filled with dark green leaves. I eyed them skeptically for a moment before looking deeper into the bag, hoping that cookies or a bag of chips were lurking at the bottom. No such luck.

"Sammie, it's the new year! A chance to start fresh. I've decided that this is the year people are going to start mistaking me for David Beckham." He put his hands on his hips and struck a pose.

I shook my head as I handed him one of the salads, along with a fork.

"Don't be ridiculous, Curtis, you're adorable just the way you are," I said as we popped open the containers. "Guys are always fawning over you at the openings."

"Sammie. I don't want to be adorable," he paused and took a bite. "I want to be hot." He smiled with a mouthful of greens, for comic effect.

~

At five o'clock I locked the door to the gallery, and ducked into the waiting SUV.

"How was your day, Sam?" Elliot turned to at me.

"It was good. Quiet. Got a lot of work done. I'm trying to get ahead of things because we have a new show opening at the end of the month."

"Who's going to be in the show?"

"It's going to be drawings, mostly two local artists, but also a few by someone I saw at Art Basel last month."

I had been cherry-picked by a San Francisco gallery owner last month. He brought me to Art Basel in Miami, one of the biggest art shows in the world. Whilst the trip didn't end on a great note, I still made a lot of good contacts.

"His name is Julian Saer. He does the most delicate, intricate drawings with ball point pen."

"Ball point pen?"

"Yeah, plain old ball point pens. But you'd never guess. They are crazy beautiful."

"Can't wait to see it, Sam," he said. "Okay, where are we headed?"

"Just back to my place for now. I was thinking about going for a run, if that's okay with you. We can go back to the city later."

As my driver and personal security detail, Elliot accompanied me everywhere. During my work days, he waited patiently outside the gallery, just in case I needed him. Around the clock security probably cost an arm and a leg, but David insisted. I'd learned to never dismiss the detail, having paid the price once already in Miami, but I still wasn't quite used to it. To be honest, my run that evening was intended to be a chance for both of us to stretch our legs.

The gallery was only a short distance from where I lived, and we got there quickly. Elliot pulled up alongside the curb outside my address. At the street, a restored Craftsman bungalow was glowing and lit from within, and the scent of garlic and onions floated in the air as I exited the car. The house was owned by an older couple named Clark and Leslie, and I rented a studio in the back yard. They had built the studio years ago and used the rental income to pay for the ongoing restoration process. I loved the studio. It was small, with a postage stamp sized bathroom and kitchenette, but it was all I needed. Plus, it was cheap. A real deal in the Rockridge area of town, where most rents rivaled those of the expensive city across the bay. Add neighbors that kept me fed with a constant supply of soup and casseroles, I planned never to leave. And I hadn't, yet, despite spending almost every night at David's.

I caught Leslie's eye through the front window as Elliot and I headed toward the side of the house. I hadn't seen her for days, so I shot my hand up and waved, letting her know that yes, I was still alive.

Elliot and I continued along the stone walkway that led to the back yard. The winter air was cold, and I looked forward to pulling on my windbreaker. After I opened the door, Elliot made a quick scan of the studio and nodded.

"See you in ten?" I asked.

"See you on the sidewalk."

I closed the door behind him, and exhaled, reveling in the moment of quiet. I appreciated the detail, but sometimes it was hard, constantly feeling like you had to be 'on.' I hadn't grown up in the world of the rich, and wasn't quite used to their ways yet.

I kicked off my heels, and slipped them inside a white paper bag by the door, and turned my focus to finding my workout clothes. I tore through a laundry basket and unearthed a red sports bra and some black running tights and plucked my neon pink windbreaker off the back of a chair. Shimmying out of my dress and into my running outfit, I felt a surge of energy come over me. It had been a week or so since my last run, and I missed it. I threw my hair up in a high ponytail and grabbed my iPod, purse, and shopping bag on the way out, locking the door behind me.

Elliot met me on the sidewalk, outfitted in a sleek gray tracksuit, having taken advantage of the blacked out windows of the SUV to change. He was like a boy scout, always prepared. I threw the white bag and purse in the car, and we exchanged serious glances as I hit a button on my phone. A catchy beat filled my ears as I started to jog down the street.

Once I hit College Avenue, the main street that linked Oakland and Berkeley, I made a sharp right and headed toward the university. Elliot hung back, invisible, giving me all the space I needed. I ran intervals, spacing quick sprints between periods of regular running. The night was cold and fresh, and the streets were busy with people still making their way home. I dodged them expertly, to the beat of the music, pretending that if I ran fast enough, maybe I could lose Elliot in the crowd.

I reached the university and continued to run onto the campus. UC Berkeley was my alma mater as well as David's, although he had attended six years ahead of me. I looped through the campus, between handsome historic buildings marked with the names of generous benefactors. The campus was uncharacteristically quiet as many students were still out on winter break. When I was at Cal, as they called it, I studied art history, having switched from sociology. I almost double majored in both, but senior year I got the internship with Curtis, and I ended up throwing myself into that instead. Sometimes I toyed with the idea of returning to school and finishing my second degree, but the reality of my student loan debt kept that idea at bay. I knew David had studied business and economics, but beyond that, I didn't know much about his time at Cal. As I circled the campus, I found myself wondering which dorm he stayed in while he was a student. I made a mental note to ask him more about it later that evening.

After a while, I started to feel the muscles in my legs weaken- no doubt a result of my all-kale diet that day- so I headed back up College Avenue toward home, slowing my pace a bit. About five minutes from my place, I slowed to a walk and used the last few blocks to cool down.

As I approached the SUV, Elliot came up behind me. Jesus—he had barely broken a sweat. That man was in seriously phenomenal shape; his years in the military had turned his body into a tightly honed machine. We took a moment to stretch our hamstrings and then climbed into the car.

Looking out over the bay as we crossed over the bridge, my thoughts naturally turned to David. He would be home at eight, which gave me plenty of time to shower and get ready for him.

~

I left Elliot in the elevator as it let me out into the foyer of David's penthouse apartment. At David's place, the main security team took over and Elliot was free to go back to his actual life. I walked into the quiet apartment and immediately knew David wasn't home yet.

David's apartment occupied the penthouse of a very upscale hotel in downtown San Francisco. The top ten floors were all reserved for private residences and they enjoyed the perks of hotel life—room service, access to a private state-of-the-art gym, a full service spa and other accoutrements. Being on the top floor, his unit also had the most magnificent views. Huge windows and high ceilings created the impression of floating inside a cloud. The entire apartment was decorated in neutrals and had a distinctly modern, masculine vibe. It was understated and very sexy—just like David. I dropped my keys on the kitchen counter and headed toward the bedroom.

Closing the door behind me, I unzipped my windbreaker and tore off my running shoes, the cool floors feeling good against my hot, abused feet. I showered and washed my hair and gave my normally wavy brown locks a sleek blow-out.

Since I was staying there so frequently these days, David had outfitted the bathroom with many of the products I used. I opened the vanity drawer and pulled out my dark kohl eye pencil and drew a line along each lash line, smudging them gently with my finger, before adding a sweep of mascara to each side.

Back in the bedroom, I retrieved the white shopping bag that I had brought from my studio. Pulling the contents free from the tissue paper wrapping, I examined the articles. A week before, I had a free afternoon and had spent it at a very fancy lingerie store in the city, picking out a treat for David. I wanted to surprise him with something new, and I had a good sense of what he liked based on the kind of undergarments he had stocked in my closet. Most of what he had picked out for me was simple and sophisticated, so I had purchased a cream-colored satin bra and panty set with matching garter belt. I slipped on the bits of fabric, and felt immediately aroused by the delicate sensation against my skin. I checked the time and was pleased to see that he was due any minute. I dimmed the lights, slid on the yellow heels and crawled onto the bed, maneuvering myself into a sexy pose that flaunted my curves.

I waited no more than ten minutes, listening, thinking every house-sound was David, until finally he was home. I heard the elevator close in the distance, and my chest heaved with anticipation as I listened to the sound of his dress shoes traversing the marble floors.

"Baby?" he called out.

"In here," I responded, hoping my voice was the right balance of nonchalant and sexy.

He opened the door and upon seeing me, a grin took over his face.

He stayed in the doorway. "Well, what do we have here?" he said, one hand rubbing his neck as he enjoyed the visual in front of him. His five o'clock shadow was in full force, as it usually was by now, his rugged masculinity unable to mask itself for very long.

"Hey, baby," I purred, begging him with my eyes to join me.

His hands tucked into the pockets of his gray suit, he eyed me carefully. The electricity prickled between us, and his ability to control himself sent waves of longing coursing through me. I was full of need and angled my body toward him.

He walked toward me slowly, undoing his cuffs and losing his tie in a slow, deliberate manner – never breaking my gaze. His eyes were dark and hot, searing deeply into me with intense, carnal desire. My body twisted gently as I yearned for him. He unbuttoned his shirt and undressed slowly, watching me, until he was naked, except for his black boxer briefs. My breath caught, and my breasts heaved against the smooth demi cups, filling them past their limit as they grew heavy with need.

David sat down on the bed, admiring me. I returned the favor and lost myself in his strong, taut body. For a moment I felt lucky, but then I reminded myself, this wasn't luck. David Keith had tracked me down like an animal hunting its meal. When we first met at one of the gallery shows, he had manipulated events just to buy time with me, and then practically stalked me at a party the very next night. He knew I was just as obsessed. We were addicted to each other's touch and couldn't stay apart no matter what the world was throwing at us.

He traced the clip of my garter belt with his finger. "I like those shoes, Samantha." My name on his lips was an aphrodisiac, and my sex throbbed for his touch.

"I wore them for you. Do you like the outfit?"

"I do. Very much. When did you get it?"

"Last week, when you were in that long meeting."

A brief cloud seemed to pass over David's face, but then he was back.

"Hmm. Maybe I should have more meetings."

I ran my hand along his hip.

"You are going to be the end of me. You know that, right?" he murmured contentedly.

I looked up at him, and he pushed an errant brown lock from my face with a satisfied grin.

"I'm serious, Samantha. I'm good for a few hours in the morning, but by noon, I can't stop thinking about you and your fuck-me heels. One of these days I'm going to greenlight an oceanfront development in Montana because of you."

"I can stop wearing heels," I said innocently as I started to get up.

"Don't you dare," he said gruffly, as he pushed me back down onto the bed. His hands started to make their way down to my sex, but I pushed them away. I managed to wiggle free and slipped off the bed, leaving him there.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

I pulled him to a standing position and slowly dropped to my knees.

"Oh," he said, understanding, as I tugged down his boxer briefs. I gazed up at him and he met me with his eyes as I took his cock in my hand. "Wait, what about you?"

"I just want you tonight." It was true. I'd been thinking about him all day.

I glanced down at his length, the thick root throbbing with anticipation. It felt soft to the touch, yet firm in my hand. I put both hands on it, wanting him to feel the sensation of me through his entire length.

After a few slow strokes, I looked up at David and lowered my mouth onto him. Flicking my tongue slowly around the tip, teasing him, I felt him grown even harder. I cupped his sac with one hand, massaging and tugging on him gently. His eyes flashed at me, and I could tell he was in the throes of pleasure.

I moved my lips down over the rest of his cock, slowly engulfing it with my mouth.

"Oh, Samantha," he groaned.

Encouraged by his reaction, I pulled him in by his ass, shoving his cock deeper into my throat. He tasted amazing, and I felt him grow stronger as I rushed past my limits.

Just as I thought I couldn't take it anymore, I reached behind his balls, and massaged the smooth area with my fingertips. That did it. David started to grunt and jerk, and I felt a hot stream of liquid down the back of my throat. I sucked and swallowed, savoring him completely before letting him go.

He sat back on the bed behind him, spent. I collapsed back on my knees, proud of the reaction I was able to elicit.

"Jesus, Samantha. That was incredible."

I wiped my mouth with my finger and buried my face on his lap. We sat there, quietly for a few minutes, allowing our spent bodies to recover.

Eventually, I broke the silence. "I think I need food," I whispered quietly. "Curtis brought salads for lunch today, and I think two meals of rabbit food aren't quite enough to sustain this level of activity."

"Agreed, Ms. Sharp," he groaned slightly as he sat up, before picking up his phone and pressing some instructions. "Two burgers coming right up. Let's wash up." He scooped me up off the bed and carried me into the bathroom.

After a relaxing session in the shower, we wrapped ourselves in fluffy robes and wandered barefoot into the living room. Our dinner was already arranged on the coffee table, waiting for us. Two big juicy cheeseburgers, delicate paper cones of crispy French fries, and a couple of milkshakes in frosty stainless steel cups promised to knock us out with a food coma. I dug in, ravenous from both the sex and the run. We ate on the floor, watching late night talk shows, cuddling each other under a blanket until I fell asleep.

~

The next morning, I joined David who was seated in the breakfast nook, dressed and ready for work, sipping coffee and snacking on a fruit plate Hilde had put together. David put down his Wall Street Journal.

"Aren't you going to eat?" he asked. Sometimes he could be quite the task-master.

"I'm actually meeting Jenna for breakfast this morning, remember?"

"Oh, right." His eyes flickered at the mention of his sister. It wasn't that he didn't get along well with his family, he did. Jenna was just—intense. He and I shared this perspective, so I understood that he was surprised I had finally submitted to her request.

"Tell her hello for me. You know, Samantha, I was thinking we should go away this weekend," he said, changing the subject.

"This weekend?" I asked, surprised.

We had just gotten back from spending Christmas with my family at our cabin in Lake Tahoe, and from a few days at his family's winery in Napa for New Years. Not that I was complaining, I loved going away with him. And I loved not going away with him. As long as I was with him, I was happy.

"To where?"

"I don't know. Somewhere warm." He paused, "Hawaii?"

"I've never been."

"Seriously?" He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Well now we have to go. What time can you get off work on Friday?" He was all business, furiously typing plans into his phone before I had a chance to respond.

"Uh, I get off at five."

"Can you switch with Eve? If we leave at one, we could catch the sunset."

I smiled at him. Well, look who decided to show up—Mr. Romance. "Sure," I agreed gently. Eve owed me one, anyway, since I had covered for her on her brother's birthday a few weeks ago.

"It's settled then. We'll meet at the airport at one o'clock on Friday. Don't bother packing, I'll have everything ready."

"Roger that, boyfriend," I said, giving him a little salute with two fingers.

