 
Mixed Signals

By Ivy Raine

Published by Ivy Raine at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Ivy Raine

Smashwords Edition, License Notes  
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Mixed Signals

Ivy Raine
Mixed Signals

**This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.**

**All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.**

**Copyright © 2013 Ivy Raine**

**Cover art by Rowan Graphics © 2013**
**Table of Contents**

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11
Chapter 1

"Forget it!" Rachel pulled away from Susan's grip. "That's not for me."

"Don't be such a baby, Rach. I'm not asking you to actually do anything. I just wanna check it out."

Rachel threw her head back, her long, black waves reaching nearly to her butt. "Every single time you get me into something, it goes wrong. Remember what happened when you just had to know what went on at a stripper's convention?"

Susan crossed her arms and raised a brow. "That was completely different. We were actually invited to this thing."

The thought of revisiting the inside of a jail cell made Rachel's nerves crawl. "I don't know. It all sounds a little on the shady side to me. What if we see someone we know?"

Susan shrugged. "So what. If they're there, do you really think they're gonna spread it all around that they saw you there? Don't think so. Besides, like I said. I'm just curious!"

The childish glee that sparked in Susan's eyes when she came up with these crazy schemes always amused Rachel – until she got caught up in the aftermath. "Oh, okay," she managed to squeak out. "But if something goes wrong, you're my next ex-friend."

"Sure. Like you haven't said that before."

It was true. Rachel had unfriended Susan so many times she'd lost count. She let out a sigh of exasperation. Too many things could go wrong with her latest scheme to go to a swinger's party.

"And just what does one wear when they're trying to attract someone else's significant other?"

"Just a smile." Susan said it so seriously that Rachel actually believed her for a fraction of a second.

"Oh, god, Susan! Can't you ever be serious?"

Susan laughed. "Take a good look, sister. My nose is too big in proportion to my face, my hair's an odd shade of orange and I've been told I snore. What've I got to be serious about?"

Rachel scrunched up her nose. "You do snore."

Susan grunted. "And you'd be the only one to know that considering the opposite sex must be allergic to me." She ran her fingers down through Rachel's silky locks. "This might be my last chance to ditch my virginity before I turn thirty. You wouldn't want to deprive me, would you?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I said I'd go, didn't I? Just let me know when this thing is so I can start planning."

Susan squealed and jumped up and down. "Tonight. I'll meet you at your apartment around eight."

"Nothing like giving a girl some notice!"

That was the only thing that truly bugged Rachel about her best friend since forever. She liked to do everything from the seat of her pants, a fact that made her being a virgin at the ripe old age of twenty-nine a serious numerological anomaly.

Swingers. Rachel thought about them all the way to work that morning, scrutinizing each and every passenger as they lumbered onto and off of the bus. Is he a swinger? She eyed up a gorgeous hunk fit for a goddess and actually found herself looking forward to it – until his buddy came up from behind and gave him a tongue lashing right there for everyone to see. Why, oh why? With serious envy of the guy pal, Rachel pulled her eyes away from the hunk, and focused on a more realistic vision of what a swinger might be. Married, most likely. They always seem to be married. Or maybe he's just bored with his girlfriend and convinced her to play along. Rachel stopped dead in mid-thought when she realized she had no one to trade off. Pulling out her cell, she punched in Susan's number.

"Yo! Don't we have to have a date to go to this thing?" For a moment, there was silence on the other end. "Susan?"

"Well...I kind of figured we'd take each other."

Rachel pulled the phone away from her face and looked to be sure she dialed the right number. "Say again?"

"Yeah. We'll just be each other's date."

"Seriously? Wouldn't that make us look a little-?"

"Bi," finished Susan. "I told them we were bi. Oh, they're okay with it!" she added quickly. "They say they get them every once in a while."

"You make it sound like we're a disease," Rachel hissed into the phone. "Couldn't you just tell them the truth?"

"Oh, yeah. That would sound good. Hi! I'm Susan and I just can't seem to attract a sweat bee let alone a man, and this is Rachel who's sworn to castrate and impale everything within a hundred yards of her that happens to be sporting a penis. Can you see where I'm going with this? Besides. Who could you possibly invite as a date that wouldn't spread it all around town? This is the kind of stuff guys write on bathroom walls. I can see it now: Call Susan and Rachel for a swinging good time."

Rachel groaned. "I see what you're saying, but really, Susan. Now we'll have to fend off the men and the women."

Susan laughed. "Who said anything about fending off the men?"

"Oh, probably the same person who said they were just curious."

Silence again. "You've got a point," Susan said at length, "but the eradication of my virginity has now become my life's mission."

The bus pulled up in front of Stanley Enterprises. "I've gotta go, Susan. I'm at work. I'll call you when I get off."

She ended the call, cutting off Susan's lingering goodbyes. Gathering up her laptop, Rachel pulled down the back of her skirt and headed toward the entrance.

"Good morning, Miss Peters." The security guard reached over and fumbled with the badge hanging around her neck. He made it a morning habit of trying to grope her a little and Rachel had gotten pretty proficient at having her badge out and ready. Not this morning. She felt his finger 'accidentally' slip in the gap between the buttons on her blouse, grazing her right breast. He pretended it didn't happen and quickly scanned her badge before dropping it back against her chest.

"Thanks, Jake. Remind me to charge you next time. Or better yet, I'll just send your wife the bill."

Jake just looked at her and grinned. Why did all the creeps have the same twisted smile? There was no way his wife could live with him and not know exactly what he was. Everyone who had half a brain knew he carried on with practically every secretary in the building at one time or another, and his latest target was Rachel.

"Have a good day, Miss Peters." He winked and pressed a button. The door slid open and practically sucked her into its vapor lock. Prisoner again, she thought.

"You better hurry," called a bleached blond from the front desk. "Mr. Stanley has been asking for you for almost twenty minutes."

"Screw him," she grumbled. "Last time I checked, my schedule says eight-thirty." She pointed up at the clock on the wall. "And it's only eight-fifteen. Does he think I'm a robot?"

"Yes. Yes he does. And I seriously think he's one, too."

"You know, Jen, we really should just quit one of these days."

Jen rolled her eyes. "You've been sayin' that for almost three years, Rachel. Either do it or shut up about it. You're depressing me."

Rachel winked. "One of these days."

Taking a deep breath, Rachel punched the button on the elevator, calling down the car to carry her to hell. For three long years she'd worked at Stanley Enterprises, and in the beginning, it was pretty nice. Old man Stanley had gone into semi-retirement just before she got the job and his senior secretary, Bonnie, practically ran the place for the first few months. Aside from the occasional call from Stanley senior with instructions on what to do, they were pretty much on their own. Then, along came junior – stuffed shirt, no personality, all work. With dad now off somewhere on a beach in Puerto Rico, Stanley Junior was calling the shots and they all involved extra work at the same pay.

Rachel stopped in front of the solid mahogany door to the main office and took a deep breath. Ryan Stanley, President. That same stinking plaque greeted her each and every morning. Even the eight letters of the alphabet were permanently tainted by his name.

With her chin up, Rachel pushed down on the handle and let herself into the stringent room.

"Hello, Rach! You better hurry. Someone's been looking for you already." She narrowed her eyes to tiny slits and nodded off toward another mahogany door of even greater proportions.

Bonnie. She'd been there for nearly thirty years and had seen the company through the struggling times before it became the multi-million dollar success that it was now. Through it all, she never waved – until it came to junior. She didn't take any of his crap, and did as she pleased. Having diapered the brat, she would say, entitled her to a little leeway.

Though she really didn't want to afford him the courtesy, Rachel knocked before entering. The low mumble from the other side told her he was in deep conversation with a potential client. This is how she usually presented herself in the morning and his normal reaction was no different on this day. With a brief wave of the hand, he lured her to his desk with the ominous yellow paper pinched between his fingers. Rachel snatched it out of his smooth, perfectly manicured hand and peeked at the chicken scratch. She breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god! No lunch with junior today. Her normal course of the day entailed having a 'working' lunch with him, and since he always bought, he acted as though he were doing her a favor.

"First two emails need to be sent off immediately," he whispered, covering the receiver with his second, equally manicured hand. "Then get that package for the steel company ready to go in the morning mail."

Rachel nodded and whisked herself out of the room before he asked her to wash his laundry, too.

"What has your highness in store for you today?" Bonnie grinned and curtsied.

Rolling her eyes, Rachel dropped down at her desk. "Everything but the dishes. At least I'm off the hook for lunch today."

"My, my, my! How did you manage that one?"

Rachel thought for a second. "You know? I'm not sure." She brushed it off. "He's a strange one. God only knows what he has up his sleeve."

Less than two emails later, Junior cracked his door and motioned her in. In all of her years of training herself to keep her emotions off of her face, Rachel found the last three years incredibly regressive, bordering on a full fail.

"Yes, Mr. Stanley?" She really did try her best, but sometimes it just didn't work.

He must have noted the attitude in her voice because he stopped in mid-walk and looked over his shoulder. He just stared. Great, she thought. Busted for insubordination. "I...just forgot to schedule our lunch, Miss Peters. We'll make it around one. Carlo's," he added, as if that would make up for it. "I know how you like their pasta."

Oh, why did he have to do that? Pasta was her weakness. Especially Carlo's pasta. "Great. What's the topic today?"

Mr. Stanley perked up. "I need to go over the invoice for Adam's Construction. Larry claim's they were missing several thousand dollars' worth of materials, and he's threatening to take his business elsewhere. I want to go over everything with a fine-toothed comb. Bring his file with you."

Stupidly, Rachel thought they were finished, and she turned to leave.

"Just one more thing." Junior had a really bad habit of using the phrase 'just one more thing'. "I'll need you to stay over an extra hour tonight. We need to get the contract worked up for Bartle's Steel Company. I'm dining with my parents later tonight and won't have time to work on it at home."

"Mr. Stanley's in town?" Rachel had never met the old man, but Bonnie had told her plenty. "How long's he staying?"

"For a few days. They're taking an Atlantic cruise and this is just a short stop-over." Junior stopped talking for a second and looked Rachel over like he really wanted to tell her something, and for a moment, she thought he was going to spill his guts. Nope. He pulled back in like it was a cold day in January. "I'll see you at lunch, Miss Peters."

Her cue to leave.

He was already on the phone when she clicked the door to a close. When Rachel turned around, Bonnie's mouth gaped and she started grinning.

"Since when did you turn into one of those types?" she said, motioning to Rachel's chest.

Rachel looked down and realized just why junior delayed her departure several times. The top button on her blouse had taken a vacation, revealing just a bit more than was office-appropriate. Well, okay. A lot more.

"That's just lovely. I'm wearing black and figured I'd be safe to go sans bra today since it's bound to be a hundred degrees." A mini tantrum bubbled up the more she thought about it. "That's why he was looking at me like that. He's no different than creepy, old Jake."

"I'm surprised he was able to control himself with a body like that." Bonnie swung her hips and ran her hands down her waist. "If I had your body, I sure wouldn't cover it up. I'd be using it to get ahead."

"Ahead of what? Landing Junior, here? No, thank you. I'd rather eat ramen noodles every day of the week."

Bonnie shrugged and sat back down. "Suit yourself, but don't get all high and mighty when you're heading for forty and still single. Eventually you've got to make the tough decisions, and they're easier to make when you still have the looks to back it up. When you get to be my age, the options dry up."

She knew Bonnie was right, but after her last bad scene with a guy, she wondered if she'd ever be ready again. Hence, the play-dates that were just that – play. More than one guy had tried to force a third date, but she cut them off at two – before she could be used again.

The morning blew on by, and before she knew it, Rachel found Junior standing at the corner of her desk. Ha! He thought he would sneak up behind her and get a peek from an elevation. A tiny, gold pin clamped the top of her blouse shut.

"Do you have Adam's file?"

She tapped her finger on the top file on the ever-growing stack on her desk.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go!"

If it wasn't Carlo's pasta day, Rachel would have let him have it. Or not, but it was satisfying to think about.

The mouth-watering smells seeping from Carlo's kitchen made it even more difficult to concentrate on the droning voice of Junior as he went over each and every number on the invoice.

"You're sure they're all accounted for?" He tapped his fingernail against his glasses. Rachel looked closer. Oh, my god, she thought! He buffs! She looked down at her own nails, the clear polish chipped at the tips, and pulled them back into her fist.

"Everything's here." Rachel had picked over that account herself. She knew it was correct. "I don't understand why this keeps happening. This is the third client in the last four months who's had a problem. Could it be the materials software making a mistake?"

Junior raised a brow. "That is a possibility I hadn't thought of, Miss Peters. I'll have someone come in and run a few diagnostics."

A server interrupted them with heaping plates of angel hair topped with a thick layer of sauce. Rachel's stomach growled. Next came the basket of fresh-baked rolls.

"We'll have to re-add everything and start over. I want to see if we come up with the same numbers a second time."

How could he possibly think about math with lunch sitting just under his nose? She was beginning to think he wasn't human, when he looked up and smiled. "Let's eat!"

Rachel wished he would do that more often. His teeth were gorgeous – courtesy of the best in dental care money could buy – but gorgeous just the same. She felt a rush of heat rise up her neck.

Junior, of course, noticed right away. "Are you okay? You look a little flushed."

"Fine," she said. "It's just really hot today, and the spaghetti's putting off even more heat."

Is that what it was? Rachel wasn't even sure where that explanation came from, but it seemed to satisfy him. Twisting the angel hair around her fork, Rachel wondered if it had something to do with what Bonnie had said to her earlier in the day, or maybe it was the fact that she practically exposed both of her breasts to him that morning. Whatever the case, it definitely caught her off guard. They finished their lunch in relative silence while he tapped away on his phone's calculator in between bites of pasta.

"Well, Miss Peters, thank you for an enjoyable lunch. Tomorrow we'll be trying out the new Chinese restaurant three streets over."

She knew the routine. "New client?"

He nodded. "This is a big one. He's flying in from California after choosing our company over twenty others. If we get this client, your job is set for at least a decade."

Rachel nearly choked. "Seriously?"

There was that smile again. "Well, I may have exaggerated just a little, but it's pretty big. I've been working on this for almost a year, and I'm this close," he said, holding up his fingers.

Though she didn't want to admit it, Rachel was a little impressed. Junior hadn't really done anything overly spectacular in his first year running the business and Rachel was beginning to think she should be looking for a new job. If all went well, maybe she would ask for a raise.
Chapter 2

"You ready?" Susan did her usual seven taps on the bathroom door. Rachel often accused her of having obsessive compulsive disorder.

"Two seconds!" Rachel called. She'd been late in arriving home thanks to Junior's extra work hour. "This is too much." She looked at herself in the mirror, thankful that she barely recognized her own face. After all, if she couldn't even see herself, maybe no one else would, either. Her dark eyes looked even darker with smoky shadow all around them, and her hair cascaded down over her shoulders in tight curls. She took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door for the reveal.

"I hate you."

Rachel laughed and tugged at the hem of the extremely short, body-hugging dress.

"Stop that!" Susan chastised. "You need to show off those legs. How else are we going to draw the men over to me?"

"I understand, now. I'm the bait!"

Susan slapped her on the backside. "You've got it, babe. I'm gonna be a winner tonight. You look fab!"

"What size is this dress, anyway?" Rachel yanked up the top.

"Four. It's not my fault your boobs are enormous." Susan pulled on the top, exposing Rachel's nipples.

"Hey! What's wrong with you?" Rachel wiggled back into the dress.

"I'm bi, remember?"

"No, you're just nuts!" Rachel swept a curl behind her ear. "You look great, by the way. You need to get over this inferiority complex you're carrying around. That could get heavy after a while."

Susan grabbed Rachel's hands and spun her around. "I have all the confidence in the world with you hanging on my arm!" She pulled Rachel to her and gave her a sloppy kiss on the lips.

Rachel pushed her away. "You're really getting a little too into this bi thing, Sue."

Susan tilted her head and put a hand to her cheek. "A true actress becomes her part, Rachel."

"Let's go before you break out in song."

Rachel peeked around the corner before heading to the elevator.

"I hope no one sees us," she whispered. "How would we explain away the trashy clothes?"

Susan waved a hand through the air. "You worry about your reputation too much. Who cares what people think?"

"Those of us who need to keep their jobs. It's not everyone who can get by with three hundred bucks a week."

"Hey!" Susan pouted. "I make way more than three hundred a week. I work at an upscale salon, remember? Some of these chicks hand over five hundred just for a cut, color, and polish. And anyway, if you didn't insist on living the high life in this swanky apartment building, you could get by on less, too."

"Close to work, remember? You know how Mr. Stanley hates it when I'm late." Rachel adjusted the dress again. "This thing's gonna bug me all night. I feel like my chest is bulging out the top."

The elevator door opened and two older men stepped aside so the girls could get in. Rachel could feel the eyes looking down her dress, and she turned to Susan for cover.

The main floor finally lit up.

"I should've brought a sweater or something." Rachel was beginning to regret this idea.

"No, way! You're a magnet, and I plan on catching everything you pull in." They slipped into the waiting taxi, and Susan tapped on the partition. "This is definitely better than riding on the stinking hot bus with all of those sweaty people."

The taxi swept through the city and eventually ended up in parts unfamiliar to either of them.

"Where is this place?"

The taxi swung up to the curb and stopped.

"I guess we're here." Susan got out first and pulled Rachel out after her. "This is the spot. Third floor, Champagne Room."

The feel inside the building wasn't what Rachel expected. "This place is really upscale. How did you get invited to this thing, anyway?"

Susan grinned. "I have my ways!"

The music drifting from the Champagne Room was interrupted every few seconds by spurts of laughter.

"Sounds like fun." Reaching for the door, Susan hesitated. "This may be it, Rach. I'll walk through these doors as a virgin and exit...well, maybe not as an ex-virgin, but hopefully pretty close to it. You ready, lovey?"

Leaving no chance for escape, Susan thrust open the door, dragging Rachel in behind her.

A doorman dressed in black tails flogged them. "Do you have an invite? I need your names!"

"Susan Reyes and Rachel Peters."

Rachel winced. Why, oh why, did she use their real names? Glancing over the crowd, she realized they were way underdressed. The jewels and gold just dripped from every joint. The doorman gave them the wave and sent them off to mingle.

"Sue. Take a look around. What do you see?"

Oblivious, Susan scanned the room and turned her big doe eyes back to Rachel. "A lot of people? I don't know, Rach. Don't play games. Just tell me."

Rachel pulled her toward the refreshments. "Money, dope. Lots and lots of money. These people are loaded! Tell me, again, how you found yourself invited to something way above your caste?"

Susan puckered her lip and pouted. "You'll be mad."

There it was. Rachel closed her eyes and pinched her lips. She took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. "Just tell me so I can digest. I'll decide later whether or not to kill you."

"I need a drink." Susan picked up a glass and held it under the constant stream of champagne trickling down over the sides of the centerpiece. She filled her glass and drank it down in several quick gulps. "I kind of found it."

"What?" Rachel grabbed her arm and shook it. "What do you mean, you found it? Where?"

The guilt was written all over Susan's face. "Someone left their invitation at the salon, and you know me and my curiosity. All I had to do was call the number on the invitation and give them the special code along with our names. It was all really innocent, Rach. I swear! I didn't think it was going to be this elite thing or I wouldn't have suggested it. Rich people make me itch."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Then you should be covered in hives right about now." Turning her head, she pinched Susan's elbow. "Don't look now, but we've got company on the way over here."

"Shit, Rachel! What do we do?"

"This is your idea. Use your acting skills."

"Hello, ladies!" A woman who looked to be in her fifties approached them. "You girls seem a little out of place all the way over here by yourselves. Why don't you come and join us?" She motioned to a group occupying the opposite side of the room. "A few of the fellows have been eyeing you both, and they'd like to meet you."

A quick look-see told Rachel that the group consisted of nothing but senior citizens. "Um...where are all of the younger people?"

The woman laughed. "This is a fifty and over group. I'm guessing you received the wrong invitation. The younger people usually meet at the beginning of the month. However, since you're here, you may as well enjoy yourselves."

"Let's just go," whispered Susan.

"Oh, no. You wanted to come and we're staying." Rachel linked her arm through Susan's. "Maybe you'll finally learn a lesson. Come, dear. Your party awaits."

"But, I don't wanna lose my virginity to someone who's nearly dust."

"You're nearly dust, need I remind you?" They wove in and out between the small groups, gaining more and more attention as they went along.

"They're all staring at us."

"That's because we're not used to seeing skin younger than fifty around here." A gentleman came up behind them and ran his fingers gown Susan's shoulders. "I'm guessing you're the bisexual ladies we've been expecting.

Susan nodded. "That would be us." She looked back over her shoulder and her mouth gaped open. "That would be us," she repeated.

Rachel elbowed her. "You'll have to forgive her. I don't let her out of her cage very often."

He tipped his head back and chuckled quietly. "I'm Ross. My wife is around here somewhere. She actually picked you out for me." Ross patted Susan on the shoulders. "Would you ladies like another drink?" He took Susan's empty glass and sat it on the table.

"Sure. Why not?"

"If that's an old guy, then I want to be old, too!" Susan drooled after him as he sashayed away to get them more champagne. "Did you see him? He's gorgeous! For an older guy," she added quickly. "Maybe dust wouldn't be so bad, after all."

"You're not serious, are you? I thought you were kidding when you said you wanted to leave here a tainted woman!"

Susan just batted her big eyes at Rachel. "I reserve the right to change my mind. You heard him, Rach. His wife picked me out. This is a sure thing!"

"Yeah. Sure to be gross. Did you even stop to consider the little bugs he might be carrying around with him?"

"Shhh! He's coming back."

"Here's your champagne, ladies! Would you like to meet my wife?" He guided them through the throng of people to an attractive woman sitting at a corner table. "Ladies, I'd like you to meet my wife, Viv. Viv this is...sorry I didn't even ask you your names."

"That's okay, Ross! I should have introduced myself. I'm Susan and this is Rachel."

Rachel grimaced at the way Susan fawned all over him. She had to admit, though, he was mighty good-looking for an old man.

Viv held out her limp, white hand, and the light glinted on a diamond bracelet dangling from her wrist. "Nice to meet you ladies. Sit!" She motioned for Rachel to take a seat. "Why don't you take Susan for a dance, Ross."

Without waiting for a reply, Ross whirled Susan off to the dance floor.

Rachel felt Viv scouring her. "So. You're bisexual."

"Um...not really. I'm just here for moral support." Rachel cringed at the use of the word 'moral'.

Viv laughed. "Very witty!" She took a long drink of her champagne and motioned to the server to bring her another. "He actually had his eye on you, but I wouldn't let him."

A streak of anti-panic rushed through Rachel. "Well, thanks. I appreciate the save."

Viv wrapped one of Rachel's curls around her thin finger. "We have a rule. If I think the girl is too pretty, Ross can't touch. And you're too pretty." Viv sighed. "I was beautiful once. Oh, I know," she said, waving a hand through the air. "Ross still finds me attractive, but when I find him looking at the young ladies, I feel guilty because I've aged. It's really not fair, you know. Age robs a woman of her beauty and gives it to the man."

Rachel was intrigued. "You don't mind? It doesn't bother you that he...does this?" She thought back to the time when she found out her fiancé of three years had been cheating on her for two and a half, and she couldn't imagine a time when she'd think it was okay.

"It did at first, but I got used to it. There are perks for me, too, you know. I don't just sit on the sidelines." She nodded toward a man sitting two tables over. "He and I are getting together later this evening. If Ross doesn't hook up, he'll come with me and we'll make it a threesome."

Rachel wanted to crawl under the table. She felt like she was having a vivid sex talk with her mother. "Seriously? He'd allow it?"

Viv looked surprised. "Allow? I'm not his property, Rachel. I do as I please. Always have. You're forgetting. This lifestyle was my idea, and Ross appreciates it. Sometimes a little too much," she said, motioning toward the dancing duo. She picked up her cell phone and snapped a few pictures of Ross and Susan.

"But, how?"

"Oh, you are a baby, aren't you?" Viv dug down in her handbag and pulled out a crinkled photo. "This is Ross and I about twenty years ago."

The beauty looking back at Rachel could have been a model. "You were – are beautiful!"

"Don't look at me!" she chastised. "Look at Ross. Look how beautiful he is. Then look out there. He's still just as beautiful. But, me... well, not so much anymore. Not like I was. I love Ross more than anything in this world, and I don't want to lose him. If he were to cheat on me, I'd lose him because I could no longer trust him, but if I allow him his little flings, then it's not really cheating, is it? You see where I'm going with this? It's because I love him, and I want to keep him."

Rachel looked at Viv – really looked at her and finally understood what she was trying to say. There was almost a pathetic desperation in her eyes like she knew deep down inside that her husband would cheat on her without thinking twice if he could do it without getting caught. "That wouldn't work for everybody, but if it's working for you, then I'd say you're lucky."

"Yes, I am."

Susan and Ross waltzed back to the table.

"My goodness, Ross! Sit down before you fall down!" Viv fussed over him like a mother hen. "Take a sip of your champagne."

"If I drink much more of this, I'll be an alcoholic!"

Susan plunked down beside Rachel. "That was fun!"

The endless cycle of Ross and Susan crashing for another drink before swirling off seemed to go on for hours, until Rachel finally reached her limit of 'fun'.

"Do you mind if I join you?" The invading man didn't wait for an invite.

Rachel didn't look over at him, but he was so close she could practically feel the hairs on his arms grazing against her skin. Scooting closer to Susan didn't help. He just sandwiched her a little tighter.

"You here alone?"

Normally, Rachel liked the smell of champagne, but mixed with the smell of cigars, it made her want to throw up.

"N-no," she stuttered. "I'm here with my friend. We're gay."

"Bi," Susan piped up. "We're bi." She grabbed the back of Rachel's neck and planted a smoking hot kiss on her lips.

Rachel pulled away and glared at her newest ex best friend. "We're actually getting ready to leave."

"So soon?" Ross grabbed Susan's hand and pulled her to her feet. "One more dance for the road."

With champagne in her veins, Susan was off to take Ross out for another airing, leaving Rachel practically sitting in the lap of the stinky, old man.

"This is Rachel," Viv offered as she snapped a few more pictures. "Rachel, this is George. He's from everywhere, and we only see him once or twice a year."

George pushed the chair away to give Rachel some room. "So, you're bi? And so pretty, too." He leaned down close to her ear. "When's the last time you tried my species?"

Rachel looked to Viv for help, but it was too late. The mystery man from two tables over whisked Viv off for a dance. Making arrangements for their threesome, most likely. Rachel shuddered and turned back to George. She'd have to be direct.

"I'm only here because my friend wanted to come. Curiosity, you know. So, I'm not really interested in making a night of it."

George raised his brows, and a big grin spread across his face. "So, that's the game. I can play that, too."

Rachel rolled her eyes. It was hopeless. "You've caught me, George."

He bellowed heartily and motioned for the waiter. "A few more drinks, please."

Rachel noticed the simple, gold band around his ring finger. "Where's your partner?"

"Mine?" George looked disgusted. "I don't bring my wife to these things. She's too busy with her own interests."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to read between the lines. "She doesn't know, does she?"

George reared back, a look of shock mixed with amusement spread across his face. "Well...I suppose...no. No, she doesn't. Does that make me evil?"

Rachel shrugged. "Do you feel evil?"

"Sometimes."

"Then you're Satan himself, George. Time to go to confession."

"I just like to have a little fun, and she never lets me go out."

Rachel raised a brow and grinned. "Maybe that's because she doesn't trust you, George. How did you get out alone tonight?" The answer to that was simple.

"I lied." Guilt wasn't a strong enough word to describe how George looked. He put his face in the palm of his hands. "She's visiting family on the other side of town tonight. I'm supposed to be at an old friends place. He's covering for me."

He didn't need to say anything else. They were all the same. Buddy covers the indiscretion, wife made out to be the problem, cycle continues until he gets caught.

"Well, George, I can tell you one thing for certain. Honesty is best. You lie, you lose. End of story."

"You sound like you have experience in this sort of thing. Is that why you went bi?"

Rachel nearly choked on her champagne. "Um...yeah. I guess."

"You've really ruined this evening for me, young lady." George shook his head. "I had big plans and now I don't think I could go through with them even if the little blue pill did its job."

The level of personal information being thrown around the room was insane. "I don't think I needed to know that, George."

George nudged her arm. "I thought this was confession?"

Rachel laughed out loud. Though she tried hard not to, she found that she liked George. He expected nothing from her. The fact that he probably couldn't get it even if he did want it helped a little, too.

"Well, as long as I'm confessing, I may as well tell you that I've never actually taken part in the 'festivities' of these things." He waved his hands thought the air.

"Then, why?"

He shrugged and looked down. "I just come for the drinks and the thrill of doing something dangerous, I suppose. Life gets pretty boring after sixty, young lady – the dinner parties, the formal events, the black ties that cut off the circulation. And once you retire? Prunes and naps and pension plans. You can only travel so much before you itch to get back into something worthwhile. I just need to test myself every once in a while to see if I've still got it, and when I find that I don't – as I always do – I head on home and thank my wife for sticking by this sorry, old goat."

"Kind of like a reminder."

"Exactly! By the way," he said. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have really nice-?"

"Yes," Rachel interrupted. "It's like they can't see what's above my neck."

At first, George looked confused, and then he looked down and back up at her face. "I was going to say eyes," he said sheepishly. "But, now that you've mentioned it."

Rachel blushed. "Sorry. I'm just used to people focusing on everything except my eyes. And thanks," she added. "I got them from my dad."

"What does your dad think about your life choices? Being bi, I mean."

A pang of regret shot through her. "He died when I was five. Cancer."

George looked like he wanted to eat his shoe. "I'm sorry to hear that. He would've been proud of how you turned out. You seem like a smart girl, Rachel. And you have a conscience. That's hard to find in this day and age."

Yeah. A conscience. That same conscience had allowed people to walk all over her in the course of her twenty-eight years.

"I don't know, George. Sometimes I wish I could be like everyone else. Barge my way through life to get what I want and not care who I step on to do it."

"You'll find in life that you gain more respect and more true friends by being exactly the way you are. Don't change a thing."

Rachel stood up and pulled down her skirt. "Maybe you should take your own advice."

"You're not leaving already?" George was on his feet and looking like he wanted to cry. "This is the most fun I've had at one of these things in years."

"That's not saying much, George. Maybe you should retire the lifestyle. It doesn't seem to be working for you." She waved to Susan. "It was really nice meeting you. Seriously." She looked in his sad, puppy dog eyes and grinned. "Don't do this to me, George. You're just exploiting that conscience you know I have."

"If you're leaving, I'm leaving."

"I'm leaving."

"Who's leaving?" With the champagne making quick work of her, Susan stumbled into Rachel.

"We're leaving. Me, you, and George."

Susan covered her mouth and snickered. "Oh, my god, Rach! You've hooked up!" She peeked over Rachel's shoulder. "He's not as good looking as Ross, but who cares. I'll take anything right about now."

"Oh, come on, dummy. I'm taking you home."

Rachel got on one side and George on the other and they guided Susan through the dwindling crowds and out into the hall. The cool air felt great.

"You won't mind if I'm a virgin, will you George? Ross refused me when I told him. Wasn't that just rude?" Susan leaned her head on George's shoulder and closed her eyes.

George looked over at Rachel, his mind going a mile a minute.

"Don't even think about it, George! You're reforming, remember?"

"You take all the fun out of everything," he pouted. "You're a lot like my wife. Hey," he said, looking at Rachel. "Maybe I don't have it so bad, after all."

"I hope that's not just the champagne talking." Why did she have to care what happened in George's life? She hated herself for wanting to fix everything. Some things, she learned, just can't be fixed, but that didn't stop her from wanting to try. "Where to, George? We'll share a taxi."

"Oh, no," he said, waving his hands. "I'll drop you two girls off first. I'm going to remain a mystery man and fade into the darkness."

"Then we'll just go to my place. I can't trust this girl in her inebriated condition. She's so desperate to give up her virginity that I might find myself a godmother in nine months."

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her overprice apartment building come into view. "Well, George, it's been nice. Too bad our friendship was so short-lived. I think we could have become good drinking pals."

George hobbled around to the opposite door and helped Rachel extract Susan from the taxi.

"I'm up," she mumbled. "Now, let me go back to sleep."

"How much, George?" Rachel craned her neck to see the fare amount.

"Oh, no. I'm getting this, young lady. You just get your gal pal in bed." An evil grin spread across his face. "That came out wrong. I'll wait until I see you go in."

Rachel gave him a quick peck on the cheek. It was the least she could do after he helped them escape the geriatrics party.

He rubbed briskly over the spot. "Lipstick," he explained. "If I'm reforming, I've got to do it right."

"Good luck, George!"

All the way up the steps and the entire time she undressed Susan and tucked her into bed, Rachel couldn't stop thinking about George. There was something about him that she just couldn't put her finger on – something alluring, in a strange, twisted way. George was like the 'every man'. You could fit just about every personality type into him and he'd still be George.

With her friend snoring loudly beside her, Rachel lay awake, glad that she'd taken the opportunity to follow her on another wacky adventure. Life was never boring with Susan around.
Chapter 3

"Hurry up, Susan! I'm gonna be late for work!" Rachel beat on the bathroom door until Susan let her in. She looked around at the soggy mess. "You're a slob. It's no wonder you're still single."

Susan ran a hand through her fiery mop. "You're one to talk."

"At least I'm not a slob," she said, kicking aside the soaking wet towels. "What time do you have to be at work?"

Susan blinked. "Oh. Didn't I tell you? I took the day off."

An internal rage bubbled up and fizzled out just as it reached the surface. How could she be mad at raggedy Ann? "You're not as dumb as you look."

Glancing up at the heart-shaped clock, Rachel knew there'd be no time for a fancy do. She swept her mass of black curls up into a smooth twist and pinned it down tight. Within an hour she was guaranteed to have a massive headache.

She was ready for Jake that morning. With her pullover top and her badge held out, there was no way he was getting a free feel. She found it odd that he didn't even flirt with her, and was even more shocked when he acted like a normal guard and called her Miss.

"What's up with him?" said Rachel. "Finally get caught?"

"Worse. Old man Stanley's in town," Jen whispered. "He'll be here any time now."

Rachel had heard the stories about Stanley senior, and it made her glad that she started just after he handed the reigns over to junior.

Bonnie was all abuzz, too. "Can't wait for him to see what his brat's done to the place. Maybe he'll even come back for a while to straighten things out."

"Oh, I don't know. Junior seems to know what he's doing." Rachel took that jab a little personally since she had a hand in nearly everything he did. "And he's got a really big client coming in for a meeting today."

Bonnie sniffed and scrunched up her nose. "What's on the menu, today?"

"Chinese. The new place." Rachel caught the sneer on Bonnie's face. "And, what's that for?"

"You claim you don't use this." Bonnie waved her hands down over her torso. "But you do."

"Do not!" Rachel fumed. "You could have had this job, you know. It's not my fault you turned it down."

"And take direct orders from him? Honey, I diapered him and he shit on me then, but I won't let him do it now. Now, Senior? That's a different story."

Rachel lined up the files for the day. "Sounds like you and senior had a thing."

Bonnie poured herself a cup of coffee. "Senior had a thing with everyone. He's nothing like junior, here. You'll see."

Junior's ears must have been burning because he stuck his head out from his office. "Miss Peters. I need you."

Bonnie turned away to cover her snickering, leaving Rachel with a mouthful of words she desperately wanted to spew out but had to swallow.

"My father's coming in today." Junior fumbled with the papers on his desk. "He'll be joining us for lunch this afternoon."

Rachel waited, but nothing else came. "And?" she finally said.

He looked up, but not before he hesitated on her chest. "And he's not been here since I took over, so I want this meeting to go as professionally as possible. Have the files ready, answers already thought out for potential client questions, and above all, please try to remain silent unless spoken to."

Rachel bit the inside of her mouth. She was practicing his last order and finding it extremely difficult to master.

A tap came at the door. "Come!" Rachel wanted to scream. Junior liked using one word commands and it annoyed the hell out of her.

Bonnie stepped inside. "Mr. Stanley just called and said that he was running late and he'd meet you at the restaurant. He said he may not make it for lunch, but definitely by dessert."

Junior looked like a living blood pressure gauge, and Rachel could have sworn she saw the vein in his temple subside. "Thank you, Bonnie."

Rachel was enjoying watching the abnormally cool Mr. Stanley sweating like a pig. Internal sweating, of course. She wasn't even sure if the man had sweat glands. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. That's when she felt it. That tiny little tingle swept over her again. First it was the teeth and now the eyes. She'd never really noticed them before because he always had his glasses on, but they were a mesmerizing shade of light gray. Rachel cleared her throat and distracted herself with the notepad in her hands.

"Anything else?" she said.

"Nothing." He waved her off with his long, slender piano fingers. "Be ready to leave by eleven-thirty."

Rachel slapped the cover of her notepad shut and hustled out of the room and straight to the ladies room. She looked in the mirror and examined her face. Definitely something wild in the eyes today, she thought. A quick dose of cold water on her hot cheeks made her feel a little better.

Eleven-thirty ticked around faster than she wanted, and before she knew it, Junior was tapping on her desk. "I don't want to be late, Miss Peters. You've had nearly three hours to get your things together."

"Sorry," she mumbled. She stuffed her laptop in its case and shoved the folders down alongside it. "I think I've got everything."

"Not think. Know. Being certain prevents problems, Miss Peters."

She couldn't take it anymore. "I'm trying to be understanding, J-." She stopped and sucked in. That little slip would have been disastrous. She shot a death dart toward Bonnie who sat at her desk convulsing in silence. That endearing moniker started with her and had brushed off on Rachel. She made a vow to wipe the word 'junior' from her vocabulary. "However, Mr. Stanley," she continued, "you're making me nervous to the point where I'm having heart palpitations."

Junior took a deep breath and put a hand on her shoulder. "I apologize. That's the last thing I want to do." Rachel smiled. "I want this client." Smile dropped. For a split second she thought he actually cared.

Rachel scolded herself all the way to the restaurant. Why did it bother her? She didn't really want him to care about her, so it shouldn't matter to find out he doesn't. But it does. She hated internal turmoil – especially when there was no obvious reason for it.

The size of the new restaurant temporarily made her lose her ill-paced train of thought. "They went all out with this, didn't they?" She could smell the egg foo yung already.

"Forty million to build."

How did he know these things to the point where he could rattle them off that quickly? Sometimes Rachel wondered if he stayed up at night obsessing over business like other men obsess over women.

The waiter led them to a semi-private conference area at the back of the restaurant. The black leather seats were stuffed full and crept high above her head.

"Wow. Real marble." She tapped her nails on the table top.

"Yes, and I've heard the food is authentic – not Americanized."

"As long as I recognize the ingredients."

A flurry of movement caught Rachel's eye and she looked up. At first, her mind didn't process what she was seeing, but it finally hit her like a stack of law books. George – heading her way. She turned her face away and fumbled with the menu. A sick feeling churned in her stomach. This must be what it feels like to be a cornered animal, she though. Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, she realized he'd never recognize her without all of the makeup, and as soon as he made his way to his own table, she'd be home free.

"Ryan!"

Junior jumped up from his seat. "Dad! I didn't expect you quite this soon."

What just happened? Nothing made sense. George stopped at their table and Junior had him in a love lock. Then the awful truth finally sank in.

"Miss Peters, I'd like you to meet my father, Mr. Stanley."

George reached out his hand. "Call me George, Miss Peters."

Rachel slowly raised her face and looked him square in the eye. Nothing happened. Was he just that good of an actor, or had the champagne had a bigger effect on him than she thought?

"Nice to meet you," she breathed out. Her hand went limp in his.

"Likewise." He paused and looked at her in a funny little way. "Do I know you, Miss Peters?"

Junior saved the day. "Don't be silly, Dad. This is my secretary. She's probably never been farther than city limits."

George sat down beside her on the booth seat. She wished she'd worn a sweater to cover her chest. One thing he could overlook as coincidence, but when you put two and two together, bam.

"How's business?" George reached past Rachel to grab a menu. "Pardon me, Miss Peters." But, it didn't stop there. He lingered, staring, thinking. "I do know you. What's your name?"

Rachel looked at Junior and he gave an approving nod. "Miss Peters."

"No, no, no. Your first name."

"Rachel." Junior looked so proud of himself. He actually remembered his insignificant secretary's name. "She's been with the company for three years."

That's when the awful dawning of the apocalyptic morning rose in George's eyes – and he handled it beautifully.

"Pretty name."

Rachel tried to swallow the knot cutting off her oxygen, but it wouldn't budge. "Thanks," she squeaked.

"I must've been mistaken, Miss Peters. Susan is the young lady I was thinking of."

With her throat clenched tight, Rachel could do little more than nod.

"How was your evening last night, Dad? Mom said you met some old friends."

Now it was George's turn on the hot seat. "Um...well, fine, Ryan."

Rachel felt two quick taps against her foot. Time for the bail-out. "I hear you've been staying in Puerto Rico, Mr. Stanley."

With his eyes twinkling, George went off into a drawn out descriptive narration of everything from the sand on the beaches down to the type of rice they preferred there.

"Sounds like a great place to visit – with your wife," she added.

"Or a gal pal," he interjected.

Junior's brows went up.

"Not my gal pal, of course. I just meant that it's a nice place to vacation with a friend. It's safe. Two girls could go there and...feel safe." George cleared his throat and buried his nose in the menu. "I think I'll have egg foo yung. How about you, Miss Peters?"

"My favorite. I'll have some, too."

"Too bad you couldn't have been this agreeable last night," he mumbled from behind his menu.

Rachel kicked him under the table.

"Did you say something, Dad?" Junior's BS alert must have been going off, because he had that look in his eye.

"No. I was just reading over the menu. Wasn't your client supposed to be here by now?"

Junior looked at his shiny, new watch and buffed the face on his coat sleeve. "He's late – very late. Let me go see if he called and left a message with the desk. If you'll both excuse me, I'll be right back."

As soon as Junior was out of sight, Rachel grabbed George's arm. "Are you trying to get me fired, George? I thought you were reforming!" She could just kill herself for ever having allowed Susan to drag her to that place. "If you don't mind, please stop with the innuendo. Your kid's not stupid, you know."

The corners of his mouth turned up in an impish grin as he looked her up and down. "Obviously not." George chuckled and rubbed his hands together. "I can't tell you how happy I am that he's proven himself to be a human – and a male human, at that. It's just too bad that you're bi."

"George. Pay attention. I – am – not – bi. Got it?"

Raising his hands in defense, George leaned away from her. "You don't have to hide it. I promise I won't let Ryan fire you."

Rachel crossed her arms and scowled at George. "Oh, really? And how would he feel if he found out you were out looking for a cheap hook-up last night?"

"Shhh! Keep your voice down. Do you have any idea what would happen if you told him something like that? You would get fired, and I couldn't defend you because then my secret would be out. What I did was wrong. What you are is not – as long as it's right for you, I suppose. Now hush! He's coming back."

"He can't make it. Something about his plane being late and paperwork missing. He won't be arriving in town until seven or eight this evening. It looks like we'll be working late again tonight, Miss Peters." Junior took off his jacket and draped it over the back of the seat. "We may as well kick back and enjoy our lunch."

She'd never seen Junior without his jacket before. In all the years of working for him, he'd never gone without it. Too bad, thought Rachel as she traced the outline of his biceps with her eyes. Too bad. A moment of temporary horror filled her soul when she realized she was sitting there with a stupid grin on her face. She had to stop. This was Junior – her boss – the inanimate object that had a zero tolerance policy for emotions of any kind.

When the egg foo yung arrived, Rachel barely tasted it, and what she did taste was awful. She looked at George. "Is yours as bad as mine?"

He pushed his food around on his plate. "Don't know. How bad is yours?"

"Pretty bad."

Junior motioned to the waiter. "Bring the check, please."

"Your mother and I are having a dinner party Saturday night, Ryan."

"Yes," he said as he fished through his wide array of credit cards. "She mentioned it when I saw her last night."

George nudged Rachel and winked. "Well, I thought maybe you'd bring Miss Peters with you."

Stunned, Junior and Rachel looked at each other and then at George.

"Dad. I have to keep my professional and personal life separate."

"I agree," Rachel chimed in. "How would this look to the rest of the employees?"

George held up his hands to quiet them. "First of all, Ryan, you don't have a personal life. When's the last time you had a date? And you," he said, turning to Rachel, "what's a nice girl like you spending your evenings working with your boss? Don't you have a boyfriend...or something?"

Rachel scowled at George.

"Oh, don't look so sour, Miss Peters. Besides, it won't be like a real date. There'll be business associates there that my son may want to strike a deal with. Bring your notepad along if that makes you feel better, and if you both happen to have a little fun in the process, then great."

The mention of business instantly piqued Junior's curiosity. "Who's going to be there?"

Here we go, thought Rachel. The business brain never turns off. He's practically being forced to take her on a date and all he's concerned with is who will be there to further his career.

"Most of the old accounts and possibly a few new ones." He grinned at Junior. "You don't think I lay around on the beach twenty-four hours a day, do you? Once you get business in your blood, you can't get it out."

Junior glanced at Rachel. "Well?"

She blinked innocently, not willing to play fetch with his one line comments. "Well, what?"

"Would you mind accompanying me to my father's crazy dinner party?"

Oh, how things repeat themselves over and over again. First Susan and now Junior and Senior. "Oh, I suppose. But I'm getting paid for this, right?"

"Of course you are!" said George.

"I feel like such a guinea pig," she mumbled as she slid out of the booth.
Chapter 4

The doorbell rang at exactly eight o'clock. It could be none other than Junior. No one else was that punctual. Rachel grabbed her clutch and made one last quick primp in the mirror. She thought it ironic that when she tried the least, she looked the best. The figure-hugging charcoal dress looked great with her hair and eyes.

She opened the door expecting to see Junior, but instead, stared straight into the eyes of an Adonis.

"You...look lovely, Miss Peters."

Rachel looked again. That was no Adonis. It was her very own Junior, standing there in all his glory. Gone was the slicked back hair and in its place was a tumbling mess of sexiness to match his gorgeous eyes and teeth. Maybe she'd been in a coma for the last three years.

"Um, thanks," she said, grasping to get herself under control, "but you should probably call me Rachel for the evening. Miss Peters sounds a little too formal for people who are supposed to be friends."

She grabbed her notebook from the lamp stand, but he gently slipped it out of her fingers and tossed it back down. "I think we deserve a break tonight, Rachel." He held the door open for her. "And you might want to call me Ryan."

When her shoulder brushed against him, something inside her went off like a four alarm fire, and she felt her throat get tight. She didn't want to think about how rock hard his body felt, and she definitely didn't want to think about everything else that trickled in behind it. Rachel did her best to shove the thoughts aside, but a strange little tickle started deep in her belly, and though she tried to suppress it, the nagging feeling just wasn't going away. As much as he annoyed the living daylights out of her, he was starting to get under her skin – and she liked it.

"I really have to ask you something," he said as she settled into the front seat. "Am I going to have an angry boyfriend chasing me down tomorrow?"

"Maybe a year or two ago, but not now. And I don't know how angry he would have been considering he triple-timed me on a regular basis."

Junior eased the sleek, black car out into traffic. "He was obviously mentally deficient."

Rachel sat there trying to figure out if he was complimenting her or insulting the ex.

"You'll probably recognize some of the people here tonight. You've seen quite a few of them during our lunch meetings over the last three years." He looked over at her and smiled, nearly burning her up on the spot. "Though they probably won't recognize you."

Thank god for clinical strength deodorant, she thought. Each time he glanced her way, she felt her blood pressure rise.

"Don't worry about this getting around in the office." Rachel ran her finger over the soft, leather seat. "A dead person can't keep a secret any better than I can." She felt him looking at her and could practically feel the heat radiating from his body.

"We'll log this as training. If this goes well maybe I'll tap you for another in the future. Many a business deal is made at parties like these."

"Let's see how this one goes, first." Rachel did a quick look see. Yep. That confirms it. She'd been blind for three years. "I'm not sure how my boss would take it if I started showing up at work with a hangover."

Junior laughed. "I'm sure he's a jerk, anyway."

Sometimes, Rachel thought to herself. Thank goodness they arrived at their destination before Rachel was compelled to come up with a comeback. She really hated to tell little, white lies.

"Here we are." The valet opened the door and helped Rachel out. "My parents are renting the penthouse on the top floor. No mosquitos in the champagne," he explained.

They breezed through two different parties waiting in the lobby, and each group turned to look their way. Though Rachel was used to the occasional spurts of attention from overly friendly guys, she felt safe with mister six foot three escorting her through the crowd.

In spite of the smells of dozens of perfumes and colognes filling the cramped elevator, Rachel found herself plastered up against a creep who smelled like tacos and insisted on rubbing his arm against hers. Junior glared at the middle-aged jerk and forced himself between them. Thankfully, by the time they reached the top floor, they were alone.

"I've got it!" Rachel snapped her fingers, and her face lit up like the Fourth of July. "No glasses! I couldn't figure out what was different about you. It's the glasses."

Junior flashed her a smile. Oh, she wished he'd do that more often at the office. Maybe it wouldn't have taken her three years to figure out he wasn't a total geek.

"It's part of my costume. If you look the part of serious executive, you'll be taken seriously by your employees. Lack of respect equals poor work performance."

Rachel nodded, though she didn't agree. All the while she was thinking if he could only lose the seriousness he would be perfect.

A rush of laughter greeted them at the door, and before they went in, Junior turned to Rachel and brushed a stray hair from her eye, grazing her with the end of his finger. The power in that little fingertip nearly knocked Rachel over. She was beginning to think that her ticking biological clock was really a bomb. "Ready?"

Rachel took a deep breath and cleared her head. "You make it sound so ominous. Is it really gonna be that bad?"

Junior shrugged. "Not if you don't mind a lot of elderly people talking about their aches, pains, and bank accounts."

Rachel had a leg up on him. She'd gotten a little practice several nights earlier.

George practically bombarded them when they stepped through the door, and before she knew what was happening, Rachel found herself whisked off to be introduced to mother.

"This is my lovely wife." George squeezed his wife's hand. "And this is Rachel, Mary."

Rachel giggled. She couldn't help herself. "I'm sorry," she said, biting her upper lip. "It's just that 'It's a Wonderful Life' is my all-time favorite movie."

Mary laughed and pulled Rachel to her in a friendly hug. "I'm impressed! I didn't realize the young people still watched the classics."

Rachel was a classic movie fanatic. "That's all I watch," she confessed. She felt hot breath on her bare shoulder and turned around to find Junior standing behind her. The dark, intense look in his eyes did something to her, and she found herself wanting him to touch her – and not in a friendly way.

"Do you mind if I steal Rachel for a few minutes, Mom? I want to show her the view."

Oh, how she wished he'd show her the view, all right, but not the one he was talking about. Rachel shook her head, hoping she could cast away whatever the heck had taken over her senses. She had to keep reminding herself that this was Junior: obnoxious, irritating, bossy, and spoiled.

A gust of deliciously cool air brushed against her damp forehead. Breathing deeply, she waited for her common sense to kick in, but nothing happened. The breathtaking view from the top of the building was a sight to behold and certainly wasn't helping her situation.

"Look! The Empire State Building." Junior bent down and pointed out across the tops of the buildings.

Though she was supposed to be following his finger to the desired destination, Rachel found herself leaning just a little closer to take in the scent of his cologne. She'd smelled it a million times at the office, and though she admittedly liked the scent – even on Junior – something about it smelled differently tonight.

"That's...really nice," she purred.

"You've never seen it from up high before?"

Rachel saw something in Junior's eyes that made her wonder if he knew exactly what she was thinking. She checked herself and straightened up. "Um...yeah. Once. But it never gets old."

Junior looked up. "Too bad we can't see the stars from here."

The idea of Junior combined with stars seemed odd to Rachel. After all, for three years he was little more than a calculating robot who never missed a day of work and rarely smiled unless he was greeting a potential client. Maybe he was partially human, after all.

"Champagne?"

"Hmm?" Rachel pulled herself out of the stars.

"Champagne," he repeated.

Not that again. The last time champagne was involved, things escalated to where they were at the moment. Apparently, she wore her emotions all over her face because Junior picked up on her apprehension.

"My parents only buy the best. I promise you it won't be the cheap stuff."

Rachel wouldn't know the cheap from the expensive. The quality wasn't the problem. The problem was the way she was feeling, and adding alcohol to the mix could be disastrous. "Maybe in a bit." It would buy her some time, anyway.

"Mind if I join you?"

Junior spun around. "Elizabeth! Mom and Dad didn't tell me you were coming."

Elizabeth smiled and threw her arms around Junior's neck. "And they didn't tell me you were bringing someone. Especially someone this pretty."

Rachel wasn't sure if she should be defensive or friendly.

"Rachel, I'd like you to meet my sister, Elizabeth."

Rachel let out the strangely jealous breath she'd been holding and extended her hand. "Hello!"

"Nice to meet you, Rachel. How on earth did my brother convince you to go out with him?"

The similarities between them were astounding. Same dark waves, same smile, and same shade of mesmerizing gray eyes.

"He's my baby brother by three minutes," Elizabeth explained.

"Twins?" Rachel perked up. "I have younger brothers who are twins."

"Then you'll understand all of our odd little idiosyncrasies that confound singletons." She turned to Junior. "I really hated to come out here and interrupt you, but Dad sent me to tell you that Molly Parker's here."

When nothing happened, not even a slight muscle movement, Rachel peeked up and caught the look on Junior's face. He was not amused.

"Why?"

Elizabeth raised a brow and taunted him with an evil grin. "Why did Dad send me, or why is she here?"

Junior groaned and rubbed a hand over his mouth. "It doesn't really matter, I suppose."

"Oh, pull up your big boy pants, brother dear. Just say hello and send her off to mingle. I'm sure there are lots of people her for her to annoy." Opening the French doors, Elizabeth stopped and turned around. "And she's wearing your favorite color - red." She looked at Rachel. "Nice to meet you, Rachel, and welcome to the jungle."

The French doors shut, taking with them the loud laughter escaping from the party.

"Maybe I should go. I don't want to get beaten up by an angry girlfriend."

Rachel felt a little knot of jealousy creeping up her throat. She didn't know why she expected him to have a history void of women. As unlikely as it seemed, this Molly character apparently stuck around long enough to have an effect on Junior.

"Absolutely not. The only reason she's here is because of her parents. They're old business acquaintances from nearly twenty-five years ago. If she had any shred of etiquette, she wouldn't have come."

The office Junior was rearing his ugly head. Rachel glanced through the glass in the door. She wanted to see the woman who could rattle Junior.

"Would you mind accompanying me?" He looked at Rachel, his eyes dripping with the hunger of a beggar. "On my arm like we're a couple?"

Rachel didn't like where this was going. She'd been in the middle of things like this before, and they never turned out good. "Is she big?"

Junior seemed taken aback at the question. "I didn't realize women worried about things like that.'

"Pain is pain, Mr. Stanley."

"Ryan. Don't forget to call me Ryan. And, no. She's not particularly big, but I wouldn't say she's petite like you, either."

"That helps me not!" Rachel scoured the room for any flash of red. "I don't see her. Maybe she left."

"You don't know Molly. I've been chased by her since I was five years old, and I'm yet to escape her clutches. She's like a boomerang. It's been nearly four months since we last dated and she still calls every week." He straightened his bow tie. "Are you going to be my girlfriend, or not?"

Here we go again. "Sure. How much can it hurt?"

She no sooner said the words and his arm was around her waist, pulling her close as they whisked through the French doors. Definitely not painful. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head and then whispered in her ear. "She's over by the champagne table. We'll make this as realistic as possible. Maybe I'll finally get rid of her for good."

Rachel wondered just how real he wanted it to look. She caught the scowl on his face and landed a sharp jab in his ribs. "Get the grimace off of your face, Ryan. We're supposed to be happy, remember?"

Molly arrived in a whirlwind, wrapping herself around Ryan like a silk blanket.

"You never text me back," she pouted. "I'm beginning to think you don't like me." That's when she saw Rachel. If evil looks were a weapon, Rachel would be dead. "Who's your friend, Ry."

Junior's grip on Rachel got so tight she thought she'd pop. "This is my fiancée, Rachel Peters."

"Fiancée! My goodness, Ry. Don't you work fast." Molly pried her fingers out of Junior's arm and took a step back. "Skinny little thing, isn't she." Turning her nose up at Rachel, Molly went back at it again and leaned up against him. "Is this why you've been ignoring me?" She used the dreaded baby talk while batting her big, blue eyes. "I said I was sorry, Ry. Why can't you forgive me?"

"Is your father here?" Ryan was desperate to change the conversation, but Molly had a one-track mind.

"No. He couldn't come." There she was again, slinking up his arm like a boa constrictor. "You and I will have to have a business meeting of our own later tonight."

Rachel scrunched up her nose and poked Molly in the shoulder. "If you don't mind, I just sent this jacket out to be cleaned yesterday."

Molly's eyes turned into evil little slits. "Well, Ryan Stanley! When you're finished with your Barbie doll, you know where to find me." She twisted her head around so fast, her blonde hair was nothing but a blur.

The unraveling had begun. This night could only end in flames. Rachel pulled Ryan away from the crowd. "How did we go from dating to engaged?" She envisioned her entire career being flushed down the toilet. No one wanted a gold-digging secretary – especially the boss's wife.

"Oh, I don't know, but when I saw her with that smug, assuming look on her face, I guess I just went overboard."

"Yeah! Into the deep end and you're drowning." Rachel took a deep breath. "Let's just think about this. How do we go about getting out of an engagement we were never in?" The heat in the room was stifling. "What's wrong with the air conditioning? This is murder!"

"Murder?" Ryan's eyes glazed over. "That's actually not a bad idea."

Rachel hit him. "Back to earth, please!"

"Okay, okay. Let's think." Ryan snapped his fingers. "We'll just have a very long engagement."

Her jaw dropped. With all of his business smarts, this was the best he could come up with? "And you're never, ever going to date another girl again, and I'm supposed to sit at home every Friday night to perpetuate this phony engagement? Won't work. Within twenty-four hours, half the city's gonna know you're engaged, and you can't go around getting engaged one weekend and out dating another girl the following weekend. How will that look – for either of us?"

"You're right. Then there're the business parties. They'll want me to bring my fiancée." Ryan looked over his shoulder, scanning the room for Molly. "You don't think she'll tell anyone, do you?"

"Oh, it could've been so easy," Rachel groaned. "Friend, fiancée. Fiancée, friend. See how easy it is?"

"I apologize ahead of time for this, Rachel, but Molly's coming this way."

Ryan sank his fingers into the back of her twist and pulled her up against him. The next thing she knew, his gorgeous lips were planted against hers, caressing them like soft rose petals in the summer. Every bit of anger melted away and Rachel found herself kissing him back, wondering how in the hell he could kiss like that and not mean it. Ryan slowly spun her around and backed her out onto the rooftop, all the while keeping her lips locked in his. When the door slapped shut, she thought for sure he would pull away, but when the fleck of his tongue brushed across her lips, she knew this kiss was for real.

"I'm so sorry," he panted. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

"W – well," Rachel stuttered. "You wanted realistic."

Still panting and now sweating, Ryan gently nudged up her chin and kissed her on the forehead. "Thank you. You've gone above and beyond the call of duty. You'll have a bonus in your paycheck this week."

Rachel stiffened. "I don't want a bonus." A ton of filth settled down over her. How could she have let herself be dragged into something so stupid and meaningless? He was no different than any other guy. His hormones just took him for a drive. "Maybe you should take me home, now."

"Rachel, please," he murmured, nuzzling down into her. When she felt his warm, wet mouth against the delicate skin of her neck, she thought her knees would buckle.

"No," she managed to get out. "This isn't funny, anymore. Please take me home."

His eyes turned stone hard and he pinned her arms behind her back. "It's not supposed to be funny. Do you have any idea what it's like to want someone for three, long years? Someone who snickers about you when you're not in the room? Yes, I know all about it, Miss Peters, but that didn't make me want you any less. My god! It's a miracle I've gotten anything accomplished. Every single time you walk into my office, my mind goes blank. Every. Single. Time. So, no. It's not funny." He let her arms go and straightened up. "I'll take you home, now."

"I'm...sorry, Ryan. I didn't know. If I'd known-."

"You would've laughed in my face."

"No. I." She stopped. As much as it pained her to admit it, his scenario was the most plausible. "Possibly. But what does any of that matter now?"

He laughed, his voice rough and husky. "What's changed? I'm still Junior in your eyes."

"No. No, you're not." A single tear escaped down her cheek. She'd promised herself two years ago that she'd never cry over a man again, and here she was breaking her own rule. "I just can't let anyone in yet," she whispered. Rachel had been trying desperately for three years to keep him out, telling herself how annoying, spoiled, and overbearing he was, and he finally managed to sneak his way in after all. The signs were all there. She just chose to re-categorize them and file them away to keep this very thing from happening.

Ryan sighed and relaxed his muscles. "I'm patient if you're serious." She felt his thumb brush against her jawline just before the tears escaped.

An enormous number of questions swirled around in her head. Who was he? What did he do for fun? What did he think about the last presidential election? And, even more pressing, who was she that she could hide from herself so well that she was blindsided by her own feelings?

"But, you don't know anything about me? You don't know if I'm a slob or a neat freak. You don't know my favorite color, you don't know-."

"Shhh." She never knew just how much she could appreciate a man with manicured nails and soft hands until Ryan's finger came to rest on her lips. "You're a neat freak – without a doubt. Your favorite color is black and your favorite food is pasta."

Rachel raised a brow. "Have you been spying on me?"

"Only for the last three years," he confessed. "But not in the way you think. Your desk is too organized. Sometimes it irritates me how neat it is."

Rachel thought that one was a little odd considering he was Mister Perfection. "Neatness irritates you?"

"Well...not really, but when I don't have anything to complain about, then I have to make stuff up to get you in my office."

"And black? How in the hell could you know that's my favorite color?"

"Honestly? You don't know?"

Rachel shook her head. The way he said it made her feel like she had toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

"You wear it at least three times a week. Now, granted," he added quickly, "I don't mind a bit. Black looks...really good on you."

There they were again. His warm lips pressed down against hers – only this time his tongue came out to play. With the complete and utter distraction of his kiss, she barely noticed his hands running up from her waist. It felt more right than anything she'd ever done, but when he stopped just shy of her breasts, she pulled away.

"What's wrong?" she panted.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Not a thing. I just don't want you to think I'm some kind of animal. Even though I could be, if I wanted to," he added quickly.

"What if you find out something about me that you don't approve of? What if I was a stripper, or something?" Rachel knew that she'd eventually have to confess to her little stint in jail, even if it was only for two hours.

"I wouldn't believe it."

"But, let's just say," she said, pushing him back a little. "Seriously. What would you do?"

The swinger's party would be a definite black mark if he found out before she had a chance to tell him herself. But how could she just explain something like that away? If he doubted her judgment, then maybe he'd doubt her, too. Ryan was the type of man she'd always dreamed about – strong, disciplined, stable, stringent, and by the book – the kind you could take home for Sunday dinner. Squeaky clean and no driving record. That's the type of person he was. She thought back over the years of crazy mischief she'd gotten into with Susan, and regretted not having had a little more common sense along the way.

"It would have to be something really big: axe murderer, bank robber, balloon popper. You know. Something along those lines."

Rachel laughed. "I haven't popped an innocent balloon in years."

"Oh, Rachel," he said, burying his face in her hair. "I wish things could have been different from the beginning. Maybe we'd be-." He caught himself. "I'd better stop before I scare you away. Just know this." He cupped her chin in his hand and looked directly into her eyes. "When I make a commitment, I take it seriously, so if you're willing to try this, I won't let you down like the last jerk. We'll just go slow and get to know each other before we leap into things"

Rachel knew precisely what he meant by 'leap into things'. She's been hasty once or twice and always regretted giving in before she knew exactly who she gave her heart and body to. Jerk Boy had practically obliterated her ability to trust a man ever again. He was so cunning and slick in his lies. But for the first time in three years, she actually believed the words coming from the mouth of the opposite sex, and she trusted each little syllable as if it were an infallible fact.
Chapter 5

"You should've told me."

Rachel stood in Ryan's office, tears streaming down her face. "But, I'm not."

"You don't have to hide it." Ryan shuffled and reshuffled a stack of files on his desk. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You just should've told me," he mumbled.

"Did your dad tell you this?"

Ryan looked up from his chair. "What does my father have to do with this?"

Rachel was confused. "He didn't tell you?"

"He knows?" Ryan stood up and paced back and forth. "Am I the only one who didn't know?" He crumpled a paper between his hands and threw it on the floor.

Rachel wiped away the tears. "Then who?"

The look of pity and loathe on Ryan's face wounded her to the core. He plunked back down in his plush office chair. "I can't tell you that. The information was given to me in confidence by someone who cares about my career."

"It could have only been someone at that party." Her Irish anger bubbled to the surface. "You've got some pretty crude friends, you know. Do you have any idea what they do in their spare time?"

"Ha! Me – crude friends! At least my friends aren't hiding who they really are!" A second piece of paper was victimized by his fist.

"Yes! Your crude friends. This friend that you claim cares about you so much is a swinger."

Ryan nearly fell out of his chair. "You've gone mad! And how in the hell could you possibly know this?"

If Rachel had been thinking clearly, she would have picked up on the leading way he asked the question, but her temper never failed to blind her. "Wow. You cursed." Rachel temporarily forgot what she was saying. "Anyway, I know this because I was at a swinger's party with Susan and-."

"Stop! You were at a swinger's party? With this Susan character?" He interrogated her like she was on the witness stand. "More dirty, little secrets, Miss Peters? Anything else I should know before I go take a shower?"

Rachel clenched her fists and blew up. "Yes! Yes, there is! I was in jail once for crashing a stripper's convention, I bared my breasts for a wet t-shirt contest because I detest losing, I forgot to change the water in my goldfish bowl and he suffocated, and I lied to my mother and snuck out with my boyfriend to go drinking. Anything else you wanna know?" She felt like a school bully who just stole lunch money from a kindergarten kid.

Ryan looked like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. "No. Not a thing. I've heard enough to know you're not the person you've been pretending to be for the last two weeks."

"Oh, yes, and you're Mister Perfect," she hissed. How could he sit there and act like he was a saint? "I'm sure you've never done anything you weren't proud of." Rachel wanted to kick herself for not telling him about that stinking swinger's party. Now, it was too late, and the misinformation had already planted the seeds of doubt. These seeds, she feared, already had a root a mile long.

He sunk his face in the palm of his hands. "You're missing the point," he mumbled through his fingers.

Rachel crossed her arms and leaned down close to his face, her long ebony waves puddling on his desk. "And just what is the point, Mr. Stanley?"

Even though she was furious enough to choke him, she felt a rush of energy when he swept her hair aside and looked up into her eyes. She'd seen that look before. It was the same one he'd given her the night of the dinner party and practically each night and day since. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but clenched his fists to control the urge.

"The point, Miss Peters, is that you're bisexual and currently have a...girlfriend." He nearly gagged on the last word. "Though I can't say I approve of your lifestyle, I certainly don't condone cheating on her, either. Cheating is the mark of a seriously flawed character." He may as well have been chewing up cement, as forcefully as he spit out the words.

"Her name is Susan, and for the last time, I'm not bisexual!"

"Let's – just let this drop, if you don't mind. I have a ton of things to get done today, and so do you. Lunch is at noon." He waved her off, infuriating her further. How could he just drop a bomb and then send her off like nothing happened?

"I'm afraid you'll be eating alone today, Mr. Stanley. There's not a chance in hell that I'm gonna sit down with you and pretend everything's normal." She spun around to leave, smacking him in the face with the tips of her hair.

"Just one more thing," he said. "While I'm out to lunch, you can clean out your desk."

Rachel stopped, her feet rooted to the floor. "Is it because you think I'm bi?" Her mind started to race. She had funds built up in the bank, but not enough to sustain her for more than a few months. "George told me he wouldn't let you fire me if you found out I was bi – which I'm not!" she added vehemently. "But, if I were you couldn't fire me for that."

Ryan slammed his fists on the desk. "What in God's name does my father have to do with all of this? When did you talk to him, because you were with me most of Saturday night and you haven't spoken to him since?" His eyes narrowed. "Unless, of course, you know him on a personal level, and that would explain a whole hell of a lot."

She wondered if maybe he knew about his father's little excursions. Though she wanted to ask, she'd already said too much. If he didn't know and she got Stanley senior into trouble, her job was definitely toast. Silence was the best option.

He pushed his glasses further up on his nose. "You can keep your job if you do as you're told and come to lunch. The only reason I was firing you is because you were being insubordinate. Nothing more. I don't give a rat's ass about who you tuck into your bed at night."

Clenching her teeth, Rachel stood up straight and pushed her hair back out of her eyes. "Fine, Mr. Stanley. I'll be ready."

Thank God Bonnie was sick that day or she'd have a lot of explaining to do. When she started to calm down, Rachel did something she normally would never do when on the clock. She surfed the net for another job. She'd made up her mind. There was no way she could stand to be around Ryan five to six days a week knowing he felt the way he did. To love and be loathed in return wasn't something she could deal with.

"Monday through Thursday," she mumbled to herself. "Oh, shit. The pay sucks." With each ad, a little more hope was whisked away. The pay she received at Stanley Enterprises was good – really good compared to some of the jobs out there. Intent on removing herself from Ryan's life, Rachel didn't hear the main door open and close.

"Excuse me, Miss. Is Mr. Stanley in?"

Rachel knew that voice. She looked up. The twist of fate in a fictional novel wouldn't have been as unbelievable as what she was seeing. There, standing before her in all of his elderly beauty, was Ross.

"What're you doing here?" she asked gruffly. Could he be the one that spilled the beans?

"Pardon me?" Ross looked more than a little amused. He looked downright ready to laugh.

She cleared her throat and tried again. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but Mr. Stanley and I are friends. I'm sure he won't mind my barging in for a bit."

Rachel rolled her eyes. Could the scenario get any worse? "Who should I announce?"

"Ross Parker." The first name wasn't a surprise, but when she heard the last name, things began to piece together. Molly.

Two can play that game. "I believe I know your daughter, Molly."

Ross's face lit up. "Go to school together?" He stopped himself. "No, of course you didn't. Molly went to private school."

"And what makes you think I didn't?" She was sick and tired of being looked down on just because she was an office wench.

"You do look familiar. Did you?"

"No, but it's not nice to judge." She pushed back her chair. "I'll go tell him you're here." The glimmer of glee in Ross's eyes pissed her off. She didn't like being used for amusement.

Rachel didn't bother to knock on Ryan's door; her respect for him was now sitting neatly at zero. "You've got a guest to see you. A Mr. Ross Parker – swinger extraordinaire."

Ryan looked like he wanted to kill her on the spot. "We'll discuss your attitude later, Miss Peters. In the meantime, invite him in – please."

Though she would have loved to have heard the conversation going on behind the mahogany door, Rachel satisfied herself with the fact that she was finished with the entire ordeal. Ryan could settle himself down with Molly and be miserable for the rest of his life, if that's what he wanted. She, on the other hand, was seriously considering the convent.

Thirty minutes later, Ryan and Ross emerged from the cave, laughing and smiling. Rachel did her seething deep inside and put on a cheery face for their esteemed guest.

"Give my best to Viv, Ross." Rachel winked, infuriating Junior.

Ross turned to Rachel and shook his head. "Do I know you?"

Rachel put on a hurt face. "I'm crushed, Ross. It's me – Rachel. I can't believe you've forgotten the Champagne Room already."

Ross turned twelve shades of gray before settling on pasty white. "I'm not familiar with the Champagne Room, but I will give Viv your regards." He managed to mumble a few more unintelligible words before stumbling his way out the main door.

"Start looking for a new job!" Junior snapped on his way back to his office.

"Already have!"

Junior was late in retrieving her for lunch and Rachel crossed her fingers that he'd changed his mind. There was no way she could digest while staring him in the face.

Her peace, however, was short-lived. Junior walked directly to the main door and stood there waiting for her to move. "I believe we have an appointment, Miss Peters."

Rachel didn't move. "I've already been fired, so why should I bother coming now?"

Junior smiled, only this time it wasn't pleasant and pretty. "You do want a good recommendation, don't you?"

It only took a few seconds of contemplation for Rachel to put aside her anger and think about herself for a change. A few choice words to a potential employer are all it would take to make or break an opportunity. "Okay, but no Chinese, if you don't mind."

"No Chinese, no Italian, no French. Today we're going American."

"Are you sure you want to be seen in public with me? You just never know who else knows my secret."

"So, you're admitting it?" Junior shut and locked the door.

"Isn't that what you want?"

"I just want the truth."

"I've told you the truth, but you don't believe me. You'd rather believe Molly." Rachel walked two steps ahead so he didn't see the anguish on her face. She hated herself for allowing him so deep inside her soul, and right now she hated him for barging in like an uninvited guest.

"I never said it was Molly."

Rachel grabbed his arm. "Seriously? If it wasn't her, then who the hell was it?"

Ryan hesitated before pulling away from her touch. "I can't tell you."

"So, I'm guilty until proven innocent. So much for living in America. You know what? You're just like the last jerk." This time, Rachel didn't hold back the tears.

"D-don't do that. Not right here in the middle of the hall." He took the sleeve of his coat and wiped away the tears. Not knowing quite what to do with her, he ushered her off to a seldom used side hall. "Stop in here for a minute and get yourself cleaned up." He opened a storage room door and hustled her inside. "There's a sink over there. Your eyes are a mess."

The cool paper towels felt good on her hot, red eyes. She turned to Ryan. "Am I more acceptable now?" Innuendo is a great thing when used properly.

Gone was the hardness in his eyes and in its place was nothing but regret for what could have been. That's when the panic set in. Though he pissed her off more than any other person she'd ever met, she couldn't imagine a future without him. Rachel knew she had to make him see the truth. She pulled her top over her head and dropped it at his feet. When he didn't object, she slipped her hand behind him and flipped the lock on the door.

She wasn't sure who kissed who first, but after five minutes of biting, groping and moaning, Ryan extracted himself from Rachel's arms. "What in God's name are we doing?"

"I'm proving my innocence," she whispered, biting his shoulder.

He held her out at arm's length and bent down to retrieve her top. "None of this proves anything other than the fact that you're a phenomenal seductress."

Scorned again. Rachel grunted and swiped her top that dangled from the ends of his fingers. "I wasn't seducing you. If I planned on seducing you, you'd know it. But don't worry. I'll never waste that talent on you!" She yanked her top back over her head and unbolted the door. "Let's go, Junior. Apparently you can't handle your big boy pants."

She stomped off, leaving Ryan standing in the middle of the hall with his shirt half out of his pants and his hair a mess.

***

"I'm really sorry, Rach. If I'd known this would happen, I never would have suggested we go to that stupid thing." Susan sat on the pink shag carpet painting Rachel's toenails. "Why don't you let me talk to him?"

"No, way!" Rachel fumed. "I'm done with him. If he can't trust my word, then I don't want him."

"Well," said Susan, snuggling Rachel's feet, "if I've gotta be bi, I can't think of anyone I'd rather be bi with."

"Get off, you idiot!" Rachel tickled Susan with her toes. "But I did have an idea, and you've gotta help me."

Susan smoothed down her kinky hair. "That sounds ominous. What do you need me to do?"

"Find George. Tell him what's going on. If anyone can make Ryan see the light, it's his father."

Susan eyed her up. "I thought you just said you were done with him?"

"Someone once told me that a girl has a right to change her mind."

"I don't know, Rach. What if he doesn't listen to me? What if he doesn't even remember me?"

Rachel clicked her tongue. "You're kidding, right? You offered up your virginity to him, Sue. I don't think he'll forget."

"No, I didn't!" Susan's eyes grew round. "Why didn't you stop me?"

Rachel just blinked. "Sometimes I really wonder about you."

"Oh," Susan giggled. "I guess you did. Was he good looking?"

"You don't remember what he looks like?"

"All I remember is glorious Ross. I'd remember him if I saw him again." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Too bad my virginity was in the way of losing my virginity." Susan lay back on the rug and stretched. "I can't wait until they're done painting my apartment. Your bed makes my back ache."

Rachel looked at the clock. "Yeah, and your snoring makes my head ache. It's almost eleven. We've gotta get to bed. I have to be at work by seven bells. Junior wants me there early so he can leave by one. His parents are coming home from their cruise tomorrow and he has to pick them up at two. I'll let you know where they'll be so you can sneak a peek at Senior."

"And you care about all of this...why? He treats you like crap and you still jump when he calls." Susan shook her head and climbed up on the bed. "Maybe the answer will come to me in a dream."

Rachel turned out the light and climbed in the other side. "Let me know the answer, will you? I'm curious, too."

Despite Susan's snoring, Rachel managed to drop off into a light sleep, only to be awakened by a loud banging on her door.

"Who in the hell's beating on my door at twelve-thirty at night?" Rachel sat up and grabbed her robe from the chair beside the bed.

"Maybe it's a fire!" Susan rolled out to find her slippers.

"Probably just some drunk. You stay here and get ready to call for help." Rachel stomped off toward the door, all the while getting angrier and angrier. "I'm coming!" she yelled. With the aluminum baseball bat clenched in her fingers, Rachel peeked through the peep hole. Now completely infuriated, she threw open the door. "And just why are you beating on my door in the middle of the night?"

Ryan took a step back in self-defense. "I tried to call, but your phone's not working. I wanted to let you know not to come in tomorrow. I'm going out of town for a few weeks."

Rachel let the bat fall to her side. "Oh. Why?"

"Elizabeth just announced she's getting married and the wedding's in Maine. She wanted to elope, but mother insisted on a small wedding for close family and friends."

A pang went straight through Rachel. "You could've left a note at the front desk. They're very good about delivering messages."

"Well, I thought maybe...you'd-."

"The phone's out, Rach. Is everything okay?" Susan peeked around the corner of the bedroom door with the phone in her hand.

Ryan's face went black. "I guess I should have known you'd have company. Report back to work in exactly two weeks unless you've found another job by then." He spun around and tore off down the hall.

"Don't worry!" she yelled after him. "You'll never have to see me again!"

Rachel slammed the door and threw the bat in the corner. "I hope you like Maine, because we're going!"

"But, you just said-."

"I know what I said, but now I'm really pissed off. For god's sake! Why do I have to prove I'm not bi? Why can't he just love me for who I am?"

"I think I liked you better when you swore you'd never look at another man again."

Rachel grimaced. "Yeah? Well, I think I liked you better when you embraced your virginity. Ever since you changed your mind, my life's been turned upside down. When are you gonna realize that what you have is priceless, and you're willing to give it away like it's some kind of cheap junk? Look at me! If I had what you have, I wouldn't be having the problems I'm having."

Susan shook her head. "Too many haves and havings for me. I'm going back to bed. We'll discuss amending my current state of mind in the morning. Okay?"

"Oh, okay," Rachel grumbled. "But no snoring unless you wanna find a chip clip clamped on the end of your nose."
Chapter 6

The smell in the men's bathroom was enough to make Rachel want to gag. She'd been hanging out for nearly twenty minutes waiting for Mr. Stanley's arrival.

"All old men have to pee as soon as they see a bathroom," Susan had told her.

Pinching her nose, Rachel locked herself into a stall and hoped she was right. To be on the safe side, Susan planted herself at the dock, waiting to catch a glimpse of the Stanley family coming back from their cruise. She promised Rachel she'd physically drag him there if she had to.

"She's in here."

Rachel recognized Susan's voice.

"Rach? We're here."

The door hinge creaked and Rachel peeked through the crack.

"Miss Peters! What is going on?" George had his suit jacket draped over his arm and sported a fresh tan.

"Oh, George!" Rachel threw her arms around his neck and cried until no more tears would come, and by the time she'd finished her abbreviated version of the story, George had agreed to help.

"So, you two gals aren't bi?" He waggled a finger back and forth between them. "Then why in heaven's name did you present yourselves that way?"

"We didn't have dates," Susan sniffled. "So we went together as a couple so we could get in."

He shook his head and ran a hand over his eyes. "I need some time to figure this out without giving myself away." Smiling, he brushed the disheveled hair from Rachel's face. "I'm on the straight and narrow now, thanks to you, and I'm loving every minute of it. I feel like a free man."

Rachel blew her nose. "At least this mess helped someone."

"I've gotta get back before they come looking for me," said George, "but this is what I want you to do. Go home and pack some things. I've got a few business deals planned while I'm up in Maine, and I'm going to need a traveling secretary."

"Ryan'll be furious," she whispered. "He basically fired me."

George tossed his jacket over his shoulder. "I still own this company, and if you want to keep your job, Miss Peters, I suggest you be ready by ten this evening. The plane leaves at eleven-thirty. I'll send a cab to pick you up." He glanced at Susan and winked. "That goes for you, too, young lady."

***

"I've decided I'm going to wait," Susan announced as they walked along the tree lined street. "Maybe not until I'm married, but at least until I find a guy of my own."

Rachel put a hand on Susan's forehead. "No fever. I think you're finally cured."

"Too bad it didn't happen a little sooner." Susan grabbed Rachel's arm and squeezed. "Sorry."

"I've been thinking about that, and if we hadn't gone that night, I never would've met George. If I'd never met George, he never would have had a reason to invite me to his dinner party. If I hadn't been invited to his dinner party, then Ryan never would have kissed me. As a matter of fact, there's a good chance he would have ended up kissing that snake Molly, instead. So, you see? If none of that would have happened, I never would have known how he really felt about me. Of course, I'd still have my job and my self-respect, but who needs that anyway?"

Susan scrunched up her nose. "So I did a good thing?"

"I don't know if I'd go as far as calling it good. Maybe fateful would be a better word."

Susan's cell phone rang. The annoying bird chirp ringtone grated on Rachel's ears. "Hello?" A grin spread across Susan's face. "Thank you."

"Win the lottery?"

She snapped her phone shut. "Better. My apartment's finished. Mind if I ditch you here? I need to run over and pack a suitcase."

Rachel waved her off. "Get going. I'm tired of looking at you, anyway. Remember," she called after her. "Be here before ten!"

Emotionally worn out, Rachel looked forward to a quiet day of shopping. It wasn't too often she had a day off in the middle of the week and she planned to enjoy it. That little bubble of joy popped when she stepped inside her apartment building. Standing at the front desk arguing with the desk clerk was none other than Junior.

"I just want to go up and wait for her. How is that hurting anything?"

Tim was the desk clerk and he was having none of Junior's tantrum. He'd had a crush on Rachel since she moved in and was sometimes a little too watchful. "You're not permitted through the door, sir. You woke half the building last night and I'm afraid we can't trust you."

"Trust me?" The veins on Junior's temple looked like they were about to explode.

"Yes, you. We have you on video and if you don't leave, I'll have to call the police."

"It's okay, Tim. I know this...person."

Junior whipped his head around, scouring the area around her. She knew exactly what he was thinking, and a dose of instant fury set her on fire.

Rachel crossed her arms and assumed the stance. "She went home, if you're looking for Susan." She was tired of his stupidity and was ready to let him have it. "But don't worry. She'll be back tonight."

He took a deep breath and brushed the errant hair back off of his forehead. "Of that I'm sure."

"Why are you here, anyway?"

"Can't we go somewhere more private?" Junior glared over his shoulder at Tim who was listening intently to their heated exchange.

"Open the door, Tim. I'll take responsibility."

A buzzer went off and the door unlocked.

"This better be good, Mr. Stanley, because I've got a million things to do."

Her apartment still smelled like Susan – rose petals and nail polish. Rachel tossed her handbag on the lampstand and took off her shoes.

"Start talking," she said, heading for the bedroom to change her clothes. "And make it fast."

"I'm here to tell you my father would like for you to come along on our trip as our travelling secretary. We normally take Bonnie along on these types of things, but she's still sick. There will be extra pay involved."

"And who says I'm interested?" she called from the bedroom.

"Apparently you didn't hear the words 'extra pay'."

Rachel slung the bedroom door open. "And suppose I want to use my free time to look for another job, instead? You don't own me, you know!"

Junior picked up her phone and held it up to his ear.

"What are you doing?"

"Just making sure it works. It doesn't." He put the phone back down. "That's why I'm here. I couldn't – get through." His words trailed off when he saw her.

She'd pulled her long hair over in a side braid and had slid into her favorite pair of cut-offs. Admittedly, they were a little short, but what was the point of wearing them if they weren't?

"You're going out like that?"

Rachel looked down. "What's wrong with this? I have things to do and I want to be comfortable."

"But won't that attract unwanted attention?" He loosened his tie.

Rachel bent over to slip on her sandals. "Who said it's unwanted?"

"Okay, fine," he mumbled. "If you want to get yourself kidnapped or raped, don't blame me. I tried to warn you."

"Gee. That almost sounds like you care." Rachel batted her eyes and shooed him toward the door.

"I do. I need a travelling secretary!"

"Oh, don't be so grumpy! Double my weekly salary and I'll go. But I'm taking Susan with me or it's off," she added.

Rachel never realized that gray eyes could turn red in a fit of anger.

"I'll have to clear that with my father. He's the one paying you."

"I'm sure he won't have a problem with it." She just stood there smiling and twirling her braid around her finger.

Junior yanked a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and slapped it down on the lamp stand. "These are the instructions and a basic itinerary. Be ready tonight at ten." For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Junior stomped down the same hallway. "And get that phone fixed!" he yelled over his shoulder.
Chapter 7

"I'm terrified." Susan stood on the curb shaking like a leaf. "I'm going on a trip with a man who hates my very existence." She sighed. "Par for the course, I suppose."

"He doesn't hate you. He's just jealous."

Susan looked like she was about to cry. "Now I've hit an all-time low. The men are jealous of me."

"Here comes the cab! Just stick with me and you'll be fine."

Susan lugged her heavy suitcase into the back seat. "If you wanna get this resolved, I can't stick too close, if you know what I mean."

Rachel tumbled in behind her. "There's no guarantee he'll even talk to me. And try not to worry," she teased. "You're too cute to hate for long."

By the time the taxi reached the airport, the jet was ready to board.

Susan grabbed Rachel's hand. "I hope I don't get sick. Remember what happened last time I was on a plane?"

"Just don't think about it." Rachel eyed up the fancy charter jet. "And I don't think there'll be alcohol on this trip, so you should be fine."

"But I need the alcohol so I can keep my mind off of the fact that we'll be hurtling through the air thousands of feet up. I'm an earth sign. I don't do well off of the ground."

George and Mary were already seated when Rachel and Susan got on.

"Hello, girls! Glad to see you both were able to make it." George shook a finger at Susan. "This troublemaker is Susan, Mary."

Mary reached out and clasped Susan's hand. "My goodness! You're shaking!"

Susan grinned in a defeated sort of way. "Yeah. Flying's really not my thing. I'll be okay as long as I can see out." Claiming the window seat, Susan patted the seat beside her.

Rachel stuffed her handbag into the compartment above her head and sat down with Susan. "She gets sick going up an elevator," she teased.

"Then you have something in common with Ryan," said Mary. "He gets sick just thinking about flying."

Rachel grinned. "Really?" She didn't know why she got such pleasure out of the fact that flying made him sick. Maybe it was because he tried so hard to be Mister Perfect in every other way. It was nice to know at least something about him was human.

As if he knew the conversation entailed him, Mister Perfect arrived on the scene.

"Sorry I'm late," he grumbled, settling into an empty seat just across the aisle from Rachel and Susan. "Traffic and things."

George tapped Rachel and winked. "You must have completely missed the fact that we have a guest, Ryan. This is Miss Reyes, a friend of Miss Peters."

Normally the one to engage in unwavering eye contact, Ryan instead gave a lightning speed nod toward Susan. "Nice to meet you, Miss Reyes." He popped open his laptop and went to work tapping at the keys.

Susan leaned out and gave a short wave. "Just call me Susan."

Without looking up, he gave a little finger nod and went back to work. Rachel glanced at him and did an internal sigh. He was actually dressed normally: jeans that fit oh, so well, a t-shirt that was just tight enough to make it look like he'd rip the sleeves if he flexed, and best of all, a five o'clock shadow to match his mussed up hair. Rachel wondered what lay below his jeans. Was he in the briefs or boxers camp? She guessed boxers, but that was yet to be determined. She felt like slapping herself for even thinking about it. She was angry and she planned to stay that way – at least until she forgot to be angry again.

Once the plane was finally in the air and Susan's stomach was under control, Rachel pulled out her cell phone to check for messages. As usual, she had a text from her mom. Every day since she moved to New York, her mom had either called or sent a text. In the more recent years it was usually text simply because Rachel was too busy to talk on the phone for extended periods of time. Her mother was her hero. She'd raised Rachel and her younger brothers all by herself from the time she was twenty-five years old, and in all those years, she never once dated. Rachel knew her mom's love for her dad ran deep and there was no one who could ever take his place, but lately Rachel found herself wondering if she put her own life aside for the sake of her kids. That also made her wonder if real love could strike twice in a lifetime.

Though she tried not to, Rachel stole peripheral peeks at Junior every so often. How could he sit there the entire time and not even accidentally look her way? And why did she have this juvenile desire to do something dumb to get his attention? She'd graduated at the top of her high school class, had gotten into one of the best schools in the country and had earned her bachelors in business in three years. Yet, here she sat, twenty-eight years old and fighting back the urge to shoot spit wads at him just to make him mad. Never in her post puberty years did she ever have to work so hard to make someone pay attention to her. She felt kind of guilty about it when she thought of the three years Ryan tried, and failed, to get her to notice him. Maybe this was his version of payback. She groaned internally. This was going to be a very long trip if Junior didn't change his attitude.

Rachel spent the next hour shifting between two fantasies: wanting to rip his limbs off and wanting to rip his clothes off.

"Rach? Rach. Earth to Rachel!" Susan elbowed her. "Getting sleepy?"

She hadn't really thought about it, but now that Susan had mentioned it, she did feel pretty drained. "Yeah. A little. How about you?"

"Not a bit," Susan whispered. She pointed behind them, and Rachel turned around to see George and Mary dozing in each other's arms. "Looks like fun. Come here."

Susan propped a pillow against her shoulder for Rachel to lay her head on. "Do you remember the time when we were little and we wanted to camp outside in the yard?"

"Yes," Rachel yawned. "I remember very clearly that you peed on me because you were afraid to tiptoe through the dark the use the bathroom.

Susan laughed. "You would remember that part. But, do you remember what you told me?"

"I'm sure I told you a few choice things before I slugged you."

"You did, but after you slugged me, you told me that because I was a scaredy cat, we both got peed on." She nodded toward Ryan who was sleeping with his chin against his chest. "Well, right now you're both scaredy cats and if you don't watch out, you'll both wind up covered in pee."

Rachel teared up. "You know, you're not as dizzy as you make yourself out to be."

"It's all part of my evil plan to rule the world."

George tapped Rachel on the shoulder. "Look below you. We're almost there."

"That was fast." Rachel rubbed away the tears blurring her vision and looked at the time on her cell phone.

George beat her to it. "One hour and fifteen minutes almost exactly. Makes for a nice getaway from the summer heat of New York."

The lights of Bangor spread out like a nest of fireflies, trailing out into fading fingers that became thinner and thinner as the eye followed them.

"Have you ever been to Maine?" George asked Rachel as he leaned up to poke Junior in the back.

"No, but I've always wanted to visit the rocky coast," said Rachel.

"Ryan'll have to take you both to Schoodic Point. It's one of the most majestic places in the world."

"What are you setting me up for?" Junior rubbed his hands over his face. "Disregard everything he told you, whatever it was." After a millisecond glance at Susan, he gave Rachel a nasty look and turned back to gather up his computer.

"Don't worry about it," Rachel snipped. "I'll be spending most of my time with Susan, anyway. By the way," she said, ignoring an even nastier scowl from Junior. "Where will Susan and I be staying?"

"With us, of course!" Mary looked surprised that Rachel hadn't already known that. "We have a summer home near Acadia Park. You're going to love it. Ryan and Elizabeth spent many a summer afternoon down by the water collecting rocks and looking for treasure."

"And blueberries," Junior chimed in. Of course the statement was made to his mother and not to her, but Rachel felt a small flutter of hope when he didn't spit it out like venom.

"Oh, yes. How could I forget the blueberries?" Mary leaned over and kissed George. "It seems like old times. We'll all be here together again."

A streak of guilt shot through Rachel. She'd seriously considered telling Ryan everything – including the part about his dad being a swinger – but seeing them together and happy, it now seemed evil to even think about going that route. No, she'd just have to find another way.

***

"And to think I thought your place was swanky. This place puts your digs to shame!" Susan plunked down on an overstuffed sofa piled high with matching throw pillows. "This bedroom is almost as big as your entire apartment. And it has a private bathroom! I could get used to this lifestyle. Maybe I'll go after Mr. Stanley, myself."

Rachel laughed. "At this point, you'd probably have better luck than me."

Sitting up, Susan pulled out her semi-serious face, which just happened to be the most serious face she owned. "I've just gotta ask you something, Rach. Please don't get mad, but it's driving me nuts."

"Shoot." Rachel had heard just about everything under the sun come out of her mouth at one point or another, so nothing that passed Susan's lips could shock her.

"It's about Mr. Stanley – Ryan."

Rachel waited for the rest, but it didn't come. "What about him?" she said at length.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but...what is it that you see in him?" With the words now out, Susan felt the need to spew out a flow of fresh lava. "I mean, he's not that good looking. Not that he's ugly," she added quickly, "but you've got to admit, he's no male model. And he seems to have a personality that could give cardboard a run for its money, not to mention his horrible temper. Help me out here, Rach. At least make me understand before you kill me and throw me in a ditch."

"Are you serious? Have you seen him? I mean really seen him? His teeth are perfect, his eyes are gorgeous, and when you pair that with his hair and biceps." She stopped. Susan was looking at her with a stupid grin on her face. "What did I say?"

"You're in love. That's why he looks so perfect, but that doesn't tell me why you love him."

Rachel furrowed her brows. "You know, Sue, I've never really thought about that, but I know the answer. It's because he's dependable, truthful, and has principles. That's why even though he wants nothing to do with me because he thinks you and I are in a relationship, at least he was truthful about it. He's everything jerk boy wasn't."

"You've gotta let that go, Rach. It's been an entire year. If you keep this up, you'll still be pissed at him when you're eighty."

Rachel knew she was right, but when someone hurts you that bad, it's hard to just move on. Every single date she'd been on since she finally dumped him could have been a board room meeting complete with white board. On one side we have the similarities and the other the differences. Usually when the similarities were too numerous, she ignored the calls for a second date. Childish, maybe, but necessary for self-preservation. With her heart cocooned in multiple layers of bubble wrap, no one could get to it without her permission, and she'd torn an enormous hole to allow Ryan in. Too bad his heart was wrapped in steel.
Chapter 8

The sound of chirping birds woke Rachel early the next morning.

"You're up!" Susan was sitting at the window. "You can see a walking trail from the backyard all the way to the ocean. It smells so clean and fresh."

"What time is it?" Rachel ran her fingers through her tangled hair.

"Almost eight. I heard lots of movement about an hour ago, so I guess the Stanley family rises early." Susan scrunched up her nose in disgust at the thought of getting out of bed any earlier than she had to.

"Doesn't surprise me. Ryan's at the office at least an hour before me every morning." Rachel stopped. That almost sounded like a boast. She'd always been a little jealous when she heard other women gush about their boyfriends when all she could do was be thankful he made an effort to call her every few days – especially at the end when he was fixated on his latest flavor of the month – the one that finally broke the camel's back. "Wow," she said, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. "I think I need a shower."

"Yep. You're not catching Mister Right like that."

"Thank you, Miss Obvious."

The water spiraled from the shower head like a power washer, waking her up and massaging her tired back at the same time. This was definitely a Stanley shower: to the point, no nonsense, and practical. Rachel was just about finished when she heard a man's laugh. George. He and Susan were discussing something, and rather loudly. She hurried to finish, but by the time she shut off the water, the room was quiet again.

"Was that George I heard a minute ago?" Rachel wrapped her dripping hair up in a towel.

"He's in love with you, ya know." Susan guided Rachel to a chair and pulled her towel from her head. "Not in a romantic way, of course, but in every other way. He thinks you're an angel sent to put him on the right track."

Rachel rolled her eyes and smiled. "He's a great person to have on my side, that's for sure."

"He wanted to let you know that Ryan's down by the beach – alone. He also mentioned something about a pretty dress that accentuates your eyes." Susan shrugged. "Not normally what a guy would want accentuated, but to each his own, I suppose."

A wave of emotion hit Rachel like a ton of bricks and she fought back the tears. "I know what he means."

Rachel's lack of a father figure in her life had always left her wondering what it felt like to be loved by a man that wanted nothing from her except pure, simple love. Even though she was five when her dad died, the memories she had of him were scattered into tiny little fragments that she'd pieced together over the years. When she was a teen, she would make up the pieces that went in between and actually had herself convinced of some of her 'memories'. It helped to get her through her occasional rocky periods with her mom – and it also kept her out of a lot of trouble. Her dad was there with her, sitting beside her at the movies when her first boyfriend wanted to touch her inappropriately in the dark, and when he insisted that if she loved him she'd have sex with him in the woods behind the school. That's when the little pieced-together conversations would pop into her head and her dad would keep her safe by reminding her that she had to live with her decisions – and that he loved her. Yes, he had watched over her, and she knew he was still watching. Maybe she had an angel, too. Maybe it was George, and maybe her father stood right beside him, whispering little messages in his ear.

Rachel put on that pretty dress, the one with the chocolate ribbon accents woven through the ivory eyelets. Not a hint of anything else was exposed, and she felt beautiful. Susan pulled out the tools of her trade and fussed over Rachel's hair and makeup, and when she was finished, she announced Rachel an 'exquisite success'.

"You're really way underpaid, Sue. You should seriously consider opening your own boutique." Rachel was in awe of what a little talent could do.

"It's all in the canvas, my dear." Susan bent down and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks for not unfriending me over all of this."

"Not a chance. We're stuck for life. Like sisters."

Susan covered her mouth and laughed. "Oh, my god! Do you remember that?"

"I certainly do," said Rachel. "You ran from me so I couldn't prick your finger with the pin."

"Too, sharp. Besides, it was a lot easier just to pick off that scab on my knee."

"Do you still have your contract?" Rachel would never admit it to Susan, but she carried that piece of handwritten paper smeared with blood off to college with her, and it was currently tucked away in her nightstand beside her bed.

Susan nodded. "I framed it. I figured if I ever disappeared, they'd have a good sample of DNA to work with. Especially after you dragged me from my simple country home off to the big city where every other person is murdered, raped, or kidnapped."

"And you wouldn't have it any other way."

"Course not. Can't live without ya, sis. That's part of Ryan's problem. He doesn't understand our relationship. Maybe if you took some time to explain things, he'd see the light."

Rachel tensed. "No. He has to trust what I tell him or we don't have a future."

"Why are you so stubborn? You can't expect him to understand something if you don't give him all the facts."

"I trust him. If he tells me something, I don't question it. I just want the same thing from him." Rachel knew it sounded crazy, but she wanted him to trust her without a shadow of a doubt. She experienced first-hand how lack of trust could destroy a relationship, and she didn't want Ryan to find out what that felt like.

***

The sea air rippled through her curls and blew her skirt back against her legs. She loved the openness of nature, and hadn't realized just how much she'd missed it. A whole year had passed since she'd been back home to the Pennsylvania countryside for a visit – too long. She missed the creek filled with frogs that sang at night, and the open fields to run through. Fields full of butterflies and hoppy toads, and dragonflies skimming the top of the green algae pond that sat at the far end where the woods met the grass. Rachel closed her eyes and imagined she was barefoot, standing on the windy hill where she and Susan used to fly their kites.

"Good morning."

Rachel jumped. "You scared me!"

Ryan walked with his hands behind his back and his frame slightly bent over as if he were looking for something. "What're you doing?"

"Just out for a walk," she said. "What about you?"

He shrugged. "Same, I suppose."

"Find any treasure?" Rachel bent down and picked up a jade green rock.

"Just some sea glass." He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out two pieces of blue and one green and dropped them in Rachel's open palm.

"They're pretty."

"Yes," he said, trying not to look at her. "Very pretty."

Rachel felt her face get warm. She was old enough to recognize innuendo when she heard it. "Is this where you used to play?"

"Here, there, everywhere. With fifty acres on the coast, kids can find a lot of things to get into." He looked up at the sky and followed the flight of a seagull. "I love it here."

There was a lonely sadness in his tone.

Rachel touched his arm. "She's not abandoning you, Ryan."

He looked away, and at the same time, Rachel felt him pull away. "I'm aware of that. You just don't understand."

"I have twin brothers, remember? I understand more than you think."

Ryan turned and looked directly at her for the first time since they boarded the plane the night before. "I'm sorry. I'd forgotten." He picked up a rock and skipped it across the water. "How old are they, anyway?"

"Twenty-five going on five," she said, laughing. "One falls in and the other pulls him out. You know. The constant turmoil that only twins can create."

Ryan laughed out loud. "You sound like Elizabeth, now, only I was always the one to pull her out. She was always getting into something and dragging me in after her."

"Sounds like Susan and I." Rachel watched and she could have sworn he pulled in an even inch on all sides, but she wasn't going to let that stop her from talking about the woman who was just as much of a sister as one born to the same parents. "We've been best friends since grade school. She even let me share her dad when I was little. It was only fair, she'd said. He treated me like one of his own."

"And your own dad?"

"Cancer. I was five."

"Sorry to hear that."

"She and I have been through a lot together. Would you believe we both had braces at the exact same time?" Rachel ran her tongue across her teeth. "Only problem is mine never did go completely straight. Susan's, on the other hand, are perfect like yours."

The backhanded compliment seemed to roll right off his back. Maybe it's because he was in a familiar spot, or maybe he'd heard it so many times that it no longer meant anything. Rachel wondered just how many girls he'd dated besides Molly and how many of them had openly admired his teeth – among other things. A twinge of jealousy crept to the surface.

"Elizabeth tells me everything." He paused and looked away. "But she didn't tell me about this until she called and announced she was getting married to a man none of us had ever met."

"Maybe it happened really fast," Rachel offered.

Ryan grunted. "A year's not fast. I just can't figure out why she kept it from me all that time."

Rachel slid her hand in his, and miraculously, he didn't pull away. "Maybe this is why. She probably knew you'd be upset."

"I'm not upset!" He yanked his hand away and shoved them in his pockets. So much for that, she thought. "I'm just a little shocked. I didn't expect it this soon."

"She's thirty-two, Ryan. Did you want her to be a spinster?"

"Of course not!" He looked out across the water. "I just want to meet this man to be sure he's right for her. She's been hurt once before."

Oh, she wished he would protect her like that. She felt like she was standing on the outside of a beautiful bubble, and on the inside was warmth, shelter, and love, but no matter how hard she hammered at the shell, it wouldn't crack. Rachel wondered if she'd ever be able to get into that safe spot in his heart – the spot that's reserved and protected from the outside world.

"When do you get to meet him?"

Ryan straightened up. "Tonight. At dinner. He's bringing his parents along, and I believe his paternal grandmother, as well. Should be a festive occasion – if we can all stay awake."

His comment instantly irritated her. He didn't realize how lucky she was. "You should be happy for her. She found the man of her dreams."

He grunted and half laughed. "You don't really believe that fairytale nonsense, do you?"

She couldn't believe he just said that. "Yes. I absolutely do. What femme fatale stabbed you in the back?"

"Every female is a femme fatale. You're just dressed in different clothes."

"And you're an arrogant bastard, do you know that? It's no wonder you're so miserable!" Rachel crossed her arms and turned away from him. "I guess you're not who I thought you were, either, but don't worry, the blinders are off now."

"And what's that supposed to mean? Since when were you wearing the damn blinders? You've been driving this from the beginning, in case you've forgotten."

Rachel's mouth dropped. "Me? Who kissed who at your father's dinner party? And let's not forget that I had no idea you were even remotely interested until that night. So how could it be my fault?"

"I suppose you have no idea what you look like when you put on those short skirts to come to work, and I guess your blouse just happened to come unbuttoned all by itself. You knew exactly what you were doing. That's what I call a femme fatale," he snarled.

"My skirts? This is about my skirts?" Rachel wanted to strangle him. "They're never more than an inch or two above my knee. That's a perfectly acceptable length in any normal place of work. Normal is the key word, here! And I didn't intentionally unbutton my blouse for you. Jake tried to get a feel that morning and he must have loosened the button."

Junior grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. "Who the hell's Jake?"

"My god, you're getting a foul mouth on you!" Rachel shook away from his grip. "Jake happens to be your security guard. Are you that self-absorbed that you don't even know the names of your employees?"

Junior frowned. "You mean the guy at the front?"

"The one and only."

"Why didn't you report it to me? This type of behavior is unacceptable." Junior started to pace back and forth. "How many times has he done this?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "It comes with the territory. I don't have a beef with Jake other than the fact that he's married and should be paying attention to his wife and kid instead of my breasts."

"I can't believe I have a slug like this in my employ," he mumbled. "He's fired."

"Although it wouldn't bother me to see him disappear, I think the better thing to do would be call him in for a talk. That's all it'll take."

"No. I can get sued for this - especially now that I've been made aware of it. He's gone. And if anyone ever touches you again, you're to tell me immediately."

Rachel raised a brow. "Sure, that'll work. I'll give you a courtesy call from Pennsylvania and you'll come running – not."

"What does Pennsylvania have to do with anything?"

Rachel strolled down the path leading away from the water. "I'm going home – permanently. I made up my mind this morning, actually. That's what I was thinking about when you snuck up on me."

"Does she have something to do with this?"

"She doesn't even know yet. I plan to tell her later today." Rachel's lip quivered. "I just can't do this anymore. I have to get home where I belong. Everyone needs to feel like they belong somewhere, and there's nothing in New York except a lot of bad memories – really bad."

Ryan hurried to catch up with her. "But I got that client I was telling you about. Your job's secure for a long time. For as long as you want it, in fact."

Rachel shook her head. "Until you get mad and decide to fire me again. No, thanks. I need stability."

Brushing by a milkweed pod, Ryan sent a cloud of white parachutes sailing off into the air. "Are you taking her with you?"

"It really doesn't hurt to say her name, you know. Susan," she said slowly. "See how easily that rolls off the tongue? As far as Susan's concerned, she can stay or she can come with me. Obviously I'd prefer she come, but that's up to her."

He walked along quietly for a while, but she could hear the angry sighs building up. "How soon," he said at length.

"After this little stint is over. Your parents have been really nice to me, and I don't want to let your dad down. He's got three important meetings while he's in town, and I plan to be there for each and every one of them – sans you."

"What's that supposed to mean? Of course I'll be there."

Rachel frowned. "Not according to his schedule. He has other plans for you."

"We'll see," Junior fumed.
Chapter 9

"But, Dad! I should be there."

"This is my venture, Ryan, and I need you to take care of a few other things today."

Rachel pulled in her lips, trying not to smile. She felt a little evil for enjoying Junior's angst.

"Who?"

George shrugged. "Just the Porter account. I promised the old man I'd play a round of tennis with him. You know, let him win. You certainly couldn't do that and make it look legit, now could you?" George winked at Rachel. He seemed to do a lot of that when he was getting her into trouble. "Old man Porter almost made the Olympics," he explained to her. "But he's old and broken down like myself, and it wouldn't really be fair to put him up against someone more than half his age."

"Oh, of course not," Rachel said with exaggeration. "All in the line of duty."

"See? Rachel understands how business works."

Junior glared back and forth between the two before throwing his arms up in frustration. "Why do I feel like this is a conspiracy?"

"No conspiracy, son. Just good business sense. Now, you get going over to the bank for me and take care of that little business deal we talked about last night." George watched as Junior left the room, and then he turned to Rachel and put an arm around her shoulder. "You've got some work to do, too, and it doesn't involve a notepad and pen."

"George. I don't like the look in your eyes."

"In your room you'll find a tennis outfit. It's one of Elizabeth's from when she was a teen, but I think it'll fit you just fine."

"But, I haven't played tennis since high school," Rachel protested.

"You've played? Wonderful!"

"But, George! I hate lose – even to an old man."

George put a hand on each of her shoulders and bent down close to her ear. "You don't have to lose," he whispered. "You're playing against his very athletic, handsome, wealthy son."

Rachel backed up. "Now, George. If you're gonna use me as some kind of prize to snag a business deal, you can forget it."

"I certainly hope you don't think that poorly of me! It's not a business deal I'm trying to snag. It's a daughter-in-law!"

It only took Rachel a second to unravel what he was trying to tell her. "George, you're a sneaky one. But isn't that a little unfair?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're old enough to have heard that all's fair in love and war. Now, get up there and get changed. They'll be here in about thirty minutes."

***

"Maybe George can fix me up, too." Susan craned her neck to see the Porter's getting out of their car. She glanced over at Rachel. "Why is it that you could put on a sack and look adorable, while the rest of womankind has to struggle?"

"Apparently you haven't checked the mirror lately, cutie." Rachel loved every single freckle splashed across Susan's nose. In Rachel's opinion, Sue could have been a model. She had that unique look that set her apart from the run of the mill pretty girls.

"There they are. There he is. Oh...my." Susan's jaw dropped. "George wasn't lying. Maybe when you're done with him, you can kick him my way."

"Susan Reyes! He can't be that – good looking." Rachel's jaw joined Susan's. "All that and money, too. How unfair!"

Porter Junior's sandy blond hair stood perfectly in place, even against the formidable gusts coming off of the ocean. Rachel watched him move. Confidence oozed from that boy. He was, indeed, very athletic, and judging from the tan, he spent a lot of time outdoors.

"I'd lay down my racket and surrender before I started," Susan gushed.

"Back to earth, angel. I plan to give him a good workout before surrendering. You can sit and watch him sweat."

"My pleasure."

"Close the fly trap. They're coming."

"I'd like you to meet two very lovely young ladies." George ushered the Porters into the room. "This is Susan, my assistant, and this is Rachel, my secretary. Ladies, I'd like you to meet Carl and Ty Porter."

"Nice to meet you both." Carl, the older of the two, grinned when he saw Rachel's outfit. "Play much?"

Though she tried to keep her attentions on the senior Porter, Rachel felt Ty's eyes boring a hole into her. "Not for a few years. I thought I'd brush up a little."

"I'll play you a few." Ty had the ability to interject like a flash of lighting without a hint of desperation. "I'll be gentle." He had that look in his eyes. Rachel had seen it a million times over the years – smug dominance with a hint of sexual innuendo. But, he didn't realize that this woman detested losing.

"I'll take you up on that offer, Mr. Porter."

"Ty. It's always easier to lose to a friend."

Rachel raised a brow. "Well, in that case you better call me Rachel."

Rachel was impressed with his smile. His veneers were so white, they nearly glowed. They were, however, no match for Ryan's beautiful teeth.

Ty grinned at Susan. "Is she always like this?"

Like a deer in the headlights, Susan just stood there nodding with a big, dopey smile on her face. "Uh, huh."

They spent the better part of the early afternoon moving each other around on the court, and even though Rachel lost two out of three games, she impressed Ty enough that he toned down his domineering rhetoric.

"You're pretty good. Did you play in college?"

"No. Just high school." Rachel plunked down in the shade beside Susan. "How about you?"

Ty managed to wiggle himself between them. Susan didn't seem to mind, but Rachel was on to him. Another glory man who liked to spread himself around among the female population. "I played in college. I thought about going pro, but you know. Business obligations got in the way."

"Don't ya just hate when that happens?"

Ty laughed. "You're a forward thing, aren't you. Okay. You got me. I wasn't good enough for the pros, and that's fine by me. I like the family business."

"Lumber?" Susan dared to speak to the god of tennis.

He looked at Susan and graced her with his killer smile. "How did you know?"

She nodded toward his shirt. "Says so right there."

Though it was a near impossibility, Rachel thought she saw a slight glow of embarrassment kiss his cheeks and neck. "Oh. Yeah. Lumber it is."

"What do you like best? Oak, wild cherry, maple?"

Ty sat up and spun to face Susan. "Well, we prefer black walnut when we can get it. Wild cherry comes in at a close second."

"I forgot about walnut." She twirled one of her many gorgeous auburn curls around on her finger. "How does the price compare? I know wild cherry was in demand a few years back."

"Black walnut all the way! It's through the roof."

Rachel inched away, leaving them to discuss the ups and downs of the timber market. She always knew Sue was big into forestry, but she never thought it would come in handy – until now. Susan tried for years, without success, to get Rachel to join the Girl Scouts. It was one of the few times Susan didn't get her way.

Rachel found George and Carl sitting under a canopy sipping something dubious from a mug.

"Ginger ale?" she teased.

"Of course not. Life's too short for ginger ale." George eyed Rachel. "How's tennis going?"

"Fine. I won one."

"Where's Ty?" There was a hint of fatherly irritation in his voice.

"With Susan. They're discussing lumber pricing, or something." Rachel leaned down and sniffed his glass. "Irish Highball."

George raised a brow. "Yes. Would you like some ginger ale, too?"

"No, thanks. I don't drink while I'm working."

George tossed out a few quick winks. "But, you're not working now, Miss Peters."

Rachel nearly burst out laughing at George's wild eye gestures. "I'm not?"

"Too nice a day to work, George. Let the girl alone." Carl chugged down the last of his drink and thumped the thick mug down on the glass tabletop.

George rolled his eyes. "Did you finish your assignment?"

Rachel nodded. "All that I could. Susan's finishing up for me." Defeat spread across George's face. "What?" she said in defense. "It's not my fault the project has a mind of its own."

As if by design, Stanley Junior came waltzing up the walk. "Hello, Mr. Porter, Dad – Miss Peters."

"Ryan! How did the meeting go?" George motioned for him to sit down.

"Perfect. Everything stays as is. No changes." He turned to Rachel. "Playing tennis?"

"Finished, actually."

"Ty's here," George explained. "They were making a go of it for the last two hours. As a matter of fact, here he comes."

Ty arrived at the table minus a certain redhead. "Hi there, Ryan. You just missed all the fun. Rachel, here, is an excellent tennis player."

"She's a player, all right," Ryan mumbled just loud enough for Rachel to hear. In retaliation, Rachel delivered a quick kick under the table. Ryan coughed. "I'll have to play her sometime."

Ty sat down on the other side of Rachel and draped an arm around her shoulder. "I'd really like to go for a walk to loosen up my leg muscles. You up to it?"

Rachel jumped up. "Absolutely. There's a beautiful trail all the way down to the beach and back. Come on." She reached out her hand and Ty was more than happy to take it.

"Don't be gone forever!" George called after them. "Dinner's at seven-thirty!"

Rachel waved a hand behind her head and took off down toward the beach.

"I see Susan's been working on you."

Ty puffed out his chest in exaggeration. "I'm good at making other guys jealous."

Rachel grunted. "You have no idea what you're in for. This isn't a normal guy. This is a machine with a teeny, tiny little heart that's slowly turning to lead."

"Ryan? He's not that bad. I've known him for years." Ty reached down and plucked a handful of blueberries. "He's just a little cynical after April."

"April? That's a new one. I thought Molly was his biggest emotional thorn."

Ty laughed. "Molly's a thorn, all right, but not in the way you think. April's the stinger in Ryan's ass."

This added a whole new dimension to Ryan. "Who is she?"

"Every guy's worst nightmare. Pretty, though not as pretty as you," he added. "Smart, caring, loving, fun – and evil. It's all about her, all the time, and she took Ryan for a six month ride and dumped him out along the road like a piece of trash. He's not been the same since."

Finding April and ripping her face off wouldn't be enough justice for the mangled up mess of a man she left behind. "What in the hell did she do to him?"

"She ran off with Elizabeth's boyfriend."

"Sister Elizabeth?" Rachel finally understood why Ryan was so upset that Elizabeth hadn't told him she was dating anyone. She was probably terrified it would happen all over again. "That's messed up."

"Yeah, but that's only half of it. April was pregnant at the time, and they had to go through the whole paternity test thing to prove Ryan wasn't the father. She planned to tap him for child support, and if Elizabeth hadn't insisted he take the test, he'd be paying right now." Ty dropped a few blueberries in Rachel's hand. "So, go easy on him, will you?"

This new information just made it harder for Rachel, but at least she knew what she had to battle against.

"Would you mind doing something for me, Ty?"

"Depends," he said.

"Take Susan and me out for dinner tonight – away from here."

Ty may have looked like a dumb jock, but a dumb jock he was not. "Because Elizabeth and her fiance are coming tonight?"

She nodded.

"I'll pick you up at six-thirty."

***

"You look beautiful. Stop changing your outfit." Rachel yanked a fourth change of clothes from Susan's hands. "Will you please stop underestimating who you are?"

Susan grimaced. "Maybe if you didn't look like an ethereal goddess, I'd feel a little more secure when we're out together."

"Sue. When are you going to understand that beauty isn't the same thing to every single guy? Some guys absolutely hate black hair. I've had at least two suggest that I'd be perfect if I just dyed my hair blond. You've got a fantastic shade of light auburn – and it's natural! Don't you realize guys go wild for redheads? Now, grab your purse if you're taking one. Ty'll be back any minute, and I wanna get out of here before Ryan starts asking questions."

That little plan didn't quite go the way she wanted it to. Ryan met them at the bottom of the steps. He eyed up their handbags.

"Aren't you staying for dinner?"

"No. We figured this was more of a family thing and we didn't wanna horn in." Rachel took a deep breath. He'd find out in a few minutes, anyway. "Ty's taking us out for seafood and drinks."

"I've never had lobster," Sue offered.

Contrary to what Rachel expected, Ryan didn't seem too upset. Then it dawned on her. They were going as a threesome – or so he thought.

"Hello, ladies! All ready?" Ty swept into the room. "Hi, Ryan. Tell Elizabeth congratulations when you see her tonight."

"Why don't you stay for dinner and you can tell her yourself?"

What a conniver, Rachel thought. Did he think he could just be passive aggressive to get what he wanted? She felt bad about what happened to him, but that still didn't give him the right to manipulate her life.

"We can't. I have a friend holding our table and he's probably gnawing on his knuckles right about now."

"A friend?"

Rachel knew that would get his motor running.

"Yeah. Susan's date." Ty looked at Rachel and turned on the appeal as he let his eyes rove over every inch of her body. "Ready?" Acting should have been his profession. He actually had Rachel questioning his intentions.

"As I'll ever be," she answered.

The time away from Ryan actually did her a world of good. The alcohol helped, of course, and after her third drink, Rachel was feeling pretty desensitized.

"What's the thing with lumber, Ty? Why do you love it so much?"

He put his drink down and looked away in thought. "Well, I'd have to start with the smell. Fresh cut trees, lumber yards, it all has this exciting smell to it. Like anything and everything can be accomplished. Kind of like the smell of fresh-cut grass."

"Good answer. I agree with the fresh-cut grass." Rachel yawned and put her head down on her arms. "I wish I felt that kind of excitement again. It's been so long."

The music started up again, pumping the beat straight through Rachel's body. "Where's Susan?" She looked around and caught sight of Susan and her date, Randy, dancing a little closer than one would expect from two people who had just met.

"What in the hell is he doing?" Ty shoved his chair back and slid through the moving throng of sweaty bodies.

Rachel couldn't hear what was being said, but Susan looked up at Ty like he'd just rescued her from quicksand. With Randy now banished from the dance floor and Ty in his place, he sulked on back to the table.

"What's with him?" Randy plunked down in Ty's chair. "He acts like Susan belongs to him. Are they dating?"

The thought of Susan dating anyone, let alone the millionaire baby of a lumber tycoon, seemed odd. "Looks like something's going on."

Randy looked at Rachel. "How about you?"

Randy was hot, without a doubt, but Rachel wasn't in the mood for dancing. "I don't know. I'm pretty unstable right now. On my feet," she added, grinning.

"Oh, come on. If you don't dance with me, you'll have to deal with the pack of vultures hovering over by the bar."

Rachel hadn't even noticed them. Normally, she could feel out a room and know exactly who to stay away from. Being hurt teaches you a few things. But tonight, she wasn't on her game and the lusty-eyed men at the bar looked like they were ready to pounce.

"I see what you mean. Well, if you don't mind my inability to think or walk straight, I'll be happy to dance with you."

Randy spun her around and pulled her toward the dance floor. "I'll hold you up."

And he did – a little too tight, at times. After two or three dances, Rachel saw why Susan was thankful for the rescue. Randy was a hands man and didn't mind showing himself around. Ty and Susan slipped off in a corner somewhere, leaving Rachel to fend for herself, and she was doing just fine until Randy convinced her to do a shot or two with him.

"I think I better stop." Rachel put a hand to her spinning head. "I can't handle too much of this stuff at a time."

It was true. The last time she'd had this much to drink, a good ten years earlier, she'd woken up in someone's yard the next morning with a dog sniffing her face. That was before New York. Before jerk boy. Before her life had gotten so complicated she couldn't see straight – before she had to grow up and join the real world.

"Why don't we step outside for some fresh air? It'll help clear your head."

Though she wanted to object, she couldn't make the words come and couldn't think of a single, logical reason why she shouldn't get some air. And the air did feel nice. The coolness clung to all the hot, sweaty spots on her body, instantly cooling her off.

Walking her back into a shadow in a grassy area at the side of the building, Randy reached behind her and untied her dress lacing. While her mind was still trying to comprehend just why he was loosening her dress, his lips found their way to her chest.

"Um. What are you doing?" She tried to push him away, but her limbs were weak and numb.

"Why don't you come back to my place?" She felt what she thought was his tongue running up her chest to her neck.

Down came her straps; the top of her dress puddled around her waist. That's when she felt the force of his body against hers, and then she was falling. If it hadn't been for the alcohol, she was sure the fall would have hurt a lot more than it did. Before she had a chance to move, he was on top of her, reaching up under her dress.

"No! Get off!"

"That's what I'm trying to do," he whispered hoarsely. "Just lay still."

She heard him fumbling with his belt, and that's when her adrenaline kicked in. Pushing herself with her feet, Rachel managed to wiggle part way out from under him, but it wasn't far enough. He grabbed her legs and pulled her back into him. A scream came from somewhere inside of her. She wasn't sure if she managed to scream audibly, but something dark rushed at them and then she was free of Randy's weight. As she lay in the darkness trying to coordinate her limbs to move in conjunction with her mental commands, a swirl of commotion echoed all around her. If she hadn't been drunk to the point of passing out, she could have sworn she heard Ryan's angry voice. She didn't get a chance to find out, though, because the world around her went completely black.
Chapter 10

"I'm not asking for a kidney!" Ryan snapped. "I just need you to be my fiancée again."

Rachel rolled her eyes. She was too sore and tired from the previous night's events to do much arguing. "I'm really sick of this on again off again relationship we have going on here. You're really mixing up my poor, little head."

"Will you please be serious for five minutes?"

"I thought I was," Rachel mumbled to herself.

"How was I to know the Parker's were coming?" Ryan dropped down in an overstuffed easy chair. "This is turning into a nightmare."

Rachel kicked the back of his chair. "Well, it's no dream-come-true for me, either! I don't like being used."

"You didn't seem to mind being used by Ty Porter's lapdog last night!" Ryan jumped up and shoved the chair into the wall.

"That wasn't my fault, Ryan! What is this? Blame the victim?"

"You wouldn't have been a victim if you weren't out running around like a common tramp." Ryan backed her into a corner and hemmed her in, his bandaged hands pressing against the wall behind her. "You're being paid very well to keep up this charade, Miss Peters. It's only until after Elizabeth's wedding, and then I don't give a damn who you choose to lay around with!"

"Liar."

His head dropped to his chest. "You're impossible." He looked up and peered into her eyes. "Are you going to do this, or not?"

Gritting her teeth, Rachel took a deep breath and calmed her flaring temper. "Fine. I'll be your fiancée, but after this wedding, you're on your own."

Ryan crossed his arms. "There. Was that so hard?"

"Very!" Rachel shoved past him and stomped toward the door.

"Party starts at seven, Miss Peters. Please don't be late."

That smug bastard! If he thought he could control her by bringing out the office voice, he'd better think again. It didn't work at the office, and it won't work here.

Rachel ran head-long into George in her flight from Ryan.

"Don't you two ever have a civilized conversation?" George stuffed a cigar in his mouth and motioned to his office. "Let's go talk."

"I can't help it," she said as he closed the door. "He's infuriating!"

"He's always been a firecracker, Rachel, but without the flame, he never exploded. You, my dear, are the flame."

"Was April the flame, too?" Though she didn't want to admit it, she felt a bit of jealousy toward April. Okay. A lot of jealousy.

"Did Ryan tell you?"

"Ty." Rachel meandered around the room straightening the pictures on the wall. "He said it was pretty bad."

"It was. Ryan doesn't come up here too often anymore. This is where it all happened, you know. Too many people have half-truths or complete falsehoods, and they all love to gossip. Can't get away from that in a small area."

"And Elizabeth? She seems to have managed to put it behind her and move on. What's stopping Ryan?

"She didn't have it quite as tough. She was looked at as the victim. Ryan, on the other hand, was made out to be some kind of monster who was trying to get out of the responsibility of taking care of his child."

"But, I thought it wasn't his?"

"It wasn't. But the gossips only hear the dirt. They don't follow up and find out the truth. They just add to the lies."

Rachel had first-hand knowledge of this. She'd been a victim, herself, a time or two. "What about the baby?"

"Looks nothing like Ryan, but you'd never know it from the word on the street. 'Spitting image', they say. She even had the nerve to give the boy the Stanley name."

Having never seen George even remotely close to angry, Rachel was a little taken aback when George slammed his fist on the desk.

"Now I see where Ryan gets it." Her gentle tease put a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry." A glimmer of mischief twinkled in his eyes. "We need a real Stanley baby around here."

"Oh, no, George. You kind of need a willing partner in that sort of thing, and your son's as far from willing as he can get."

"Not for long."

The steely, determined tone in which he said it made Rachel a little nervous. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means,' said George, snuffing out his cigar, "that I'm going to tell him the truth about everything. I can't let him throw away the best thing that ever came his way just to keep my own butt out of trouble."

A wave of tears welled up. "But, George, I like your butt."

"And I like yours," he said. "In a metaphorical sense, of course." He cleared his throat. "That's why it has to be done. You came entirely too close to having something terrible done to you last night, and I blame myself for that."

Rachel wrapped her arms around his neck. George was understanding and safe – two things that Junior refused to let out of his locked up heart. "Give me a little more time, George. At least until after the party tonight."

***

"What if it ruins his marriage?" Susan stuck her finger in her mouth and bit at her nail – something she hadn't done in nearly fifteen years.

"Do you think I want him to do it?" Rachel sifted through her closet, not really seeing what was there, but needing to do something to ease some of her stress. "Ryan'll hate me even more if he thinks I'm the reason his parents divorce. Tonight's the night, Sue. It's now or never."

Susan went to the window. "Then you'd better find yourself a sexy dress because the floodgates have opened."

A persistent banging echoed through their door. That unmistakable fist talk could only belong to one person.

"I thought I had until seven? It's only six-thirty."

"You're my fiancée, for better or for worse, and the guests will expect you by my side to help Elizabeth with greetings."

Rachel curtsied before slamming the door in his face. "He's the most annoying brat I've ever come across!"

Susan dug through her closet and pulled out a daffodil yellow dress. "This'll get all the men's heads turning." She tossed it on the bed.

Though Susan was completely right, Rachel knew she couldn't wear that dress. "Give me something dowdy. I don't even care what color it is. Better yet, get me something from your closet."

"I should probably be offended by that comment, but I'll just pretend you're under severe duress."

"You don't have to pretend," she groaned. "I am."

"Then you're forgiven."

The burgundy dress looked hideous next to her skin, but Rachel put a smile on her face and pulled it up over her hips. She surveyed her color fail in the mirror. "How come this looks so good on you?"

"Goes with my hair. Mind if I wear the yellow dress?"

Rachel closed her eyes and looked away. "Knock yourself out."

Ryan banged again. "It's six forty-five!"

"Will you hate me if I head on down with the town crier?"

Susan waved her off. "I've gotta fix my hair, anyway. I'll be down in ten."

With his hands still wrapped up tight, Ryan extended his elbow and hustled Rachel down the hall. "Molly's lurking around here somewhere, so let's just try to get along for a few hours, if you don't mind."

Rachel stopped dead in the middle of the hall. "You know, I'm really sick of being given orders." Before Ryan could protest, she grabbed his upper arms and walked him back against the wall. "My turn." She moved in slowly, and methodically ran her tongue over his lips before catching his lower lip in her teeth. He let out a growl when she bit down. "Did Molly ever do this for you?" After caressing the inside of his mouth with her tongue, she went to work on the outside. Just as Junior was about to lose control, she pulled away, leaving a trail of lipstick down his neck, and his pants half unzipped. She stepped back, narrowly avoiding his groping hands. "Just earning my extra pay. Come on, Junior. The party awaits."

"That's evil," he muttered under his breath.

She headed him off toward the bathroom. "You'd better make a pit stop. You're not fit to be seen in public."

Junior finally emerged looking as though nothing had ever happened. "Thank you for making us late, Miss Peters."

"You didn't seem too concerned at the time, Mr. Stanley. As a matter of fact, you were quite the willing participant. But, if it makes you feel better, you can dock my pay."

"I'd like to dock something else," he hissed in her ear.

Rachel felt a flush of heat overwhelm her from the inside out. "Then, why don't you?" Why didn't he just take her and get it over with?

"Because I refuse to get involved in a love triangle."

Rachel had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing. "Which triangle would that be, Mr. Stanley. Me, you, and Ty, or me, you and Susan, or maybe even me, you and Randy?"

Fire wasn't as hot as the sparks flying from his eyes. "Your mother should have named you Jezebel." Though his hands were cracked and stiff, he grabbed her arm and practically dragged her down the steps. Unfortunately for Molly, Ryan wasn't in a pleasant mood.

"Ry! I'm so happy for Elizabeth!" She saddled up and gave him a hug so sensual that it could have turned on a light bulb without electricity.

Rachel wanted to puke at the fake smile pasted on her face, and if she could be certain she'd hit Blondie's shoes, she'd give it a shot.

"Maybe you should go tell her." Ryan tried to brush her off, but Blondie would have none of that.

Rachel really didn't want to make a scene in the middle of Elizabeth's party, but she envisioned breaking each of the perfectly polished little fingers that were gliding up and down his arm.

"Daddy said he had a nice, long chat with you the other day. Did he happen to mention I'll be joining his board of directors in the fall?" As if she wasn't already close enough, Molly leaned up against him, and Rachel could have sworn she saw her blood red lips graze Ryan's earlobe when she stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "Maybe we'll find ourselves in the middle of a joint merger one of these days."

"Maybe." Ryan didn't pull away from her grip.

The tiny, smug smile at the corners of his mouth infuriated Rachel, and for just a moment, it did exactly what he wanted it to do. She'd been played enough to recognize the rules of this game. Though she was burning up with jealousy, she put a smile on her face and pretended she didn't care.

"Dance with me Ry?" Molly latched onto his opposite arm like a Chinese finger puzzle. "This is our song, remember?"

Rachel nudged him toward Molly. "Go ahead, Ry. I see someone I want to talk to."

His grip became tighter, and Rachel felt an odd sense of excitement at the bit of pain running down through her arm.

"My fiancée and I should have the first dance, Molly. Maybe I'll squeeze you in another time." Ryan's death grip loosened just a bit when they joined the throng of dancing couples. "Since when does a woman throw her fiancé at another woman? Especially an ex!"

Reaching behind her back, Rachel loosened his fingertips grinding into her spine. "I don't suppose you would have objected if it was April!"

"Keep your voice down, if you don't mind." He spun them around to the outside of the dance floor. "I suppose you've heard all the torrid gossip," he breathed in her ear.

"Is it gossip?"

He stopped dancing for a second and looked hard into her eyes. "You don't actually believe it, do you?" He looked appalled that she would even dare to believe he was less than Mister Perfect.

"It just so happens that someone once believed a bit of gossip about me."

"That's different, Miss Peters. I've seen proof."

Now it was Rachel's turn to stop dancing. "What do you mean – proof? There can't be proof because it's not true."

"Dance, Miss Peters. People are beginning to stare." He whisked her toward the door and they escaped to the veranda. "I have several damning pictures that were sent to me via cell phone." He wasted no time in flipping on his phone and scrolling down through the pictures. Of course, the picture front and center was the one where tipsy Susan had her in a seriously hot lip lock. "I've been told by a reliable source that you and Miss Reyes attended this party as a bisexual couple. Is that true?"

"Well, yes, but it's not what you think. It was just one of Susan's gags for a little fun." Ryan didn't look amused. "You do realize who took those pictures, don't you? Viv Parker."

"Molly's mother? Impossible. She's not that kind of woman."

"Apparently, there's a lot you don't know about your own friends." Or his own father, she thought. "Did Molly send them to you?"

"I can't tell you that, and it doesn't matter."

Rachel grabbed his arm. "It matters to me! Whoever sent those to you is a pathetic excuse for a human being!"

"My sister sent them to me! Do you feel better now?" Ryan made a fist and punched the aluminum column with his already battered hand.

"Elizabeth." Rachel felt sick to her stomach. "Why would she do this?"

"She only did it to protect me."

"Please explain something to me, Ryan. Even if I were bi, why is it such a huge problem? Either you love me or you don't."

Ryan turned away from her and faced the incoming tide. "It matters because I can't defend all fronts. It's bad enough trying to keep the men's eyes off of you, let alone wondering about your girlfriends."

The man standing before her was looking for any reason at all to reject her just to keep his heart safe. Rachel finally understood, and she felt like kicking herself almost as much as she wanted to kick him. He wasn't the cold, unfeeling robot she thought he was. He was too caring, and he wrapped his glass heart up in tissue paper and packed it high on a shelf to keep it from being broken again. She, of all people, should have seen it, and she of all people knew he wasn't going to take it down and dust it off until he was good and ready.

"I'm not April."

There was nothing else she could say, and nothing she could do to help him. She'd been there, and she knew he had to work through it in his own time and in his own way. She slipped back inside, leaving him with his marred up feelings and twisted misperceptions.

If Rachel hadn't been sliced and salted before, the sting would have been too much to bear. She looked around. Susan's yellow dress wasn't hard to spot. She was nuzzling Ty in the corner.

"Hi Ty. Mind if I borrow Susan for a minute?"

"Just for a minute. That's about all I can spare." He looked at Susan with a smolder in his eyes and headed off toward the bar.

"I think I'm in love," she whispered.

Rachel was instantly jealous of the happy glow on Susan's face. That could have been her and Ryan. Instead, she was left with a life turned upside down and nothing to show for it but more heartache. "I'm leaving tomorrow. I quit. I'm going home to Pennsylvania."

"What happened?" Susan's face paled. "If you go, I go."

"I can't get through to him. I'm tired – worn to the bone, actually, and I need a rest. Mom always told me I could move back in if I needed to. Plus, I miss the boys."

"These are all great excuses, Rach, but they're still just that – excuses." Susan looked past Rachel and stiffened. "Is that who I think it is?"

Rachel followed Susan's gaze. "Her? That's Ryan's little friend, Molly. She's been trying to dig her claws into him since that first dinner party in New York."

"I know her. I do her hair twice a month. She the picky chick." Susan's eyes narrowed. "She commented on a picture I have on the wall in my workstation. Just two weeks ago, in fact."

"Let me guess. The one of you and me."

"Yep. She was asking all sorts of questions. I just thought she was having a good day. She's normally a total bitch. But, she left a good tip. Fifty bucks."

A slow, steady burn ignited inside Rachel. "So that's all mine or Ryan's happiness is worth to her – fifty bucks. He said Elizabeth told him. He even showed me pictures taken at that stupid party." Rachel scanned the room. "I'm gonna ask her."

When Rachel caught Elizabeth's gaze, the gig was up. It was written all over her face. Rachel never broke eye contact with Elizabeth as she snaked her way through the guests, and by the time she reached her, Elizabeth turned and was leading her into the kitchen.

"You know."

Rachel nodded. "Why?"

"Oh, that lousy Molly Parker. She found the pictures on her mother's phone and has been holding them over my head ever since. That's the only reason she's here tonight. Oh, I could just wring her neck!"

"I knew she had her nasty little finger in this!" Rachel envisioned pulling every single, natural blond hair from Molly's blackmailing head. "She knows exactly where to stick the knife." That part is what infuriated Rachel the most. Molly was using Ryan's hurt and pain for her own sick purposes.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. He doesn't know the pictures came from Molly. He thinks a mutual friend sent them to me to do with as I saw necessary. He tried to blow it off and he even laughed about it at first." Elizabeth's eyes narrowed and she clenched her fists. "But then a certain someone found a way to get her grubby fingers on the original guest list when she saw the pictures weren't doing the job."

"And it says bisexual," Rachel finished. She was sure Ross probably had a hand in there somewhere.

Elizabeth nodded. "That's when it turned ugly. Please believe me. We had several very long discussions and it all twisted back around to that miserable, cheating April. It was like being slapped in the face all over again – only this time the competition was a woman."

"I know the pictures look pretty incriminating, but there's nothing between Sue and me except twenty-three years of friendship. Nothing. Nada. Zip. We're straighter than an arrow. That was just a gag trip that Susan cooked up. She's always getting me into these sorts of things." If she had to recant that story one more time, Rachel thought she'd explode. "The problem is Ryan doesn't want believe me. It took a few rounds in the fight to knock some sense into me, but I get it now. He's locked himself up and it wouldn't matter if I had proof positive that I could lay at his feet – he's not going to let me in. And that's why I'm leaving New York," she finished softly.

"Oh, no you're not, young lady!" George had been standing at the kitchen door. "This is just ridiculous. You've been wronged by a cheap, little...woman, who has no business interfering in my children's lives, and I'm going right out there and physically remove her from this house!"

"But, Dad!" Elizabeth tried to hush him. "What about Mom?"

"Your mother knows everything, Liz. No more worries about that. I told her this evening."

The color drained from Elizabeth's face. "Is she okay?"

George smiled and shook his head. "She already knew all about it. She's known for years. Can't get anything by the woman that loves you – or the man," he added. "A very wise young woman once told me that honesty is the best policy, and without it, you have nothing. Remember that Liz, and you and Jim will have a solid marriage. I plan to tell Ryan, next. He deserves to know exactly what kind of father he's been idolizing all these years."

"No, George. Remember your butt? Keep it just the way it is. I meant it when I said I was going back to Pennsylvania. I think Ryan needs some time away from me, and God knows if I don't get some space from him you'll be minus one child."

"But, that won't work. I'm expecting a Stanley baby within the next year or so." Though he tried to tease, Rachel could see the pain in his eyes.

"Oh, George, you nutcase." Rachel kissed his soft, wrinkled cheek. "I wish I could promise you that, but as much as your son and I fight every time we're together, the kid would come out wearing boxing gloves and a mouth guard."

Susan eased into the kitchen. "You okay, Rach?"

"I'm fine, Sue. Just tired – and hungry," she said, perking up. There was no way she was going to be the wet blanket snuffing out Susan's spark. "Where's Ty?"

"Getting the car. Your buddy, Molly, won't leave us alone, so Ty's taking me to a movie and then dinner, and we want you to come with us. Just the three of us," she added quickly. "He wants to make up for the incident with Randy."

Rachel looked at George and he nodded.

"No monkey business while I'm gone," she warned him, "or it's the cage for you when I get back. Promise me."

"Oh, if I have to," he grumbled. "But it won't be easy. And be back by eleven or I'm coming to find you!"

"Yes, Daddy."

Molly spied them slipping out by way of the side door. "Why are you leaving so soon?" She stumbled out behind the trio. "This'll look kind of suspicious, won't it? Ryan's fiancée leaving with another couple. What'll people say?"

Rachel slowed her place and looked over her shoulder. "You're drunk, Molly. Go away." She'd had just about all she could stand of the dynamic duo.

"Oh, come on, Barbie doll. Take me with you and I'll show you how Maine's really done." When she saw her chance slipping away, she clamped her jaws of death around Ty's upper arm. "Get me out of here, Ty, and I'll show you a really good time. You know I know how, too."

Rachel jolted to a halt and spun around, getting about twelve inches closer to Molly's face than she really wanted to be. "You're not coming! You're an irritating hemorrhoid that no one wants to scratch. Why don't you go back in and see if your dad's best friend's mother's brother is available for a threesome. You're a chip off the old block, so you should fit right in with the lifestyle."

"You vulgar girl!" Molly smiled through those slightly tarnished teeth of hers. From the smell of her breath, Rachel guessed she'd had too much wine. "I've heard through the grapevine that you've made a few unconventional lifestyle choices, yourself." Her eyes took a hard dive right at Susan.

Ty caught hold of Rachel's arm just as she went to lunge for blondie. "She's not worth it, Rachel."

"Ty! I thought you and I were friends." The blubbering baby talk made her look more like an idiot that she did in her natural state. "Why don't you leave the little gold-diggers alone and take me out for a drink? I'll pay my fair share afterward."

In hindsight, Rachel wasn't sure if it was the nasty comment or the polished claws sliding south on Ty, but whatever it was, it was a sight to behold. A blur of red and yellow came out of nowhere, and before Rachel realized what was going on, Susan had Molly pinned to the ground and had gotten in several good punches. Now her blood red lips were the real thing.

Susan was still swinging and kicking when Ty pulled her off of Molly. "You'll be lucky if I don't walk back in there and tell all of your friends that your nails are fake, your tits are fake, your smile is fake, and your hair is fake! I added those extensions, myself," she said with smug satisfaction. "And while we're at it, maybe I should inform Teri Adams that her husband picks you up at the salon every other week." Molly clammed up and just sat there looking up at Mount Saint Susan. "Thought I didn't know about that one, huh? Teri comes in on the weeks that you don't – and Larry Adams picks her up, too."

"Larry Adams?" Rachel tapped Susan. "From Adam's Construction? He's one of Ryan's... clients." The bigger picture descended on her like light from the heavens. "Oh. My. God. You've been trying to steal away the Stanley clients for your dad's company! You cheap, little wench! How much is Daddy paying you to do this, or are you taking your payment out in sexual perks?" Rachel couldn't believe it. This piece of work was little more than a corporate prostitute – and a nasty one, at that.

Molly rolled over and pulled herself to her feet. "Larry and I are just friends," she hissed. "I'm friends with lots of men."

The bumblings of a drunk were generally amusing, but Molly's ramblings were also informative.

"I'm sure you are, and if I go back through the problem accounts over the last six months, I'll bet you know all of them, too. Is this why you're so desperate to get your hands on Ryan? So you can bring him to daddy for the takeover?"

The alcohol coursing through her veins wasn't done getting her into trouble. "You can't prove anything, and Ryan'll never believe you," she pouted, pulling grass and debris from her hair. "Besides, Daddy promised me a spot on the board when our companies merge. So, ha!" Molly giggled and pointed at Rachel. "I'll be sitting right next to him. So close I can smell him. And you'll be out of a job, because the first motion I'm going to make is to fire you."

Rachel couldn't help but laugh. Having been fired a half dozen time over the last several weeks, Molly's threat was nothing more than mildly amusing.

Ty grabbed Molly by the wrist and dragged her back to the house. "We're all witnesses, Molly, so don't try to deny it when the sun comes up."

"Oh, go back to the forest, Ty Parker, and take that fashionista wanna be with you! Yes, you!" she screamed at Susan. "Your job's as good as gone, too, and when I get back inside, I'm gonna call the police and have you arrested for assault and battery!"

"It's a shame you fell down and hit your face, Molly. Let me get you inside so someone can take care of that. Maybe Teri Adams would like to help."

Ty yanked open the door and disappeared with Molly.

"Think she can?" Susan rubbed her fingers over her sore knuckles.

Rachel shrugged. She didn't put anything past that creature. "Was it worth it?"

Susan's face lit up. "Absolutely!"
Chapter 11

"I just don't think you should've been out that long. Especially after what happened the other night. Besides, you're still on the clock, you know."

Rachel just stared at Junior. "I'm not on the clock twenty-four hours a day. If I am, I want some major back pay."

"Where are you going now?"

"Out for a quick run before the rain comes in. Do you mind?"

"With Susan?"

"You know, Ryan. This is getting extremely annoying. Susan's not even here right now. She went into town with Ty to buy a dress for Elizabeth's wedding."

"That's not-." He stopped himself. "Do you mind if I come with you?"

"To run?" She looked down at his feet. "Like that?"

"I'll be fine."

Rachel wasn't so sure. "Why don't you just change into your running shoes?"

"I didn't bring them."

It was useless to argue with him. "Don't blame me if you get blisters."

The air hung heavy with morning mist, and the growing clouds overhead threatened to douse them with a cool shower. Maine was exhilarating and Rachel loved every inch of it. Until Junior started to complain.

"My feet hurt. Can we stop?"

"Not stopping," Rachel panted, pointing to the dark sky above them. "You go back."

"Not before we talk. Ouch!" Ryan hopped on one foot while emptying his left shoe of a pebble.

Rachel slowed down. "So talk."

"I just wanted to tell you that you have a raise. If you decide to stay," he added quickly. "Dad told me what happened with Molly last night."

"You can thank Susan for that."

"Yeah. I want to talk to you about that, too."

Oh, the irony. His final bitch session. She couldn't wait until he found out her bags were packed, the taxi scheduled, and her flight booked to Pennsylvania.

"I think I seriously need to stop." Ryan hobbled in a fast walk. "I'm bleeding, I tell you. Can you please stop?"

Rachel groaned. "I told you not to wear those. You would've been better off bare foot. Sit down!" She shoved him back into the soft grass along the trail and carefully pulled off his leather dress shoes. "They're definitely bleeding." The blood soaked through the toes of his socks. "Why did you do such a dumb thing?"

He winced when she peeled off his socks. "It didn't seem like such a dumb thing at the time."

"In hindsight, it was a really dumb thing, and I'm sure you'll protect yourself and never let it happen again. Right?"

Ryan looked up at her and saw something else written on her face. "That was the plan."

"You should've known better. All the signs were there." Rachel tried to be angry and vowed she wouldn't miss him, but the tears started to come. "But, I blame the shoes most of all. If they'd been the right ones for your feet, that never would have happened."

Ryan reached up and touched her cheek. "Are we still talking about the shoes, or are we heading off in another direction?"

Rachel pulled away and drew her knees up to her chest. "Don't do this to me, Ryan. I've worn the wrong pair of shoes before, too, and I have no intention of putting them back on."

He caught her wrist. "Someone left something on my pillow last night. A scrapbook. It's filled with pictures of two little girls. One with red and one with raven hair. I watched them grow up over a hundred pages or so, and they turned out pretty wonderful." A deep crimson rose up Ryan's neck. "There was also the redhead's diary. I didn't read it all." Shame filled his words. "I didn't need to. And this." Ryan reached into his pocket and pulled out Susan's copy of their blood contract.

"That rat! She told me she had it framed on her wall." She laughed through the tears. "Those spots of blood seemed so much bigger when we were little."

"I can't tell you how guilty I feel for having invaded somewhere I had no right to be. I should've trusted you – believed in you." He folded the contract up and put it back in his pocket. "Susan must really love you. She trusted me with her diary, for God's sake!" Ryan's voice faltered and a quake rocked through him. This strong, stoic man crumbled into a thousand little pieces right there in front of her.

Rachel reached up and brushed his messy hair back from his face. Her heart stung with emotion. Susan had bared her soul, every deep desire, want, and need, good thoughts and bad, with no regard for herself. Rachel knew the types of things Susan wrote in her diary, and knowing this made it even more bittersweet. She'd allowed a complete stranger into the very core of her essence – all for Rachel. The love it must have taken for her to do that made Susan much more than a friend in Rachel's eyes. "I love her. She's my sister."

"I love her, too...and I love you." When Ryan looked into her eyes, Rachel knew she'd finally broken into that sacred place in his heart – a place that she promised to occupy and nurture for the rest of her life.

Ryan pulled her back into the grass and kissed her like she'd been gone for a very long time. The smell of the grass and of the dirt were like sweet perfume, and she engrained it into her mind so she wouldn't forget a single detail of the moment. The soft patter of rain drops fell down around them, but it didn't matter. Nothing could break the spell they were under – except a good dose of thunder.

"Up! Back to the house! Lightning's nothing to play with." Ever the prudent one, Ryan dragged himself to his feet and grabbed Rachel's hand. Though his feet were bare and bleeding, he pulled her along through the tall grass until they were safe under the side veranda.

The cool, clean of the rain washed down all around them taking away the dust and the heat and the pain. Rachel watched it trickle through the pebbles and pour into the grate near her feet. That was her pain – and his – washing away, cleansing them and making them new for each other. This is the way they should have started – with everything to give and nothing to regret. Rachel finally felt the trust and the warmth that she'd been longing for, and by the tender way he kissed away her tears, she knew he felt it, too. His bubble was finally broken – shattered into a million little particles by the warm sun peeking through the rain drops.

"Look, Ryan! A rainbow!"

Ryan looked up, but only for a moment. He wanted to burn the look on her face deep into his memory, where he would carry it with him every second of every day. He wanted it to be as clear in his mind when he was eighty as it was then.

She caught him staring at her with those gorgeous gray eyes of his. "What are you thinking?"

His arms tightened around her, and he whispered in her ear, "You know exactly what I'm thinking. I'm thinking, to hell with the long engagement, Miss Peters."
Ivy Raine loves writing, cappuccinos, and anything soft and fluffy. When she's not writing, Ivy can be found doing one of two things: communing with nature or examining the backs of her eyelids – both extremely satisfying ways to spend a few hours of each day.

Look for the sequel to Mixed Signals in Summer 2013! Rachel and Ryan find that planning their wedding isn't as romantic and fun as they thought it would be. From the venue to the menu, nothing seems to go as planned. Throw in a few strange relatives, an unexpected guest, and a last minute disaster, and watch the tempers flare!
