 
## (3 Book Romance Bundle)

## Love Far Away

## The Escort Next Door

## Loving The Bull Rider
Copyright 2016

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# Table of Contents

Love Far Away

The Escort Next Door

Loving The Bull Rider
Love Far Away

by

Leslie Cooper
Copyright © 2015 by Leslie Cooper

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 any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Love Far Away

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Leslie Cooper, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Leslie Cooper prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

The day before my life changed forever was a Friday like any other.

I was running around with a "to do" list a mile long, trying to fit in all of my errands before I had to pick up Olivia at preschool. There was the grocery shopping. I had to get Bradley's shirts from the dry cleaners. Pick up a package- probably a birthday present from Bradley's sister in Michigan- from the post office. I had to stop by the bakery to get the cake. The party store to fill the balloons I'd chosen with helium. And at least one other errand, too...I knew I was forgetting something.

At a stop light, I pulled out my phone and quickly scanned through the notes I'd made on the calendar. There were no more errands written down, but I still had that feeling that I had forgotten something. The phone system of entering reminders in was supposed to make me more organized, but I missed my old system of scattering Post-Its all over the refrigerator. We'd gotten a brand new stainless steel fridge a few months ago and Bradley didn't like how cluttered it made the kitchen look to have Post-Its all over the place.

It was funny how your life circumstances could change so much in just a few short years, I mused to myself as I pulled the minivan in to the parking lot of the dry cleaners. Five years ago, who would have thought that Bradley and I would have been in a position to care about the appearance of our brand new stainless steel appliances? We'd still been living in the small two bedroom apartment on Wheeler Street back then, just two high school sweethearts trying to cobble together a happy life.

We'd married young, right out of college. I'd finished a diploma in Early Childhood Education and found a position at a daycare, teaching in the toddler room. Call me crazy for wanting to spend my days with two year olds, but I loved it. Those little people were hilarious and insightful and full of such honest love that I knew without a doubt I wanted one of my own. Bradley was working in charge of a team at a call center and we were getting by, so we'd decided we were going to start our own family.

Finding out I was pregnant with our son had been one of the happiest days of my life. When we first saw his little heartbeat in the ultrasound, Bradley and I had clasped hands and gazed with teary eyes at the tiny little life we'd created. Here was family. Here was love. Here was happiness.

Our son, Henry Alexander Sutton, was born a few months later. We didn't have much money, but we had each other, and it still made my heart ache with happiness to remember those first few years of our marriage. The baby cuddles, the first steps and first words, the camaraderie that we'd felt as we dealt with spit up and diapers and waking up in the middle of the night. Little things, like Bradley making sure the bottles were all washed and ready to go for daycare the night before, suddenly seemed like the most romantic gestures.

And then it happened. Bradley's boss had left the company to spend time with his wife, who had been diagnosed with cancer. It was terribly sad, and I hated to think what we would have done in that position, but Bradley had been chosen as his successor. That promotion had meant everything to us. More benefits. More work. More money.

Things had been so good that we'd bought a small house, and decided that now was the time to have a second child. We'd gotten lucky, and before we knew it we were back in the doctor's office, holding hands and watching a second tiny heartbeat. Olivia Rose had been born almost exactly four years ago- four years ago tomorrow, in fact. Bradley's job had meant that I could stay home with the children and raise them, just like I'd always dreamed.

The last four years had been a happy blur of domestic bliss, for the most part- work had been going so well for Bradley, with a promotion to a comfortable management job at company headquarters and quarterly bonuses, that we'd upgraded to a bigger house in one of the upscale suburbs that had sprung up in the outskirts of our Ohio town. First Henry had started preschool, and then regular school, and then before I knew it Olivia had been ready for preschool, too. Suddenly I was faced with long days alone. I could have found ways to keep myself busy- the gym, keeping an immaculate house, all the little errands that seemed to build up- but I wanted to contribute somehow. I'd enjoyed staying home, but I missed having my own money and my own sense of self.

Bradley had been unenthusiastic about it. "You don't need to go back to teaching daycare, Julia," he'd told me, almost offended. "I can provide for our family. Anything we need, and anything we want, too."

"It's not just about the money," I'd tried to explain. "I just- I need to do something to contribute to society, to the community, to something other than our family. I need to find myself again. I've spent the past few years doing everything for Henry and Olivia and for you, and I love you all so much, but I need to do something for me."

"Why can't you volunteer at the animal shelter or something?" Bradley had asked.

I sighed. "I'm allergic to cats," I reminded him.

"Oh. Right."

In the end, I'd gotten out the fancy DSLR camera I'd received last Christmas and tried my hand at photography. I'd never been any good at painting or music or dance or anything artistic at school, but I discovered I really loved photography. Something about capturing a special moment in time for immortality really spoke to me. I'd taken a course at a local community college, and practiced nonstop on my two adorable subjects, and only then had I felt confident enough to try my hand at photographing other peoples' children.

Once I started, I'd found I had a real knack for it. Slowly, I built up a bit of a portfolio, passed my business cards around, and word of mouth got around. I wasn't going to get rich doing it, but I had built up enough of a following of loyal clients that I stayed relatively busy. And best of all, I had a purpose again- places to go, people to see, pictures to take. Bradley was outwardly supportive enough, but I suspected that he secretly thought my little side business was just a silly pastime.

I had a home filled with beautiful pictures of my children, though, and that was what was important right now. I'd taken a beautiful shot of Olivia at the park a few weeks ago, her hair blowing loose around her face as she closed her eyes and blew on dandelion fluff. I'd been planning to blow it up and frame it for guests to sign.

That was it! I almost fist pumped in line at the dry cleaners. The missing errand. I had to pick up both the picture and the custom mat I'd ordered for it so I could set it up at her birthday party tomorrow. Before I could forget, I whipped my phone out of my purse and added that to the list of errands I had to run this morning.

I collected Bradley's shirts, then I headed back to the minivan. I quickly swung by the post office to pick up the box waiting there (it was indeed a present for Olivia), and stopped by the craft store to get a photo mat and a fresh box of Sharpie markers for guests to use. Next up was the grocery store, and I hurried through as quickly as I could. My stomach was growling and when I checked the time I was shocked to see it was half past twelve. Where had the time gone? I had just a little over two hours to get everything done and then stop by preschool to get Olivia. Grocery shopping on a hungry stomach was a terrible idea, I had a list of food to pick up for the party, but I kept being tempted by treats I didn't need to buy. Cheese, muffins, a can of Pringles...my stomach rumbled at it all.

I focused on my list. Burgers, buns, fruit, the makings of a salad. My mom was going to bring over her famous pasta salad, and my best friend Megan had told me she'd bring over a plate of brownies. We were expecting around thirty people- my parents, Bradley's parents, my brother and his family, Bradley's younger sister, some of my friends, and a few of Olivia's preschool classmates. Better have some food left over than not enough, I decided, and added an extra five pounds of ground beef. A case of beer, and I had to make a punch too. Juice for the kids. Did we have enough pitchers? Maybe I'd get one of those beverage dispensers to sit on the table to make it easier for the kids to use. This party had a budget, I reminded myself. It was just a casual backyard barbecue.

After the grocery store, I was so hungry I had to go through the drive-thru to get myself something to eat. I turned up the music in the car and spent a few minutes alone, just enjoying the greasy goodness of a burger and fries by myself. This might be my only chance at relaxing today.

I pulled up my phone to see if there were any messages from Bradley. Often we'd text each other during the day- silly jokes, random observations, a cute picture of the kids, a flirty message- but there was nothing. I sent him a quick update: _Out running errands, just finished @ supermarket. About to head to get cake and balloons. Need me to pick up anything for you while I'm out?_

I waited a few minutes in the car to see if he'd text me back, but I didn't get a reply. Well, it was over his lunch break- sometimes he had lunch meetings he had to go to. If he really needed something, he'd reply.

I debated getting cake or balloons next- obviously the less time the cake spent in the hot car the better, but I didn't want to be driving around with a backseat filled with helium balloons any longer than I had to either. I decided the cake was the lesser of the two, and I could always crank the air conditioning up as high as it would go. I usually preferred to keep the windows rolled down and have fresh air circulating since the air conditioner gave me a headache after a while, but I'd make the sacrifice for Olivia's cake.

Inside the bakery, I admired the three dozen cookie favors and _Frozen_ themed cake I'd chosen. It was beautiful- two layers of shimmery blue fondant with icicles and candy snowflakes dripping down the sides. Figurines of Anna and Elsa stood on the top, bookending the words _Happy Birthday, Olivia!_ She would go bananas for it and I couldn't wait for Bradley and I to watch her little face light up with joy.

"She'll love it," I told the young baker's assistant, handing over my credit card.

"Would you like some help carrying it to the car?" asked the girl. She carried the box of cookie favors while I balanced the cake carefully, placing it on the floor of the passenger side. I wished I'd thought to bring pillows to tuck around it to stay safe, but I was almost done with my errands. I'd drive carefully and once we got home, the cake would be safe.

I checked my phone again once I had buckled my seatbelt, to check if there were any messages from Bradley. There was nothing, but he was very busy at work these days. There was one hour left before I had to go pick up Olivia at preschool, followed by Henry at his elementary school. I made a quick stop to pick up the print I'd ordered of Olivia's picture, and then I made my final errand stop at the party supply store. We had most of the supplies we needed for a _Frozen_ themed party at home already- party hats, blowers, plates, napkins, cups, plastic cutlery, goody bags for the children, balloons and crepe paper streamers- but I couldn't resist picking up a box of sparkly snowflake pinwheels to add to the goody bags. I smiled again at the juxtaposition of doing a _Frozen_ birthday party in the first heat of the summer. I'd asked Olivia a few times if she'd consider any other theme- the beach, dolphins, maybe a luau theme- but she'd been stubborn. _Frozen_ was what she'd been obsessed with over a year, and she was stubborn like her mama, so _Frozen_ it was.

I'd been prepared for transporting helium balloons, and had brought a heavy blanket to put over them so they didn't float around inside the minivan. When I checked the time after my final errand, I had one beautiful half hour of freedom before I had to make the run to preschool and elementary school. I stopped at Starbucks for a lemonade and sat in the parking lot again, windows up, music and air conditioning on, trying to clear my mind.

It was hard. I kept running through my to-do list for the party tomorrow, and wondering if I'd missed the deadline for signing Henry up for swimming lessons this summer. A week from today was the last week of school, and then I'd have both of them home with me full time. I'd tried my best to sign each of them up for a few activities and day camps, and my parents had agreed to take them for a week so that hopefully at some point Bradley and I could get away somewhere by ourselves. Nowhere fancy- we never did big fancy vacations- but a bed and breakfast in the country, or maybe a few days of museums and fancy restaurants in the big city a few hours away. I hated to admit it, but even though I loved him with all my heart I'd been feeling a bit disconnect in our marriage over the past few weeks. Months? It was hard to pinpoint when I'd first felt it. Either way, it would be nice to escape from the daily monotony of work and preschool and birthday party planning and soccer and karate and ballet and just be Bradley and Julia once again.

My wandering thoughts were interrupted by the _ping_ notification on my phone. I grabbed it, hoping to see a message from Bradley, but it was just Megan asking what time the party began. At eleven, I reminded her. She'd be able to make it, right?

"Of course," she replied, and I hoped she was right. Bradley and I had moved to the next town over when we'd bought our new house, but I was still friends with the same girls I'd been close with in high school. I was the only one who was married and settled, though, and so I felt left out of the girls nights they sometimes had when I couldn't get a babysitter, or Henry had the flu, or Olivia had a dance recital. I knew they didn't really understand the responsibilities that came with having a family, but for my baby's birthday party they'd all assured me they would be able to make it.

With a sigh, I turned the key in the ignition and headed off to do preschool pickup. My little girl was hanging out by the door, waiting for me.

"Mommy!" she cried, running over to give me a hug. "Did you get the cake for my party tomorrow?"

"I sure did, honey," I said, holding her tight. "You're going to love it. But it's a surprise; you'll have to wait until tomorrow to see it."

Olivia was so excited she started to hop up and down, and I had to calm her down enough to get her buckled in to her car seat. Then we headed off to pick up Henry from first grade, before we could finally head back home. I sent the children ahead in to the house while I made trip after trip from the garage to the kitchen, hauling groceries, beer, the juice dispenser, cake, cookies, the picture and mat for signing, and finally hiding all the mylar helium balloons in Bradley's office. I worried that they would have started to lose their helium-ness by the party tomorrow, but filling them today was the only way I could make it work unless, I delegated the task. Bradley was supposed to be golfing with client's tomorrow morning- he'd assured me he'd be back in time for the party- and my friends would have their hands full with just attending. So the day before it had to be.

Since it was a nice day out, and I didn't want Olivia hanging around the kitchen hoping for a glimpse of her cake, I suggested a bike ride. Sunscreen and bike helmets were found, and off we went for an hour around the neighborhood. Henry wanted to ride much faster than Olivia could keep up on her training wheels. I had to constantly go between the two of them, simultaneously encouraging Olivia to keep pedaling. All the while urging Henry to go slow down and look around him at the nature that could be found in our suburb.

There was still dinner to get through- Henry begged for hamburgers, no matter how many times I reminded him there would be burgers at Olivia's party tomorrow- and bath time, and stories, and bedtime. I checked my phone every few minutes for the time, or a text from Bradley, or anything. He usually came home sometime around seven, in time to help with bedtime a bit before we would eat together. If he was going to be late he'd typically let me know and I would eat with the kids instead of waiting for him. But I checked my messages at seven, seven-thirty, seven forty-five, eight o'clock...and there was nothing.

"Where's Daddy?" asked Olivia, as the three of us settled down with a story once the kids were in their pajamas.

"Daddy's at work," I said.

"I want Daddy to kiss me goodnight," said Henry. "Will he be home soon?"

I paused. I didn't want to lie to my son. "I'm not sure exactly when he'll be home," I said. "But not too long. If it's after you're in bed, he'll come in and give you a kiss while you're asleep."

Olivia stuck out her lower lip. "Daddy said he'd bring me a princess crown to wear at my party tomorrow," she said. "What if he forgets?"

I already had a birthday princess crown downstairs, so I just smiled at her. "I promise you'll have a birthday princess crown tomorrow. Now let's get to bed, and the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner it will be your party!"

Luckily, Henry and Olivia both accepted that, and I tucked them both into bed with a hug and a kiss and a promise that Bradley would come in after they'd fallen asleep. As soon as they were both in bed, I headed downstairs to pour a big glass of wine and call my husband.

His phone went to voicemail. I was starting to get worried, and called again. This time he answered. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" I demanded. "Why are you late? The kids have been asking for you. I had to cover for you. They wanted to see you before they fell asleep."

"Oh, shoot," said Bradley. "I didn't realize how late it was. I got caught up in some work and had my phone on silent in my jacket and didn't realize what time it was already. I heard it vibrating against the chair when you called. Sorry, Jules. I'll leave right away."

He hung up, but I felt like something was off. Bradley had people calling him all day long. Why would he leave his phone in his pocket and ignore his messages? I tried to push the thought aside. Tomorrow was Olivia's birthday party, a day I'd been working hard to plan for months. We could have a talk after that. Maybe even take our little reconnecting trip away sooner rather than later. It would work out. I'd been in love with Bradley Sutton ever since I was sixteen years old. We'd been voted Most Likely To Get Married and Live Happily Ever After in high school. We had too much history, too much of everything invested for us to be in trouble.

Still. I took another sip of wine, then called my best friend.

"Everything okay?" asked Megan.

"I think so," I said. "I'm really stressed about everything going well at the birthday party tomorrow. I've been planning it forever. I just have visions of the cake falling on the ground or everyone getting food poisoning or something."

"Relax," said Megan. "It'll be fine! It's just a kid's party, not the Royal Wedding. Hey, want to come over? Ashley and Becca were going to come too. We were thinking of going out to see a band play downtown."

"Hmm, I guess I could leave the goldfish in charge of Henry and Olivia for a few hours," I joked.

"Juuuules," Megan groaned. "I meant when Bradley finally gets home! Get out a little bit and relax. It would do you good."

I actually considered it- going upstairs right away to shower and change into something other than yoga pants and a tank top, putting on makeup, doing my hair, feeling beautiful- and waiting for Bradley to come home so I could breeze out past him. But then I remembered the goody bags that needed filling and the balloons that had to be blown up, and I wanted to connect with Bradley in some way as well. Maybe we could find a good show on Netflix and sit in front of it together while we filled the goody bags and blew up balloons until we got light headed, then have impromptu sex on the couch. It had been a while since something like that had happened.

"I've got to pass, I think," I said. "Birthday party stuff and I need to talk to Bradley."

"Well, okay," said Megan. "Offer's always on the table, you know. If he gets home soon you can always leave him on birthday party prep duty and come join us."

"Thanks," I said. "I'll let you know, okay?"

"Sure thing, girl," said Megan, and we hung up. I picked up my glass of wine and the bag of balloons that needed attention, and headed into the living room to wait for my husband.

# Chapter Two

I woke up on Saturday morning feeling hungover and exhausted. I'd drunk too much wine last night and the last thing I felt like doing right now was playing host to a children's birthday party. I wanted to drink a big glass of water and go back to bed for another hour or two.

Bradley had finally come home about an hour after I'd called him. He said he'd been tying up loose ends at the office before his golf "meeting" on Saturday morning. I'd tried my hardest and met him at the door in my robe with a glass of wine and 16 empty good bags that needed filling. He'd brushed me off and said that he was beat and just wanted to get some sleep because he had to be up early tomorrow morning to go golfing. We'd argued; didn't he care that tomorrow was his baby girl's birthday party? Of course he cared, he'd said, but if I was going to be going around planning elaborate birthday parties someone needed to earn the money to pay for it all.

I'd ended up making my way through the bottle of wine while I blew up balloons and filled the goody bags all by myself.

"Mommy. Mommy."

I opened my eyes to see Olivia standing next to my bed. She was wearing her pajamas with her princess crown and a huge smile. "What is it, honey?" I croaked out. I sat up and cleared my throat. "I mean, good morning, Olivia! Happy birthday!"

"Is today my birthday party?" she asked.

"It is!"

"I gonna be a princess today?"

"You sure are, sweetheart," I said.

"Is Daddy coming to my party?"

"Of course he is," I said. Under the covers, I gave Bradley a little kick. He was still lying with his head under the blankets. "Aren't you, dear?"

Bradley let out a kind of low moan that sounded like the death throes of a large dinosaur. I checked the clock beside the bed. Six-fifteen.

I sighed. When we were younger, weekends used to mean sleeping in. Kids didn't understand that concept, so up I got. Downstairs, I poured Olivia a bowl of cereal and turned on cartoons for her while I brewed myself an extra-large cup of coffee. I thought about texting Megan or my mom, but then I remembered that, like normal people without small children, they were probably sleeping in on Saturday morning.

Around seven Henry came downstairs, followed by Bradley. He actually helped me set out some folding chairs and tables in the backyard before disappearing back upstairs to change and get ready for his golf meeting.

"Do you really have to go, Daddy?" asked Olivia.

"Sorry, honey," Bradley apologized. "It won't be long. I've just got to meet some men and talk to them for a little while. I'll be back for your party."

"Promise?" she asked.

"I promise," he said. He gave her a kiss on the head, and hugged Henry, and then came over to me. "Sorry about the timing of this, Jules. I completely forgot Olivia's party was this morning when I agreed to go. You know how it is. It would look really bad for me if I backed out of this."

"You don't need to convince me," I told him. "I can hold things down here if this is what you need to do. I'm sorry we argued last night. We all appreciate how hard you work to take care of our family."

Maybe I was imagining things, but the expression on Bradley's face suddenly looked extremely pained. It was fleeting, though, and a minute later he was kissing me on the cheek. "Thanks, Jules," he said. "I love you all. I have a great family." With a wave, he was out the door.

Now that I was on my own, I called my mom and begged her to come over and watch the kids so I could decorate for the party. I knew Megan, Ashley, and Becca would be tired from their night out last night, and although they loved Henry and Olivia I knew they weren't always super comfortable around kids.

My parents both showed up half an hour later, bringing two kinds of pasta salad with them. "Just stick the bowls in the fridge," I directed, "and keep the kids out of the backyard."

"I can give you some help with set up," my mom offered. "Your father will hang out with the kids inside."

"Sure!" said my dad.

"Mom, I want to play golf outside," said Henry. "Just like Daddy does."

"Another time, Henry," I said, frazzled. "Go into the other room with Grandpa and you guys can play for a while. Grandma and I have work to do."

With my dad and the kids safely in the playroom doing some coloring, my mom and I went in to Bradley's balloon filled study to gather the balloons and tie them in to bunches. "It's too bad Bradley couldn't be here and help you get things set up," said my mom. "What did he have to do this morning, again?"

"Some golf thing," I told her. "I guess there are people in town from another branch and they all had to go golfing together this morning, or something."

"He sure works hard," my mom said carefully.

"I know," I said. "He works really hard to give Henry, Olivia, and I a comfortable lifestyle." My mom didn't reply to that, and I kicked myself. I'd spoken without thinking. Growing up, my parents worked so hard to keep my brother Josh and I fed and clothed with a roof over our heads. A birthday party like the one I'd planned for Olivia was far more elaborate than anything my parents had been able to give us.

My mom and I worked for almost an hour and a half constructing an intricate balloon arch that lead to the backyard, setting out food on the patio, and setting up an area in the backyard where Olivia's preschool classmates could run around and play. Bradley was due to arrive back home half an hour before the party started. At fifteen minutes before the party was supposed to start, he still hadn't come home. I couldn't wait any longer and told Henry and Olivia that it was time to get changed into their party clothes.

"Isn't Bradley supposed to be coming back soon?" asked my dad.

"Yes," I said, staring at my phone. I willed it to ring. Should I call? I'd called last night. I didn't want to embarrass him in front of his coworkers.

Dad waited to see if I was going to say anything else, but when I didn't he just offered to turn on the barbecue. "If Bradley's not back in time I can be in charge of grilling the burgers," he offered.

"Oh, thank you, Dad," I said, relieved. "I'm just going to- I think I'm going to call him and see when he expects to be home. It would be great if you could turn the grill on."

With Dad outside turning on the grill and Mom upstairs helping Olivia in to her party dress, I sat down at the kitchen table and called my husband. It rang three times, and I had almost given up and figured I'd be getting voicemail again when he picked up.

"Bradley! Where are you? Olivia's party starts in fifteen minutes. You're supposed to be here already. My dad has already said he'll take over grilling if you can't handle getting here on time."

Bradley sounded annoyed and only mildly apologetic. "Look, Julia, I'm sorry. There's not a lot I can do about it. Car trouble. I might be calling triple-A. I'll get there as soon as I can. Goodbye." And with that, he hung up.

I laid my phone on the kitchen table and stared at it silently. What was going on? Why had my husband spoken to me like that? Against my will, tears filled my eyes. I couldn't cry, not now, not right before my daughter's birthday party.

The back door opened. "Hello?"

I'd never been so happy to hear my best friend's voice before. "Megan!" I yelled. "In the kitchen!"

She came through the doorway, holding her platter of brownies. She looked great- well rested and not at all hungover. Lucky girl. When she saw me sitting at the table, she immediately set down her brownies and came over to give me a hug. "Oh, girl," she said. "What's going on?"

I couldn't bring myself to look her in the eyes, so I just focused on my phone. "Bradley's not going to be able to make it," I said in as neutral a tone of voice as I could manage. "He had some car trouble and he's going to miss the party. The start of it, at least. Livvie's going to be crushed."

"Wait, what?" Megan sat down next to me. "He's not _coming_? Why isn't he here _now_?"

"He had some golf thing this morning," I said. "Some golf meeting thing. He said he'd be back in time, half an hour before the party started, but I guess he had car trouble. He's going to try and make it back as fast as he can," I added, not quite sure why I was defending my husband.

"Huh," said Megan. "Okay, we can do this, right? Everything's set up?"

"Yeah, my parents came over this morning and my mom helped set up while my dad hung out with the kids," I admitted. "I don't need his help for anything, just...you know. It's Olivia's birthday party. He should be here! I'm going to have to explain to everybody who comes where he is." I buried my face in my hands.

"Jules, don't even worry about it," said Megan. "You go upstairs and get changed. Then pour yourself a big glass of wine and go out to the backyard with Olivia and show her the party setup. I will stand by the front door and greet everyone and tell them Bradley will be joining us late. Okay?"

I opened my mouth to protest, to say that I could do it- that I could do everything, handle everything by myself like it seemed I always did around the house these days- but Megan shook her head and pointed towards the stairs. "Jules. Go change."

So I did. "Thanks, Meg," I said, but she shrugged and went to take up her position at the door.

I'd never been so grateful to have such good friends. Maybe we were in a different life stages right now, and even if she said she did, I knew she didn't fully understand why I couldn't just get a babysitter. And go hang out with the girls as much as I used to, but she was there for me when I needed her to be. That was more than you could say for Bradley right now, at least.

I showered quickly and blow dried my hair, put on a little bit of makeup, and threw on a maxi dress and sandals before looking in the mirror and deciding I looked presentable enough. I swung by Olivia's bedroom to pick her up and take her downstairs. She was in her party dress, with her princess crown perched on top of her wild mane of curls. "Is my party ready, Mommy?" she asked.

"It is," I told her. "We're going to go downstairs and see it. Grandma and I worked hard to set everything up. Now, Livvie, Daddy's not here right now-"

The instant the words came out of my mouth, Olivia looked at me and her face fell. I felt terrible. She had always been a bit of a daddy's girl, and she looked absolutely heartbroken. "Daddy not here, why not?"

I did my best to cover for Bradley, again. "Well, you know he had to have a meeting with some men this morning. His car is having trouble starting, so he's calling someone to come and fix it. As soon as it's fixed, he's going to hurry home to see you because he really doesn't want to miss your super cool birthday party."

Thankfully, Olivia accepted my explanation without any fuss, and we all went downstairs together. I covered her eyes as we stepped out the back doors on to the patio, and when she opened her eyes and saw the backyard- the balloon arch, the table covered in food, the chairs and tables set up for guests to eat at, another table covered in party favors- her eyes lit up. "Oh, Mommy, I love it!" she shrieked, and ran around in excited circles looking at everything.

I sat down in a chair and watched her, worn out from the busy morning I'd had. It was worth it. It had been a lot of work and stress and I was still worried about Bradley making it home in time, but it was worth it.

Ashley and Becca showed up then- Ashley was wearing big sunglasses and her voice sounded a little creaky for 11am, but I was happy to see them anyway. "What's this about Bradley ditching you?" she asked, ignoring my hello.

"Ash!" exclaimed Becca. "Geez. You can't just start in like that. The party looks great, Julia," she said to me. "The kids look like they love it. I would've gone nuts for this when I was a kid. Didn't our mothers just take us to the bowling alley with a Dairy Queen ice cream cake or something?"

"Yes, yes, food looks great, decorations are great, blah blah blah," said Ashley. "Now. Bradley. Where did he go? Why isn't he here? Megan just said he couldn't make it."

"He got stuck at a golf meeting thing this morning," I said. "Another branch was visiting and he had to go with them, or something. And then he had car trouble. He'll be here soon," I added with as much confidence as I could muster.

"That's so weird. That's not like him at all," said Becca. Like me, the girls had known him since high school. "He's always been such a family person."

"He's been working really hard lately," I found myself saying again. Why did I keep defending him when he hadn't sounded upset about missing Olivia's party at all? "He's been working really hard- we have the new house, we're supposed to take a vacation together this summer, that kind of thing."

"It takes pretty much zero effort to go to your daughter's birthday party, at your house, on the weekend," said Ashley. "All he had to do was walk outside."

"He couldn't get out of the work thing," I repeated myself. "Anyway. Let's just forget about it and enjoy the party."

Ashley seemed annoyed to have her gossiping thwarted, but I just couldn't bear to sit there and talk about why my husband wasn't there. I eventually got up and circulated around the party a bit talking to everyone, and at noon people began to eat. I got a text from Bradley saying that he was headed home and should be there soon.

_How soon?_ I typed. _Everyone is eating now. Cake will be after people finish up eating. Liv will want to wait for you._

_Half an hour I'd say_ , he replied.

_Half an hour???? The party ends at one and we still have to do presents_ _._

Sorry. It is what it is. Car can't fly.

That made me stop and think. How was he texting if he was driving?

Ok. Put your phone away and don't text while you're driving. Come home safely and catch the end of the party. See you soon. Love you.

Eleven minutes passed before I got a reply. _I'm using talk to text. See you soon. Give Liv a kiss from me._

The text exchange left me with a bad feeling in my stomach, but I tried to ignore it and enjoy my daughter's birthday party. I tried to encourage people to spend as long as possible eating, but Olivia was begging for her cake and soon there were fourteen other preschoolers shrieking for cake too. "Don't you want to wait for Daddy to blow your candles out?" I asked Olivia.

"NO," she said, and a dark look crossed her sunny face. "I just want my cake right now."

I relented, and went in to the kitchen to get the cake ready. I was mad at him now, too. What was going on? He wouldn't have dreamed of missing a birthday party a few years ago. In fact, he used to take personal days off work if one of the kids' birthdays fell on a weekday, so we could all spend the day together doing fun family activities. Over the last few months, ever since he'd been promoted and all kinds of new responsibilities at work, I was seeing a whole new side to my husband.

Glumly, I stuck a birthday candle shaped like the number four on top of the cake and lit it. My parents had gathered everyone on the patio to watch the birthday girl blow out the candles, and Megan opened the back door for me. As soon as I stepped outside, I used every bit of effort I could muster and plastered the biggest, happiest smile in the world on my face.

"Happy birthday to you," I started to sing, and the rest of the guests picked up the rest of the song. I carried the cake over and set it down gently on the table in front of my daughter. "Happy birthday, dear Olivia, happy birthday to you!"

Olivia took a deep breath. She closed her eyes theatrically, and with a huge puff blew out her candles.

"Good girl!" said my mom. "What did you wish for?"

Olivia looked down at the ground. "I wish my daddy was here," she whispered. My heart broke in a million pieces for her. Where was he?

# Chapter Three

Bradley strolled in while everyone was eating cake, flashing his charming smile and slapping my father on the back. Olivia immediately forgave him for being late and ran over to give him a cake-covered hug. I tried to find a quiet moment to talk to Bradley discreetly, but he always seemed to be somewhere else when I went to look for him.

Then the party was over, and there was cleanup, and my parents hung around for a while, and then it was dinnertime and we called for delivery, and then there was bath and stories and pajamas and kissing the kids goodnight, and then finally, finally Bradley and I were alone and could sit down together and talk.

"So," I said, pouring myself a glass of wine as we stood in the kitchen, "what exactly was wrong with the car? How much is it going to cost to fix it?"

"Don't worry about that," said Bradley.

"But-"

"No, I mean it, don't worry," he said. He sat down heavily at the table. "Can you sit down with me, Julia?"

Something was wrong. All of my instincts were tingling as I sat down across from him. Julia? He almost never called me Julia unless it was a hugely momentous occasion. And he looked too upset to be sharing the news of a promotion, or- oh, no, he hadn't lost his job, had he? Suddenly I felt sick. What if he'd been fired this morning? That was it. He'd been fired and had been too upset to come home right away, so he'd made up the story about the car. He'd had to come back to see the show of excess in his backyard. Birthday parties like that were something we couldn't afford anymore. I could go back to work at a daycare again. We could sit down and update his resume together. I'd start clipping coupons and only buy groceries on sale. We could-

"There's not easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it," said Bradley. "I think that we've both noticed that things have been rough between us for a while now. The thing is- I've met someone else."

I didn't understand what he was saying at first. Had he met someone else who could offer him a new job?

Bradley was watching me closely. "Julia, did you hear me? I've met someone else. I didn't mean to- I didn't set out to do it, but I've fallen in love with her."

There was a rushing in my ears. It did not make sense. Bradley, and someone else? No. He'd been in love with me since we were sixteen years old. We had our old prom photo framed on the mantle, not far away from our wedding picture. When we had graduated high school, he'd given me a promise ring and told me he'd love me forever. How could that boy I'd fallen in love with have turned into this man sitting across the table from me, telling me he'd met someone else?

"No," I said flatly. "I don't believe it."

He looked taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"Fourteen years, Bradley! That's how long we've been together. You don't just meet some floozy at the bar or whatever and decide you're in love with her after a few days."

"That's not how it happened," said my husband. "It was just- well, you work with someone every day, you get close to them...it was hard to talk to you about work stuff. You changed. All you cared about was your photography, or trying to get Henry into the same karate class as his friends, or baking the best holiday treats for Olivia's preschool class- there was nothing to talk about anymore, you turned into someone else."

I bristled. "Well, God forbid I actually care to spend time raising our children," I said sarcastically. "I'm so sorry that the time I spent caring for our kids made you want to run elsewhere to get it. Those nights you worked late- you were fucking that slut while I stayed home feeding our kids and tucking them into bed, weren't you? God!" I pushed myself away from the table in disgust. "Who _are_ you, anyway? Who did I even marry?"

"It's not like that!" he protested. "I haven't...done anything about it. I just know I love her and to stay married to you would be living a lie. I can't do that. It's not fair to you, to me, to the kids."

"What's her name?" I asked. "Tell me her name. Have I met her? Has she been here?"

"You don't know her," he said quickly. "You might have said hello to her at the office Christmas party, I don't know. Nothing had started then. It wasn't until we worked on the big Fleischman project together this winter and started spending time together..."

"What's her name?" I repeated. "God, it's not your secretary, is it? Because that would be too much, really."

"No, it's not her," said Bradley. He hesitated, then said quickly, "Her name is Nikki. Nicole Wilson."

"And does she feel the same way?"

Bradley looked down. "Look, Julia, I know this is hard. It's not what I would have chosen, but it just happened. I think we should get a divorce."

I actually staggered backwards and had to grab on to the wall for balance. At least it could offer me some unwavering support. "Are you crazy?" I whispered. "A divorce? We can't do that to the kids! I'm sorry you're having a midlife crisis, Bradley, but you have two children to think of. You can't just throw your family away because some girl at the office suddenly understands you. Look, I know our marriage has stalled a bit. I really wanted us to have a chance to get away this summer together, to reconnect...maybe go to Chicago for a weekend. Or even a cruise or something like that. Just get away, the two of us. Counseling, maybe we can try that. I'll do some research tomorrow and see if I can find someone, we can find ways to start communicating better. Fourteen years, Bradley! We've been together that long. Almost eight years of marriage. You can't just throw that away."

"Look, I'm sorry, Jules," he said softly. "But I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't know it was what I wanted. I've been thinking about this for a while now."

He just had to twist that knife in my chest a bit, didn't he?

"We can still do counseling," he offered. "With the kids, to get them used to the idea. It'll be tough for all of us, but we'll help them through it."

I just stared at him. Who was this man I'd married?

Bradley got nervous when I didn't say anything. "What's wrong?" he asked. "I mean, I'm sorry, Julia, I know this is a shock. But just- I'm just not happy."

"Then tell me," I said. "Tell me you're not happy and we'll fix whatever is broken. I know there are some things we can work on. Please, for the kids. Remember how happy we were? We can get there again, I know we can." I could feel the tears about to spill down my cheeks and I ducked my head down, embarrassed.

"It's not going to happen like that," said Bradley. "I'll- look, I'll give you whatever you want. We can do this amicably. I've been thinking about our separation- you can keep the house, okay? I'll get an apartment in the city at first. You'll have to go back to work eventually but I'll give you some money to help out so the kids don't have to go without. I'm trying not to be a jerk about this, honestly, Julia. I just- I just don't want to live a lie anymore. And I'm in love with someone else. I don't love you the way I love her. Maybe we were too young, maybe we never had the chance to really get out there and see what else was out there- I don't know. But I'm going to be filing for divorce."

My body was shaking. Was this what shock felt like? I considered throwing a chair at his head, flipping the table over, taking the wine glass and smashing it on the floor. My hands itched to throw something (preferably at Bradley), but then I remembered Henry and Olivia asleep upstairs- waking them by throwing a chair at their father, and having to explain, and calm them down, when I really just wanted to scream and cry.

"Fine," I hissed. "Go to hell, and take her with you."

I turned and made a mad dash for the door, grabbing my keys and purse off the side table as I went. I held my breath until I was safely buckled up in my minivan, in the garage. I rested my forehead on the steering wheel for a minute and let out a sob. How could he do this?

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the door out to the garage start to open. I wasn't going to let him catch me like this. I hit the garage door opened button, turned up the radio as loud as it would go, and peeled out of the driveway as fast as I could. There was only one place I knew I could safely go.

# Chapter Four

When I showed up on her doorstep in tears, Megan didn't understand at first.

"What?" she asked dumbfounded. "He said what to you? No. Are you sure?"

"He was pretty fucking clear," was all I could say, as I pushed past her inside.

Megan followed me down the hall to her living room. "But- but- you guys have been together for ages!"

"You don't need to tell _me_ that," I said. I threw myself down on her couch and buried my head in my hands.

"Hang on," said Megan. "I'm getting provisions." She went in to the kitchen and I could hear her slamming cupboard door, moving things around, and the ping of her phone as she received texts. I didn't even care who she told at that moment. All I could think about was that my life was over. My happy family- shattered. Everything I thought I knew about my husband was a lie. He wasn't who I had married. Maybe we had been too young when we'd first married, but we had been so in love! It had been bliss for the first few years. Maybe he had changed. Or maybe I had. Maybe we both had. Maybe-

"I hope you don't mind, I asked Courtney and Becca to come over," said Megan. She set down a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table. "I don't have any ice cream in the freezer and this is the only bottle I have on hand so they're going to pick more up on their way over."

"I don't need that," I protested weakly.

"Shut up, yes you do," said Megan. She poured wine into one of the glasses, filling it almost all the way up. I gave a little yelp and made a 'that's enough' motion, but it was almost completely full when she handed it to me. "Drink up."

Numbly, I accepted the glass and leaned back into her sofa cushions. "God, you are so lucky," I said, looking around. "You have your own place. You can do whatever you want whenever you want. If you want to sleep in on the weekend, you can! You don't have to make sure people have clean clothes for school and lunches packed and all that. You can just do you."

"You need a break, girl," said Megan. "You need to just get away."

"I can't," I said. "I can't just leave Henry and Olivia; especially after Bradley tells them he's divorcing me...they'll think I'm leaving them. I have a photo shoot lined up for next week. I can't just take off a moment's notice."

"Yeah, I don't mean leave everything and go to the airport tomorrow," said Megan. "But seriously. You need a trip away. Just forget him! You were planning to go away with him anyway later this summer, just go by yourself instead. Or we'll take a girls trip. Blow off some steam. Light your wedding pictures on fire."

"We can't do that," I said, horrified.

"Why not? It'll be cathartic," said Megan. "We can have a bonfire on a beach somewhere. Throw all his shit on the fire. Maybe we could go to New Orleans. Or Miami. Or, like, the Virgin Islands or somewhere. No, I'm serious. I really think we should do a trip somewhere. What do you think? Vegas, that's what we should do!"

Just then Ashley and Becca showed up, laden down with shopping bags full of ice cream and cookies and chocolate and wine. "Oh, Jules, I'm so sorry," said Becca as soon as they came in. She dropped her bags on the floor and crossed the room to give me a hug. "I know you felt something was a little bit off, but I never imagined he could do something like this to you. What an absolute jerk!"

Ashley pulled a bottle of wine out of a shopping bag and picked up a wine glass from one of Megan's side tables. "Can I just say something?" she asked, pouring herself a big glass. "I've never liked that asshole. No, I'm serious. I've never, ever liked him. He set off my creep-o-meter. Even when we were in high school, he had this air to him that he thought he was so much better than everyone else and that he was the specialist snowflake there ever was. Everything was always about him. Remember when you got the chance to travel to Washington DC for that public speaking competition? Remember? He would go on about how proud he was of you, but you'd miss his final soccer game and that made him sad. Remember that? He never asked you to stay home but made you feel so guilty that you decided to not go on your own. He manipulated you into not going! He wasn't even any good at soccer, either, even though he talked about it like he was. He's always cared about himself more than anybody else. No, I have never liked him." She shook her head firmly. "I have always kept my mouth shut because I love _you_ , Jules, but believe me when I say this is probably going to be the best thing that ever happened to you."

I had to look down before I started to cry again. I didn't want to hear that, even if there was a slight ring of truth to some of the things Ashley was saying. It was true; he had gotten so upset that I would miss his final soccer game of his high school career to go to a public speaking competition in Washington DC. I'd never been one for joining clubs and activities, but I liked the confidence I got from making speeches. I'd felt on top of the world when I found out I'd qualified for that event, but in the end I'd chosen to be with Bradley. I remembered how he'd picked me up on the soccer field and kissed me after our team had won the championship. Back then, to my eighteen-year-old self, that kiss had been worth the competition I'd given up. Now I couldn't help but wonder what the experience in Washington DC could have done for me, but it still hurt to hear Ashley say those things about him. I was torn between wanting to defend him and picking up my pitchfork to go after him as well.

"Ash. Really," said Becca. She sat down next to me with her arm across my back and gave Ashley a dirty look. "Now's not the time for that. Julia, we care about you and we're so upset that he did this to you."

"He's a piece of shit," said Ashley definitively.

"We were just talking about how Julia needs to take a break," said Megan, attempting to steer the conversation away from what a piece of shit my husband was. I hadn't even told them about Nikki yet. "A girls trip is in order. Where to? New Orleans, Miami, Vegas, Virgin Islands? Somewhere else?"

"Not the Virgin Islands," I protested. "I could maybe do a weekend away. Somewhere close."

"Sure, when I want to cut loose and have a good time with my girlfriends after my dipshit husband announces he's divorcing me, Pittsburgh is exactly where I think of," said Ashley sarcastically. "Go big or go home, Jules.

"I don't know," I hedged.

"It doesn't have to be the Virgin Islands," said Megan. "I was just suggesting, you know, somewhere warm and sunny where we could lie on a beach and drink cocktails all day. Somewhere relaxing."

"She doesn't need to relax," argued Ashley. "She needs to drink her face off and dance on a table somewhere, while looking smoking hot in a brand new dress."

"It might be nice to get a change of scenery for a bit," said Becca, her arm still around me. "What do you think, Jules?"

Ashley was already refilling her wine glass. "I say we stop by her house and key his car," she announced.

"Ashley, cool it," said Becca. "We don't need to get arrested. Then we really couldn't go on vacation. I know he's a jerk, but it's not like he cheated on her."

I took a deep breath. "Actually-"

"Oh, hell no," said Ashley.

Megan's mouth gaped open. "He cheated on you?"

"He swears he didn't," I said hurriedly. "He swears nothing physical happened. But he told me he's in love with someone else. Some girl at work."

Becca gasped. "An emotional affair," she said. "When you start talking to someone else the way you might to your husband or wife, you can't stop thinking about them...it's almost worse than having sex, in some ways. Emotionally cheating. Oh, I can't believe he did that to you."

"I can," Ashley snarled into her wine glass. "You know what? We should find you someone else, too. You've been with this douchebag your whole life. You need to go out and have revenge sex with someone else."

"I can't," I said, overwhelmed. "I can't. Even with what he said, I don't hate him- I don't want to ruin his life- I don't want to sleep with someone else- I just want to wake up tomorrow and have this all be a dream."

"That's okay," Becca comforted me. "Guys, don't overwhelm her. She just found out hours ago! She's barely had time to process things. It's okay to feel like that," she added, speaking to me instead of about me this time. "It's okay to be in denial, or go through the grieving process, instead of going straight to revenge." She gave Ashley a pointed look.

"Well, I might go over and key his car then," said Ashley. "God, do I ever hate him now! What's her name?" she asked me.

I pressed my lips together, trying to keep it all in. It couldn't be real, could it? Just this morning, I'd been happily married and organizing my daughter's birthday party. Now I was crying into my glass of wine and listening to my friends plot out various revenge strategies. Sex with random men? Trips to Miami to drink my face off? Keying his car? I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. If I said her name out loud, it would be real.

They were all looking at me, though. "Is it someone you know?" asked Megan gently. "Did he bring her around you?"

I shook my head slightly. "I might have met her at the office Christmas party. I don't really remember. He says it didn't start until later- January, February- when they worked on a project together."

"What's her name?" Ashley repeated. She pulled out her phone. "Tell me her name."

"Nikki," I whispered, so quietly that she asked me to repeat myself. "Nicole Wilson." There. It was out there.

"Is she from here?" asked Megan. "Did we go to high school with her? I don't remember her."

Ashley was furiously scrolling on her phone. "Um...give me a minute. Nikki Wilson. I think this is her. Oh, fuck him. He's Facebook friends with her. She liked a picture of your kids! I can't. Who does that? Oh, excellent, she's an idiot too. Her page is completely open." She started typing.

"What are you doing?" I asked her, alarmed. Ashley was on her third glass of wine at this point, and when she drank, she could go a little crazy. As if she couldn't go crazy enough on her own without alcohol helping her along.

"Just commenting on some of her pictures," said Ashley. "Calling her a slut. Homewrecker."

"Ashley!" I protested. "Don't. This girl is going to be- be my kids' stepmother or something." At that thought, I burst into tears again.

"You have to do something," said Ashley. "You cannot just sit back and let everything happen to you."

"But I want to take the high road," I sniffled.

"The high road?" Ashley rolled her eyes. "The high road is another word for being a doormat. You can't let him just go do whatever he wants while you sit there and wait for his lawyers to tell you how much you're going to get in child support. You need to do something. Okay, maybe you don't need to go out and have revenge sex with the first bathed man you see. But you need to do something. Megan is right. We need to take a vacation and get away from all this and just get your mind off things. Look, I can take time off anytime. I'm a self-employed real estate agent. As long as I don't have any showing booked, I can take off whenever. As long as it's a couple weeks out I'm clear. Becca, you finish school in a week or two too, don't you?"

"Next week is our last week," confirmed Becca, who taught third grade. "We have a couple days of meetings after that, but then I'm free too."

We all turned to look at Megan, who worked in accounting. "I'll have to request the time off," she said. "I'll have to see Monday at work what dates I'm free."

I almost told them not to bother. I almost told them it was okay, I'd just stay home and cry under the covers all day while Henry and Olivia were at my parents'. But just as I was opening my mouth to tell them no, don't bother, a very small "okay" popped out instead.

# Chapter Five

The first step was for Megan to book the days off. We picked a week at the end of June, a month away. Once she'd confirmed that she could get the time off, I called my parents and asked if they could watch Henry and Olivia while I went on a trip with the girls.

"Of course, honey," said my mom sympathetically. "You need some time to get away and have fun. We'll do our best to keep the kids busy. Where are you going?"

"Thanks," I said. "I think we're planning to go to Vegas. But also maybe a beach in Florida somewhere. Just somewhere we can go and not have to think about everything that's happening." I sighed. "I just- I never saw it coming, Mom, you know? I mean- things weren't perfect, nothing ever is. But I was happy, overall. I thought he was happy. We had our ups and downs and little fights, but no marriage is perfect, and I thought he was just preoccupied with being busy at work and adjusting to his new position. I figured things would calm down eventually- buying a house and moving is stressful, and once we got through that I figured that he'd get used to the new workload and the position, the kids would adjust, we could spend some time over the summer reconnecting...I just didn't see it coming at all."

"I'm so sorry, Julia," my mom sympathized. "I can't imagine what that's like. I don't know- from an outsider point of view, I've known Bradley a long time, and seen the two of you together for a long time. And I did think something changed. I don't know if you changed on your own, or if he changed and that made you change, or what, but when I looked back at who you are today, thirty years old, and when I look at who you were in high school...well, it's two different people."

"Of course it is, Mom," I said. "I was a teenager with no responsibilities back then. Now I'm a mom, I have a mortgage and a car payment and life insurance and a home to manage and kids to raise and a home business to try and run- of course I've changed."

"You didn't change together, though," said Mom. "That's what I meant. Of course who you are as a person evolves as you get older, but if you're lucky, you both change into people who still love each other and get along. You turned into someone, he turned into someone else. And those people might not get along as well as Julia and Bradley of eight years ago did."

I couldn't quite hear the 'I told you not to get married so young' in there, but I thought it was in the background. My parents had warned me, after all, not to marry so young- live on your own for a year, get the feeling of independence, my mother had urged me. Don't go straight from your parents' home to a man's. I hadn't listened because I was young and in love.

"Well," I said, "thanks. I think."

"I don't mean 'I told you so'," said Mom hurriedly. "Just- I've watched you lose your sparkle over the past while. I know it sounds cheesy but it's true. Just seemed like life- love- was getting you down. You weren't the same girl I remembered. So if you need to take a break from all this mess and go out there and find that sparkle, or get in touch with yourself and remember who you are- not as a mother, not as a wife, but who Julia is- you go out there and do it."

My mother's words echoed in my head for the next few days. She was right, of course- our mothers always are, aren't they? I could only vaguely remember what life was like before babies and husbands. There was joy in being a mother, but there was so much drudgery too. I needed this break. I needed to remember who I was.

Bradley hadn't moved out, but he was sleeping on the couch for the time being. I was trying my hardest to put on a good face for the kids and be as friendly and normal around him as I could, but when it was just the two of us I could hardly bear to even look at him. Ironically, now that he'd told me he wanted a divorce so he could be with this Nikki girl, he was coming home early more often and spending more time at home. The day after I'd called my mom, though, I waited until Henry and Olivia were in bed. Then I spoke in the most flat, unemotional voice I could manage.

"By the way, since we won't be going away on vacation together while the kids are at my parents' house, I'm going on a trip with the girls at the end of the month. Just so you know."

He looked up from the TV, startled. "Huh? What? No, you can't do that- who's going to care for the kids?"

I turned away so I wasn't facing him when I spoke. I concentrated on using the most even tone I could. "Like I said, they'll be with my parents. You won't have to lift a finger. In fact, it will make things even easier for you."

"Why, though? Why do you need a vacation?"

"Maybe," I said, "because my husband of eight years and partner of fourteen years just told me he is in love with someone else and no longer wishes to be part of my family."

"Knock off the melodramatics, Julia," he said, turning back to the TV. "You wouldn't just up and leave on vacation."

"Oh no? What makes you say that?"

"Because, that's not who you are. You won't just book a trip at random and go. You'll spend two months looking at all of the online reviews and comparing prices and features of the different hotels and call me over every twenty minutes until I want to scream and just not go after all. You'll print out a packing list for everybody and hover around and make sure that we pack exactly how you want us to. When you finally get to wherever you're going, you'll have a schedule to stick to. _Relaxing by the pool will take place from ten to twelve on Tuesday morning_ ," he mimicked my voice. " _After that there's lunch, yoga class, and then scuba diving, followed by showering for dinner, dinner, and then drinks at the beach bar_. You don't know how to take a vacation and it is NOT RELAXING going away with you." He exhaled. "There's something I've wanted to say for, oh, ten years now?"

I wasn't sure what kind of reaction I was expecting from him, but he was pissing me off. He was probably expecting me to cry. Instead, I glared at him. "You don't think I'm going to be able to go away to relax?"

"I don't think, I know," he said.

"And I'm sure Nikki's idea of a perfect vacation involves closing her eyes and throwing darts at a map," I said sarcastically. "Followed by landing at the airport with no clear idea of where she's going to stay or what she's going to do."

"You know what?" said Bradley. "It is. And we've talked about time after time, the trips we want to take together. Close our eyes and spin the globe and go wherever our feet take us. Hop on a plane with nothing but one suitcase and show up in a new city, pick out a hotel on the fly, just wander the city for hours and get lost together."

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, picturing my husband with this Nikki slut wandering hand-in-hand through some strange Middle Eastern bazaar, or Amazonian rainforest, or old European city. I shuddered. "Well," I said, as calmly as I could, "it sounds like you two will be very happy together."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "Cut the martyr crap out, Julia. You think it makes you look classy, like you're taking the high road? It makes you look pathetic." He shook his head in disgust.

Without another word, I stomped out of the room like a petulant teenager. I almost slammed the bedroom door, before I remembered my two kids were sleeping down the hall and I didn't want to wake them up. Instead, I had an idea. In the top drawer of the bureau was where Bradley kept his backup credit card. I pulled it out and stared at it for a good long while, turning it around and around in my hands. I memorized the number on the front and the three digit security code on the back. I looked at the expiration date and the name embossed on the front. Bradley M Sutton. My throat tightened. He was down there, living a weird parallel existence with me until we sorted out our separation, and he didn't care about me anymore.

I took a picture of the front and back of the card with my phone, just in case I had trouble remembering the number.

Then I sat down and started searching for flights on my phone. I'd book them right now, before I changed my mind. He was going to regret this. I was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he'd be paying for this for years. I bought four return plane tickets, one for me and one for each of the girls. Then I called Megan.

"Screw Vegas," I said. "And Miami. I just bought us all tickets to Paris."

Megan screamed so loudly when I told her that I had to hold the phone away from my ear. "Are you FREAKING kidding me? PARIS? And you bought us all tickets?"

"Bradley is going to be footing the bill for us," I said, glancing down at the credit card.

"Are you serious? Whoa. Why? Does he feel bad or something?"

"Something like that," I said. "Um- don't tell Ashley, she'll go nuts, but I took his credit card. Well, I didn't take the actual card, but I took a picture of it..." I trailed off.

"You know what? Asshole deserves whatever he gets," Megan declared. "Well, damn. Now we're going to have to go shopping."

"Save the shopping for Paris," I told her. "Bring along an empty suitcase."

# Chapter Six

The time sped by and before I knew it, our departure date had arrived. I kissed Henry and Olivia goodbye and dropped them off at my parents' house. Bradley swore he would not have Nikki over at our house while I was gone, but he also had not yet discovered the credit card charges, so I figured I should take precautions. First I hid all the extra toilet paper in Olivia's closet and piled stuffed animals on top so when the current roll ran out, he'd go crazy looking for the stockpile. I stripped the sheets off my former marital bed too. Bradley was still on the couch, and he was too lazy to find clean sheets and make up the bed. I'd been doing it for the past eight years of our marriage anyway. I wasn't even sure if he knew where the linen closet was in the new house. Then, while I was waiting for the taxi to come pick me up and take me to the airport, I changed the wifi password. I hesitated on that last one- was it too harsh? Bradley would die without wifi. And it might possibly drive him straight out of my house and in to Nikki's.

I decided I didn't care. He hadn't shown any signs of second thoughts. I'd made it clear to him that if he wanted to try and save our marriage I would call a marriage counselor right away, but he wasn't interested and I couldn't make him. It would take two people to make this marriage salvageable, and in the meantime I sure as hell was not going to have another woman in my home. When my taxi arrived, I got in without any second thoughts.

The flights that I'd booked were first to New York, and then straight to Paris. I stood in line waiting to check in, looking around to see if I could spot any of the girls. I was there early, but wanted to get checked in right away. I had my purse and a small carry-on bag, and then my big suitcase that was half empty for all of the clothes I'd be buying on Bradley's dime. Served him right.

Becca arrived a few minutes after me, followed by Megan, and they both joined me in line. We chattered excitedly while we waited for our turn.

"We should have done something like this ages ago," said Megan. "I can't believe it took a crisis like this to for us to decide to just go."

"I changed the wifi password before I left," I confessed. "And stripped the sheets off the bed and hid all the extra toilet paper. I think Bradley thinks that stuff just appears out of nowhere when we get low. I'm not even sure he knows where the linen closet is."

Becca gasped, then giggled. "Oh my gosh," she said. "That's awful yet hilarious at the same time."

"I know," I said. "I thought it might be too mean, especially the wifi password. I mean...I'd die without it, and he's worse than me. But then I thought about it, and..."

"...Telling your wife you're not in love with her anymore is way worse," Megan finished. "Dude can live without wifi for a couple weeks. It won't kill him. Maybe he'll spend his spare time doing a lot of meaningful self-reflection on what drove him to seek an emotional connection with someone other than his wife."

"He'll probably just go to Nikki's house," I sighed. "Whatever."

Ashley showed up minutes before we were called up to the counter to check in, and we handed over our suitcases to be weighed, tagged, and sent off to the baggage handlers. We were given our boarding passes and sent on our way to security where once again we waited in line to take off our shoes and belts and produce our Ziploc baggies of tiny hand cream for inspection. Once we'd made it through security, we walked through a maze of hallways, escalators, and moving sidewalks to find the right gate and waiting area. I started to head towards the hard plastic seats, but Ashley grabbed my arm.

"Are you crazy? There's a bar right over there! Let's go grab a drink!"

"It's not even nine in the morning," Becca protested.

"So I'll have a mimosa then. Come on! We're going on a girls' holiday! We should start it off with a drink. Oh come on, for me?"

So we all went over to the bar and let Ashley order for us while we plopped down in the bar stools. I checked my phone to see if there were any emergencies from my parents or if Bradley had discovered the wifi password changed, but I had no new messages.

Megan noticed my phone out. "Put that thing away, Jules," she advised. "You'll go crazy if you spend the whole time staring at it. Your mom and dad are great with Henry and Olivia. Your husband's an asshole and deserves a couple weeks without toilet paper or wifi. If they need to get in touch, they will! Just relax. You don't want to miss Paris because you're busy staring at your phone, do you?"

"You're right," I admitted. I slid the phone back in my handbag. "I'll do my best to stop checking."

Ashley came back with four mimosas for us all and passed them around. "Cheers!" she cried. "Here's to an amazing two weeks." We all clinked glasses and drank.

"I can't wait to go shopping," said Megan.

"I can't wait to check out the nightclubs and restaurants," said Ashley.

"I want to visit some museums," said Becca.

"Boooo-ring," teased Ashley. "You're such a teacher, Bec!"

"Well, you can't visit Paris and skip the Louvre!" Becca protested. "What are you looking forward to, Jules?"

I thought for a minute. I wanted to do all the things my friends had mentioned- some shopping, checking out some of the restaurants and maybe going to a club or two if I could find something to wear while we were out shopping, and doing a bit of sightseeing during the day as well.

"Julia wants to find a hot rich French guy and have revenge sex with him all over Paris," said Ashley.

"You totally should," Megan agreed.

I blushed hotly. "No! That's not it. I just want to get lost in the city, I think. I don't know, find some narrow little streets and wander down there and find a cute cafe to sit in with a coffee or a glass of wine and forget about everything going on at home. Just- escape."

Becca patted my knee sympathetically, but Ashley rolled her eyes. "We're going to get you drunk and find you a hottie European to hook up with, mark my words. Another one please," she hollered, waving her empty mimosa glass at the bartender.

By the time Becca, Megan, and I had finished our first drinks Ashley was polishing off her second. We left the bar and popped in to the departure lounge's convenience store, buying gum, water bottles, and magazines for the plane ride. I almost pulled out my phone again, but Megan snatched it out of my hands and turned it off for me. "You'll have to turn it off on the plane anyway," she told me. "Might as well do it now, right?"

"You're right," I admitted. I opened a magazine instead and read all about the latest Kardashian drama until our flight was announced for boarding.

"Ooooh, Paris, here we come!" Ashley sang as we lined up to show our boarding passes.

"Well, New York, then Paris, but who's counting really?" asked Becca.

The flight to New York was a shorter one, about an hour and a half. We were able to find our second departure gate without much trouble, and boarded not long after arriving. As we settled in to our seats I wished I'd sprung for first class tickets. Megan and I were sitting next to each other by a window, with Ashley and Becca across the aisle from us.

Megan settled back in to her seat. "I can't believe we're really doing this," she said. She looked at me. "You okay? You look kinda sick."

"I'm okay," I said. "I feel a little queasy. Not motion sickness queasy," I added quickly. "Just a general, wow, I'm about to leave my kids and fly over an ocean for the first time."

"You'll be fine," she reassured me.

"I hope so," I said. "Listen. Um, I feel like I should tell you something. I haven't said anything to Becca and Ash, but...well...know how I booked our flights and said we'd be doing some serious shopping and I'd pay for it all?"

"Yes..."

"Well...that wasn't entirely truthful."

Megan looked confused. "What do you mean?" she asked. "I mean, I can pay my own way of course, I don't mind, I have savings for vacation and all-"

"No, that's not what I meant," I interrupted her. "I meant, I'm not paying for this. Bradley is."

Her eyes widened. " _Bradley_ is? How'd you convince him to do that?"

"I didn't," I said. "I- well, I guess I can't show you because my phone is turned off, but I took a picture of his backup credit card. He said some really awful things to me and I got so mad, I just wanted him to feel the way I do. I wanted him to just get the rug pulled out from under him from nowhere, just a total shock he didn't see coming- I want him to know how I felt."

"Shut. Up." Megan's mouth gaped open. "I can't believe you had the guts to do that! Wow. I mean good for you, girl, but wow." She shook her head, then giggled. "Let's book a massive hotel suite and order all the room service. Should we tell Ashley and Becca?"

"We'll tell them later," I said.

"On the way home Bradley should upgrade us to first class," said Megan, looking down at the foot and a half of space between her seat and the seat in front.

"Bradley will definitely be doing that," I agreed.

When we landed in Paris, it was just past ten PM local time, but it felt like suppertime to our American-adjusted bodies. We got our passports stamped by immigration, collected our suitcases from the luggage carousel, and then stood around in a tight cluster.

"Soooo," said Becca hesitantly. "Where now? Do we have a hotel?"

"This is an adventure," I told her. "It came to my attention that any time I travel, I have to spend hours researching reviews and comparing prices and features, so I decided that this time everything we do, we're doing on a whim."

"You take the lead, then," said Ashley. "Which bridge shall we sleep under tonight?"

Immediately, I felt silly and a bit self-conscious. Maybe Ashley was right and Bradley had been wrong. Maybe planning everything in advance was the way to go. After all, here we were standing around in the Paris airport without a clue where to go. I didn't have the slightest idea what to do. Catch one of the trains I saw signs for? Or a cab? But where would we go?

Megan rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Ash. There has to be some kind of guest services guest that can help us find a hotel."

Relieved, I smiled at my best friend. "Guest services," I repeated. "Right, let's find them."

Between the four of us, we remembered enough vocabulary from high school French to figure out which direction we had to go. I was nervous that at this hour any desk would be closed for the night, but to my relief we found a guest services kiosk with a woman standing behind the counter.

"We'd like some help finding a hotel for the night," I said, speaking slowly but clearly.

"For how many nights?" she asked, in perfect but heavily accented English.

I looked at my friends. "Are we going to stay here the whole time? Or visit somewhere else?"

"Seat of your pants," said Ashley, swatting my on the butt.

"Five nights," I said decisively. We had flights back two weeks from now, but now that we were in Europe, who said we had to stay in Paris the whole time?

"And do you have a preference for the area?" the woman asked.

"We'd like a suite," Megan added. "The nicest one available. Actually, the most expensive hotel you can find."

The woman tapped away on her computer. "I have two adjoining suites available," she said. "The price will be one thousand four hundred euros per room per night. Will this be by credit card?"

I gulped. Holy shit. I couldn't do that, especially since I wasn't one hundred percent certain of the credit card's limit. I thought it was fifty thousand, but with a few nights in a hotel like that we'd max it out in no time- especially if we planned to do any shopping.

"Actually," I decided, "we don't need the most expensive hotel available. We'd just like a big penthouse or two adjoining suites in a very convenient area for shopping and sightseeing. We'd like to be able to walk just about everywhere."

The woman nodded briskly and tapped away at her computer again. "I have a nice hotel for you here. It is a smaller boutique hotel, but very luxurious. It is right here." She turned the computer screen around and tapped a spot on the map she'd pulled up. "Just off the Champs-Elysees. A very short distance to the Seine and views of the Eiffel Tower. Five hundred euros per room per night."

I could hear the appreciative sighs from my friends. I felt dazed myself. "We'll take it," I said authoritatively.

We all crammed together in a taxi to the hotel, giggling in the backseat. We arrived at the hotel and were greeted by a man who offered to take our bags upstairs to our room. The woman who checked us in offered us all a complimentary glass of champagne. "Is this your first time visiting Paris?" she asked. We nodded. "Bienvenue à Paris," she smiled. "Here I have a map of the city for you. This is our hotel." She circled a spot on the map. "You will find many things to do nearby. The Eiffel Tower is a very short walk away, and to arrive at the Champs-Elysees and many designer shops you will simply walk down the street in the opposite direction from the Tour Eiffel. If you have any questions or wish for directions we are happy to help you."

"Merci," we all said together, just like we were back in Madame Leblanc's sophomore French class again. We walked upstairs to our rooms in a daze. I still couldn't quite believe we were here.

"Is this real life?" asked Becca once we were alone in our suites. We stood in a small group by the door, gawking around us. There were two king size beds in each room, along with a small divan in one room and a table and chairs in the other. There was a balcony that joined the two rooms together, with a small table and chairs so we could sit outside and enjoy a drink.

"Ahhh," said Ashley, stepping out on to the balcony. "I can sit out here in the morning with a coffee, croissant, and a cigarette!"

"You don't smoke," said Becca.

"So I'll start," said Ashley. "Paris just seems to call for a cigarette!"

"Did you guys see the bathrooms?" asked Megan, poking her head in. "Come here!" We all crowded in. The tile was so polished that we could see our reflections in it. Each bathroom had a large corner Jacuzzi tub, along with a soaker shower, and a huge sink and vanity. There were baskets filled with complementary products- shampoo, conditioner, soaps, lotions, perfume, moisturizers.

Ashley had wandered in to the other adjoining room. "Free wine in there," she said. "Two bottles. So I'm not tired at all right now- are we going out or what?"

Megan looked at me. "Jules? What do you say?"

"Oh, let's not," interrupted Becca.

"Party pooper," Ashley grumbled.

"Sorry," said Becca. "But I'm kind of tired from travelling all day and I'd kind of like to just stay in. It's eleven-thirty here- we can drink and watch a movie or something. Then wake up tomorrow all rested and do some shopping or sightseeing and go out tomorrow night. Isn't that a better plan?"

"Yeah, sorry Ashley, but I'm beat too," Megan admitted. "Let's open those bottles of wine and find something good on TV."

"Jules?" Ashley asked me hopefully.

"I'm all in for tomorrow night," I told her. "We can go shopping tomorrow and find something to wear out. I'm pretty sure I have nothing nice enough to wear out in Paris, anyway. Tomorrow, Ash. We'll get dressed up and go to dinner and then find a spot for dancing.

Ashley made a face. "Well, okay," she said. "But I'm definitely drinking this wine!"

"Go for it. We can even order room service," I said. I took a deep breath. "Girls- this trip is on me. Or rather...on Bradley."

Ashley and Becca stared at me. "What?" they asked in unison.

"Um- well, it's going to be a surprise to him," I said. "But yup, he's going to pay for what he did to me, one way or another. I have his credit card."

An evil smile spread across Ashley's face. "Find the room service menu," she ordered. "Bradley is going to live to regret the day he screwed Julia over!"

# Chapter Seven

We stayed up until 2 am local time, drinking and laughing and making outrageous plans to take revenge on Bradley. It was only 8 pm to our bodies so I thought I might take a while to fall asleep, but it had been such a long day and the bed I collapsed in was so luxurious, I had fallen asleep within minutes.

When I woke up the next morning, it was eleven already. I jumped out of bed and shook Megan awake in the bed next to mine. "Megs!"

She rolled over and groaned. "What?"

"It's eleven! Come on, we've wasted almost half the day!"

Megan sat up in bed, yawning, while I grabbed the plush hotel robe from inside the wardrobe. After an amazing shower with some wonderful smelling, free bath products, I blow dried my hair. Then I opened my suitcase to try and choose an outfit for a day of shopping in Paris. I suspected that no matter what I chose I'd be easy to pick out as an American tourist, so instead I went for comfort and decided on a cute sundress with flat open toed sandals.

As Megan shuffled towards the shower, I opened the door that joined our room to where Becca and Ashley were sleeping. Becca was sitting on the bed straightening her hair.

"Ashley's out on the balcony," she nodded towards the door. "We were thinking we could go somewhere for something to eat, then do some shopping maybe? And since the Eiffel Tower is so close, we could go there too. Then dinner tonight and go to a club or something."

"Sure," I said. "I can't believe we slept half the day."

"Well, there's the time difference," Becca pointed out. "Anyway, we're on vacation, remember? If we want to sleep in, now's the time to do it."

"Right. Go with the flow. No schedules," I reminded myself.

I walked over to the balcony door and stepped outside. Ashley was sitting on a wrought iron chair with her legs pulled up, wearing oversized sunglasses and holding a cigarette. On the table next to her sat a coffee and a plate with a half-eaten croissant.

"Where did you get that?" I asked her, amazed. "How long have you been up?"

She shrugged. "An hour or two. Where'd I get what?"

"The cigarette- you don't smoke. the coffee, the croissant, and the sunglasses."

"Bought these online before we left," she said, gesturing to the sunglasses. "The coffee and croissant are room service. I went down to the front desk and got the cigarettes there. The girl handed them over like mints. This is France, I guess."

"You don't even smoke," I echoed Becca from last night.

"I've had like two puffs," she said. "It's just nice sitting on a balcony in Paris with a cigarette. If I tilt my head at this exact angle and don't move, I can see the Eiffel Tower between those two buildings."

"Where? Let me see!"

Ashley stood up and let me sit in her chair. I imitated the tilt of her head and caught a glimpse of the famous tower in the gap between two buildings. I sighed happily. "I'm so excited to finally be here," I said.

After Becca and Megan were ready, the four of us headed out towards the Champs-Elysees. Paris's biggest street stretched out before us just like I'd always imagined it. High fashion boutiques, fancy restaurants and cafes, and jewelry stores stretched out on both sides. The sidewalks were so wide they seemed even wider than the street itself. A line of impeccably pruned green trees separated the sidewalk from the street. We headed down one side of the street slowly, heading down towards the Arc de Triomphe. We stopped to look in the windows of some of the shops, but I felt so overwhelmed that I was sure a snooty Parisian shop assistant would laugh at me and escort me out if I dared to set foot in the door of Chanel or Dior.

When we reached the end of the street, we stopped at the massive traffic circle and took pictures of the Arc de Triomphe. "Do you want to climb to the top?" asked Becca hopefully.

"NO," said Ashley. "Let's walk down the other side of the street. I want to find something to wear out tonight."

"We'll do tourist stuff tomorrow, Becca," I promised her. We crossed the street and headed down in the other direction until finally Ashley dragged us in to a Louis Vuitton store. I felt like I had to whisper, like I was in a museum or something. The saleswoman ignored us at first until Megan pointed out a beautiful leather purse to me.

"You should get yourself something like that," she said. "Honestly, even if it's not to get back at Bradley, you could carry that bag every day."

"You think?" I asked her.

"Of course. Excuse me- um, _excusez-moi_..." Megan gestured to the saleswoman, who came over with a doubtful look on her face. "My friend would like to see this handbag, please."

The saleswoman took it out and handed it to me. I put it over my shoulder and looked in the mirror. It was a beautiful bag. The leather was heavy but soft to the touch, and the style was so classic I could use it for years to come. "I love it," I admitted.

"Three thousand euros," said the saleswoman.

The old, practical Julia winced at the price. That was a few mortgage payments, or a new dining room set to replace the one that had gotten scratched in the move! That was summer camp for Henry and horseback riding lessons for Olivia. But the new, go with the flow Julia who sometimes took time to do something nice for herself, looked in the mirror and saw a beautiful handbag. "I'll take it," I declared.

After the saleswoman had wrapped it up for me and I'd handed over Bradley's credit card, we decided to get something to eat. A cafe was a few doors down; it was a cute sidewalk café, so ordered sandwiches and wine. I couldn't stop sneaking glances down at my new handbag.

Lunch was expensive, but with Bradley footing the bill I was able to relax and enjoy the atmosphere of sitting on a sunny sidewalk on one of the most fashionable streets in the world, watching tourists and Parisians hurry by.

When lunch was over we continued down the Champs-Elysees, mostly window shopping but occasionally going inside a store. We came across a shopping arcade, where we discovered a store that sold dresses that would be great for going out tonight. It was almost like high school again, as the four of us crowded in to the tiny dressing rooms, trading dresses, going back for different sizes, ooh-ing and ahh-ing and sometimes shaking our heads until we had each found a dress we were happy with.

"I can't wait to wear this out tonight," said Ashley, as we left the store.

"Where do you guys want to go?" asked Megan. "For dinner and dancing, I mean."

"I could Google-" I started to say, but Megan shook her head.

"Remember, Jules? No planning. Just let what happens, happen."

"Agreed," said Ashley. "We can ask at the front desk of the hotel a good area to visit, but once we're there, we just follow our noses and find a great spot."

It was four o'clock by that time, and I knew the French wouldn't eat dinner until late, so when Becca asked if we could walk across the bridge down the street from our hotel to visit the Eiffel Tower, we all agreed. We stopped in at our hotel to stash our shopping bags in our rooms, and then walked across the bridge spanning the Seine.

The Eiffel Tower stood in the middle of a huge garden, and the lawns were covered in tourists. Some were big groups- school groups in matching t-shirts, or a busload of Japanese tourists crowding in for a group photo- and others were smaller...families, couples, young college age kids. For a minute I felt jealous of the college kids, getting out and travelling the world before a husband and family came along. I'd married Bradley right out of college and we'd had Henry right away. At the time it had felt so right, and we'd been so happy to start a family. I didn't regret having my son, but I couldn't help but wonder for the first time what my life might have been like if I hadn't stayed with Bradley.

The lineup to buy tickets to the top was long, but it passed quickly as we people-watched and chatted about tonight. Ashley kept bringing up revenge sex, but I brushed her off. We inched forward in line until it was finally our turn to be crammed into an elevator with about fifty other people. We rode a series of three elevators all the way to the top, where we squeezed our way through the crowd until we managed to get a spot at the railing to look out over Paris.

"Look! That's where we were," said Megan, pointing to the wide Champs-Elysees and Arc de Triomphe in the distance.

Becca shaded her eyes. "There's the Louvre," she pointed. "Can we go there tomorrow? And Notre-Dame?"

"I'll probably be sleeping off my hangover until noon," said Ashley.

"I'll go with you, Becca," I offered, since it seemed a sin to visit Paris and not see the Mona Lisa.

"I'll go too," said Megan. "As long as we're not leaving too early."

"Is nobody else going to have a crazy good time with me tonight?" Ashley asked, disappointed.

"Of course we are," I told her. "That's what we're here for, isn't it? Let loose, relax, have a little fun."

"A lot of fun," Ashley corrected me.

"Museums can be fun too," Becca protested. Ashley laughed.

I tuned out my friends' silly argument and looked back out at the city of Paris. I'd dreamed of visiting here so often when I was younger- what little girl doesn't dream of Paris? I'd imagined standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower a hundred times before. It was just that in my dreams, it had always been Bradley standing up here next to me. I pictured his face the night of Olivia's birthday party, when he'd told me he didn't love me anymore, and tightened my grip on the railing. How could he have done this to me?

***

Back at the hotel, we took turns showering and doing our makeup and hair in the huge gilded mirrors in the bathroom. I zipped up my new body-hugging dress and took out my trusty black heels from my suitcase. I chose a necklace and some earrings to go with my dress, and went over to the mirror to see how I looked.

"You look great," Megan told me. "Only-"

"What?" I asked. "Did I leave a tag on my dress?"

"No, it's not that," said Megan. "It's just...do you think you're going to leave your wedding ring on?"

My hand flew to my ring automatically. It was a small, simple ring that had been all we could afford when we'd been fresh out of college. We'd discussed upgrading and getting me a new wedding set for our tenth anniversary, but I was sentimental about my little ring.

"I don't know," I said. "I'm not sure I can bring myself to take it off just yet."

"That's okay," said Megan gently. "Do you know if Bradley's taken his off yet?"

"Bradley hasn't worn his regularly for a few months. He said it was irritating his skin- he thinks he's allergic to it or something," I said. As the words came out of my mouth, I realized that I'd never noticed any rash or irritation on his hands.

My face must have changed, because Megan looked concerned. "What's wrong?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing. Hey, I'm going to turn my phone back on, okay? I want to check in with my mom and make sure the kids are okay."

I went out to the balcony and turned my phone on. While I waited for it to boot up, I looked out over the rooftops of Paris and sighed. I was supposed to be coming here to escape, but it seemed that everywhere were little reminders of my old life.

My phone vibrated, indicating I had new messages. I picked it up and almost dropped it again right away when I saw the number of messages I had- thirty texts, five voicemails, and dozens of missed calls. Had something happened to Henry and Olivia at my parents' place? Without even checked the content of the messages, I called my mom straight away.

She answered on the third ring. "Hello? Julia, is that you?"

"Is everything okay?" I asked frantically.

"Of course," my mom replied calmly. "What's wrong? Did you get my text? I let you know this morning that the kids had a great night last night and are excited to be here. We're just sitting down to lunch now. Say hi, kids!" In the background, I could hear a chorus of 'Hi, mommy' from Henry and Olivia.

"You didn't call me a bunch of times and leave some voicemails?" I asked her.

"No, why?"

"Oh...no reason." I chatted with her briefly, and then said a quick hello to Henry and Olivia, before hanging up before I could go in to my messages and look at them. If it wasn't the kids, then it had to be...

Bradley. Bradley. Bradley. Every missed call, voicemail, and text- save the one from my mother letting me know the kids were doing great- was from Bradley. I listened to one voicemail and heard a stream of profanity directed at me. Somewhere in there I heard him mention "wifi password".

Ashley stuck her head out the balcony door that led to the other room. "Who's yelling at you?" she asked. "Sounds pissed."

"Bradley," I said.

"What's he so mad about? Begging you to come home and says he's learned his lesson?"

"No," I said, scrolling through the texts to see if they were all along the same lines. They were. "Before I left, I changed the wifi password."

Ashley's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

I nodded.

"Wow," she said. "Good for you, Julia! Honestly, I didn't think you had it in you. First the wifi password, then the credit card...maybe you're learning how to get even."

"I think I am," I said. I stood up and went back in to my room. In one quick motion, I took off my wedding ring and tucked it inside my jewelry case.

# Chapter Eight

"How do you say 'Cheers' in French?" Megan asked the handsome waiter who brought us our drinks.

"In French, we say ' _to health_!'" he replied. "So you would say, _Santé_!"

The four of us clinked glasses together and chorused, "Santé!"

Ashley had the grace to wait until he was out of earshot before she said, "That's boring. You should have asked him how to say 'Here's to a wild and crazy night!'"

"I'm starting to get kind of scared what you're planning," joked Becca. "We all know I'm not a very wild and crazy person."

"You can cut loose," urged Ashley. "We all can." She took a huge sip of wine. "We eat here and have a few drinks, then leave in search of a good time. I may not have danced on a table for a few years now, but I still have the moves in me."

"I don't know about on a table, but I'm looking forward to just doing some regular, floor dancing," I admitted. "I can't remember the last time I did that. Not in years."

"Well, we're all going to have a good time tonight," Megan declared.

"Remember," added Ashley, "no planning! Tonight we're going to go with the flow. Right, Julia?"

"That's right," I said, hoping I wasn't going to be getting in over my head.

Our food arrived soon, and the duck confit I'd ordered was heavenly. We'd ordered a bottle of wine for our table and it flowed freely- the waiter had to bring out a fresh bottle more than once. I lost count after the third bottle appeared at the table.

I thought I was stuffed full, but when Becca ordered a crème brûlée, I just had to have one too. "This is heavenly," I said, closing my eyes as I took a bite. "I can almost feel my pants not fitting tomorrow."

"Who cares," said Becca. "It's worth it!"

"Better than sex?" teased Ashley.

"I think so," I said.

"Bradley obviously hasn't been doing very well, then," she said. "Just you wait, Jules. We'll find you someone you wouldn't dream of comparing to dessert."

I rolled my eyes and took another bite of crème brûlée, Ashley's comment had stuck in my head and I couldn't help think about what she had said. Bradley and I had been together since high school. He'd been my first, and my only. I'd always felt satisfied when we had sex. I'd never thought that I was missing out on anything when my friends talked about some of the different guys they had dated. But Ashley's comment made me start to wonder- had I been missing out? Was sex with Bradley in reality just average? Could it be better? I used to be horrified at the prospect of being with another man. But to my surprise, for the first time, I felt somewhat curious about being intimate with someone else. Would he feel different? Would he try different things?

We finished our meal just before midnight and paid the bill- rather, Bradley paid our bill- and then set out in search of a place to dance the rest of the night away. The concierge at our hotel had directed us to an area with lots of fashionable restaurants and nightclubs, but we'd arrived in a taxi so I had no idea where we were in relation to our hotel. At any rate, we turned a corner down a narrow street and saw crowds of people lining up to get in various clubs. The thumping bass was so strong that if I put my hand on my chest I was sure I could feel my heart vibrate.

"Is this where we're going?" asked Becca nervously. "I'm not sure if I'm cool enough to get in to a place like this."

"Just show some cleavage and we'll get in anywhere," Ashley advised her.

"Which place do you want to go to?" asked Megan, looking around. "It looks like there's a line everywhere."

We stood in the middle of the street while fashionable clubbers hurried around us in both directions. I felt like it was the first day of high school again- had I dressed okay? Would the other kids laugh at my outfit?

"Julia should choose a place," said Ashley. "That place down there with the strobe lights looks cool, but it has the longest line. Or Club Techno, that one looks cool too." She pointed to the lineup nearest to us. "But I think Julia should pick. It's her night, after all."

I took a deep breath and looked up and down the street. Across the street, one of the lineups seemed to feature fewer teenagers and more people our age. Maybe that would be more comfortable for us- after all, I wasn't even sure if I liked techno music.

But that wasn't what this trip was about, I reminded myself. It was about pushing my boundaries and doing things differently. Creating new experiences. Who knew, maybe I'd end up liking techno music. "Club Strobe Lights," I said, pointing down the street at the longest line. "If the line is the longest, then I think that means it's the best place."

Ashley cheered, and the four of us linked arms as we walked down to get in line behind the velvet rope.

We waited for about fifteen minutes before we reached the front of line. I'd noticed a few people ahead of us hadn't been let in, which Ashley assured me was a good thing because it meant they had standards. When it was our turn, the bouncer looked us all up and down before he nodded and stepped aside. We paid the cover fee and entered the club.

It was so loud I couldn't even hear myself think. I was grateful when Megan grabbed my hand and pulled me after Ashley, who was heading towards a seating area just outside the dance floor. Despite the line outside, it wasn't very crowded inside. So we were able to find a seat. We had barely sat down before a bartender came by and asked if we'd like anything to drink.

"A round of shots," said Ashley.

"It's been ages since I've done shots," I protested.

"Up for anything, remember?" Megan reminded me.

I sighed and nodded, and when the bartender came back with a small tray of shot glasses, I took one and knocked it back just like I was back in college.

Since the dance floor wasn't yet full, we ordered fruity drinks and sat down for a while, talking. Since it was half past midnight at that point I was a bit worried I'd chosen badly and we'd picked a dud, but the girls assured me that things would pick up after one. "I must be old," I sighed. "By one, I'm just about ready for bed."

"Well, I'm not out every weekend like I'm twenty-one again," said Megan, "but we're on vacation, and it's kind of nice to go out like this, isn't it?"

I had to admit it was. I'd gotten way too accustomed to yoga pants and my minivan. It did feel great to be wearing a cute dress and high heels and sit down in a hot nightclub with a drink in my hand. It felt like I was living someone else's life for a minute instead of my own humdrum existence.

The girls were right and the club did pick up after one. People started filling up the dance floor, and once we'd finished our drinks we joined them. I'd always been self-conscious dancing, but somehow in this crowd of people I didn't care what anybody else thought and just let loose and enjoyed myself. It was noisy and crowded and I thought I didn't like techno music, but before I knew it I could almost feel it inside me, pulsing. We danced until our feet were sore, and we made our way back to where we'd been sitting before. Another group of people were sitting there, so we found some empty spots in a booth with a few other women.

"Mind if we sit here?" asked Becca, sliding down to an empty seat. "Um, excusez-moi..."

"Oh, it's fine, no problem!" said the woman with a big smile. I was relieved to hear she was American, since I knew there was no way I'd be able to remember any of my high school French when I was drunk.

"Thanks," I said.

"I'm going to go get us another round of shots," said Ashley, and she disappeared towards the bar.

"So are you having fun yet, Jules?" Megan asked me.

"I'm having a blast!" I exclaimed. "God, I haven't gone out dancing in forever. This was exactly what I needed. Just some drinks and dancing with good friends. And I'm excited to explore Paris a little further tomorrow..... in the afternoon, at least. I'm going to be paying for this tomorrow morning!"

"Is this your first time in Paris?" asked one of the other women we were sitting near, leaning in so I could hear her over the thumping bass.

I nodded. "We all came here together for the first time, on a- a sort of girls trip, I guess."

"Oh, fun!" she said. "We're here on a similar trip. My friend over there- Amy- she's turning thirty-five this year- we're on a trip for her birthday. We got here the day before yesterday."

"This was our first day here," said Megan. "We got in late last night, just did a bit of shopping today before we went out to dinner. I'm Megan- this is Julia and Becca."

"I'm Claire," said the woman, holding out her hand. "Besides Amy, that's Sarah and Nicole. What are you guys up to after this place?"

Becca and I exchanged a look. " _After_ this place?" I repeated. By my best guess, it was at least two in the morning. I'd already started imagining what my bed would feel like after a night of dancing in high heels.

"Yeah," said Claire. "It's Europe; things are only getting started!"

"Umm," said Becca.

"We haven't thought that far ahead yet," said Megan.

"I think we're having a bit of a party at our suite afterwards," said Claire. "Amy's arranging the whole thing. I don't want to sound weird, but you girls are more than welcome to come if you'd like!"

"Like...what kind of party?" asked Becca.

"Just a few of us, some other friends we've met here," said Claire.

Ashley showed up just then, her hands full of shots. "Shots all around!" she said cheerfully, handing the glasses to Becca, Megan, and I. "What're we all talking about?"

"We're just making new friends here," I said. I gestured to our new friend. "This is Claire- Claire, this is our other friend, Ashley."

"Hey!" said Claire. "I was just asking your friends if you guys had plans for after this place."

"After this place?" repeated Ashley, and I was relieved I wasn't the only one who hadn't thought about an after-hours party. "No, I don't think so, we don't have anything planned. We're just going with the flow tonight."

"Well, in that case, you guys should totally come," said Claire. "We're having some people over to our suite after this place closes down- at three, or whenever. I can give you the address if you're interested."

Unlike Becca, Megan, and I, Ashley didn't hesitate. "Sure!" she said, and pulled out her phone. "Here- just write the name of the hotel in here and a number we should call when we get there."

I stared at my friend in shock as Claire tapped away at the phone's screen. Was Ashley insane? Just meeting strangers at nightclubs and going back to parties at their hotel rooms?

"Are you nuts?" I whispered in her ear, once she had her phone back and had squeezed on to the banquette next to me. "Just going to hang out with a stranger like that?"

"It's not any different than a one night stand, really," Ashley shrugged. "Ohhh, wait. You've never had one of those, have you? Just Bradley....you poor dear." She patted me on the head, then gave me a little hug. "You just have to go with it sometimes, Jules. If we never talked to people we didn't know, how could we ever make new friends?"

She was right in a way, but she was also totally wrong. You met new friends at yoga class or chatting on the playground, not when a stranger invited you back to their hotel for a party.

We stayed at the club a bit longer- having another round of drinks, going back out to the dance floor, before we decided it was time to go and stumbled outside.

"I'm about ready for bed," said Becca, yawning. "I had a great time, but I'm tired."

"Me too," I agreed. "Sorry, Ashley, I just don't think I'm up for an after party."

"But that's not fair," said Ashley. "You agreed- whatever happens, happens! Maybe we'll have a great time. And hey, if it turns crazy, at least we'll have a great story, right?"

"Right, like waking up in a bathtub with a missing kidney," said Becca. "Ha ha ha, that was such a great time!"

"Don't be a party pooper," said Ashley. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

"I don't know," I said. "Megs?"

"I'm up for it," she declared. "Ashley's right- it could end up being a lot of fun. Go with the flow, remember, Jules?"

She was right. Becca rolled her eyes at us but came along anyway, claiming that someone would have to call the police when Claire and her friends tried to hold us hostage. I was tired, but couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervous excitement as we piled in to a cab on the way to Claire's hotel.

It was a large, fancy hotel, and when Ashley called the number Claire had given her we were told to get in the elevator and go right up to the penthouse suite. We crowded in together and when the doors opened, we were right in the penthouse suite.

I looked around. There were several chairs and small couches set up in a seating area, with a big open space in the middle. For mingling, I assumed, or maybe dancing. A bar was set up in one corner of the room and about ten other women were hanging out in the room.

When she noticed we'd arrived, one of the women broke away from the group she'd been chatting with and walked over to us with a smile. "Hi," she said. "I'm Amy- I'm hosting this party tonight. My friend Claire met you at the club we were at earlier, didn't she?"

We all nodded, and introduced ourselves. "Great," said Amy. "Once everyone gets here, we'll get started. Have you been to a party like this before? Did Claire fill you in?"

"She said it was a party," I said. "Is there more to it?"

Amy smiled. "Oh, you're in for a treat," she said. "We've got some great guests coming tonight. It's CFNM- clothed females, naked males. We're going to have some men here to serve us, there will be games and so on- really, it'll be a great time! No pressure to touch, but if you want to, it's up to you."

The elevator pinged its arrival again, with another small group of women, and Amy moved on to greet them. The four of us stood there in a tight cluster, looking at one another. Amy's reveal about the party's true nature had truly thrown me for a loop. Getting roofied and waking up with my purse stolen and no idea how to get back to the hotel- that had been the worst case scenario I'd imagined earlier. A sex party hadn't crossed my mind and I wasn't sure what to think.

"Did she say, naked males?" asked Becca. "I don't know about this."

"I don't know. I think it could be fun," said Megan. "Clothed females, that's us- we don't have to do anything we don't want to."

"I don't think I'm comfortable with this," I said. "I just- I know that if Bradley and I separate, I'll have to sleep with someone else, eventually. I'll see another man naked, eventually. But I don't know if I'm ready to do it now."

"Are you telling me you've never seen another man naked before?" Ashley demanded.

"Well- I mean, we watched porn together once or twice, but I know those guys aren't like in real life" I started to say.

Ashley interrupted me. "Oh, honey. We really do need to stay, then.....for your own education. There's a lot more out there than just Bradley. Look, we don't take our clothes off. If you decide you don't like it, you don't have to look. But you need to give it a try. No excuses, remember?"

I took a deep breath. "All right," I said. "Let's stay."

# Chapter Nine

We got some drinks from the bartender and decided to sit down together while we waited for the party to get underway. I looked around at the other women there and tried to get a read on them. Some of them seemed filled with nervous excitement, like we were. Others seemed totally at ease and circulated around, chatting easily with each other. I remembered Claire saying that she and her friends came here regularly and realized that they must do this kind of thing all the time.

Finally, Amy came out and stood in the center of the circle. "Ladies, if you wouldn't mind, it's time to take a seat," she said. "We're going to get this party started!"

The more experienced women let out whoops and cheers as they found chairs. Once we were all sitting down, music started to play. The bartender came out from behind the bar, opened a set of double doors that led to another room, and dimmed the lights. A spotlight stayed trained on the open area in the middle of the room. I couldn't help but crane my neck to watch as the bartender led a group of men- four or five of them, I guessed, compared to the twenty or so women waiting- to dance in the stage area.

I wanted to look away- I felt like I should look away- but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Once I'd attended a bachelorette party that had a male stripper, and at first it was like that with dancing men. They were doing a striptease as they removed their clothes. The other women in the room were clapping along with the music, whooping and hollering as they cheered the men on. I clapped along to the beat so I wouldn't look out of place, too.

I snuck a look at my friends to see what their reactions were. Ashley, as I might have guessed, was cheering loudly and encouraging them to shake it. But Megan and even Becca seemed like they were enjoying themselves, too. The men were definitely nice to look at, I had to admit. Their muscular bodies rippled under smooth, tanned skin. I tried my hardest to keep my eyes up on their faces, but every now and then I couldn't help but stare at their cocks. Aside from the very occasional porn film, Bradley's was the only one I had seen before. Next to the men in front of me, his was tiny.

After a song or two had played, Amy stood up and made an announcement. "For the rest of the night, ladies, these men are here to serve you," she said. "Drinks, food, a massage...anything you want. Don't be shy. Take some time to mingle, and we're going to have a little competition starting up in a short while!"

My friends and I turned to each other to touch base. "Well?" asked Becca. "What do you think?"

"This is amazing," said Ashley. "I'm so glad I made us come. What's not to like, ladies? Honestly? Naked men serving you drinks and giving massages...I'll take it! Who wants a drink?" She snapped her fingers and called out for someone to bring her a fresh drink. Not even a minute later, a naked man appeared with a fresh glass of wine.

"For you, madame," he said, bowing slightly. Ashley gave his buttocks a squeeze and dismissed him.

"I think it's kind of fun, too," admitted Megan. "I mean, we're on vacation, its Paris, everyone knows the French are the sexiest people alive...why not? It's not like any of us are cheating by looking at some other guys."

Becca stood up and I almost thought she was going to leave, but she just pointed to one of the men. "That guy is so unbelievably sexy. My feet hurt from dancing all night...I'm going to go make him give me a foot massage." I watched her walk over to him and had to make a conscious effort to keep my mouth closed from the shock. Becca- sweet, museum-loving Becca- was getting in to the vibe of Amy's party.

Megan stood up too. "I think I'm going to go dance with that group over there," she said, pointing to where a cluster of a few women were taking turns pressing up against a naked man and grinding.

"I'll go with you," said Ashley, tipping back her glass of wine. "Come on, Jules! It'll be fun."

I couldn't. I shook my head, feeling too embarrassed to even say a word.

Ashley frowned. "Oh, come on," she said. "It's just a bit of dancing. You had fun doing that at the club, didn't you?"

"I- I have to get another drink," I said. "Maybe later." Ashley shrugged, and followed Megan over to the group that was dancing.

I was only sitting by myself for a minute or two before Claire, the woman I'd been talking to at the club who had invited us all here in the first place, stopped by. "Julia! Are you having a good time?" she asked. "There's going to be some great contests we make them do coming up- and there _will_ be a ruler involved," she promised. "Want to come dance?"

"Um, that's okay, thanks," I said. "Actually, where is the restroom, if you don't mind?"

"Oh, sure, it's just through there," said Claire, pointing at the doors that the men had come through at the beginning of the party.

"Thanks," I said, and slipped away.

I took my time in the bathroom, which was the size of the master bedroom back in my house in Ohio and even more luxurious than the bathroom at our hotel room here in Paris. I reapplied my lipstick, and pulled out my phone to check if I had any new messages. (Two more angry texts from Bradley, who hadn't been able to find where I had hidden the toilet paper, so he was going to be staying at Nikki's and he hoped I was satisfied.) Feeling angry all over again, I sat down on one of the chairs in the bathroom for a few minutes playing games on my phone until enough time had passed that I thought the mingling session might be over out in the main room.

I opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out. I was in a bedroom with a king sized four poster bed and, lounging on it, a very attractive man. Unlike the other men out in the main room, he was dressed in linen slacks and a blue shirt. I was so surprised to see him that I did a double take.

"Oh, hello there," he said nonchalantly, looking up from a tablet. "What are you doing in here? Party's out there."

"It's...not really my thing," I said. "I came here with friends, and they're out there having a great time."

"I see," he nodded. "Same thing with me. I came with some friends, but you can't have a clothed man at one of these parties I guess."

"What made you come?" I asked, taking a step closer despite myself. "Wouldn't it make more sense to go back to your hotel? I mean, it's what-" I looked around the room for a clock and didn't see one, so I pulled out my phone- "after three AM. Wouldn't you rather be sleeping?"

"I'm visiting Paris with a few friends," he said. "Three girls, two guys. We were all going to go out but the other guy, he came down with food poisoning at dinner so it was just the four of us. While we were at a club my friends got invited to come to a party here. Guess the woman who invited them didn't realize I was with them. Imagine my surprise when I showed up here." He laughed. "Amy did say I was more than welcome to strip down and join the dancers, but it's not really my thing either."

"Oh, no!" My hand went to my mouth to cover up a giggle that was threatening to slip out. "I'd be mortified. I don't know how they do it."

"There's some kind of dick measuring contest going on," said the guy. "I don't feel up to subjecting myself to that kind of humiliation right now."

"I'm Julia," I introduced myself. "Do you mind if I stay in here and hang out with you while they continue their party out there?"

"Sure. I'm Matthew," he said. He looked to be around my age and had that wholesome, all-American look to him- blond hair, blue eyes, and a strong jaw. He patted the bed next to him, and as I sat down I couldn't help wondering what he might have looked like up there in comparison to the other men with no clothes on. "So what are you doing here in Paris?" he asked. "How do you like it?"

"Oh, I'm here on a girl's trip," I said. "We just got here the other day so we haven't really been out to see much. Just a bit of shopping on the Champs-Elysees and a trip up the Eiffel Tower, then out to dinner and clubbing tonight of course. But I love what I've seen. It's a city that so many people dream of, you know? I never imagined that I would actually be here one day and seeing it all in person. I want to- well, no, it sounds silly."

"Oh, you can't leave me hanging like that!" said Matthew. "Nothing's that silly. What do you want to do here?"

"I just want to find some old, twisty cobblestone streets filled with cute little stores full of hidden treasures, and tiny but delicious cafes," I admitted. "Just wander around by myself for hours and get lost and enjoy the atmosphere. I usually have a problem with over-planning vacations so I made a promise to the girls that I wouldn't do that, but I need to have some kind of plan to function- even if getting lost is my plan, you know?"

"I get it," he said. "You should check out Montmartre. We were there the other day- you start at the bottom and just kind of pick a street and walk up towards the top of the hill. It's a great way to spend a day doing pretty much nothing."

"I'll have to go there," I said. "How long have you been here? What else do you recommend we do?"

I leaned back against the soft pillows of the bed and relaxed for the first time all night. Matthew and his friends had been here a few days so far, but it wasn't his first trip to the city. He'd first visited it as a young college kid travelling Europe during the summer, like the backpackers I'd been envious of at the Eiffel Tower earlier today. He talked on for a while, telling me about the Louvre- I couldn't miss the Louis XIV rooms- and the Rodin Museum couldn't be missed either, and if the weather was nice some of the parks around the city were great to wander through.

On the other side of the bedroom doors, I could hear the music start up again. I found myself hoping that none of the girls came looking for me to drag me back out to watch the erection measuring competition. I was enjoying talking to Matthew much more than I'd enjoyed watching the spectacle out in the other room.

"You want a drink?" he asked, getting up from the bed and walking to the door. He peeked out through the crack. "I doubt anybody would notice if we snuck out there and grabbed a bottle of something."

I followed suit. "Let me go grab something," I said. "You'd stick out too much, being a man wearing clothes and all."

Matthew laughed and stepped back. "Okay, go grab us some drinks," he said. He opened the door and I slipped through the crack.

I scurried along the wall to the bar in the corner and ducked down behind it. I grabbed a couple glasses and looked for a bottle of wine. For such a small bar it was well stocked, but I didn't want to be grabbing ingredients for lots of different drinks. I held a bottle of wine and a glass in each hand, and tucked a third bottle of wine- opened, but not much gone- under my arm. I peeked up over the bar to make sure nobody was looking.

I had nothing to be afraid of, since a line of naked men were getting their erections measured. Five different women were standing up there too, holding measuring tapes. I recognized Ashley as one of them. I gave my head a little shake and hurried back to the door that Matthew had left open a crack. My friends didn't seem to be missing my presence at all. Well, too bad, because hanging out with Matthew and drinking some wine was more my style anyway.

Nobody noticed me as I dashed back in to the back bedroom with my loot. "Well done!" Matthew exclaimed, once the door was closed behind me. "Wow, I'm impressed. Three bottles of wine? That takes skill to carry all that back in here!"

"Thanks," I said, feeling strangely proud of myself. He accepted the glass I held out to him, and took one of the bottles of wine as well.

He poured both glasses full and took a sip. "So did anybody see you?" he asked.

"No, they were all pretty preoccupied," I replied. "I don't think my friends even noticed I was gone." I couldn't hide the disappointment in my voice.

"Maybe they thought you left and went home," Matthew suggested. "If they knew you weren't having a good time, that is."

"Maybe," I agreed. I took a sip of wine. "God, I haven't done anything like this in years. I was never a very wild kid in high school and in college, I had a- a steady boyfriend I spent most of my time with. I never went out to wild parties, that kind of thing."

"Sounds like a game of, _never have I ever gone to a wild party_ ," said Matthew, taking another sip of wine.

"Huh?"

"You've never played that game? Oh good, I'm so glad I met you tonight. It's a game, a drinking game...typically it's played at those wild teenage parties. One person says something they've never done, and if you've done that thing, you've got to take a drink. Let's play. Okay?"

"Sure," I said, feeling reckless. I took a sip of wine too. "As of tonight, I have gone to a wild party. Your turn."

"Hmm," he said. "I'll start easy. Let's see- never have I ever skipped school."

"You never did senior skip day?" I asked. I took a sip of wine...two, actually. I couldn't help but remember Bradley and I sometimes skipping class to make out behind the gym. Then I remembered the day he'd pressured me to skip class to be with him when I'd had an essay due, and I ended up handing it in late. I'd given things up for him. I'd made sacrifices. And this was how he'd repaid me.

"Nope," said Matthew. "Your turn."

"Never have I ever...lied on my resume."

"I'm not evil," said Matthew. "I've never done that. Never have I ever gone skinny dipping."

That summer during college when Bradley and I had gone camping and enjoyed a moonlit swim. I took a drink. "Never have I ever cheated on someone."

I waited, but Matthew didn't drink. "You're supposed to get me drunk," he said. "Stuff you haven't done, but everyone else probably has."

"You never know," I said. "Okay, fine. Never have I ever passed out after drinking."

Matthew took a big gulp of wine. "Never have I ever had a pet."

I sipped my wine, remembering the cat we'd had to give away when it was apparent he didn't like toddler Henry. "Never have I ever had a fake ID."

"If I'd grown up in France, I wouldn't have needed it," Matthew said as he finished off his glass of wine. He poured himself another, then topped mine up. "Never have I ever kissed a stranger."

# Chapter Ten

His voice had changed. It wasn't giddy from the excitement of stealing the wine anymore, or wistful like when he'd talked about his favorite places in Paris. It was low, expectant. I didn't move my glass of wine. I looked at him.

He took a step towards me, sipped from his glass, and then set it on a side table. Gently, he took my glass out of my hands and set it next to his. He took my hand and lifted it up to touch his cheek. "Julia," he said softly.

I ran my hand up through his thick hair, then caressed his neck. "Matthew," I whispered. I was standing closer to him than I had ever stood next to any man before, save my husband....my ex, soon to be ex-husband.

"I think you're going to need some wine," he said, and bent to kiss me.

Every objection I could think of ran through my head- I'm still married! I just met you! My friends are all out there! But as soon as his lips touched mine, I forgot them all. It had been a long time since Bradley and I had been intimate, too long, and as I tasted the wine on Matthew's lips I realized how much I had ached for someone to touch me the past few weeks.

His tongue lightly stroked mine as he ran his hands over my body. "You're so sexy," he whispered in my ear. "The second I saw you I knew I wanted you."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I whispered back. "This isn't me at all!"

"That's what is so great about it," he murmured. "You can be whoever you want to be tonight."

He was right. I would never see him again after tonight, and I'd had just enough to drink that I knew what I wanted. I reached out to caress the bulge in his pants, and grew bold enough to undo the button. His cock was right there, thick and throbbing and ready to burst out if I hadn't undone the button myself. "It's too bad you didn't enter that contest out there," I told him. "I know you would've won."

He moaned gently and reached out against the wall to steady himself as I continued to stroke his shaft. "Oh, god, Julia...your hands are magical."

It gave me such a feeling of power to see a strong man like him succumb to me so quickly. I could feel myself getting wet between the legs, and I wanted him inside me. I glanced over my shoulder at the huge, pristine bed he'd been sitting on when I first saw him.

"Bed?" he gasped. "I need you."

"What if someone comes in?" I whispered.

"Too late for that."

I had an idea. "Come with me," I said, and, cock still in hand, led him towards the bathroom. I shut and locked the door behind us. There was a thick pile rug on the floor that I'd been thinking of, but Matthew had different plans. He reached out and pulled down the zipper on my dress. "Your turn," he told me.

I hesitated only a second before stepping out of my dress before I fell back in to him. He flicked my nipples with his tongue until they were erect, and I cried out. His mouth on mine was forceful and we staggered backwards until we fell into the armchair I had sat in earlier. I ground my hips in a hard circle against him as he slid one hand in my panties and gently entered me with his fingers. I made a sound I'd never heard before- Matthew was getting something out of me I didn't know I had. With one finger he pounded at the soft flesh while the other massaged my clit with such a gentle touch it was like two different hands.

"Ahhhh," I groaned, as I bucked and ground my hips against him as hard as I could.

Abruptly, he stopped.

"Keep going," I begged him. "Oh, God, what are you doing to me?"

"Get in the shower," he told me. "Come on!"

I didn't ask questions, just followed him. With one quick motion he turned the shower on, then grabbed me by the hand and pulled me in after him and pushed me up against the wall. The spray from the water hit my breasts and rolled down my stomach, where he gently kissed and licked them up.

"Careful," he warned, as he knelt and lifted one of my legs. He hooked it over his shoulder and gestured towards a shelf within arm's reach. "Better hold on."

I grabbed the shelf for balance and leaned my head back against the wall as Matthew's tongue darted in and out of my folds. The sensation of the cool tile pressing on my back mingled with the warm wetness coming from inside me and the spray from the water almost pushed me over the brink. The leg I was standing on buckled and I reached out to grab the first thing I touched- his hair.

"Please!" I cried out. "I'm going to fall down!"

He stopped then just long enough to lay me down on the floor of the shower before going back down. His tongue flicked and stroked in ways I had never felt before, and now here was a finger again rubbing hard against my clit. With one final stroke I felt a wave come over my body and, against my will, my back arched against the hard floor and I let out a howl of pleasure as I came hard and fast.

"That's it, baby," said Matthew, and he slid out of the spray long enough to grab a foil packet from his trousers and slipped it on. Then he entered me. With a few strong thrusts, I wrapped my legs around him and let him take me. Gliding and rocking with a frantic passion for what seemed like hours, he finally erupted.

Satisfied and panting, we laid on the floor and stared at each other. "That was amazing," said Matthew.

"It was incredible," I said. I'd never had sex like that before with Bradley. I didn't even know noises like that could come from me. I stared up at the ceiling.

Bradley.

***

Matthew had stepped in to the shower and was cleaning himself off. I wasn't sure how this worked now- did I join him? Showering together seemed such an intimate thing to do. I had to laugh a bit at myself for the thought.

"Here's a towel," said Matthew, getting out of the shower and handing me a thick, fluffy white towel. "Let's dry off and get dressed. We don't want the others to have to go looking for us."

"Sure," I said slowly. "Thanks."

We dried off and got dressed, and I got a look at myself in the mirror. I had eye makeup dripping down my face, so I tried my best to clean it up a bit. I didn't have any more to reapply and I looked oddly naked without any eyeliner.

Back out in the bedroom, Matthew picked up his glass of wine with a casual nonchalance, like nothing had happened between us. "Sounds like it's winding down out there," he said, nodding towards the door. "Should we take a look and see what's going on?"

"Okay," I said. I stopped with my hand on the doorknob and turned to face him. "Before we go out- I've never done this before. I don't know how it works, afterwards-"

"Don't worry about it," he interrupted, and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. "You're one hell of a beautiful woman, Julia. I don't expect anything if you don't want it. It was a hell of a lot more fun than what I thought I'd be doing in this bedroom all night long. I hope you enjoy the rest of your time in Paris."

"Thank you," I said automatically. "You, too."

Matthew didn't mean anything malicious in what he'd said, but it left me with an uneasy feeling. I'd had sex with another man who wasn't my husband. It was true that my husband had told me he wanted a divorce, but we were still married and he was still my husband. We had a comfortable home, two beautiful children, and a happy life that we had both enjoyed up until the past few months. With a bit of hard work, we could get back to that place, couldn't we? Could that still happen?

I opened the door and walked out to join the rest of the party. The contests were over and the lights had been turned down and everyone was dancing and mingling again, although this time much more closely. I scanned the group for my friends, desperately wanting to go back to the hotel and sleep in my soft bed.

To my great relief, I spotted Megan dancing in a small group with one of the men and a couple other women. I didn't care if I was interrupting anything. I walked right up to her, grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her off to the side.

"Jules! There you are," she said, giving me a small hug. "We were looking for you. Figured you'd taken a cab back to the hotel. Where were you? Your hair's all wet."

I shook my head and could barely manage to get the words out. When I did, my voice wavered. "I think I've made a huge mistake."

### To be continued...

### Thank you for reading!

Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in this series.
The Escort Next Door

by

Clara James
Copyright © 2013 by Clara James

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 any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Escort Next Door

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This Book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Clara James, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Clara James prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

Time With Friends

Paul and I had known Ben and Linda for a long time, long enough to make me feel 'old'. In fact, it was through us that the pair met. Linda had been a close friend of mine when we were both part-time clerks in an accountancy firm. She was working her way through college; I was expecting my first child.

Ben on the other hand was a friend of Paul's; they'd met at the gym and often played basketball together. Ben and Linda were eventually brought together when Paul and I threw a housewarming party. The rest as they say, is history.

"Why don't we do this more often?" Linda asked, as she offered to refill my wine glass.

"No, thanks," I politely declined. "I guess life just gets in the way," I added in response to her other question. Life really had gotten in the way, it had been over eighteen months since we'd seen Ben and Linda and in that time, we'd moved again; Paul's father had retired and Paul had taken over as CEO of the family business.

"I can imagine how busy you've been," she chuckled.

"You don't know the half of it," Paul chimed in. He was reaching for his own full glass and leaning causally back in his chair. His scarlet tie had been pulled loose enough for him to undo the top button of his shirt. The jacket of his charcoal suit had long since been removed and draped across the back of the chair. I tried to remember the last time I'd seen him that relaxed, but couldn't. He smiled broadly, that grin that never failed to light up the room. "You know, I thought life would be easier not harder once I was the boss," he added, the index finger of his free hand rubbing at his temple.

Ben laughed loudly, looping his hand over the back of Linda's chair and gently caressing her upper arm with the tips of his fingers. "I'm glad," he managed to blurt. "If being the owner of a multimillion dollar company is a walk in the park, then you're going to make me vomit."

Paul's laugh was muted, but he did shrug good-naturedly at Ben's teasing. "You're doing all right," he added, a touch defensively.

Ben tossed his bright blue eyes to Linda and they shared a silent smile. Eventually, he turned his attention back to my husband and nodded. "We're getting by. There are things I'd like to do, though," he added, his fingers stroking the stem of his wine glass. "I'd love to be able to treat Linda more. You know, I mean you can just whisk Julia away whenever, wherever. Money's never an issue."

"Yeah," Paul acknowledged, "money isn't the issue; it's time." As he shifted his left leg, his knee brushed mine and, even after almost fourteen years together, I felt a spark of electricity.

My face tipped towards his and I wondered if he felt it too. However, there was nothing in his face or his eyes that gave it away. Instead, he continued talking about how insanely busy he always is and the fact that he spends half his time traveling. I was tempted to correct him to three quarters of the time, but it seemed like a petty remark and I knew it would only anger him.

"That must be tough," Linda said sympathetically. "But you guys are such a strong couple," she added brightly. "I don't know anyone else who's still happily married to their high school sweetheart."

I smiled at her, before turning that grin on Paul. His eyes however were drawn to his glass, which he quickly drained.

We'd been sixteen, both starting our junior year, when I moved schools. At the time, I'd thought it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I distinctly remember hating my parents that summer. But in my very first class at my brand new school, I met Paul. I knew nothing about him, had no idea about his family business or how wealthy his parents were. All I knew was he was the most handsome guy I'd ever seen. Dark hair and deep brown eyes, tall, athletic, with a warm smile. The more I learned, the more I liked. He wasn't just a pretty face or a mindless jock, he had a brain too.

I, on the other hand, had issues. I was a bit too thin, a lot too flat-chested, ignored by the popular crowd and socially quite awkward. I'd felt sure that Paul didn't even know I existed. Little did I know that he had, indeed, been taking an interest in me. It wasn't until years later that he confessed to sneaking peaks at me during rehearsals with the dance team. Anyway, at the time, I was oblivious and so completely shocked when he asked me out on a date.

Those years had been magical, I was so in love with this man and giddy at the realization that he felt the same way. It was like every single one of those teenage romances I'd seen in the movies.

"I think it's wonderful," Linda commented, pulling me from my memories.

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding. "It is wonderful." Another glance at Paul found him examining the desert menu. "I mean, I know it's old fashioned," I added, "but I love that Paul is and always will be the only one."

"Hmm," he hummed in reply, his eyes still staring at the menu.

Giving up on attempts to get his attention, my own face dropped catching a glimpse of the cleavage that had been enlarged by three pregnancies. In many ways, I was physically more attractive than I had been at sixteen; my boyish figure now had some womanly curves, my breasts were significantly bigger and I felt much more comfortable in my skin. Wasn't that supposed to exude confidence and make me glow? Perhaps the problem was, I didn't feel very confident. Although I liked what I saw in the mirror, Paul always seemed to look right through me.

I'm not naïve enough to expect champagne and roses. I realize that the realities of day-to-day life don't lend themselves to the romance of teenage fantasies. There were other more important things; business trips to go on; a mortgage to pay; children to look after. I just wished that didn't mean my relationship with Paul had to come last on the list.

"Anyway," I sighed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the silence. "How are things at work?" I asked.

Linda nodded as she swallowed a mouthful of wine and replaced her glass on the table. "It's busy," she replied. "I've got two new clients and I'm trying to wrangle a good deal for them both." After studying literature at college, Linda had toyed with writing for a year or so. Eventually, she'd decided that she wanted to try something different and became a literary agent. A choice that turned out to be incredibly lucrative for her. "I'm thinking of slowing down a bit, though," she added.

"Really?" I asked, confused. I knew she loved her job and also knew that she and Ben were saving to build their own beachfront property.

"Yeah," she said, turning to her husband as if seeking permission. Ben gave no obvious sign one way or the other, but Linda could clearly read something in his eyes that I couldn't, because she grinned before gabbling, "We're trying for a baby."

"Oh," I smiled. "That's great."

"We've been thinking about it a lot lately," Ben offered, with a broad grin of his own. "We see you two with your little family and we just think..." he inhaled slowly, trying to find the right words. "Well, we want that too," he sighed.

I tried to smile, feeling instantly guilty for my rather self-pitying thoughts. What Paul and I had was enviable. I was in an enviable position, I had no business wishing things were different. "Well, I'm sure you'll make wonderful parents," I said.

Noticing Paul move out of the corner of my eye, I turned my face and watched him lift his glass, which now only had a small swill of red wine in the bottom. "Enjoy all that sex while you can, man," he joked, offering the glass toward Ben.

Ben laughed heartily tapping his own glass to Paul's. "Thanks," he chuckled.

Linda giggled too, her slender arm snaking around Ben's neck as she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "It's exciting," she blurted, turning back to me and leaving a red lipstick print on her husband's face.

I guessed she was expecting a reply, but with a false grin plastered on my face, I couldn't help but turn Paul's remark over and over in my mind. On the one hand, I wondered if I was being oversensitive. On the other, I felt that he'd taken a very personal swipe at me in front of our friends. Maybe, I silently suggested, his poor attempt at humor is nothing more than a bit of bravado. After all, I'm not the one that seems to have lost an interest in sex. He's always shunning any kind of intimacy, because he's 'too tired', or he 'has to get up early in the morning' or 'one of the children might walk in'.

"It's crazy to think that you were pregnant with Lizzie when we first met," Linda continued. "And she's what now? Seven?"

"Eight in a couple of months," I replied, automatically. I'd been unaware of even processing what she'd said let alone formulating a reply.

"Ahh," she cooed. "Next time we meet up, you'll have to bring the kids along, too."

"Yeah," Ben agreed. "It's been far too long since we've seen them. And I'm willing to bet that Dylan's becoming quite the little football player."

Our son was four going on forty. Bright and precocious, he had such an adult view of life. He takes after his father in many ways and had already decided that he wanted to be a professional athlete. Which sport, he was yet to decide. He told me that he needed to grow into his body to find out what he'd be best suited to.

"That's the difficult thing about being away for days and sometimes weeks at a time," Paul said, tossing the desert menu to one side and joining the conversation fully. "Every time I come back, they've all grown so much. Especially little Kate," he adds, shaking his head in disbelief. "One minute she was a baby, now she's a toddler already."

"They must miss you when you're away," Linda offered warmly.

"We all do," I replied, turning my eyes on him and, for the first time that night, receiving some recognition from him.

He flashed me a quick grin, and I momentarily saw the man I'd fallen in love with. It's those precious seconds that I treasured. Those were the times when I knew that deep down he was still the same and, therefore, on some level at least, _we_ must be the same. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but the words were never spoken. Instead, he was interrupted by the waitress, who asked whether anybody wanted desert.

Linda, Ben and Paul eagerly turned to her and ordered. I had no appetite for it.

# Chapter Two

Drunk

It was me that had to drive home, after Paul consumed another three glasses of wine and a small Scotch and soda. The journey was reasonably short and was passed in mostly silence. I tried to draw him into conversation, commenting on how nice it was to see them again and how happy they both seemed. However, all I received was a grunt of agreement or indifference – it was hard to tell which, perhaps it was a bit of both.

When we got home, he immediately headed upstairs. Leaving me to thank and pay the sitter. After showing her out and watching at the door to make sure she got to her car okay, I made my own way up the stairs. Turning left on the landing, I tiptoed down the hallway, checking on each of the children before finally retracing my steps and wandering into our bedroom.

Paul was sitting in the high-backed, antique chair in the corner. He was leaning back, his legs spread casually wide and swaying slightly. One elbow was perched on the mahogany arm of the chair, his head dropped against his fist. With drooping eyelids, he looked at me.

"Becky is worried she's done something to upset you," I muttered, tossing my purse on the dressing table and kicking my three-inch heels off.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you walked right past her and didn't say a word," I explained frustrated that it was necessary for me to do so.

His head suddenly straightening, he leaned forward, resting both arms on his knees. "Come over here," he said, his voice rumbling deeply in his chest.

I turned to face him, my hand reaching for one of the oak poles at the foot of our four-poster bed. "Did you hear what I said?" I asked wearily, perching my free hand on my hip.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied dismissively, his fingers grabbing the loose knot of his tie and pulling it free. He left it hanging around his neck and unclasped a button on his shirt which revealed some of the silky smooth skin of his chest. "Now, get over here," he repeated, cocking his head.

"Paul," I sighed. "I like her, she's great with the kids and she's always been very accommodating when we've needed her at the last minute. I don't want to lose her."

He rolled his heavy eyes as dramatically as his sluggish movements would allow. "Don't you think you're overreacting," he muttered.

"What I think," I replied tartly, "is that you were incredibly rude."

"She's the hired help," he scoffed. "I don't have to be nice to her, I pay her."

Exhaling slowly, I realized I was getting nowhere fast and the conversation was bringing out a side of him that I found intensely unattractive. Releasing my hold on the bed, I swiveled on the ball of my feet and headed toward our en suite bathroom. I didn't get more than two steps before Paul objected.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Getting ready for bed," I tossed over my shoulder, not bothering to turn around.

He must have been capable of moving much more quickly that I would have expected, because as I got to the door, his hand darted over my shoulder and slapped flat down on the hard wood.

Exasperated, I turned to face him. "What are you doing?"

"I don't want to fight about the stupid babysitter," he said, his voice pitched soft and a little lower than usual, while his eyes attempted to focus on me.

"Paul," I sighed, placing my hands on his chest and pushing gently.

"What?" he asked, his chocolaty gaze moving from my face and taking a leisurely trip down the length of my body.

If it hadn't been obvious before, what he wanted was very clear to me by that point. Something about the way he looked at me caused a dozen butterflies to flutter wildly in my stomach. However, another sensation, a much more stubborn one, refused to let me give into that feeling. "You don't get any sex any more, remember?" I snapped. "That's what happens when you have kids, right?"

His eyebrows moved wearily in their surprise. "What the hell are you talkin' about?" he said, louder than I think he'd intended but unable to control his volume.

Shoving a little harder at his chest, I coaxed him back a half-step. "You know what I'm talking about," I replied, brusquely. "Have you any idea how embarrassing that was for me?"

Paul kept his hand on the door and refused to budge any further. "For Christ's sake," he muttered under his breath, before shaking his head incredulously. "That was just a joke. Come on, Ben and Linda knew I was only messing around."

"It's not just a joke though, is it?" I quickly replied. "When was the last time we made love?"

My question was met with silence, while his eyes searched the ceiling and his mind trawled his memory. "I don't know," he eventually huffed. "It's been a while. We've both been busy. And when we're not busy, we're having stupid arguments like this one."

"So, it's my fault?" I defensively blurted.

"That's not what I said," he insisted. "Why do you always twist my words?" His volume crept up another notch as he slammed his palm against the still closed bathroom door.

"Shhh," I quickly hissed. "You'll wake the kids."

Exhaling heavily through his nose, he was quiet for a few moments. When he spoke again, it was in deliberately muted tones. "Why are we doing this?"

I couldn't be sure whether the question was being asked of me or my breasts, and I waited for his bleary eyes to find mine once more. "I think," I sighed, my head rocking back and resting against the door. "I think, we're both a little stressed and tired. It's a rough patch," I added. That final phrase was spoken with more confidence than I felt in it. In truth, it was a hope that I'd been clinging to. As the weeks and months dragged on, the 'patch' got bigger and bigger. I was beginning to wonder if things would ever improve.

His Adam's apple jumped as he swallowed. "All I've been thinking about over the last hour is getting you back here and ripping your clothes off," he said, the fingers of his free hand suddenly snaking over my hip.

"That's because you're drunk," I informed him, allowing him to tug my lower half to him. My hips met his with a slight bump and I felt the warm swell of his groin pressed against my belly. The evening had been far from romantic. I didn't particularly want to make love with him right then. It was clear to all but the blind that alcohol had made him horny. Nothing else seemed to matter to him, not the fact that we'd been fighting, nor the fact that it had been almost two months since the last time we'd had sex.

"So what?" he replied darkly, as he moved his body against mine resulting in a surge of blood to his penis.

He was rock hard, his erection straining at the tented front of his pants. I wanted to stay mad; I _was_ still mad. And yet, two long months without physical intimacy had taken its toll on me. My fingers trembled as an all too familiar warmth began to pool in my stomach and spread slowly southward. "Maybe," I mumbled, realizing my mouth had gone suddenly dry. "Maybe we should talk about this in the morning." As I tried to grapple some control over my desire, he continued to drive me to the edge.

Drawing his face close to mine, he teased my lips with his. Close enough to kiss me, he simply brushed his mouth against mine and pulled back as I instinctively leaned toward his lips. "I don't want to talk," he breathed, "now or in the morning." His fingers stroked their way over my hip and grasped my buttock forcefully.

I gasped as he tugged me closer, grinding his lower half against mine. My hands automatically shot up to his shoulders, regaining my balance. "Kiss me," I pleaded, my fingers twisting in the soft cotton of his shirt.

Paul's hand slipped quickly from the bathroom door and snaked around my waist. He turned me hurriedly, panting with need as he pressed his open mouth to mine. His tongue dove between my lips, exploring with deep thrusts and little finesse. He pushed me rapidly and I followed his direction, my bare feet sliding backwards on the smooth carpet until my legs met the bedstead. His momentum didn't stop, and the force of his weight sent me flopping onto my back.

I bounced on the soft mattress, releasing a muffled groan as his weight landed carelessly on top of me. "Mmm," I mumbled into his mouth. "Hey," I panted, jerking my head to one side and tearing my lips away from his. "Let's slow down a little, huh?" I suggested, my hands stroking over the broad, sinewy muscles in his back. "There's no rush," I whispered into his ear.

Either unable or unwilling to listen, Paul grunted as his hands slid down my thighs. Hooking the fingers of one hand beneath my left knee, he coaxed my legs apart. His other hand was busy with the hem of my dress, pushing it haphazardly up. "Oh, God. I need you," he groaned, nestling his hips between my legs and pushing his still clothed groin to my underwear-covered sex.

It had been a long time since Paul had been that frenzied and impetuous. It was flattering to know, even after all those years, he wanted me so desperately. So, I felt torn. On one hand, grateful for being made to feel sexy and desired. On the other, a sense that this was little more than a mad dash to sheath himself within me.

"Paul," I moaned, the weight of his chest pressing the air out of my lungs.

"That's right," he panted heavily, uncoordinated hands fumbling awkwardly with the clasp and zipper of his pants. "Say my name." Muttering curses under his breath, he edged his pants and underwear off his hips, stopping as soon as they'd reached his upper thighs. His erection now free, the soft flesh of its head rubbed along my inner thigh.

"Babe," I muttered, the open zipper of his pants digging uncomfortably into my leg. "Please."

Misinterpreting my plea or perhaps just too engrossed in his own mission, Paul's sloppy, drunken hands gripped the edges of my panties. "Ugh," he grunted, yanking at the fabric. The rip of white lace met his growl of aggression and the backs of his fingers briefly brushed my outer lips.

Unconsciously, my hips jerked in response, craving more of the same. But his hand was cruelly ripped away as quickly as it had been placed there. I was aroused, I did want him, but I wasn't ready for what came next.

Paul quickly adjusted himself, bracing his hands on the mattress either side of my waist before driving his hips forwards with a masculine bark of release.

I sucked in a breath, my fingernails digging into his back, as my body was quickly and ruthlessly speared. "Ahh," I wailed, my sex seeming to fight against the invasion. I tried to force myself to relax, to breathe slowly and allow my body to accept him, but it was all happening much too quickly. Any sensual and erotic thoughts I tried to conjure were immediately chased away when he began to pump fiercely. "Ouch," I yelped. "Paul, you're hurting me."

His lower half was soon slapping against mine in a rapid tattoo. He groaned and muttered, the friction of my unprepared channel apparently proving uncomfortable for him. "You're pussy is so...tight," he grunted haltingly, only a syllable being uttered on each thrust.

I was barely able to hear him. Everything around me was a blur. The only thing that had any clarity was the pain of each callous drive of his pelvis, which caused me to bite down hard on my lower lip to keep from screaming.

Amid the discomfort and the grateful awareness that at least it wouldn't last long, I remember wondering what the hell was going on. Sex with Paul had never been like this, even when he'd had a few too many drinks. Even when he was a teenager and orgasm was all he ever thought about, he'd never _used_ my body like he did that night. It was as though I was with a stranger.

Forcing my gaze upward, I stared at his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, but if they'd been open he would have been staring at the wall straight in front of him. His features were tight with pained concentration. I'll never know exactly what he was concentrating on, but it definitely wasn't me. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he continued to lurch forwards, slamming his erection to the hilt with each viscous thrust. "Oh, yeah," he grunted. "You like that."

I drew in a deep breath, holding it while his movements lost their rhythmic pattern. The speed and depth started to grow erratic, until finally with a groan of, "Oh, shit!" he flopped forward and collapsed on top of me. His hips jerked and one leg spasmed as I felt his seed pulse into me in strong, hot bursts. That sensation, which had always been indicative of love, pleasure and the sharing of something primal suddenly made me feel sullied. I instantly felt guilty for feeling that way. After all, this was my husband, the man I loved with all my heart. Maybe the encounter had been lacking in romance and foreplay, but I'd still given him something special, which meant, by default, that what we'd done was special. At least, that's what I tried to tell myself, as my eyes flooded with scorching tears.

"Oh, God," Paul gasped, his breathing coming hard against my chest, as he leisurely lifted himself from me. "Ugh, fuck," he muttered, rolling to one side. As his flaccid penis slipped from me, some of his semen dripped onto my inner thigh and, within seconds, created a chill that quickly spread throughout my entire body.

As soon as his bulk was off me, I reached down and pulled my dress back to my knees. My trembling fingers remained there, clinging to the hem. Paul's left arm was lazily flopped over my waist and his foot, which was still in his black loafer, was draped clumsily across my calf. The rest of him was pressed face down into the mattress by my side.

"Paul," I said with a quiet, shaky voice.

The only response I received was the low rumble of a snore. Laying under what felt like an incredibly bright glare from our bedroom light, my eyes fixed wide on the clean, white ceiling above. Shell-shocked, the events of the previous few minutes played on a continuous loop. Everything about him, from the way he'd behaved to the way he'd spoken, seemed alien to me. How could the man I'd been sleeping with since I was eighteen have changed so dramatically? Was it the result of two months of abstinence; a build up of frustration coupled with the effects of alcohol?

Those questions rolled unanswered around my brain, but it was another that took center stage. What the hell had just happened? It beat at my head over and over, as I laid stunned into motionlessness. I couldn't even define what had passed between us. It hadn't been anything resembling love making, not by my interpretation of the phrase. The way he'd cruelly taken what he wanted regardless of my discomfort bordered on rape, but then again, I'd never said, "no" or asked him to stop. I may not have been particularly happy with what was going on, but I'd passively allowed it to happen. And that brought with it another uncomfortable realization: it wasn't just Paul who had acted out of character that night.

# Chapter Three

Visitor

I didn't get any sleep, and eventually crawled off of the bed at around five while the sun was just beginning to create an amber glow on the carpet. I slipped out from under Paul, not needing to worry about waking him, as he continued to snore loudly.

Leaving the room, I went down the hall to use the main bathroom, not because I was particularly worried about disturbing my husband's sleep, but I needed some time to compose myself before actually confronting what had gone on the night before. At that moment, I didn't know what to say to him. I even wondered whether the hours spent stewing over it had made me lose all perspective.

Climbing into the shower, I quickly soaped my body noting a graze on my inner left thigh and freshly pinkish bruises on both hip bones. The bruises were obviously caused by the force of his own pelvis knocking against me, it took me a little longer to realize that the tiny teeth of his open zipper had cut into the delicate flesh of my thigh. None of those injuries was particularly sore though, and with the exception of a slight tenderness between my legs, I had no other physical reminders of the evening. Still, try as I might, I simply couldn't shake the sense that something had gone very wrong in my relationship with Paul.

It took me no more than ten minutes to wash my body and hair. I spent a further hour standing beneath the hot jets, trying to figure out how to broach the subject.

Wrapped only in a towel and with hair loose and dripping wet, I returned to the bedroom. Still face down on the bed, Paul didn't stir. As I stepped into a pair of jeans and threw on a T-shirt, I watched him breathing heavily. With his dark hair tussled, dress shirt creased and pants hanging disheveled at his hips, he was a mess. It became clear that he was drunker than I'd realized the night before. Would he even remember what had happened? If he did, I was sure he'd feel guilty.

Taking a glance at the time, I wondered whether I should wake him. After just two days at home, he was about to head out of town again. A car was coming to pick him up at nine, so I tried to calculate how much time we'd have for a heart to heart before he left.

"Paul,"I whispered gently from the foot of the bed.

He didn't move, even the pattern of his breathing remained the same.

"Paul," I repeated, a little louder this time. "It's-"

"Mom!"

Spinning at the sound of the wail that interrupted me, I sighed. I hesitated momentarily, but when it became obvious that even the shouts of our children would not wake him, I decided to leave Paul alone for the time being.

Leaving the bedroom and shutting the door quietly behind me, I was met with the distressed face of my little boy. He wasn't crying, but I could see he was only seconds away from doing so; his big brown eyes watery and lip wobbly. Seeing me, he ran down the hall.

"Mom," he whimpered, his arms spread wide.

Crouching so that I was on his eye level, I placed my finger to my lips. "Daddy's still sleeping," I hushed.

He flung his chubby little fingers around my neck and I automatically wrapped one arm around his legs. With his butt resting on my forearm, I groaned as I scooped him off the floor. "You're getting big," I told him in a whisper. "I'm not going to be able to do this much longer."

He paid no attention, his legs quickly fastening around my waist and his face disappearing in my shoulder. I only managed to take him the few feet to his own room, before he was slipping down my hip. Carefully, I lowered him to the floor, sinking to his height as I did so.

"Now," I sighed, still in a hushed voice. "What's the matter?"

"Lizzie," he sniveled, pointing into his room.

When it became clear that was all I was going to get from my son, I stood up and stepped inside the room. All seemed normal, until I caught sight of an armless bear at the bottom of his bed. Stepping forwards, I scooped up the injured toy and turned to Dylan. "Did she do this?" I demanded.

With a trembling bottom lip, he nodded.

Glancing to the ceiling for inspiration and patience, I took a couple of quick breaths. "Elizabeth," I called clearly, realizing too late that I had just told my young son to be quiet.

Almost instantly, her pink door creaked open and she stood staring at me with an innocent smile. "Yes, Mom," she beamed. Her sandy hair, with roots that were turning the same warm hazel color of my own, was already scooped into a neat ponytail and she was dressed for school.

"Did you do this?" I asked her, holding up the bear that Dylan had named Frank.

She paused for a moment, perhaps resisting a child's knee-jerk compulsion to lie. "Well..." she mumbled, the smile slipping from her face and her almond eyes no longer able to meet mine.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," I finished for her, moving to her door and placing my hand firmly around her wrist.

"It wasn't all my fault," she insisted, trying to snatch her hand back. "He started it!"

Rolling my eyes, my face moved back to Dylan who was suddenly also looking as guilty as sin. "What did you do to her?" I demanded, my patience wearing very thin.

"He pulled the head off Barbie," Lizzie whined.

My first instinct was to smile. Barbie had been a bone of contention. I hadn't wanted Lizzie to have one. In my opinion, Barbie promoted an unhealthy and unattainable body image, not to mention the distinctly materialistic and shallow nature of her 'lifestyle'. When Paul's parents learned of my disapproval, they promptly bought Lizzie a Barbie, complete with dream house, for Christmas. Her beheading didn't stress me in the slightest, but in the interests of being fair to the kids, I had to treat both crimes equally. So, I quickly quashed the tiny grin that played at the corners of my mouth.

"Dylan," I said firmly, crooking my finger at him in a 'come here' motion. Once I had the pair of them in front of me, I couched before them both. "I don't want to tell either of you this again," I began. "Dylan, you leave your sister's things alone, do you understand?"

I waited patiently for him to reluctantly nod. "Yes, Mommy," he mumbled, softly.

"And Lizzie," I added. "If your brother does something to upset you, don't retaliate, just come and tell me or your dad and we'll deal with it, okay?"

She was less willing to agree, but eventually did so. "Yes, Mom."

"I want you to apologize to each other," I concluded, wrapping my hand around my four-year-old son's waist and turning him to face his older sister.

"But Mom, I didn't-" Lizzie began.

I interrupted her with a lift of my index finger. "I don't want to hear any more about it, Elizabeth," I warned her. "You both did something wrong and I'm not in the mood to play who did something worse. Just apologize," I urged.

The pair mumbled a 'sorry' to each other and almost instantly turned their backs. With no energy to demand that they repeat it sincerely, I pushed myself back to my feet. "I'll get you some breakfast," I told them, making my way down the hall. When I reached the top of the stairs, I snapped my head back. "Oh and Lizzie, find Frank's arm. I'll try to reattach it."

"What about Barbie?" she quickly countered.

"I'll see what I can do," I promised with a wink. "But I don't know whether she'll pull through," I warned gravely.

She giggled, before rushing back into her room to find the various body parts.

It was an hour and a half before Paul made his way downstairs, and I was in the middle of clearing away the kids' plates and bowls. All three of them sat at the breakfast counter, Dylan swinging his legs wildly, with jelly all over his face; Lizzie studying a book; and little Kate strapped into her booster seat.

"Daddy," Dylan squealed, jumping down from his stool and sprinting across the tiles. He leaped into Paul's waiting arms and laughed hysterically as he was spun around rapidly.

"Hey champ," Paul smiled, setting our son back down before ruffling his hair. "You got a busy day ahead?" he asked. Dressed in a fresh suit, his open necked shirt neatly tucked into his dress pants, hair washed and combed, he looked very different from the way I'd left him on our bed.

"Very," our little boy confirmed with a nod. "I've got a meeting at eleven," he announced, clinging to his father's right leg as Paul heaved his way across the floor.

"Is that so?" Paul mumbled, only half listening, as he bent to kiss Kate on the top of the head. "Morning Liz," he added, looping an arm around her shoulders. "You okay, kiddo?"

She ignored his question in favor of one of her own. "Dad why do you have to go away again?"

"Sorry sweetie," he stated, with a tough luck tilt of his chin. "It's just the way it is, Daddy's a very busy man."

"But we never get to spend any time with you," she whined.

With a huff, Paul reached for a slice of bread and slipped it into the toaster. "We'll spend some time together when I get back, how's that?" he suggested.

Not even slightly appeased, Lizzie sullenly slipped down from her chair. "I've got to get ready for school," she muttered.

"Daddy," Kate called, grinning. "Look," she proudly cried, holding up a crayon sketch that she'd been working on.

"That's great, honey," he responded, almost automatically, giving no more than a passing glance at the picture.

Somehow, knowing that the children were slipping from his radar of importance made me even more angry than the fact our relationship had taken a sideline. "Paul," I whispered, taking a step to his side. "You know, the kids really miss you when you're gone. It's tough on them; a few days for you feels like an eternity to them."

"I'll make it up to them," he shrugged, as his toast popped up and he quickly grabbed it. "I better toss some stuff in a bag," he announced, lifting his wrist to check the time.

Slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow, I held him still for just a few seconds longer. "I was hoping we'd be able to talk before you go," I suggested quietly and with no small degree of discomfort. It wasn't going to be an easy conversation to have.

"What about?" he replied testily, as he tugged his arm free of me.

"Well..." I hesitated, sure that he must know what I was referring to. "Last night," I eventually said in a whisper.

With an impatient sigh, his eyes drifted to the floor. "Do we have to do this now?" he asked.

"If not now, then when?" I countered.

Paul's gaze moved to Kate, who had gone back to adding more detail to her drawing, then Dylan, who was tearing about the open plan dining area as if he were an airplane. "Look," he said under his breath. "I was a little selfish," he admitted, but shrugged it off. "But you were the one complaining about how long it's been since we had sex. Well, we had sex, so...?" he left his words hanging, challenging me to make a big deal out of it.

If I'd been able to wrap my head around what was happening, I would have made a big deal out of it. But as things were, I stood open-mouthed, stunned into silence by his complete disregard for what had happened.

"So, are we done?" he demanded. "Because I've got a plane to catch." Without waiting for me to respond, he was already heading for the door.

Dylan ran after him yelling, "Can I come too, Dad?"

And sure enough, that was the end of it. We didn't speak of that night again.

Paul was ready by the time his driver arrived at the door. He handed over his small suitcase, before turning to hug and kiss each of the kids goodbye. Once he was done, I received a wave of his hand as he climbed into the back of the vehicle.

After he'd gone, I still felt shell shocked by the callous way he'd rebuffed my concerns; both over the effect his repeated absences were having on the children, and indeed the trouble within our own strained relationship. And just when I thought the day couldn't possible have started any worse, his mother arrived. As she was apt to do, she didn't ring the bell, just let herself in. Paul had insisted she have a key, in case of emergencies, but Carole seemed to believe that gave her carte blanche to enter at will.

She strolled into the kitchen, finding me still in the midst of clearing up from breakfast. Lizzie and Dylan were arguing again, something I was too tried to deal with at that moment and unbeknownst to me, Kate had stripped off all of her clothes with the exception of her underwear.

The sight that met my mother-in-law caused her to tut loudly. "Having trouble, dear?" she asked rhetorically.

"Not exactly," I responded defensively. "They've just got me outnumbered at the moment," I added, smiling in an effort to lighten the mood.

It didn't work; it had never worked. I no longer knew why I bothered. Carole Hayes had hated me with a passion almost from the moment she met me. She had it fixed in her head that I only wanted to be with her son because he was wealthy. Even agreeing to sign a rigid prenup that ensured I got nearly nothing if we divorced was not enough to convince her otherwise.

She was the kind of woman who made a sport of finding fault with other people; her favorite target being me. I wasn't good enough for her son, never had been, never would be. And she was determined to prove it to him.

"Well," she replied humorlessly. "I thought I might help you out by taking Elizabeth and Dylan to school."

"Umm, thanks," I said, busily loading the dishwasher.

"Do you want me to dress Katherine before I go?" she asked, turning to me with a disapprovingly arched eyebrow.

Driven to the point of caring minimally what she thought of me, I shrugged. "It's no problem," I said. "It's warm out. I'm in the middle of potty training her anyway, so it makes things simpler for her if she needs to go."

Scowling at me, she bit a tongue that no doubt had a stream of things to say on the matter. Rapidly she turned to the two older children, quickly breaking up their squabble. "Hey, grandma's here," she announced.

Dylan quickly ran to her, knowing, as I did, that she would have some treat for him. Sure enough, out of her Louis Vuitton purse came a sucker.

"Can I have this now, Mom?" he excitedly screamed, gratefully grabbing the candy.

"I don't-" I began.

"Of course you can," she interrupted.

My rule was always no sweets before school. "He's just brushed his teeth," I sighed, addressing Carole.

"He's a young boy," she smiled, relishing every opportunity she had to undermine me. "You've got to bend the rules and have a little fun now and then." As she spoke, her hand delved back into her purse and she retrieved another piece of candy. This time, she offered it to Lizzie.

"Thanks, grandma," Lizzie smiled, accepting the sucker and stuffing it into the pocket of her jeans.

"You can have yours now, too," Carole assured her, nodding.

"I'll save it for later, thanks," Lizzie replied.

This seemed to rankle my mother-in-law, who quickly said goodbye and hustled the older kids out of the house.

I followed them to the door, giving Lizzie and Dylan a hug. "Have a good day at school," I told them, before watching them trot down the steps and climb eagerly into the back of Grandma's Mercedes.

With just me and Kate in the house, things were much quieter. However, with a mountain of housework to do, they weren't going to be much easier.

# Chapter Four

What A Mess

Later that night, after an hour and a half and three stories, Kate finally went to sleep. At last, the house was silent and I breathed a sigh of relief. There was laundry to be done and dishes from dinner still to be washed, but I couldn't be bothered with either. Instead, I plodded wearily to my bathroom and ran a nice, hot bath.

I couldn't contain the long, deep sigh I exhaled as my body slipped beneath the warm water and it seemed as if a huge weight had been lifted from me. Under the spell of that glorious calm, my brain stopped whirring and, for the first time in longer than I cared to recall, I was at peace.

I made no conscious decision to move my hands. In fact, I surprised myself when I found them slipping over the slick skin of my chest and caressing my breasts. Quickly giving way to the pleasant sensation, I allowed my eyes to lazily drift closed, as I continued to move my fingers in slow, teasing circles. When I reached my nipples, I found them rigid and aching. Gently gripping those tight pebbles between my forefingers and thumbs, I pinched lightly. "Hmmm," I mumbled longingly, my right hand leaving my breasts and smoothing over my abdomen.

With my eyes shut, I imagined another hand traveling to my navel and slowly sliding over my mound. It was Paul I thought about. It had always been Paul; except perhaps for a short time when I was sixteen, when mind candy for my self-exploration was the blonde-haired guy from that boy band. The fact that Paul was, and always had been, the focus of almost all of my erotic fantasies wasn't due to any misplaced sense of disloyalty via thought. It was simply a case of never having felt the need to focus on any other man. My husband turned me on – not everything about him, of course. The sight of him sprawled out on the bed that morning, for example, was not the stuff of my sexual dreams. However, there were always memories that I could hang my masturbating hat on. We'd had some really good times together, and it wasn't difficult for me to focus on those.

My fingers moved leisurely over the neat triangle of short hair that covered my mound. Drawn further, they smoothed between my outer lips finding them smooth and plump. Bending one leg and sliding my foot up to my bottom, I offered my own roaming hand freer access. With the pad of my middle finger, I rolled carefully over my clitoris, which instantly responded.

Often, during moments like those, I'd think of the first time Paul touched me like that. It was several months before we went the whole way and not long after my eighteenth birthday. He'd been so nervous that his fingers were trembling. He didn't know what he was doing, and truth be told, neither did I. Sure, I knew what felt good, but I hadn't got a name for that small bud that sent warmth flooding through my entire body. We were both giddy and a little scared, but we laughed together and, eventually, he asked me to guide his fingers.

"Show me," he'd urged. "Show me how to touch you."

I was hesitant at first, sure that he'd much rather be in control of the situation. I was also reluctant to give the impression that he was doing something wrong. However, he continued to insist and, as I placed my fingers on top of his, it wasn't close to being as embarrassing or awkward as I'd assumed it would be. That afternoon, I'd coaxed him into rubbing my clitoris, until I bucked and writhed in climax. What I didn't know then, and would never have known had he not confessed it a couple of years later, was that the sight and feel of my orgasm had caused Paul to come in his pants.

Brought back to my present surroundings by the stirring of electricity between my legs, I started to increase the pressure of my touch. It had been several weeks since I'd pleasured myself and even longer since Paul had driven me to orgasm, so the speed of its climb caught me off guard. Usually, after long dry spells, my body is slow to reach boiling point.

I was close; so close. My mouth fell open and I began suck in shallow panted breaths. My hips were moving of their own volition, my backside swaying on the bottom of the tub in rhythm to the movement of my fingers. Sparks were triggering a restless warmth in my belly. And then, as I began to reach the summit, the phone's harsh ringing ripped me from the high and yanked me back down. I tried to ignore it, I kept my eyes tightly shut and strummed my body with renewed vigor. However, as the beep of the answer machine cut in and my mother-in-law's voice drifted to the bathroom from the phone on Paul's bedside table, I removed my hand from between my legs with a muttered, "Shit."

"Julia, it's Carole," she began in her hash, nasal tone. "I just wanted to make sure everything's okay. I know you said you can cope, but I really think that things are becoming too much for you right now. It's understandable," she quickly added. "It's hard for an inexperienced mother to care for three children on her own."

The bath was suddenly no longer relaxing. My jaw had tightened and I felt my shoulders begin to rise to my neck. What she meant by 'inexperienced mother' I didn't know. I'd been a mom for nearly eight years and certainly didn't consider myself new to the job.

"All I mean is, there's nothing wrong with asking for help. And I'm always here if you need me," she announced, a smile clear in her voice. "Anyway," she added briskly. "Call me, because it's really quite late and I'm concerned about where you are."

"Argh," I growled, my hands gripping the edges of the bathtub and imagined it was her neck beneath my fingers. With the firm click of her phone being put down, I gave up all hope of a soothing soak in the tub, let alone any prospect of sexual release. Yanking myself up, I reached for a big, fluffy towel with one hand and held it loosely to my chest, not bothering to wrap it around me. After quickly tugging the plug out of the bath, I wandered bare foot and dripping into the bedroom.

Once there, I stared at the phone, with a red light blinking on its base, for several seconds. Should I call her? If I did, she'd jabber on and on for ages. If I didn't, she'd just keeping calling all night long. Making a sudden decision, I lunged forwards and edged the bedside table out slightly. Then, I grabbed the cable at the back of the phone and pulled until I felt the mains pop out of the wall socket.

With a satisfied nod and a naughty grin, I flopped down onto the bed. Knowing exactly what Carole would think if she could see me making the bed wet with the outline of my buttocks, I dropped onto my back. Sprawling out, I let my soaking wet hair drench the sheets. However, my delight in doing something that seemed so rebellious was short-lived. Eventually, I sat up and, when I did, I was met with my first real acknowledgment of the car crash that was my bedroom.

Up until that time, I hadn't been back in the room since leaving it that morning. And as I'd strolled to the bath, I'd failed to really take it in. Carole's opinion that I was a lazy wife and mother came back to haunt me. Our bedroom certainly was a mess, not of my making but, apparently, it was my 'job' to clean up after my husband.

There were clothes everywhere. The ones Paul had worn the night before were strewn on the floor from where he'd stripped them off that morning. His damp towel had been tossed at the foot of the bed and now just a tiny corner clung to the mattress while the rest draped slovenly on the floor. A sports bag sat beside the wardrobe. It was open with a creased shirt spilling out of it. This was the bag he'd taken on his last trip and must have been placed in the closet when he got home. Paul appeared to have pulled it out and been rummaging for something. Thoughtfully, he'd left it in disarray for me to deal with.

I considered leaving it; just watching TV and putting all that mess off until the morning. However, I couldn't take my eyes off the state of the room and was bombarded by the thought that I wasn't being a good enough wife to Paul. I was supposed to _want_ to take care of him, it wasn't meant to seem like a chore. Perhaps he felt, like his mom, that I wasn't doing a very good job – was that why we'd been so disconnected?

Pushing myself up from the bed, I quickly strode back into the bathroom, tossed the towel in the laundry hamper and grabbed a robe. It was a silk one that reached my calves; a present from Paul for my birthday. Carefully drawing the tie around my middle and securing it in place, I didn't care that my damp hair was already soaking through the material at my shoulders.

Marching back into the bedroom, I pushed the sleeves of the robe up to my elbows and was ready for business. I moved quickly around the room, first picking up Paul's towel and scooping that over my arm as I bent for his clothes. While I walked purposefully to the large bathroom hamper, I slipped my hands into his pants pockets, turning them inside out. True to form, a handful of change clattered onto the bathroom tiles.

"Paul," I groaned, realizing that after a decade of begging him, he was never going to empty the pockets of his dirty clothes.

After tossing my armful into the laundry basket, I crouched and picked up each coin one by one. Two quarters, three dimes and five pennies. With a huff of weariness, I pushed myself upright and took the fistful of money to Paul's bedside table. Right next to the phone was a sterling silver tray with 'change is good' engraved in the center. It had once belonged to Paul's grandfather and, although he treasured it, he didn't see fit to use it. With a satisfying clatter, I placed the coins onto the tray and spun on the balls of my feet.

The sports bag was the one remaining eyesore. I would have felt that I was on the home stretch, but the worst thing about being a housewife is that there's never a home stretch. There's always something to do; always more mess, because while you're cleaning someone's making some more. But, for the time being at least, I was on the verge of having a clean bedroom.

I moved for the bag, gripping the thick shoulder strap and half lifted, half dragged it into the bathroom. Setting it down by the still open hamper, I crouched down and began tugging each item of clothing from the bag. Two dress shirts went straight into the basket. A white T-shirt followed and then there were three boxer shorts. Black dress pants and a pair of jeans dwelt at the bottom and, sure enough, both had change and receipts stuffed in every available pocket.

"For God's sake," I muttered pulling out all the junk and chucking it temporarily in the bottom of the bag. As I did that, my eyes flashed down at the black polyester lining that was speckled with tiny balls of white fluff. My gaze caught something shiny. Releasing their grip on Paul's jeans, my fingers delved into the bag. I tried to tell myself that it was just a little scrap of foil; it couldn't possibly be what it looked like; what I thought it was. Grasping it with my forefinger and thumb, I slowly pulled it free from its hiding place. It wasn't just the tiny edge I had been able to see. It was a full square with a clear circular indent. The shiny, blue wrapper had been ripped at the top and its contents removed.

The hand holding the condom wrapper began to tremble, as the implications of it settled painfully in my chest. My mouth and throat went instantly dry, while palpitations caused my eardrums to throb with each deep, pound of my heart. Paul and I hadn't used condoms since our engagement; he'd never liked them, we both wanted a family anyway and, shortly after Lizzie was born, I'd started taking the pill. There was no need for any other form of contraception.

The object in my hand could mean only one thing. God knows I tried to find other explanations. Most of them were wild, nonsensical excuses; anything to avoid the truth that was staring me in the face. But there was no way to avoid it. Paul had an affair while he'd been away.

Dropping the wrapper and swiveling toward the tub, bile suddenly rose in my throat. I dry heaved, nothing more than saliva dribbling from my bottom lip while my throat burned. I remained that way for several minutes, my empty stomach continuing to retch.

Eventually, my insides stopped trying to turn themselves inside out, but my heart still raced and my fingers tingled with a lack of circulation. My knees beginning to feel numb, I forced myself up, regretting it almost instantly when my head pounded and I felt a wave of dizziness. Nevertheless, I pulled myself around to the sink and turned the cold faucet on full. I let the stream flow noisily for a second, while I looked at myself in the mirror. My usually bright complexion was deathly pale and my blue eyes gazed blankly ahead. Unable to bear the sight of myself, I stuck my head beneath the water's stream, vigorously rinsing my face before filling my mouth with several large gulps.

When the feeling of nausea returned with a vengeance, I quickly turned off the water and slipped down onto the cold tiles, my legs collapsing beneath me. My back propped up against the edge of the tub was the only thing keeping me sitting upright. Never, either before or since, have I experienced such a sudden and debilitating sense of loss and disorientation.

It was an hour or more before I was finally able to drag myself up from the bathroom floor. By that point, I was still trembling, but it was no longer with fear. The victim mentality had been replaced with anger; a seething rage. Questions swirled around my frenzied brain, and I was determined to get answers.

# Chapter Five

Proof

Through an enraged red mist, I wasn't thinking clearly. I flew back into the bedroom and started tearing the room apart. I began by ripping out the drawers of Paul's bedside table, and tipping the contents of them on the floor. His collection of cufflinks scattered over the carpet and an old cell phone battery clunked to the ground followed by an ipod with tangled earphones. The lower, deeper drawer was heavier and full of notebooks and photo albums. I flicked through these, quickly dismissing them when I found nothing relevant within the pages.

Using the bed to push myself up, I moved over to Paul's wardrobe. My movements were frenzied, as I tugged suit jackets off hangers and rifled through the pockets. When I found nothing, I tossed the clothes over my shoulder. I continued this way, until I'd gone through every item of clothing he owned. I had to wade through an ankle deep puddle of fabric as I turned away from the closet and glanced desperately around the room. He had taken everything else with him; his phone, tablet and laptop were all in his possession.

"Shit," I hissed, my breath coming hard as the desperate need to get to the truth became an almost physical pain. I couldn't call him, he'd only come up with a convenient excuse for the condom, and not being able to see him when he lied put me at a disadvantage. No, I wanted to have irrefutable proof of what he'd done before I confronted him with it.

In the corner of the room was a desktop computer, which I focused on intently. It was my only route into his life. I'd only ever used the thing infrequently, but I'd worked with computers before Lizzie came into the world, and knew my way around them. Without a second thought, I turned it on and tugged the antique chair toward the desk.

Sitting, I grasped the mouse and clicked on the shortcut for Paul's email. Then, I was forced to pause. I had no idea what his password was. It wasn't something he'd shared with me. Until that moment, I'd never questioned it; hadn't believed for one second that I needed access to his cell or his computers. I'd stupidly believed that Paul loved me the same way I loved him, and that no matter what problems we faced, we'd work through them together.

Not only did I feel betrayed and sick with the knowledge that he'd been with someone else, but I also felt stupid. I was gullible and naïve not to see what had been going on. The signs were there; his distance, his unwillingness to have sex (the exception being our strange encounter the night before), that gnawing sense that something just wasn't right. It was a feeling I'd had for weeks, and yet I'd ignored it, buried it, pretended that everything was just peachy and perfect.

With no trace of humor, I laughed bitterly at my own stupidity.

Fresh anger welling inside me, I turned my attention back to the computer screen. I began typing words that floated into my head. I started with the name of Paul's family business: 'Hayes&Son', then moved onto the license plate number of his new BMW, the name of his childhood dog, our children's names and dates of birth, the date of our wedding. Denied, denied, denied.

"Argh," I groaned loudly, slamming my hand down on the surface of the desk. In the silence that followed, I waited to discover that I'd woken one, or possibly all three, of the kids. However, the moment's ticked by and still silence met my ears. Drawing in a calming breath, I resolved to control my outburst. The last thing I needed was a sleepily toddler wandering in and asking what was going on. I would never be able to explain Mom's teary, haunted face or the wreckage she'd made of the bedroom.

With a sigh of resignation, I threw myself back into the solid wooden-backed chair, jarring my spine as I did so. I didn't care about the discomfort. Instead, my eyes crawled up the wall before me and landed on a framed picture of Paul with three of his high school football teammates. "Tigers," I whispered under my breath.

Moving without my conscious request, I typed, 'Tigers' into the empty password box. However, I hovered over the enter key for some time, before deciding to add '32', Paul's jersey number. The screen suddenly changed and I was looking at Paul's inbox.

Quickly scanning through the first page of recent messages, all seemed normal, boring and businesslike. However, three quarters of the way down the page, I noticed something that seemed out of place. The sender's name was Jennifer, in of itself nothing to be suspicious about, but the subject line of her email read, 'Last Night'.

Terrified, but unable to simply turn away, I slowly directed the mouse to that message and clicked to open it. I don't think I breathed as I read, and my heart seemed to sink lower and lower in my chest.

Hi Paul,

Just wanted to say thanks for a very interesting evening. Someone told me that you admire people who go after what they want, so I assume you won't think any less of me for doing exactly that. Like I told you, I'd been thinking about it for months and the temptation of being in a strange city and a luxurious hotel with you was just too great to resist. And I think you should know that you definitely didn't disappoint! Anyway, I look forward to working with you. I'm pretty sure it's going to be a lot of fun for both of us.

There was nothing overt, but the subtext of her email left little to the imagination. My eyes flicked to the date, it had been sent almost three months ago. Paul had been on another three, maybe four trips since then. The tears that had been pricking my eyes spilled silently onto my cheek and traced a hot trail to my chin. This hadn't just been a one-time thing; a moment of weakness. In all likelihood, he'd been having a full-blown affair with this woman.

Desperate to know more, I typed Jennifer in the search box and pulled up all messages sent to and from her. There were only two more that she'd sent to Paul, both were completely professional and written some time earlier. The other was written by Paul in reply to the first email I'd read.

Jen,

The pleasure was mine! You're absolutely right, this could be the start of a long and successful association. Will be in Dallas again in a couple of weeks. If interested in another meeting, let me know. I'll e-mail you the details when they're set in stone.

Again, the pretext of business hid something that caused my stomach to lurch. Blinking back the water that was blurring my vision, I slumped in the chair. There were still so many unanswered questions. Who was this woman? How long had it been going on? Was it just a fling or was Paul considering leaving me for her?

It seemed as though I'd struck a dead end. Paul and this Jennifer hadn't corresponded in ten weeks, at least not via email. However, as I was about to give up, I noticed that Paul had placed those two emails, which seemed to skirt around the subject of a night spent together, in a folder entitled, 'business trips'. I'm not sure why it occurred to me to check it, but I did so on instinct.

Moving the mouse to the right hand side of the screen, I clicked on the folder, which opened a new window. 'Business trips' contained dozens of messages and as I scanned down the list, I quickly noticed the pattern. Every single one was from a woman. Four names featured heavily; Abby, Rachel, Joann and Krista. Emails from each of them were predominantly in dated chunks. Abby's were all sent just before and around the time Paul was in New York. Rachel's centered around the week he was in Tampa. Joann wrote to him during his trip to San Francisco, and Krista's emails were dated on and just after Paul's visit to San Diego.

"Jesus," I mumbled, my eyes widening with disbelief. It all seemed so surreal. Shaking my head, I felt that I must be dreaming. This had to be some horrible nightmare that I was about to wake up from. However, no matter how many times I blinked, the image on the screen stayed the same.

Although a part of me didn't want the pain of knowing what was inside those emails, the urge to get to the truth was overwhelming. So, regardless of the sensible voice that told me to just turn the computer off and walk away, my fingers gripped the mouse tightly and directed the cursor to the last email on the list – the oldest. It was from Krista and the subject line read, 'Discrete'.

Paul,

I'm sure you feel the same, but I wanted to ask if we can keep what happened yesterday between us. Some of the guys on my team were asking where I disappeared to last night and I made up an excuse about not feeling well. I just hope nobody saw us going upstairs to your room. I don't want people thinking that I'm trying to sleep my way to a promotion. Working with a large group of men is difficult enough without them thinking I'm a slut. And as drunk as we both were, I don't want you to think I regret what happened. In fact, if you're in town for a few more days, perhaps we can meet up again?

Her next message made it clear that Paul had reassured her and responded in the affirmative to her final question. She simply confirmed that she would meet him at his hotel room at 9pm that evening.

There followed a couple more messages, stating that she'd had a good time and requested more meetings with him. The content of her final email suggested that Paul had given her the brush off. However, she didn't seem too distressed by that news.

Next came Joann, her messages were similar in tone. She obviously also worked for the company, in one of the smaller branches. She alluded to having given Paul a blowjob in the bathroom of a restaurant, before signing off with a crass remark about her jaw still being sore from the experience.

With a disgusted grunt, I shut that email and opened the next. It was immediately apparent that Rachel from Tampa was direct in expressing her desires.

Mr. Hayes,

This is probably totally inappropriate, but I know you're here for the weekend and I was hoping you might like a little company. I feel that there's been some chemistry between us and I've caught you glancing at me in a way that tells me you've felt it too. I know that you're married, and I'm not looking for anything serious. I just want you to fuck me.

There were several very short messages, confirming a time and place to meet. Then, a day later, a long message praising Paul's prowess. However, she, unlike the two other women, seemed content with just one night. She made no mention of meeting him again, and continued to address him as Mr. Hayes.

The final clutch of emails was the most recent, concerning Paul's trip to New York. There, he'd been supposed to be meeting with potential new clients. The Abby from his mailbox seemed to be an employee of that business.

Hello, Paul.

I'm Abby, Frank Welby's personal assistant. I tried to call you this afternoon, but couldn't get through. Mr. Welby was impressed with your presentation, but he'd like some further questions answered before you leave town. However, he's heading to Napa tomorrow, so would it be possible for you to get down to the offices tonight? Thanks in advance.

I read this message again, searching for some innuendo or hint of over familiarity that I might have missed the first time around. There was none, so why had Paul kept this message? The fact that there was another email from Abby indicated there was more to this seemingly professional exchange. With a sense of dread, I clicked on the subsequent message.

Paul,

I forgot that there was a security camera in the conference room! Had to do some quick thinking to remove this footage from the files. I really enjoyed watching this, though. Hope you will, too.

Beneath the text was a video file. In so deep, I felt sure things could get no worse. I was wrong.

A new window quickly opened and a grainy image appeared. The picture was soundless and quality awful, but there was no mistaking my husband. He was standing behind a blonde-haired woman, with her shoulder length hair masking most of her face. She was bent forward over a massive circular table with some ten chairs around it. Her large breasts were threatening to spill out of the low cut blouse she wore.

Paul had her tight, very short skirt tugged into his hands and yanked up around her waist. I then watched his left hand, the one bearing his solid gold wedding band, slide down to his pants and unzip his fly. His fingers disappeared within and quickly returned, easing his hard shaft through the opening. Suddenly, he was inside her. With no thought for contraception, he'd rammed his unprotected member into a woman he'd met just that morning. The knowledge that less than a week later, that same cock was inside me made me feel that I'd been defiled.

Her head bucked up and she arched her back, her mouth open as she screamed something. Paul instantly took advantage of her elevated upper half, grasping both of her breasts in rough hands. After a few seconds of frenzied groping, she turned her face to his and said something I couldn't lipread. It spurred him into action, pushing her back to the desk and slamming his erection into her with a force that rocked the huge table.

All of the blood left my head, as I watched him repeatedly enter her from behind. She was writhing beneath him, squealing in what looked like delight at the violent treatment. Paul abruptly pulled free from her, using his right hand to slap her hard on the buttock before clasping his penis. With hurried, brutal strokes, he stimulated himself. Climaxing with a sudden jet of creamy white fluid that splattered over the hand print that was reddening on her ass.

Jumping to my feet, I dashed to the bathroom, making it to the sink just in time to lose the small amount of water I'd managed to force into my stomach just minutes before.

# Chapter Six

What Friends Are For

Unable to think clearly, I dashed back into the bedroom and flung open my closet. Yanking out a suitcase that was laid on the bottom, I flipped it open and began throwing clothes into it. I couldn't say what I chose to take and what I chose to leave, there was no logical sense to what I was doing, no thought for practicalities. The only thing I was aware of was a desperate need to get out of that house. A claustrophobia had gripped me and was frantic to break free.

Enclosing the hurriedly bundled clothes within the case, I grabbed a pair of sweatpants with my free hand. Rushing to the bed, I sat down and slipped the sweats over my legs. Keeping the robe fastened and draped over the top, I pulled the pants up to my waist and jumped up from the mattress. It was only as I returned to my closet and grasped an oversized sweater that I silently asked, what was I doing? Where would I go? I didn't have any money, no family nearby and, after I'd left Paul, he was sure to do everything he could to take the children away from me. He could afford a team of the best family law attorneys. I could afford...nothing.

As all the furious energy drained from me, I slumped to the floor of my closet and leaned back against the firm wall. I was trapped.

Staring blankly ahead, I wrestled with that concept; questioning how I'd found myself in such a situation. It had never entered my head, not even for a second, that by agreeing to Paul's parents' demands over the prenuptial agreement, I'd been backed into an inescapable corner. The balance of power in our marriage was hideously weighted in his favor. And I was out of options.

In a state of utter despondency and still reeling from what I'd just discovered, I did what I have always done when I didn't know what to do. I picked up the phone, after plugging it back in, and called Grace. She was my best friend, had been since we were in second grade. Although life had sent us in different directions, quite literally placing us on opposite sides of the country, and things often got so busy that it would be months between conversations, we remained close. Every time we talked, even when it was almost a year since the last time, it was as though we'd just seen each other yesterday. We both understood that life got frantic, so there was no sense that the other wasn't making 'enough effort' to stay in touch.

Waiting anxiously for her to answer, I clutched the phone tightly to my ear as if it were a lifeline.

"Hello," she eventually said, a slight question in the word which made it obvious she hadn't looked at the caller ID before picking up.

"Hey," I replied, my voice sounding hoarse and scratchy. "It's me."

"Julia?" she responded quickly. "What's up? You sound terrible."

Despite the intense misery I felt, I couldn't help but smile. Grace always had a way of cutting right to the heart of the matter. She didn't worry about a veneer of politeness, she never said anything she didn't mean and expected everybody to treat her with the same level of brutal honesty.

"Jesus," she added. "It must be three in the morning there. What the hell's happened?"

"Is it?" I mumbled absently glancing at the digital clock. "I lost track of time."

"Jules," she sighed soothingly. "What's going on?"

"I umm," I began, not knowing exactly what to say. After a brief pause, I decided perhaps Grace's approach was the best, if not the only, way to deal with things. "Paul's been cheating on me."

"What?" she shouted, her shock sounding no less than my own had been.

I was past the point of crying, all of my tears had dried out long before. So, it was with a sort of detached, emotionless voice that I recounted what I'd discovered over the previous few hours.

"You've got to be kidding me?" she muttered quietly. I could tell she was talking to herself and didn't actually think it was my idea of a practical joke. "Who does that bastard think he is?"

"Rico Suave, apparently," I murmured bitterly.

"Jesus Christ," she sighed, clearly having a hard time taking the news in. "What an ass!" she suddenly shouted. "Where the fuck does he get off? You're stuck at home raising his children and he goes around sticking his dick into everything with a pair of breast."

I was grateful that she was so angry on my behalf, but her rant brought back images that caused my throat to tighten.

"I'd chop his cock off!" she added vehemently.

That brought a reluctant laugh to my lips, but it tapered off far too quickly to provide any real relief.

"Oh, Jules," she breathed. "Honey, what are you going to do?"

"I really don't know," I admitted with a whisper. "I just..." I sighed wearily. "I don't know."

"But you are going to leave him, right?" she asked, leaving no doubt that she felt the answer should be a resounding 'yes'.

"I want to," I replied weakly. "I mean, our marriage is over. If it had just been once, I might have been able to forgive him, but after this, I'll never be able to trust him again."

"But?" Grace coaxed, noting that there was one coming.

"But what can I do?" I said, shaking my head dispiritedly. "I haven't got a penny to my name. I can't even afford to rent a tiny one bedroom apartment, let alone a place big enough for three kids."

"Okay," she conceded, her practical tone coming to the fore. "So, you get a job and save some money."

It was a viable suggestion, but there were problems. "I won't be able to work without Paul finding out," I sighed. "He'd want to know why, and I can't come up with a convincing reason other than the truth."

"Tell him you're bored at home and need some adult company once in a while," Grace offered helpfully.

"Yeah," I agreed. "But if he knows I'm working, he'll wonder why the money isn't going into our joint bills account," I countered, hating the fact that every solution simply posed another problem. "Not to mention the fact that it would take me forever to save enough, I'm not qualified for anything that would pay well."

"Then don't worry about money," she dismissed quickly. "You and the children can come and live with me, until you've got yourself settled financially. You could stay as long as it takes you know that."

I'd been wrong. My tears had apparently an endless supply, because Grace's generous offer brought a fresh wave. "You're too good to me," I replied shakily.

"Hey," she cooed. "That's what friends are for, right? So what do you say?"

"I'd love to," I told her earnestly. "But I can't. No matter what, when I leave him, Paul's going to fight me for principal custody of the kids. If I take them out of the state without his permission, his lawyers will make sure I never see them again."

Grace was silent for several seconds. "Surely, he wouldn't do that," she mumbled. "The children love you, you're a good mom. Why would he want to do that to them or to you?"

Sighing, my eyes wandered to the ceiling. "He can be very vindictive," I explained. "And he's ruthless in getting what he wants. He's, umm..." I hesitated. "He's joked about what would happen if we ever split up. At least, he framed them as jokes, but I knew that he wasn't just messing around. If I give him any reason to, he'll take them from me."

Exhaling heavily, the whir of Grace's brain almost came through the phone. "All right," she began. "So, the situation is you need to make some money, preferably a lot of it in a fairly short space of time. And you need to keep it on the down low," she stated, summing up my impossible situation.

"That's about it," I agreed, leaning forward and dropping my head into my open left palm. "No big deal, right?" I joked darkly.

"Well," she said, drawing the word out. "I'm thinking there is something you could do?"

"What?" I asked, not holding out much hope for a completely full proof solution.

"Don't dismiss it right off the bat, okay?" she prefaced. "How about working as an exotic dancer?"

"Stripping?" I blurted. "I don't think so."

"I said, don't dismiss it," she insisted. "Think about it. You could work a couple of nights a week during the time Paul's away. You'd hire a sitter to watch the kids, or have them stay overnight with friends."

"All that sounds fine," I conceded. "But what about the part where I take off my clothes?"

"You've got an amazing body," she instantly replied, seeming to misunderstand my main objection. "It may have been a long time since you danced in high school, but I bet you've still got the moves."

"Grace," I muttered. "I can't."

"Why not?" she countered.

"I just..." I weakly protested. "I can't go around all the clubs in town, gyrating in nothing more than a thong."

"You could," she retorted. "Do you know how quickly you could make enough money for a deposit on an apartment?"

"That's not the point," I replied quietly.

"Well, sweetie," she sighed. "I don't know that you have many other options. I'm not suggesting that it's perfect, and I'm not suggesting you take it up as a career. But I do think it's worth considering. Otherwise, what choice do you have?" We both knew it was a rhetorical question, but Grace left it hanging there, no doubt wanting to ensure that I really thought about my predicament and lack of ways out. "Do you really think that you could just bury all of this and go on with Paul as though nothing's happened?" she eventually added.

That was another question that didn't require an answer. She knew me well enough to know that I couldn't bear to play 'happy families' with a man who not only had been unfaithful, but also a man who would doubtless continue to cheat on me.

"Are you still there?" she said after my silence had become uncomfortably long.

"Yeah," I assured her quietly. "Yeah, I'm still here. I'm just wondering how I got myself into this mess."

"None of this is your fault," she replied softly. "You could never have known that this is what was going to happen. I mean," she added, "it's not as though Paul was a player when he was younger. He's changed, and you couldn't have foreseen that."

"Maybe," I reluctantly mumbled. "But he still changed right in front of me, and I was either too busy or too blind to notice."

"Jules," she said in her no nonsense manner. It was the kind of tone that all parents use with their children from time to time. "You have to stop beating yourself up. Paul is the one who did something wrong. You're not to blame for any of it, understand?"

"I guess," I replied halfheartedly.

"Listen, I'm really sorry, but I've got to go," she added apologetically. I could hear Mason, her baby boy, in the background. He was crying softly; the sound of a hungry, growing child. "Think about what I said, and call me again if you need to talk. Any time, day or night."

"Thank you," I said with a grateful half smile that she would never see, but I hope she heard. "I really appreciate that."

"No problem," she responded. "You take care, honey."

"Bye," I sadly whispered, before slipping the phone back into its base. My gaze stayed fixed there for some time, not because I was drawn to the phone in particular. No, my focus remained there, because I was trying to resist the call of something else. If I ignored it, perhaps the feeling would pass.

However, it didn't. Eventually, I peered over my shoulder at the computer. After all that time, the screen had gone blank and a small amber light blinking slowly in the right hand corner. It was insane, I told myself. There was no way I would dance for ten dollar bills to be tucked into my panties. So, it was pointless even looking. And yet, my curiosity remained. In fact, it began to grow.

Muttering, "This is ridiculous," I picked myself off the bed and settled back in the chair by the desk. Quickly grabbing the mouse, I swept it across the pad, enlivening the screen once more. Not wishing to be reminded of the content of Paul's emails, I quickly signed out and closed that window. Then, I opened a fresh page and began a search.

After just a few minutes, I'd discovered that the pay of strippers varied dramatically depending on the clubs and how many private dances they were willing to offer. Nevertheless, it was apparently very possible for women to make between $2,000 and $3,000 per week. When I compared that with all of the entry level positions I would be qualified for, which paid minimum wage or just above, the choice seemed like a no-brainer. Grace was right, within just a few weeks, I could make enough money to put down a deposit and have a nice nest egg saved up.

Suddenly becoming aware of what I was doing, I pushed away from the desk and leaned back in the chair. "Am I actually considering this?" I whispered. I had shocked myself by how quickly I'd warmed to the idea and how attractive it was suddenly seeming.

Yes, it still seemed seedy. But I was beginning to realize I could live with that. After all, it would be for a finite, very short period of time. The alternative would mean staying with Paul, essentially prostituting myself (when he felt like having sex with me and not someone else), and trawling through a loveless, miserable existence. Being leered at by a few lonely men was a small price to pay to be free.

A silly smile began to spread across my face. There was another bonus to this plan, it would feel really good to get my own pay back on Paul. Although he'd never find out what I was doing, I could guess what his reaction would be if he did know. And that was enough; at least some vengeance would be had.

However, with that thought came an abrupt dampener to my heightening spirits. Paul could never know what I was doing. If he learned I was dancing in those places, despite the expression on his face being priceless, he would use it to argue that I was an unfit mother. If I danced in public, especially in the classier clubs that would be my preference, there was a possibility I'd be seen by someone Paul knows. That was a risk I could simply not afford to take.

# Chapter Seven

Work

Over the next couple of days, I continued to think very seriously about the possibility of stripping. Every time I stepped out of the shower, I carefully examined my body. For a woman who'd had three children, I wasn't in bad shape. Regular exercise and being usually careful to avoid any kind of junk food, had helped me stay trim. There were a few silvery stretch marks around my hips, but they were barely noticeable. After prodding my butt, I discovered a little wobble, but it was still pretty firm. Most of my skin was healthily bronzed by the summer sun, and the problem of paler patches could be easily solved with a little spray tan.

With the help of more make-up than I'd usually wear and the right outfit, I didn't think I'd look out of place in one of the more upmarket clubs. The more I thought, the more I became convinced not only that I could do it, but that it also offered me the escape route I needed.

As my interest refused to wane, I went back onto the internet and began scouting for clubs in various cities around the state. I was surprised by the large number of so-called gentleman's clubs. Most of their websites offered a section for 'career opportunities' and stressed that they were always looking for new talent. One page provided potential customers with a gallery of their dancers. Out of curiosity, I browsed the girls noting that many of them linked to their own websites.

Clicking on a blonde named, 'Snow', I was intrigued as to why a stripper would need a website. It turned out, Snow was a savvy business woman. She worked in a number of clubs and also offered private services in both dancing and escorting. Not only was she gaining some job security by diversifying, but also making a lot more money. With one night of escorting, she was earning what the average stripper gets in a week.

Closing the browser, I thought no more about it. At least, I wasn't aware of thinking about it. But as I lay in bed that night, my eyes wide open and focused on shadows that played across the ceiling, I continued to think about Snow and what she chose to do for a living. Sure, it was prostitution, and yet it was a very different world to the streetwalking variety.

Two things quickly occurred to me. One, if I stayed with Paul, I was going to be prostituting myself anyway. And two, men who hire escorts are much more likely to be discreet than men who go to strip joints.

Shaking my head, I couldn't quite believe the conclusions I was reaching. But one after another, I kept producing reasons why a brief career as an escort would be a good idea. I'd only have to work one night per week; I wouldn't have to take my clothes off in front of a room full of people; I could be selective over my clients and where I met them, ensuring I was always out of town.

But, I quickly slammed on the breaks of my runaway train of thought, there was the one huge sacrifice I would need to make. I would need to be prepared to allow complete strangers to use my body for their sexual pleasure. Was that something I could do? Was it something I would be able to live with afterward? The truth was, I didn't know.

However, there were only two alternatives; continue with the sham that was my marriage or leave Paul and accept that he would fight to take primary custody of our kids. I knew without any equivocation that I could live with neither of those things. The possible fallout may have been a complete unknown, but the fear of what _might_ happen was far less than the dread of playing the dutiful wife to a man I no longer respected, trusted or loved.

Unable to close my eyes, I pushed the covers off the bed and sat up. "I can try," I mumbled beneath my breath. "Just once."

Slipping off the bed, I tiptoed in the darkness to the computer and once more turned it on. If I'd made up my mind, I told myself, then I might as well get the ball rolling.

I wouldn't be able to set up my own site, at least not one in which I used a photograph, as there was too much chance of Paul, his parents, our friends and God knew who else seeing it. Instead, I'd need to use classified ads. There were several sites that would allow me to post free ones and there were a couple of message boards that offered a forum for escorts and potential clients to communicate.

After having read several other ads, I began to get a gist for the basic format and the kind of things that were important to customers. It took me almost an hour to write my own pitch, it was only 100 words long, but I struggled with the tone, wanting to get the right balance between classy and alluring. It's difficult enough to sell yourself for a regular job, when you're quite literally selling yourself, a personal statement (even a very short one) becomes incredibly hard.

However, by the time dawn broke, I had advertised myself on a total of five websites and had set up a new email account for the purpose.

Given the sheer number of young women who seemed to be trying to get work in exactly the same way, I didn't hold out much hope of hearing from anyone in the near future. In fact, regardless of the large amounts of money that could be made, I was beginning to wonder whether I would be able to make anything at all. There seemed to be a disproportionately large supply compared with demand.

Deciding that I would give the ads a couple of weeks, I determined to worry about a 'Plan B' only after that time had elapsed.

In the meantime, I had to go back to being a mom; there were children that needed to be woken, fed and shipped off to school.

***

As it turned out, I didn't have to wait two weeks. Just three days passed before I received my first email inquiry. I'd almost dismissed it as spam, feeling sure that I had no chance of generating interest so quickly. However, the subject line, 'Looking for some company on Saturday night', caused me to stop dead in my tracks.

I was about to open the message, but a voice from the doorway caused me to jolt in surprise.

"Mom," Dylan said brightly. "Can I have some ice cream?"

My head snapped around, as I shut the browser window. It was a nonsensical reaction, there was nothing revealing on the screen, my son couldn't see it anyway and even if he could, he certainly wasn't close enough to read. "How many times have I told you about knocking on that door before you come in," I grumbled, pushing myself off the chair and moving toward him.

"I did," he replied.

"Well, I didn't say 'come in'," I said, coaxing him around with a light touch at his shoulder.

He followed my silent guiding without hesitation or argument. "I'm sorry," he continued. "Can I have some ice cream, though?" he quickly added, returning to his primary concern.

"Not right now," I responded, walking down the hall with him.

"Ahhh, Mom," he moaned loudly. "Please!" he begged, turning to me and pressing his hands together in front of his chest. "Please, please, please," he rapidly added, his eyes taking on that dolefully expression he was so very good at.

Shaking my head apologetically, I hustled him ahead of me and we descended the stairs. "Maybe," I softly suggested, but before I could get the rest of the sentence out, my young son was already punching the air furiously.

"Yes!" he yelled delightedly.

"Maybe," I repeated, stressing the word this time. "If you eat all your dinner and promise to go to bed on time, I'll see what I can do about the ice cream."

"I love you, Mom," he said, turning his big brown eyes to me and grinning broadly. It was his standard way of trying to keep me sweet. His father used to do something similar when we were younger.

With the promise of ice cream, dinner was a much smoother affair than usual and I made a mental note to use bribery more often. All three children, even Kate, ate every last piece of their meal, including the greens that typically got pushed around until I got tired of trying to coax them into a mouth. Lizzie offered to help me clear away, which was no doubt a ploy to get an extra-large scoop, but it was appreciated nonetheless.

Putting them to bed that night, I spent a little longer looking at their adorable, peaceful faces. They were growing so quickly, time had been passing me by and I'd been largely oblivious to it. The shock of Paul's infidelity had caused me to put my existence into some sort of perspective. Almost thirty, and all I had to show for those years were the three kids who meant the world to me. Of course, they made me want to tear my hair out at times, but I couldn't imagine life without their mischievous charm. I wouldn't want to live in a world without them in it, my children were the only thing that made life make sense.

Closing Lizzie and Dylan's doors, and leaving Kate's fractionally ajar so she still had a little light from the hallway, I walked slowly back to my own bedroom. With a renewed sense of purpose, I settled in front of the computer screen and opened the email I'd received earlier that evening.

Hi,

I'm David, I read your advertisement and wondered if you're free on Saturday night. I know it's a bit short notice, but I have an unplanned stop in the state and I hate to be alone. Would love to learn more about you, and maybe see a picture? If you'd like to know what I look like, just say the word.

I leaned back for a moment, as the reality of what I'd done, and was planning to do, sunk in. Paul wasn't coming home until Sunday afternoon, so I certainly had the night free. However, I hadn't been expecting things to happen so quickly. I'd thought it would be at least a month, and probably much more, before I was actually working. I hadn't really had a chance to mentally prepare.

In retrospect, no matter how long it had taken, I know I would never have been prepared. It simply isn't the sort of thing that can be prepared for. But, at the time, part of me was arguing that I just needed a few weeks to really adjust to the prospect of selling my body.

However, something overrode that instinct, because I was already opening the many files of photographs we had stored on the computer. I managed to find a couple of me dressed in an evening gown at some fancy function Paul's company had organized six months previously. Choosing the one I liked best, I carefully cropped my husband out of the image, before attaching it to a new email.

I wrote a quick message, telling him that I was available if he was still interested and that I didn't need to know what he looked like.

As I clicked on 'send', I told myself his appearance didn't matter. However, I knew that my subconscious choice had been more to do with ignorance being bliss. If he was in his sixties or seventies, with a beer gut and tobacco stained teeth, the anticipation of spending the night with him would be filled with even more dread than it already was. Sex, for me, had always been inextricably linked with love. It had never been purely physical, and because Paul was my first and only lover, it had always been with someone I trusted. The thought of giving myself to a stranger; a man about whom I knew nothing and who didn't care about me, was entirely foreign and caused me to shudder.

However, I was forced to remind myself that that wasn't completely true. I no longer knew Paul and, for the last few months at least, he'd stopped caring about me. The last time we'd had sex was certainly evidence of that fact. Was offering my body to David really any different than the last time I'd been to bed with my own husband?

It only took a few minutes for him to write again.

Hey,

Thanks for getting in touch. You're a very beautiful woman, and I am definitely interested in enjoying the pleasure of your company on Saturday. You haven't mentioned fee, but it's not a problem. Whatever you charge, I'm happy to pay it.

I'm staying at the Hyatt, room 405. If you could be here at about 8pm, that would be good. Let me know. Thanks!

Before I had time to talk myself out of it, I wrote a reply confirming that I would be there at eight o'clock.

Breathing rapidly, as I pushed the chair away from the desk, I realized that it was done. I was really going to go through with it. I had just two days to arrange a babysitter and get myself ready for what would be the most bizarre date of my life. I quickly made a list of all the things that needed to be done; my legs, although always smoothly shaved, would probably need waxing; my small, neat patch of pubic hair would have to go, too. I'd never favored the Brazilian style, but I understood enough about what was popular among men to know that the hairless look would be expected. My nails required a fresh manicure; hair needed styling; and my tan lines from wearing a bikini had to be removed.

In short, I had to look perfect. There was a lot of work to be done.

# Chapter Eight

First Times A Charm

Nervous doesn't begin to describe how I felt as I walked down the hotel corridor. The backs of my legs shook so much that they felt weak, and I must have looked a bit like a newborn deer. Having felt so confident that I could go through with the night, I suddenly knew that it was nothing but bravado; intended only to convince myself.

Who was I kidding?

Having only ever slept with one man, I was almost as inexperienced as they come. Even when we were engaged and first married, Paul and I were never particularly adventurous in the bedroom. If this man had some peculiar tastes or fetishes, would I know what to do? Even if he didn't want something weird, would I be able to please him?

"Oh shit," I whispered, seriously contemplating turning around and bolting back to the elevator. "Oh shit, oh shit," I breathed. Halting the movement of my feet, I forced myself to breathe deeply. Smoothing my hands down the skirt of my red cocktail dress, I released a steady, slow exhale. I glanced down at my cleavage which was thrust up by a brand new bra I'd bought the day before. My legs were covered in black stockings and my feet securely tucked into four-inch stilettos. Flicking my newly wavy hair off my shoulder, I swallowed the anxious lump in my throat. "Pull yourself together," I softly mumbled.

When the temptation to turn back crept higher, I reminded myself why I was there. This was never about doing something that I wanted to, but what I felt I had to do. It was about putting my own fears and prudish concerns aside, because the end would justify the means.

Before I'd ordered them to do so, my feet were once more moving. The thoughts that had been racing discordantly through my head stopped and focused on the door numbers, until I reached '405'.

Quickly moistening my lips, I lifted my hand with the fingernails colored the same shade of red as my dress, and tapped softly on the door. I counted the deep thuds of my heart, while I waited for an answer. There were twelve. And then, slowly and gently the door was pulled open.

The man was much younger than I had expected, he must have been somewhere in his mid-thirties. He had dark, almost jet black hair that was cut in a neat Ivy League style, with a side parting. He was clean shaven, with soft features and dark brown eyes under quite long black lashes. As he looked at me, he smiled a little lopsided grin. "Hi," he greeted warmly, pulling the door open wider.

"Hi," I echoed, my eyes now taking in the view of the rest of his body. He was around six feet something, with strong, broad shoulders. He was wearing pinstriped black pants and a white dress shirt, with the cuffs undone.

"I'm David," he said, continuing to smile, as he moved to one side of the entry way and gestured an open hand into the room.

"Thank you," I nodded, managing a nervy smile in return as I stepped across the threshold. "I'm Arianna," I murmured, remembering to use the name I'd chosen for my call girl persona, rather than my real one. All the girls used fake names, most of them were tacky: Destinee, Lotus, Candy that kind of thing. I wanted something that sounded a little exotic and mysterious, but was still classy. I unconsciously drew in a breath as I passed him and was met with the earthy, spicy scent of whatever aftershave he'd just used. Swallowing, I silently reminded myself that it didn't matter what he smelled or looked like. I was here to do a job.

I couldn't help but feel grateful that he was attractive, though. Faking an interest in him would be made easier by the fact he was easy on the eyes.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

I stopped in the room's small living space. It wasn't quite a suite, but there were two comfortable chairs and a coffee table, with a brand new TV on the wall and a minibar in the corner. Beyond that, in the open plan space was the bed. It was a king size, with crisp white sheets, four plump pillows and a beige bed scarf with the Hyatt Regency logo embroidered in the corner. "Umm, yes, please," I managed to softly mumble, remembering that he had asked me a question.

"What can I get you?" I added, already moving to the minibar. "I'm on vodka myself," he said pointing to the one liter bottle of Smirnoff that was clearly not the hotels. "But you can have whatever you like."

"Vodka's fine," I quickly stated. With my rising nerves, the stronger the alcohol, the better.

"Great," he nodded. "Take a seat," he urged, grasping two shot glasses and the bottle.

As I settled into one of the armchairs, keeping a hand on the hem of my dress to stop it riding too high, he took the few strides toward me and tossed himself into the other seat. With a tired sigh, he slipped the glasses onto the table and began unscrewing the bottle.

"So, umm," I softly mumbled, trying to think of something to say. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, just work," he shrugged. "I was supposed to be heading back yesterday, but my office messed up the arrangements and I had to stay longer than planned."

"I see," I nodded, watching him pour some of the crystal clear liquid into each shot glass. "Sorry to hear that."

"It's ok," he quickly insisted. "I'm kind of glad now. If I'd gone home Friday, I would have never had the opportunity to meet you," he smoothly said, placing the bottle down and lifting his glass as if to toast.

Carefully, I reached for my own drink and lifted it to his. We clinked the edges of the glasses together, before both swallowing the shot whole. It instantly brought a flush of tears to my eyes and a burning to my throat which I tried to mask, but a cough erupted despite my efforts.

"Okay?" he asked, chuckling.

"Yeah," I assured him, hoarsely.

He grinned skeptically, before accepting my word with a brief nod. "Well," he sighed, lifting himself from the chair just enough to reach into his back pocket. "I said money wasn't an object, but I'd like to get it out of the way, if that's all right with you," he said, pulling the wallet out and flipping it open.

"Sure," I replied.

"That way, we can get on with enjoying the night, huh?"

"Right," I agreed. "Umm, exactly what services do you want from me?" I wondered, embarrassment causing my cheeks to warm. I hoped he might think the reddening was caused by the drink.

"I was hoping you'd be able to spend about six hours with me," he unabashedly said. "Err, you offer full sex, right?"

My mouth suddenly went very dry and I could only nod in response.

"Well, I don't want anything too strange or out of the ordinary," he added. "I guess it's called the umm, girlfriend experience?" he finished with a crease of his eyebrow.

Again, I nodded, my throat unwilling to cooperate in the making of any sounds. I'd seen the phrase 'girlfriend experience' on the many escort ads I'd seen online. And had been able to create an idea of what that would entail. I was beyond grateful that David didn't have an unusual fetish he wished to act out with me. Girlfriend experience was probably something I could just about manage.

"So?" he uttered, his thumb slipping over a large wedge of bills.

"Oh, sorry," I blurted shaking my head and realizing that this had been leading to me giving him a figure for my services. "Well, that'll be...errr... $1800." I spoke so haltingly and anxiously that I was worried my inexperience would be obvious to him.

He said nothing, while he flicked through the bills and then pulled out a fistful of them. Silently, he placed the cash on the table, before getting up and replacing his wallet in his pants. "Now," he smiled, "that's out of the way, we can concentrate on having a good time. Would you like something to eat?" he offered, visibly relaxing into the chair.

The casual way he'd dealt with the payment seemed so strange to me, and yet it was obviously necessary to separate the transaction and the 'good time'. "Sounds great," I replied, forcing a broad smile. In truth, I was so scared I didn't think I'd be able to keep anything down. But if he wanted to have dinner, then it was my job to ensure he got what he wanted. Reaching forward I scooped the cash off the table and slipped it into my purse.

"You want to go down to the restaurant?" he asked, tipping his head to the door. "Or should we just get some room service and eat up here?"

"Whatever you'd prefer," I offered warmly.

"Hmm," he looked at me, while he thought for several seconds. "On one hand, I'd like to have you on my arm. On the other, I'd kind of like to have you to myself," he chuckled.

I felt uncomfortable not only with the way he spoke about me; as if I were a commodity, but also by the way he looked at me. It was a hungry, appreciative gaze; a look that reminded me of the way a lioness eyes her prey. Of course, on the surface, I tried to let none of those emotions show. And, I had to concede, I was a commodity of sorts. I was bought and paid for.

"I think it'll be nicer to stay up here," he eventually said, cradling the back of his head in his hands. "We can really talk," he added.

While I drained another shot glass of vodka, David called down to room service and ordered for us both. I don't even remember what I had, I know I didn't spend long choosing, sure that I wouldn't touch any of it any way.

However, by the time the meal arrived, I'd had another shot and was beginning to feel much more relaxed.

David had professed an interest in learning more about me, but I'd successfully been vague in most of my answers and flipped the questions back to him. As he talked about his career as head of a sales team for a pharmaceutical company, I almost forgot the circumstances under which were we meeting.

"What about free time?" I asked, unconsciously sticking my fork into a piece of ravioli. "Any hobbies?"

"Ha," he exhaled. "What free time?" He was quiet for a moment, as he poured himself another glass of the red wine he'd order with the meal. "It feels like I'm always working, that's certainly what my ex thought."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I quickly apologized when I noted the sadness in his eyes.

"Don't be," he dismissed with a wave of his free hand. "It's not your fault." Carefully placing the bottle back down, he picked up his glass and lifted it to his lips, flashing me a smile before taking a mouthful. "But it's been tough since she left," he admitted. "My ridiculously busy schedule makes it impossible to meet anyone and I'm the kind of person that hates to be alone, you know?"

I nodded, remembering what he'd written in his first email. However, it seemed insane to me that a man like him would need to hire the services of an escort. He was young, handsome and charming. There would be any number of women who would be happy to have a one-night stand with him if that's all he could commit to.

However, his desires for the evening came back to the forefront of my mind: the girlfriend experience. He didn't want a one-night stand per se, it wasn't about a quick roll in the hay. He wanted companionship, he wanted to spend this time talking, sharing some laughs and for all intents and purposes, pretending we'd known each other for much longer than we had. If he just wanted a fuck, he could have gone down to the bar and picked up a girl or headed out on the streets to find a hooker. In fact, he could even have demanded that I get my clothes off as soon as I'd walked in the door.

"You're a sweet man," I told him, unaware of a compulsion to do so. The alcohol had loosened me up just enough to prevent my self censor from working properly. "I mean, someday a girl is going to be very lucky to have you."

He grinned, as he lifted his napkin and wiped the sides of his mouth. "I'm sure you've heard this a lot," he responded, tossing the napkin onto his empty plate and leaning back in his chair. "But you are an incredibly sexy woman."

I actually felt myself blushing and quickly glanced down to avoid his eyes. The truth was, I hadn't heard it a lot. Paul had said it twice, maybe three times, the whole time I'd known him. "Thank you," I gracelessly mumbled.

Suddenly, David was getting to his feet. He moved around the small table until he reached my side. There, he sank into a crouched position. Still, I couldn't bring myself to look at his face. And this was not something that went unnoticed.

Slowly, he crooked his warm index finger beneath my chin and coaxed my hand around. "The fact that hearing how sexy you are embarrasses you," he said, a teasing grin quirking the corners of his mouth, "makes you even sexier."

"I...I..." I stammered, shaking my head slightly. The next time I opened my mouth, nothing came out. It didn't have the chance. David's lips were unexpectedly melded to mine. He softly moved them, the tip of his tongue occasionally darting out to take a taste of my lip. For a long second the shock of his rapid movement startled me into stillness. However, as he slowly caressed my mouth with his own, I surrendered myself to the feeling. With a soft moan, I parted my lips and understanding the unintelligible call, his tongue slipped quickly over mine.

Even as it deepened, the kiss remained soft and exploratory. Nevertheless, it was doing entirely unexpected things to me. A warmth was spreading through my abdomen, which I tried to rationalize was from the wine and shots of vodka consumed earlier. I could never have admitted it, not even to myself, at the time, but I was enjoying that kiss. David was good; gentle, but with just the right amount of pressure. His tongue roamed playfully, rather than aggressively and he tasted nice; a mixture of Merlot and tomato pasta sauce.

What's more, I was excited by the promise of where the kiss would lead.

# Chapter Nine

Not Just A Job

I don't recall how I went from sitting at the table to laying on the bed. I do know that my head was swimming and it wasn't just thanks to my old friend the fermented potato.

David's mouth was still moving leisurely over mine, occasionally sucking my lower lip between his teeth. He was lying next to me on his side, pressing the length of his body to mine, while one arm draped across me and the hand gently caressed my hip.

By that stage, I was beginning to return his kiss with an enthusiasm I didn't have to fake. One of my hands had unconsciously smoothed up his chest and curled over his shoulder, while the other snaked around the back of his head and was pulling him that little bit closer. As I tightened my fingers, gripping a handful of his smooth, thick hair, a guttural groan reverberated from his open mouth to mine.

Fluidly, he eased his hand over the curve of my pelvis and began to confidently stroke his way down my thigh. When he reached my knee, he hooked his fingers behind my leg and pulled it upward. As his tongue slipped carefully over the roof of my mouth, he tugged my leg around his waist and placed the weight of his upper body on top of mine.

With a subtle, easy movement his thigh glided between my legs and the warmth of his flesh, even through clothing, caused my hips to jolt in search of a more satisfying contact.

With a noisy unclasping of wet mouths, he tenderly released his lips from mine and took several deep breaths. "You're so beautiful," he quietly said, his dangerously dark eyes staring intently at my face.

Even if my brain had been capable of coherent thought, I wouldn't have known what to say in response. But with his fingers slowly curling around to my inner thigh and edging their way higher, it was all I could do to remember to breathe.

In the silent room, there were three sounds that would otherwise have gone unnoticed; David's slightly labored breathing; my irregularly pounding heart and the soft grazing of large, masculine fingers moving over sheer nylon.

When he reached the lace tops of my stockings, the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. Delicately, he traced the intricate swirling pattern with the backs of his fingers. "Do you mind if we leave these on?" he asked, his voice suddenly a pitch lower than it had been before.

"Of...of course," I hoarsely responded, my eyelids flickering as the sensation he was creating on my inner thigh became enough to make me grip my bottom lip between my teeth. As he began to move again, creeping ever higher, the scorching heat of his touch seemed to burn the naked flesh of my upper thigh. It caused me to jump and he instantly withdrew his fingers.

"I'm sorry," he said, smiling warmly.

"No, no," I quickly spoke over his apology. "Don't stop, I just...umm," My chest began to move rapidly, as I got lost in his warm, gentle eyes. "It felt good," I eventually whispered.

His face swept closer and his eyelids drifted closed before his lips melded to mine in a more insistent and passionate kiss. It was as if he'd gained in confidence, and as his tongue entwined with mine, his fingers resumed their journey up my inner thigh.

My brain could not keep up with what was happening or, more importantly, with the reactions my body was having to his actions. As the tip of his fingers reached the crease of my groin, and my hips bucked in response, I realized I no longer had any control.

He slipped his finger to the edge of my panties, and carefully worked his way beneath the lacy, black fabric.

Whimpering, I automatically opened my legs wider, as the soft pads of two fingers massaged the freshly waxed flesh of my outer lips.

Lifting his face from mine, David's eyes sparkled. "Arianna," he tenderly said, as he drew his fingers between my folds and found me damp. "You feel so good."

This was nothing like I'd expected. I'd assumed a client would be solely interested in getting his pleasure, possibly at the expense of an escort, but certainly with no thought for sensitivity or sensuality – the things that were perceived as purely feminine desires.

"Oh, God," he groaned, his index finger circling the rim of my entrance.

My back arched and my mouth fell open with a quiet sigh of need, while my hands gripped him more tightly. Only Paul had ever touched my sex, only Paul had ever entered me. Before that night, I'd believed that the touch of any other man would feel wholly wrong; that my body would reject the prospect and the whole ordeal would be forgettable at best and painful at worst. In fact, the reality was more exhilarating and arousing than I ever could have imagined.

David wasn't treating me like a cheap whore nor was he behaving like a stranger who simply wanted to take something from me. And yet, on some level, I still felt sluttish and rather than wanting to run from that sensation I yearned for more.

"Arianna," he whispered, his face coming back to mine and light kisses being placed along my jaw. "I know you said strictly protected sex," he mumbled quietly, his lips tickling the top of my neck. "But how do you feel about oral?"

My eyes opened sharply and I was abruptly pulled from the sexy haze I'd been lounging in. Now, it seemed I was required to actually do something. It was a harsh reminder of the fact I wasn't there to enjoy myself. It was work. "Umm," I blabbered, while I tried to organize my thoughts.

"It's just not the same with something between us," he continued, rising his head and peering down at me. "And not that you have any reason to trust me, but I promise I'm safe."

"I trust you," I breathlessly replied, unsure why I felt so certain I could. Nevertheless, I believed him.

"So, it's okay?" he asked, smiling hopefully.

His index finger was still circling my sex in slow, smooth, hypnotic motions. In that instant, I think I may have said 'yes' to whatever he asked. "All right," I nervously offered, pushing myself into a sitting position.

Fellatio was not something I'd had much experience in. Paul had always wanted me to deep throat him and, after a few failed attempts, he decided he'd rather not bother with it at all. I was anxious about my ability to pleasure a man with my mouth, it had certainly never done much for my husband.

David, oblivious to my concerns, was also pushing himself into a seated position. Flashing a sexy grin at me, he placed both hands on my legs and lifted himself between them. "Just relax," he softly instructed, his hands smoothing up my thighs and pushing my dress up with them. Carefully, he placed his thumbs in the elastic of my underwear and began to edge it off my hips.

"I..." I mumbled. "I thought you meant," I added, fumbling gracelessly with my words.

"Oh," he chuckled, sliding my panties over my knees and smoothing them all the way to my ankles. "This is okay, right?" he added, carefully lifting one of my stilletoed feet and tugging my underwear completely from me.

"Whatever you want," I nodded, as my panties were removed from my opposite foot and tossed on the bed by his side.

His large hands returning to my waist, he encouraged me to lie back, while inching the dress just a little higher still.

I settled anxiously onto the mattress, my eyes not daring to look down at what he was doing. I was completely exposed to his hungry gaze; his silence and lack of movement as he seemed to carefully take in every detail of me, was unnerving.

However, eventually, he did move. Lifting one of my legs, he placed the knee on his shoulder, before shuffling closer to me. Turning his head to the side, he brushed his lips across the naked skin at the top of my stockings, creating sparks of electricity that shot up to the juncture of my thighs. He kissed his way steadily higher until, as if in slow motion, his tongue began to push its way between my plump folds.

"Ohh," I moaned, my voice shaking and body convulsing slightly.

David responded with a rapid lick upward to my clit. It was so sensitive that the touch of his tongue made me feel as though I had been electrocuted and I shuddered beneath him. With a soft grunt, he drew lazy circles across my tight bud, surprising me when he suddenly slipped the tip of one finger inside my entrance.

"God," I yelped, unable to prevent the reflex to buck my hips.

It might have been no more than my imagination, but I was sure I could feel his lips smiling, as he gradually lapped more feverishly at my clitoris. Desperately, my hands darted down to his head and ran restlessly across his scalp. I had never experienced anything quite so intense in my life. I could feel the heat flushing my face, as I panted shallow breathes and exhaled weak groans and mutters of pleasure.

As he mixed up the rhythm and movement of his tongue, drawing long strokes rather than focusing solely on my tiny bud of nerve endings, he pushed his finger a little deeper. With a slight curve of his finger, he began rubbing at the front wall of my passage, causing yet more strong quakes of ecstasy to rock me.

I watched the top of his head as he slowly made his way back to my clit and began to move in strong, purposeful jerks. As his smooth, skillful tongue strummed at my engorged flesh, his finger rubbed harder and faster at the spongy skin inside my sex.

The ascent was quick; the heat inside me rocketed and my head span violently. When I felt that I was about to explode, I sucked in a deep breath and held it firmly in my lungs. My trembling limbs suddenly locked tight, my thighs clamped around David's head, my fingers seized around handfuls of hair. As the molten pleasure sent warmth spilling through my body, my mouth fell open and I could not hold back the screeches of sheer joy. Meanwhile, my hips swayed, pressing more firmly against his mouth in an attempt to make the feeling last forever.

But it didn't last forever. All too quickly, the feeling seeped to my extremities and dissipated through the tips of my fingers and toes. With that came a relaxing of the spasms that had claimed every inch of me and I finally released him. My head dropping back onto the bed, I gasped for air.

I was unaware of David slowly rising from his position between my legs and drawing his upper body level with mine. "You taste incredible," he hummed, his lips close to my face.

Sluggishly opening my eyes, I found his features hanging a couple of inches over mine. His lips and the skin around them were moist and shiny from my arousal; his hair was mussed from where I'd viciously grabbed it and the sides of his face were a little red from my impersonation of a boa constrictor.

"Oh," I muttered, my post-orgasm vision taking a while to focus. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," he dismissed quickly. "It was a genuine reaction," he added. "I love that."

"Well," I quietly hedged, my eyes leaving his and drifting to his mouth. "You're very good," I whispered, unsure whether I'd said the words aloud or if they'd remained in my head.

He laughed a little self-effacingly, his lower half gently pressing against mine. "I don't know about that," he mumbled. "But you're incredibly responsive."

I felt my eyebrows creep upward, as the swell of his groin suddenly made itself known against my inner thigh. I'd guessed he must have been aroused, but not having noticed the evidence of it, the suddenness of his shockingly hard member caught me by surprise.

"I want you," he whispered.

"I'm all yours," I replied breathlessly.

He lunged his head forward, claiming my mouth in a kiss that now tasted of both him and me. It was brief, but spoke of the heights of his desire. Quickly, he was pushing himself up, his hands already unfastening his shirt.

I followed him, sitting up and grabbing the bottom of his shirt. I rapidly unclasped some of the lower buttons, my shaky fingers meeting him somewhere in the middle. We both giggled as we fought over the last fastener. He won, making short work of the final button and peeling the white, crisp shirt off his shoulders.

He was very well built, with chiseled chest muscles and washboard abs. Unlike Paul, David had a neat pattern of dark hair that began at his collarbone and spread across his broad chest muscles. At his abdomen, a strip of finer hair drew a line between his abs and disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.

As I realized I was staring at the incredibly sculptured, masculine torso before me, another revelation hit me. I'd always believed I preferred a smooth, hairless chest, but there was something so rugged and masculine about David's torso. Something a little feral; animalistic and unspeakably sexy.

When my eyes finally made it back to his face, I found him smiling at me. "Will I do?" he asked, with a great deal of humor and just a small degree of nervousness in his tone.

"Oh, yeah," I grinned. "You'll definitely do," I added, my hands reaching for his belt buckle and beginning to wrench it open.

Carefully, he took hold of my wrists, stilling my hands before peeling them away from him. When I followed his silent instructions, he gradually released me and in response to my confused and startled expression, he reached both arms around my back. With the finger and thumb of his right hand, he took hold of the tiny zipper at the back of my dress and leisurely pulled it down. As the bodice began to slacken, he used his left hand to coax the strap off my shoulder. As he did, he dipped his head forward and kissed the small piece of skin it had once covered.

I shrugged out of the opposite side, causing the front of my dress to fall in a puddle at my middle. The tiny straps had meant I'd had to forgo a bra and my breasts were now naked to his scrutiny. His eyes actually moved steadily between my bosom and my face, locking on the latter as he cupped one hand to each breast.

His fingers moved smoothly, massaging the globes of flesh with just the right amount of pressure. His thumbs meanwhile, rubbed teasingly over my nipples, prompting me to mewl plaintively. All too soon, his hands were gone, slipping down my torso and pushing the dress down. I lifted my butt, helping him ease it off my hips, then he swept it down my legs and over my feet with ease.

With the exception of my stockings and stilettos, I was completely nude. And I realized, as I glanced down my body, that the soft skin around my sex was glistening with the same fluid that had been spread around Ben's mouth.

But that didn't seem to bother him. He quickly shuffled back, slipping off the bed and reaching for the cabinet on the right side. Yanking open the top drawer, he enclosed something in his hand, before quickly closing it again. With his free fingers, he unbuckled his belt with ease and unfastened the fly of his pants. With the help of gravity, they quickly dropped to the floor and he kicked them, and his shoes, off.

"I'm sorry," he said, gripping the thick elastic waistband of his boxer briefs and forcing them over his hips. "But I need you right now, I can't wait any longer."

# Chapter Ten

The Escort Next Door

My jaw slackened as his underwear was pushed down his legs and his manhood sprung free. His circumcised penis was huge; thick, long and perfectly smooth. It was rock hard, which was obvious even without touching him.

"It's all right," he said calmly. "I've got a rubber," he added, holding up the thing he'd retrieved from the drawer just seconds before.

I tried to relax, to ensure that he didn't realize my expression of mild alarm was for a completely different reason. I forced a smile, as I watched him slide the condom down to the base of his shaft with practiced ease.

He then bent at the waist scooping his boxers and socks off, before moving back to the bed. I scooted into the middle of the mattress, one hand leaning down and grabbing the large heel of one shoe.

"No," he quickly urged. "Leave those on, too."

"Okay," I nodded. I was expecting him to climb onto the bed and place himself between my slightly parted legs.

However, he simply sat on the edge, turning his head over his shoulder at me. "Come here," he encouraged with a playful jerk of his head.

I followed his instructions, sitting up then rolling onto my knees and shuffling across the bed toward him. As soon as I was within reach, he wrapped one arm around me and pulled me closer. The other hand curled over my hip, the fingers reaching my ass. With both arms able to guide me, he compelled me to lift one leg over his so I was straddling him.

My eyes were fixed on the hard rod between his legs. The rounded head, beneath a thin layer of cream latex, that was straining toward my sex. Using his shoulders for balance, I slowly peered into his face.

"Please, Arianna," he groaned, his hips involuntary jerking.

Taking a steady, slow inhale, I realized that there was no turning back. I had passed the point of no return. Of course, what I wouldn't have admitted then was that I would not have turned back even if I could have. Forcing myself to breathe calmly, I slowly lowered my hips. David's hands were sliding serenely over my lower back, occasionally dipping to caress the curve of my buttocks.

I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, as I felt his domed tip begin to force its way inside me. I held still, giving my entrance a chance to adjust to the unfamiliarly significant girth. However, instead of the discomfort I expected to experience as he entered, the sensation was satisfying. Ready for him, my body wanted to be stretched and I instinctively sank deeper.

"Ugh," he groaned, his hands clasping my buttocks tightly. "Yeah, that's good."

"Hmm," I moaned luxuriously, inching further and further until my outer lips met his firm pubic bone. Startled, I opened my eyes and snatched a glance down to our joined bodies. I was amazed that he was buried to the hilt, he was completely sheathed within me; filling me in a way that felt unbearably good.

It obviously felt pretty good for him, too. His pupils were dilated, he was gasping heavily and his brow had a few beads of sweat. As he tipped his face to the ceiling, I watched his throat flex as he swallowed.

Running my right hand down the length of his arm, I clasped his fingers between mine and lifted his hand to my mouth. Moistening my lips, I guided two of his fingers over my tongue, closing my mouth around them. When this caused his hips to thrust against mine, I sucked hard on them.

"Arianna," he whispered, his head thrusting forward. His tongue moved frantically between my breasts, following the curve of one before moving to the center and latching onto the nipple. He gently grazed it with his teeth before tapping it with the tip of his tongue. It grew harder under his attention, painfully so.

"Ahh," I cried, releasing his hand. Writhing, I rubbed my slick clit against his rigid body. I couldn't hold back any longer. With a suddenness that surprised even me, I forced my thighs into action, lifting my body, before hurriedly slapping back down. This time, as his dick slid into my wet passage, it seemed to go deeper. "Ugh," I grunted as my ass slapped against his thighs.

David tried to keep his mouth on my breasts, lapping and sucking as best he could at the moving target.

Needing the leverage, I put my hands back on his shoulder and began to bounce up and down on his thick, stiff shaft. As he buried his face in my cleavage, I wrapped my hands around his head, enjoying the feel of his panted breath against my skin.

My own lungs were expelling air in excited shrieks and squeals. Soon, my legs no longer had the strength to lift me to the top of his penis. Instead, I could only manage feeble shallow thrusts.

David began to help me, his hands guiding my hips and supporting some of my weight. However, his motions had become equally rapid and uncoordinated. As his grunts and my cries rose and combined, he lifted his face to mine.

I peered down at his sweaty expression, my breasts jiggling around so violently that they were slapping against the underside of his chin.

"Ugh, God. You're so hot," he panted. "Arianna, you're...you're so fucking hot."

"Ahhh," I cried, an extra strong jolt against his pubic bone sending waves of orgasm through me.

As my internal muscles spasmed and clamped him, David began to desperately buck beneath me. "Yes," he groaned. "Ugh, Christ!" His hands tightened at my hips, fingertips digging into the thin flesh.

Aftershocks caused me to jerk and writhe against him for several more seconds, while our pounding hearts began to slow. I could feel his pulse pressed against my right breast and remember marveling, just for a moment, at the fact our hearts seemed to be racing in time with each other.

Eventually, I grew still. My butt falling to his lap and my sex pressed as close to his as I could get. My arms were wrapped tightly around him, unwilling or perhaps unable to let go. His softening shaft was still tucked snugly within me and I was in no hurry to break the spell of calm, comfort and serenity that had descended over the two of us.

"Are you okay?" he softly asked, his hands making lazy patterns up my spine.

With a ridiculous smile on my face, I nodded, knowing he would feel the movement against the side of his face. "I'm good," I said, my voice thick and weary. "Was it okay for you?" I quickly added, remembering suddenly that I'd been moving to the demands of my own body; chasing an orgasm for myself without the conscious awareness that the only person that mattered was him – the paying customer.

"Are you kiddin'?" he laughed. "God," he sighed. "That was incredible."

"Are you sure?" I insisted, releasing my hold of him enough to tip back and look at his face.

"Arianna," he said, shaking his head with amusement. "I haven't had an orgasm like that in a long time."

"Me neither." The words slipped out before I had a chance to hold them back. "I mean," I added, wanting to backtrack, but unsure how to without offending him. Giving up the search for something that would make me sound more experienced, I shrugged. "I guess, I mean exactly what I said," I sighed. "It's been a long time since I've felt like that."

"You know," he said, with his lopsided smile. "Coming from any other woman who does what you do, I would think that you were just telling the client what he wants to hear," he continued. "But I believe you. And I can't tell you how good that makes me feel."

"Really?" I asked, cocking my head to one side. The fact that we were still joined, still naked, entwined in each other's arms didn't seem in the least bit odd. Instead, talking to him like that felt like the most natural thing in the world. I was more relaxed than I'd been all day, more relaxed than I'd felt for months, maybe even years.

"A woman's orgasm," he began, his eyes drifting to a spot on the wall behind me, "is beyond beautiful. It's beyond sexy. It's one of those rare special, fleeting moments when life seems to make sense; my life seems to make sense, you know?" he finished, nervously searching my face for understanding.

"Yeah," I offered quietly, "I guess I do."

"What are we all here for if it's not to give and receive pleasure from each other?" he added. "I don't mean just sex, and I don't mean seeking pleasure when it's going to hurt someone else. But those moments that make us feel alive, those are what are precious."

I nodded silently, ruminating on what he'd said. In a nutshell, he'd summed up the job of an escort. Companionship was a form of pleasure; sexual gratification was quite obviously a source of it, too. The role of an escort was to bring some of those precious experiences to another human being.

I wasn't naïve enough to believe that all men who hired call girls were as nice or as affectionate as David, but maybe they weren't all as sex-crazed and selfish as I'd assumed either.

"Anyway," he said, nudging my thoughts aside. "I guess, I'd better," he muttered, tilting his head toward his groin, "take that off."

"Oh, right," I blurted, suddenly remembering the condom that was still covering him and now filled. "Then, I guess I'd better get up," I stated obviously, sliding my hands back onto his shoulders, which were clammy with drying sweat, and pushing my lower half off his lap.

His hands remained securely on my waist as I rocked back and placed my feet on the ground. "I...umm," he grinned, his eyes moving appreciatively up and down my body. "I hope to make you come like that again before the night is out."

"Huh?" I quizzically muttered, glancing at the digital clock on the bedside. There were another three hours of David's time with me. Did it make me even more of a whore that I smiled like the Cheshire cat when I realized that?

***

It was almost three in the morning when I eventually got home. I'd ended up staying an extra half an hour with David. It was time I'd assured him he didn't need to pay for, especially since he'd promised to hire me again next time he was in town. In fact, he'd even suggesting flying me across the country to spend evenings with him elsewhere. With the kids and trying to keep my moonlighting secret, out of state trips would have proven difficult. However, I was certainly keen and said I'd think about it. In any case, he insisted on paying for the additional thirty minutes, and while his hand was in his wallet he grabbed some cash for my cab fare.

By the time I wandered into my kitchen and poured myself a mug of herbal tea, the effects of the alcohol had well and truly worn off. However, I was not as tired as I'd expected to feel. In fact, quite the reverse, I was wide awake. I felt energized, I was on a strange kind of high, the like of which I'd never known.

Never in my wildest dreams had I expected to actually enjoy selling my body. Never had I imagined that a man who pays women for sex, could be a more tender, considerate and affectionate lover than my own husband. David was possibly better in bed than Paul had ever been; sex with him had definitely been better than the last few years with Paul.

More importantly, I told myself, I had a little over two thousand dollars in my purse. I'd need much more to be completely free of Paul, but it was a great start.

The positive experience with David had renewed my enthusiasm for the idea. Not all clients would be like him, that was obvious. But I'd learned something important about myself; I could do it. I could have sex with a stranger, sex with no real attachment. If I'd done it once, I could do it again. And, there was a chance that there were more David's out there; more men who wanted an uncomplicated evening, but who still treated women with respect. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more it occurred to me that men who use escorts do view women with respect. It's men who pick up any girl in a bar, tell her what she wants to hear, then disappears in the morning and spends the next month dodging her calls, who have little or no respect for women.

An escort's clients are, at least, honest; they're frank about what they want and they're willing to pay a fair price for a girl's time. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn't anything like as sleazy and degrading as I'd first assumed. Perhaps I was just trying to make myself feel better, because I was now one of those women I'd considered degraded, but I truly believe that my eyes had been opened that night.

And that wasn't the only thing.

Sex had never been a particular preoccupation of mine. During the first stages of our adult relationship, Paul and I had sex quite frequently and I enjoyed it. I especially liked the fact that it seemed to make him so happy. However, I didn't 'get it'. I could not understand why women craved sex, why they would put themselves in dangerous situations to seek it out. It was fine; it was nice, but it wasn't the earthshaking experience so many people seemed to think.

In the most unexpected of places, my earth had been shaken. I understood it now with a clarity I could never have believed. I had left David completely satisfied, relaxed and happier than I'd felt in months. But in the quiet of my kitchen, the desire was building already. Yes, I wanted the money, I wanted to secure a future for me and the children – those were my prime concerns.

But I'd be lying if I said the thrill of what I'd done hadn't sparked a sort of addiction. I wanted more sex, uncomplicated sex with no attachments; pure pleasure without hurting anyone else.

### To be continued...

### Thank you for reading!

Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in this series.
Loving The Bull Rider

by

Helen Evans
Copyright © 2014 by Helen Evans

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 any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Loving The Bull Rider

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing, or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use.

This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Helen Evans, except in the case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases require written approval from Helen Evans prior to publication. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

# Chapter One

Dinner Guest

I distractedly chewed my food, my attention too focused on the novel I was reading to notice much of anything else around me. Although the sterile, cool air of the hospital caused goose bumps on my arms, which was hard to ignore, or maybe that was a result of the place I was at in my book. The heroine was moments away from certain death, but the hero was right outside the door, ready to barge in and rescues her. I sighed.

If only my life were a romance novel. I could get out of this small town, away from the monotony of my job, and the loneliness of my bed. Of course, I'd have to leave my family, but that would be a small price to pay for some excitement in my life. I took another bite of my turkey sandwich, and then set it down on the cellophane wrapping it had come in. I flipped through the pages faster, wanting to witness the heartfelt reunion between the two main characters when the hospital's intercom buzzed.

"Nurse Montgomery to the ER. Nurse Montgomery to the ER."

So much for having a peaceful lunch break. I really should stop expecting the luxury of finishing a meal in this place. I gathered my trash and tossed it into the garbage can on my way out of the cafeteria. As I stood waiting for the elevator, I seriously considered what my life would be like if I were to leave this town. I'd been born and raised here in this small town of Onalaska, Georgia. But the town was dwindling, people were leaving, factories were closing, jobs were being lost. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful everyday for the things I have, but I can't help but wonder if there isn't more out there.

The elevator dinged, and I stepped inside the crowded car. There were a couple of nurses who were new to the staff. They gave me polite smiles and carried on with their private conversation as if I weren't even there. I stared at the glowing numbers as they slowly ticked down, until they finally stopped on the first floor.

"This is me," I mumbled as I stepped out into the ER. "You paged me?" I said to Claire, the secretary on duty.

"Oh, hey Rebecca. Doctor Masters is looking for you. He's in the fourth exam room on the left."

"Thanks," I said, as I headed back toward the hallway of exam rooms. I wasn't all that surprised Doctor Masters paged me specifically. We worked well together, and I was one of the few nurses who could handle his brusque, no-nonsense attitude.

I carefully pulled open the curtain and peeked inside. "You asked for me, Doctor Masters?"

"Yes. Come in."

Stepping inside, I pulled the curtain closed to protect the patient's privacy, and went to stand beside the doctor.

"What do we have today?" He said. There was a young boy lying on the table, face pale and clammy, eyes closed.

"Broken ankle. It needs to be set, and I need your help," Doctor Masters said as he moved around the bed. "He's already been given a mild sedative and some pain medication. I had to send his parents back to the waiting room. His mother was inconsolable."

I nodded. I would've preferred to have been able to speak to the patient directly, but he was clearly out as a result of the sedative. It was for the best. Setting a bone was painful, and not something any child should have to be conscious enough to experience. "What's his name?" I asked.

"Billy Jenkins."

The Jenkins boy. I should've known. His family had lived on my street for almost three years now. I smoothed the hair from his forehead and leaned closer. "It's okay, Billy. It's me, Rebecca. I'm going to be right here the entire time, okay?"

I knew he couldn't answer me, and I doubted he could even hear me, but I was a firm believer that a kind voice during a trauma like this was helpful. Other nurses and even a majority of the doctors thought I wasted my time, but I didn't care. In my mind, I was helping and that's all that mattered to me.

"Are you ready?" Doctor Masters asked.

"Yes," I leaned over the boy's body in an effort to keep him still in the off chance he jerked involuntarily while having his ankle set. It wouldn't be the first time it happened.

I closed my eyes and tried to prepare myself for the unmistakable sound of the bones being cracked and set back into place. I heard Doctor Masters quietly count to three, and then I cringed. No matter how many times I did this, I would never get comfortable with that sound. It always reminded me of the time I'd fallen off my grandfather's horse and broke my leg. I swore the sound of it had been worse than the pain itself.

"All right, let's get this foot into a cast before he wakes."

"Ok," I responded. I once again smoothed the hair from the little boys face and smiled. There didn't appear to be any signs of distress on his face, and I was thankful for that. "Would you like me to let his parents know things went well?" I asked.

"Yes, that would be great," he said, scribbling on the boy's chart, not bothering to look up from it. "Have me paged as soon as you get that cast on, and I'll give his family discharge instructions."

"Okay," I told the Doctor. I scurried out of the room to gather the supplies for a cast, including another set of hands. Thankfully, I only had an hour left of my shift. It had been calm compared to some nights, but still, I was exhausted. It would be heaven to get home and climb into my bed.

***

I pulled into my driveway and shut off my car, but not before I saw the silhouette of someone sitting on my porch. My heart leapt into my throat. I rarely had visitors, and I never had them at this late an hour. I turned my headlights back on to get a better look at who was lurking, but it didn't do much to help. So, I rolled down my window and stuck my head out.

"Hello, can I help you?" I asked nervously.

"For God's sake, Becca. It's only me," a familiar voice shot back.

"Michelle?" I breathed a sigh of relief and got out of the car. What was my sister doing here? Better yet, why was she on my porch like this? "Why didn't you use your key?" I asked as I climbed the steps up to the porch.

"I lost it," she said.

I frowned. She lost my house key? That was comforting. I made a mental note to have my locks changed.

"Please don't look at me like that," Michelle said, standing and following me inside. "It's probably somewhere in all my boxes."

Right. She was in the process of moving. I'd forgotten. "How's that going anyway?" I asked as I kicked off my shoes and turned on the lights. The scent of my lilac air freshener filled the room and made me smile. It was so much better than the smell of that awful cleaning solution they use at the hospital.

Michelle shrugged. "It's going slow. Jax isn't making it very easy on me. Every time I go to the house to get more stuff, he's there, begging me not to leave, to give him another chance." She plopped down on the couch. "I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. I'm so close to giving in." She said as she looked up at me for judgment.

"Oh, Michelle, you can't do that." I sat beside her and gave her a hug. "Every time you feel like going back, remember what he did to you."

"I know." She sighed. "But Nana and Grandpa always told us to forgive and forget. It's the quickest way to a happier life."

I smiled at the memory of my grandparents and how they would always say things like that. They were wonderful people, taken from us much too soon. "Yes, they did say that, but they also always told us not to be doormats, remember?" I shot back at her.

She nodded, but remained silent.

"Jax has been mooching off you for over a year, Michelle. He's refusing to get a job; he's blown your savings, and you caught him cheating on you." I shook my head and gave her a sympathetic smile. "Forgive him if it will make you feel better, but don't forget what he's done, and please don't take that loser back."

At that, Michelle laughed. "Thanks, Becca. You always know how to make me feel better." She hugged me then stood. "I'm sorry I was lurking on your porch like some weird stalker."

I laughed. "You don't ever have to apologize for coming here. My door is always open to you. And probably to the rest of this town, too, thanks to a lost key." I winked.

Michelle groaned. "I swear I will find your key."

"Thanks. You hungry?" I responded.

"Starved." She told me.

Despite being grateful for my job, I was not grateful for the weird schedule I was on as a result of it. Working nights really messed with my internal clock. Here it was, almost midnight, and I was starting dinner. This was not good for my waistline.

"I'm not sure what I have, but I'm sure I can throw something together." I went to the kitchen, and Michelle followed. After a quick inventory of my cabinets and refrigerator, I found some leftover chicken and pasta. I tossed them into a baking dish, covered it with a jar of spaghetti sauce and mozzarella cheese, and put it in the oven. Not my most gourmet meal, but it would do.

I turned to find Michelle sitting at the breakfast bar, arms propped on the counter top, watching me. I smiled and asked, "What?"

"Nothing." She shook her head and straightened. "How was work?"

I shrugged. "Same old, same old. Broken bones, runny noses, heart attacks. Nothing exciting."

"If you hate it so much, why don't you quit, Becca?"

I hated how intuitive my sister was; she knew me too well. It was impossible to hide anything from her, and I knew she'd heard the melancholy in my voice. I sighed. "I don't hate it, but I just wish I was doing something more fulfilling, you know?" I shrugged and turned to check on my impromptu casserole.

"Well, you know what I think of your career choice." Michelle said as she joined me near the stove, opening the cabinet and retrieving two plates. "Mom and Dad totally strong-armed you into being a nurse."

I really didn't want to have this conversation with her again. Was she right? Of course, but I didn't need to tell her that. She knew it already. I'd become a nurse because my parents wanted me to, convinced me it was the smartest thing to do. It was a source of stability in an unstable town. Even though it wasn't my life aspiration to be a nurse, I couldn't be angry with my parents. They'd been looking out for my best interests, and they'd been right. Because of my job, I was able to live comfortably and had even bought my own house last year.

I took the pasta from the oven and set it on the counter. "If you promise to drop this, I'll open that expensive bottle of wine I bought last month."

Michelle grinned. "Deal."

I laughed. It was so easy to distract her with the temptation of a fine wine. While she scooped food onto our plates, I grabbed the bottle of wine and two glasses. I was glad she was here tonight. I really didn't want to be alone.

# Chapter Two

Night Shift

I hated working the night shift, but I did enjoy working on the fourth floor. It was much calmer than the ER or even the children's wing. This ward was reserved for adult patients who'd been admitted for various reasons. In the five years I'd worked at this hospital, not once had the ward been full. Tonight wasn't any different. After working in the ER for the past week, I welcomed the silence. Maybe I'd finally get to finish my book.

I sat behind the nurses' station, checking the patient schedule to see who needed vitals checked or medication when John, one of the orderlies, came down the hallway, wheeling a patient in front of him. I stood, knowing I'd have to check in that patient and get him settled. As he got closer, I couldn't help but notice how attractive the patient was despite being badly bruised.

"Good evening, John." I nodded.

"Rebecca. This is Lucas Hudson. He's been admitted for the night for observation." John held out the file for me to take.

I took it and tucked it under my arm. I'd look it over once the patient was settled. It would be rude to do so now when he was clearly uncomfortable in that chair. "Room four o six is empty." I told John.

John wheeled Lucas into the room, and I followed. After getting Lucas settled into the bed, John left. Suddenly, I was very self-conscious around this man. He was very sexy with dark brown hair and eyes to match. Beneath all the cuts and bruises, he had strong cheekbones and a masculine jaw.

"Hi, Mr. Hudson. I'm Rebecca, and I'll be looking after you tonight."

"Well, maybe being stuck here won't be so bad after all." He said with a smile. I wished I'd been sitting down, because the effect was devastating. Deep, southern drawl combined with a crooked smile that showed off perfectly, straight, white teeth was a deadly combination.

I nervously cleared my throat, unsure how to respond to that. It was a compliment, wasn't it? No one had ever said anything like that to me before. "Um..."

He laughed at my obvious discomfort. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said with a broad smile.

"No," I shook my head, "really, it's okay, Mr. Hudson."

He groaned. "Please call me Lucas."

"Right." I nodded. "Okay, Lucas, is there anything I can get for you? Some water or a magazine maybe?"

He shifted in the bed. "Some water would be good. That damn bull did a number on my windpipe."

I stared at him. "Bull?" I asked confusingly.

"Yes, I was trampled by a bull," he said, as if it were an everyday occurrence and no big deal.

Again, I had no idea what to say to him, so I grabbed the empty pitcher from the bedside table and left to go fill it with ice and water. How on earth had that poor man been trampled by a bull? I was curious to know, but thought it might be rude to ask. He must work on some sort of farm. That was the only plausible explanation. It's not like bulls ran wild around here.

When I returned, he was fully upright in bed with the television on and turned to a local news station. I moved the bed table over to him and poured a cup of water.

"Here you go." I offered.

He graced me with another gorgeous smile. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, please call me Becca." As soon as the words left my mouth I wished I could take them back. Only my sister called me Becca. It had been a childhood nickname that I'd hated, and was pleased when I became a nurse and was able to insist people call me Rebecca. Why on earth I'd just told him to call me Becca was beyond me.

"All right, Becca." He grinned.

I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, knowing I should just leave, but unable to make my legs cooperate. "How did you get trampled by a bull?" I blurted out.

He stared at me for a moment, in shock or anger I wasn't sure, but I held my breath hoping he wouldn't be upset or report me for bad behavior. In his silence, I was able to get another long look at him. He was possibly the sexiest man I'd ever seen in this town, and I knew he wasn't from around here.

"I'm a bull rider." He finished his water and set the cup on the table, focusing his gaze on me. "How else would I have been trampled by a bull?"

Amusement danced in his dark eyes, and I felt foolish for asking such a dumb question in the first place. Of course he was a bull rider. That explained not only his injuries, but all the muscles in his arms and shoulders and legs, and even in his back. Yeah, I hadn't missed those. It was impossible not to notice them.

"I...uh, I don't know." I laughed. "I'm sorry. It's not every day we get someone in here who's been in this type of accident. It kind of threw me for a loop."

"That's okay." He winked, and that small gesture sent butterflies through my stomach.

"Okay, well, if you need anything, just push this button," I held up the device with the paging button, "and I'll come back in." I smiled.

"All right then, thanks for your help." He told me with another great smile.

God, that voice, that southern drawl – it sent shivers down my spine. Growing up in this small Georgia town, I was accustomed to hearing men and women speak this way, but there was something oddly unique about the way Lucas spoke. It was like a combination of southern gentleman and city boy.

"Okay," I said again, still smiling. _He must think I'm an idiot for how much I'm smiling at him._ I thought to myself

"Doctor Nichols usually makes his final rounds around ten o'clock or so, but if you need him for something sooner, please let me know."

"I have a feeling I will be just fine under your care." He quickly responded with another wink.

My heart raced. I may not have a lot of experience when it comes to men, but I could tell when one was flirting with me, and Lucas was definitely flirting with me. I felt the blush on my cheeks, and I turned my face away before he could see it. With a firm nod, I left his room even though I didn't really want to. But I had other patients to tend to. Not many, but I couldn't necessarily neglect them simply because the sexy bull rider in room four o six had piqued my interest.

It took me almost an hour to make my rounds, and when I'd finished with everyone else, I returned to Lucas's room. "Hello again. How're you feeling?" I asked him.

"Sore." He responded.

I didn't miss the way he straightened in bed or the way his face lit up when I'd entered the room.

I went to his chart and checked his medication dosage. "Hmm, looks like you're not due for any more pain meds until midnight." I looked up at him and frowned. "Can I get you an ice pack or heating pad to help ease the pain a bit?"

"No, thank you. But I could go for some conversation if you have the time." He said, while nodding to the chair in the corner.

I'd never had a patient ask me to sit and talk with them before. I'd had patients babble as I checked their vitals or administered their medication, but this was different. Lucas wanted me to stay in his room longer. I had just finished my rounds, and the ward was quieter than usual tonight. What harm could come from sitting and having a conversation with him?

I pulled the chair from the corner and positioned it near this bed. Then I sat. "So, you're a bull rider huh?"

"Yes." He smiled. "I'd always thrived on danger when I was a child. Then when I became a teen, I became an adrenaline junkie." He laughed. "Bull riding seemed like a natural progression."

"Is this your first injury?" I asked inquisitively.

"No. It's my worst, but not my first." He shifted in bed, and I saw how he winced in pain.

I began to stand, and he held up his hand to stop me. I abruptly sat back in the chair. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?" I'm a nurse. It's my job to help ease people's pain. I feel useless sitting here doing nothing.

"Could you help me prop these pillows behind my back?"

I stood and retrieved an extra pillow from the supply closet down the hall. Taking Lucas's hand, I eased him forward, noticing how large and warm his hand was. And it was rough, no doubt a result of his chosen profession. My Nana had always told me a man with rough hands was a man with a soft heart. I couldn't help but wonder if that was true of Lucas. I gently tucked the pillows behind him, and then continued to hold his hand until he was settled.

He rubbed his thumb along the back of my hand, sending a delicious electric shiver through my body. "You have such soft skin," he said.

I could feel my cheeks blaze to life. I quickly averted my gaze. "Thank you." I sheepishly responded.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds. I've just never met anyone with such an amazing bedside manner. And I've met my fair share of doctors and nurses."

I smiled and sat back down. "Well, you've definitely chosen a unique and dangerous profession, Lucas."

He smiled at me, and I thanked God I was already sitting. I didn't think my legs could handle another knee-weakening smile like he was giving me.

"I'm still fairly new at it. I've only been riding professionally for about a year now. It's exciting and allows me to travel."

That was something I'd always dreamed of doing. I realized the more he talked, the more engrossed I became in his life, his stories, in him. I'd never been faced with this type of situation before, but wondered if it was unethical to become romantically involved with a patient.

Oh, now I was just being silly. Just because we had an obvious connection didn't mean we were going to become romantically involved. For all I knew, he had a wife. I glanced at his left hand. No wedding band. Okay, but that didn't mean he didn't have a girlfriend or fiancée somewhere in the world.

"Tonight's show was my homecoming of sorts. Guess I really blew that, huh?" He laughed, as I snapped back to reality.

I tilted my head to the side, my ears buzzing. "Homecoming? You're from around here?"

"Yeah, the next town over. Covanta. Do you know of it?"

I nodded. It was the closest city to our small town, and it was where the hospital received its supplies from. The news he lived so close by excited me much more than it should.

"I've been on the road this past year with the rodeo, and we just finally returned to Covanta. There was a big hoopla about my return. You know the story. Local boy returns with rodeo as a star." He laughed again.

I couldn't ignore how jovial he was despite his accident and subsequent injuries. It was a breath of fresh air to experience his positivity when so many patients had all doom and gloom attitudes.

"If nothing else, you'll be remembered as the local boy who returned and got trampled by a bull." I smiled, unable to believe I'd actually just said that. It was kind of rude and uncaring.

Thankfully, Lucas smiled and said. "Touché."

"And how long is this homecoming celebration of yours?" I asked.

"Originally, two weeks, but now with my injuries, it will more than likely be postponed a bit. A lot of the guys wanted more time off anyway. They have family in Covanta. This will give them time to spend some time with them." Lucas paused. "I guess my mistake really does make me a hero."

I forced a laugh. The news he'd only be around for a couple of weeks hit hard. I was thoroughly enjoying talking to him, getting to know him, and was sad to know he'd be leaving again so soon. I hid my disappointment as best I could, not wanting him to know how much of a hopeless romantic I was. I'd always believed in love at first sight, but it was a belief that had gotten me in trouble more than once.

The buzzer at the nurses' station beeped loudly. I stood. "Duty calls," I said.

"Hey," he reached out and took my hand, his touch doing funny things to my insides again, "will you come back when you're done?"

I broke into a full-fledged smile. "I'd love to." And with that, I left his room to tend to my other patients.

# Chapter Three

Four O Six

"Hello, Mr. Robertson," I said cheerfully as I entered the room. "What can I do for you?"

"I need more water." His voice was raspy, and listening to him made my own throat hurt.

"Okay, coming right up." I took the pitcher and filled it with cold water. He'd drunk the last pitcher so fast the ice hadn't had time to melt. I brought it back into his room and poured him a cup, holding it out for him. He took it and drank it down in one gulp. Then he held it out for more.

I poured him another cup, only half full this time, and handed it back. "Go easy, Mr. Robertson. You don't want to strain your throat after your surgery."

"Thank you," he rasped, and then winced. "Could I get another blanket? It's quite chilly in here."

Smiling, I nodded. Mr. Robertson was probably as old as this town, but he just kept on racking up the years. He'd just celebrated his ninety-fifth birthday last month. Of course, you wouldn't know it if you saw him. He was very active for his age. I grabbed a blanket from the supply closet and return to put it over him. I was embarrassed to admit I was anxious to get back to Lucas's room.

"Is there anything else you need?" I asked as I adjusted the call button and positioned it around the bed railing so he had easier access to it.

"Nope. I think I'm good."

I nodded. "Well then, get some rest." I said with a smile before leaving his room.

My heart raced as I walked down the hall toward Lucas's room. I couldn't help but feel as if I'd made an instant connection with him. And he had definitely been flirting with me earlier. Besides, sitting with him beat sitting alone at the nurses' station all night.

"How are you doing in here?" I asked Lucas once I got to his room.

Lucas gave me a smile and said, "much better now."

I felt the heat of embarrassment creep up my neck. He clicked off the television and nodded at the chair I'd sat in earlier. I sat, feeling a lot more relaxed now than I had earlier. "Watching anything good?" I said as I motioned toward the television.

"I was watching a recap of the sports news to see if there was any mention of the rodeo. I'm curious to know how the guys did."

"I'm surprised your room isn't overflowing with all your bull rider friends." I told him.

In a small town like this, when someone landed in the hospital, everyone always came to visit or at the very least to get the latest gossip.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll swarm the place tomorrow. The show can't stop simply because I was hurt." He told me with a sly smile.

I wondered if the show would stop if someone died, but I didn't ask that. It seemed insensitive and quite frankly, morbid. "So you said you'd be around here for a few weeks. Where is your next stop?"

"We're heading back to Texas."

"I've always wanted to go to Texas." I smiled. There were a lot of places I wanted to go, but for some reason, Texas had always been at the top of my list.

"It's a beautiful state." Lucas said as he adjusted in the bed to face me. "Enough about me, tell me about yourself. How long have you been a nurse?"

"Almost five years now."

"Did you always want to be a nurse?"

I was asked that question a lot, but there was something truly sincere about the way Lucas asked. It was like he was genuinely interested in my answer. "No." I shook my head. "I've always wanted to work with animals. Not a veterinarian or anything, but to do something that involved helping them, like an animal rescue."

Lucas chuckled and asked, "How on earth did you become a nurse then?"

I shrugged and averted my gaze. "This town isn't exactly thriving, but leaving isn't exactly an option. I was born and raised in this town. My parents and my siblings are here, and I've never really been anywhere else. Nursing was a stable career choice."

"Yeah, but life is much too short to spend it doing something you don't love."

I looked up at him, amazed at how profound that statement was. Michelle was constantly telling me I should do something different, something I wanted to do and not cater to my parents' wishes, but hearing it put that way... It was like a light bulb going off in my head.

"What do you do when you're not here taking care of people like me?" Lucas continued to say.

"I like to read quite a bit, and I enjoy baking. Actually, I like to create my own recipes by just throwing things together and seeing how it comes out. More often than not they come out inedible." I said laughing. "And I spend a lot of time with my sister, Michelle. She's going through a bit of a rough time right now."

"I read a lot, too. There's not really much else to do when you spend so much time on the road, you know. What's your favorite book?" He asked curiously.

I was shocked to find out he liked to read. Not many of the men in this town did. At least, not any I'd met that I'd been interested in.

"Wow, that's a tough question." I laughed. "Hmm, if I had to only pick one, it would have to be _The Great Gatsby_."

Lucas sat up and swung his legs over to hang off the side of the bed. "Did one of my rodeo buddies show up and tell you to say that?" He said as he jokingly pretended to look out of the room and into the hallway.

I turned to see what he was looking at, but the hallway, as I expected, was empty. Turning back to him, I shook my head. "No. It's just my favorite book."

His posture softened, and he smiled again. "It's mine, too."

My eyes widened, and I sat forward in the chair a little. No wonder he reacted the way he did. Granted, that book was a classic, and lots of people had read it, but it wasn't necessarily something people owned up to.

"It is?" I asked.

"Yeah." He nodded. "One of the guys caught me reading it one night and hasn't let me live it down. He calls it a "girly" book, and he teases me about it every chance he gets. I wouldn't put it past him to have told you about it."

I smiled. "Rest assured, I have not met your friend, and he hasn't told me anything about you or your reading habits."

"It's a very tragic love story, don't you think?"

Once again, Lucas managed to shock me. I kind of expected him to say he loved Gatsby and how he was wealthy and smart and threw such extravagant parties.

"Yes." I sighed. "The ending always moves me to tears."

"I'm tired of being in this bed. Can I get up and walk around?" he asked suddenly.

It wasn't unheard of for patients to get out of bed and walk the floor, but it also wasn't something we generally encouraged, especially at this late hour because it could disrupt other patients. But I didn't want to tell him no.

"Uh, yeah, I guess that would be okay."

"Would you care to join me?" He was already out of bed, standing in front of me, hand extended.

I swallowed hard and took his proffered hand, which was so warm and large compared to mine. Doing this would probably get me in some sort of trouble, but I supposed I could just tell anyone who asked that I was helping him around. At least that would explain our hand holding, which was both awkward and wonderful at the same time. Once in the hallway, Lucas released my hand, but he stayed close enough to me our shoulders touched as we walked.

"You mentioned your sister Michelle. Is she your only sibling?" He asked, as we continued to walk.

"No. I have another sister, Christina, but she's living in New York now with her husband. He's an attorney, and she just got a job in a fashion house."

"That's impressive."

"Yeah, I'm really proud of her. What about you? Any siblings?" I countered.

"No, I'm an only child. My parents are alive and still living in Covanta. My grandfather is still there, too. He owns a huge horse farm." He smiled. "At his age, he has trouble with the upkeep, but refuses to sell. It was my grandmother's dream to live on a horse ranch, and he can't bear to part with it since she passed."

"I'm sorry." I responded with a slight frown. "Both of my grandparents were very important to me, too. They taught me and my sisters so much. They died when I was young. There's not a day that goes by that I don't miss them."

Lucas gently nudged me with this shoulder, an obvious gesture of compassion and empathy. I smiled at him, realizing again just how handsome he was.

"I hated being an only child." He laughed. "It was awful always being alone like that."

"I can't even imagine." I told him. My sisters were my best friends, my childhood playmates. Not having them in my life was unfathomable.

"Eventually, when I'm ready to start a family, I want to have a lot of kids. I think to compensate for my lonely childhood." He said with a wink, causing my heart to flutter. "I had to go through a CAT scan after my last accident. The rodeo manager wanted to make sure I hadn't done any serious damage to my brain."

"I've noticed you don't have a wedding band on your finger," he said as we reached the end of the hall and away from all the occupied rooms. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Wow. I hadn't expected our conversation to take a turn in this direction. I mean, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't flattered or intrigued. But I think he was trying to change the subject because of the look of concern I had on my face after he mentioned possible brain damage.

"No, no boyfriend." I politely responded.

He grinned. "I'm honestly surprised. A beautiful woman like you...single?"

"Well believe it." I said with a sly grin. We then turned and headed back the way we came.

"Could I take you out sometime?"

My steps faltered when his question registered in my brain. Lucas wanted to take me out? I wanted to say yes so badly, but... I couldn't get any more involved with this man, not when he was only passing through and would be leaving in a few weeks. I was at that point in my life when I was ready to settle down; I wasn't looking for a fling.

"No, I'm sorry. I don't think that's a good idea."

# Chapter Four

Second Chance

It had been three days since Lucas was discharged from the hospital, and I missed him terribly, which was so silly. I barely knew him, had only spent one night talking to him. Of course, I had spent a majority of that night with him learning just how much we had in common, how sweet and compassionate he was. Even after I'd turned down his invitation to go out, he still wanted me around, wanted to talk and spend time with me. I did feel bad about turning him down like I had, but I just couldn't allow myself to get any closer to him, to open up my heart to a man who would be leaving in a few weeks with no definitive return date.

I'd told Michelle all about him, and she thought I was crazy for not taking a chance on him. She just didn't get it. She was younger than me by a few years; she still had time to find a decent man – unlike that lowlife she was still in the process of leaving – and settle down, start a family. I didn't have that luxury. My mother reminded me every chance she got that I wasn't getting any younger and that no man wants a woman in her mid-thirties. That always made me feel good considering I was only twenty-eight. I had a couple years before I even reached thirty.

Still, my thoughts had been consumed by memories of Lucas. I sighed as I washed my hands, preparing to check in and see where I was stationed today. Maybe Michelle was right. Maybe I should've taken a chance with Lucas. No harm could come from a single date, and it would be an easy transition back into the dating world. I was comfortable around Lucas; he was easy to talk to, and he made me laugh. Too bad I had no idea where he'd gone when he left the hospital.

I dried my hands and left the nurses' lounge. "Hey, Julie, where do you need me today?" I asked the head nurse on duty.

"Sarah called in sick today, so I need you to cover her at the In-Patient Medical Center. I'm working on getting someone else in here so they can take over there, and you can go back up to the fourth floor."

The In-Patient Medical Center was technically part of the hospital, but it was in the new portion that had been built right before I started working here. It was like a walk-in doctor's office for people who needed a check-up after being admitted to the hospital or for anyone who needed non-life threatening medical attention, but didn't have a doctor of their own. As far as places to work within the hospital, it was one of the easiest places to be. I would love to be permanently assigned there.

"Or maybe I'll find someone to take your place up on four. Doctor Masters is working the medical center today, and I swear you're the only one who likes that guy." Julie said as she laughed.

I shrugged. "He's not so bad."

"If you say so." Julie responded as she handed me a chart. "This is our first patient of the day. Post admission check-up. Vicki already signed him in."

I took the chart from her, not bothering to really look at it and went to the in-patient waiting room. I pushed the door open, prepared to call the patient back when I stopped cold. There was only one person in the waiting room – Lucas.

My heart stopped, and I smiled at the sight of him. He sat in the uncomfortable chair, back stiff as a board, and he had a bouquet of daisies in his hand. Daisies – my favorite flower, homage to the character Daisy Buchanan from _The Great Gatsby_. I cleared my throat, and he looked in my direction. When he saw me, he stood, smiling. How could I have forgotten how handsome he was, how great his smile was in the couple of days I hadn't seen him?

"Rebecca," he said as he approached, "these are for you."

It was completely unorthodox for a patient to bring a nurse flowers like this, but it was hands down the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. I took them, bringing them to my nose to smell them. "Thank you, Lucas, but you didn't have to do this."

"Sure I did." He said. "You took such good care of me the night I was here. I wanted to let you know how much I appreciated it."

Nodding, I smiled. "Follow me." I wasn't horribly embarrassed by the gesture, but I also didn't want another staff member to overhear anything and question what was going on. I led Lucas to the open room at the end of the hall.

I stepped into the room behind him and closed the door. I sat the chart I was holding on the counter, and then paused. The flowers were professionally wrapped in plastic paper, but it seemed kind of rude to just set them on the counter. I grabbed a paper cup from the dispenser, filled it with water, and put the flowers in it, propping them against the wall so they wouldn't fall over. Then I turned back to Lucas, who was standing near the bed, smiling.

"What?" I asked self-consciously.

"You are so much more beautiful than I remembered." He told me in the most genuine tone.

My eyes widened at his compliment. I hadn't expected that. "Thanks," I said, feeling the slow heat creep through my body. I hoped inside that I wouldn't blush too hard in front of him. "Uh, go ahead and have a seat." I nodded to the bed.

Lucas hopped up on it, and I flipped open his chart, needing something to distract me from where my thoughts were leading – me, him, a private room, that bed. God, I had to stop the naughty thoughts.

"So, how are you feeling?" I asked as I picked up the chart to jot down some notes.

"Much better. I'm a little sore first thing in the morning, but once I get up and move around it's better. How are you?"

I couldn't stop from glancing over my shoulder at him and smiling. "I'm well, thank you." I took a moment to double check that his weight and height were noted in the chart, and then I went through all the medical history questions with him. I was stalling, knowing I had to actually go over to him and take his vitals.

Swallowing hard, I set my pen down on his chart and reached for the blood pressure cuff. "Hold out your arm, please." I asked.

When he did, I wrapped the cuff around his arm and kept my head down until I was finished. I then quickly took his temperature.

"Am I dying?" he asked with a chuckle.

"No, so far so good." I responded as I stood in front of him. "Can I see your wrist, please?" When he turned his hand so his palm was up, I placed two fingers against his pulse point. I was struck with how smooth his skin was right there, how warm it felt.

"I can assure you, my heart is working just fine." He said sarcastically.

The low, deep tone of his voice caused my insides to tremble. I looked up at him, awestruck by the intensity of his gaze. "You're heart's racing," I whispered.

He leaned forward a little, putting himself closer to me. "That's because you're touching me, Rebecca."

The way he said my name felt like a lover's caress, something that should've been shared someplace private and romantic, not in the hard, sterile environment of an exam room.

"I'm almost done," I said, trying not to look him directly in the eyes for fear I would blush even more.

He put his other hand over mine, holding my fingers to his wrist. "Will you please let me take you to dinner?"

Now my heart was racing, too. I licked my lips, wanting to tear my gaze from his and tell him no again in a pathetic attempt to protect myself from heartbreak, but I had a feeling it was already too late. When I hesitated, Lucas lightly caressed my hand with his thumb, sending a jolt of burning desire through me. If such a simple touch had this effect on me, how would I ever survive a date with him?

"It's just dinner, Rebecca." His voice whispered through my mind. "I will be the perfect gentleman, I promise." He smiled, and my resolve cracked.

"Okay." I nodded. "Dinner."

His face lit up with excitement, and I guess a bit of shock, too. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I laughed.

Lucas took my hand and brought it to his mouth, giving my knuckles a soft kiss. "I'll pick you up at seven."

"I will give you my address before you leave today."

"Perfect." He responded.

Taking my hand back, I gave him a smile, wanting him to know I was excited about our date, but not wanting him to know how nervous I was. It had been a long time since I'd been on a date. I had no idea what to wear or what we'd talk about or... What if he wanted to kiss me? Would I let him? I let my gaze settle on his lips, and then lower, to his muscular arms and chest. I could envision my hands roaming over his while we kissed. Oh yeah, I would most certainly let him kiss me if he tried.

"All right." I said, as I closed his chart and tucked it under my arm. "Doctor Masters will be in to see you shortly."

Lucas nodded. "Any chance I can convince you to keep me company until he arrives?"

"I'd love to, but there are other patients who need my attention, too."

He frowned. "I should probably tell you that I don't like to share." He winked, and then his face broke into the sexiest smile ever.

"Neither do I," I said before walking out and leaving him in the room alone. As I closed the door, I could hear his soft laugh, and I shook my head. Lucas Hudson was definitely one of a kind, and I was sure he'd be a lot more than I could ever handle, but I was determined to have some fun trying.

Half an hour later, when Lucas was finished with Doctor Masters, I was at the front desk with the receptionist, Diane, trying to help locate prescription history for a patient. He came out of the back and stood at the desk, grinning. I straightened and pulled a folded piece of paper from my pocket.

"Here's that information I promised you, Mr. Hudson."

He took the paper, his hand brushing against mine when he did, and smiled.

Mutual understanding passed between us, and I was thankful he got it without me having to tell him. I'm sure there weren't any rules about a nurse dating a patient, but in a small town like this, news could travel fast, and I didn't want anyone to know my personal business. Plus, I wanted to keep Lucas all to myself for a while, especially considering he was only here for a short amount of time.

Who knows? Maybe a hot, passionate fling with a sexy bull rider was exactly what I needed to spice up my life. And I had no doubts it would be passionate. I could tell that just by the way he looked at me. My heart raced thinking about it now.

"Okay, well, I guess I'm out of here," Lucas said, disrupting me from my thoughts.

I smiled. "Have a good day, Mr. Hudson."

"I will." He smiled. "Although I have a feeling my evening is going to be a hundred times better." Lucas tapped his hands on the desk, and then turned to leave.

I blew out a shaky breath, knowing my concentration was shot. It was going to be a very long day. But I couldn't wait to call Michelle and tell her. She'd be so excited for me!

# Chapter Five

Dinner

I had just finished slipping my shoes on when the doorbell rang. My heart leapt into my throat. Lucas's punctuality was an admirable quality, but now I had to actually face him and spend the entire evening with him. I was excited, but my nerves were gnawing at me. Taking a deep breath, I went to answer the door and was greeted by a large bouquet of white roses. I laughed, and Lucas lowered them so I could see his handsome face.

"Really, Lucas. If you bring me flowers every time you see me, I'll be able to start my own floral store." I took the flowers from him and stepped aside to allow him to enter. "They're beautiful. Thank you. And they smell amazing." I told him as I took a big whiff of the flowers.

"They're not nearly as beautiful as you are, Rebecca." He said with a cunning smile.

"Thank you." I responded as I turned away from him, not wanting him to see me blushing. "Let me just put these in some water, and then we can go. Would you care for a drink?"

"No, thanks." He said as followed me into the kitchen. "Wow. This is a nice kitchen."

I retrieved a vase from under the skin and filled it with water. "It was because of this kitchen that I bought this house. I told you I like to bake." I glanced at him and smiled. "And you need a lot of room to move around while baking."

"Well, you'll have to teach me how sometime."

"To bake?" I laughed and put the flowers into the vase then washed my hands. "I don't think I've ever taught anyone to bake before."

"I promise I'm a quick learner." He winked; his body extremely close to mine. I inhaled sharply and nodded. "Good. Are we ready?" He finally asked.

"Yes." I smiled and as we headed out the door, I grabbed my sweater from the back of the recliner. Not that I would really need it. The weather was warm so I probably wouldn't need it, but it had become a habit to always have a light sweater or jacket when I left the house. It was another invaluable piece of wisdom my grandparents had imparted to me.

Lucas was a perfect gentleman on the drive to the restaurant. He opened every door for me, held it until I was through it, and then entered behind me, always keeping a respectful distance. He had this uncanny ability to make me blush simply by being himself.

When the hostess showed us to our table, Lucas pulled out my chair and waited for me to be seated before he took the seat across from me. "Your waitress will be right with you," the hostess said before turning and leaving us alone.

I looked around the restaurant, letting the ambience settle over me. I'd been to this steakhouse dozens of times before, but being here with Lucas was like seeing it for the first time. It was a quaint place with a brick fireplace in the center giving off enough heat to take the icy chill away from the air conditioning.

"I hope this place is okay. It was highly recommended to me," Lucas said, picking up his menu.

"Yes, it's perfect. I've eaten here before. You're in for a real treat." I smiled and perused my own menu, although I really didn't need to. I couldn't afford to eat here on my own very often, but when I could, I always ordered the steak gorgonzola with the fresh garlic bread and chef salad. Maybe I should skip the bread this time, though. I didn't want to have garlic breath for the remainder of my date. And if he did try to kiss me... Yeah, I was going to skip the bread just to be on the safe side.

"What's good here?" Lucas asked as he looked up from his menu.

"Everything." I laughed and closed my menu, setting it down. "This place is known for their steaks. You can cut them with a fork they're so tender."

"Okay, that's it then." Lucas closed his menu and placed it atop mine. "The steak it is. Would you like to get a bottle of wine?"

I wasn't really a drinker. My uncle was a recovering alcoholic, and I saw what he did to the family, how much contention and problems he caused. Not that I ever thought I'd become an alcoholic.

Lucas reached over and touched my hand, the heat of his touch jerking me back to the present moment. "It's okay if you don't want to. Honestly, I'm not much a drinker myself, but knowing I'm alive and well after my accident and this is our first date, I thought we should celebrate."

Sighing, I smiled. "I'm not really a drinker either, but you know what. I think tonight calls for a glass or two of wine."

Taking my hand, he kissed my fingers in the same way he had before. It was such a sweet thing to do, and I liked it. The last guy I'd gone out with was a jerk. I swore he only asked me out because he thought I would get kinky in the bedroom with him and play nurse. I shuddered at the memory. Thank goodness Lucas wasn't anything like that.

"Do you prefer red or white?" He asked, as he picked up the wine list.

"Something sweet." I responded with a smile.

When the waitress approached a moment later, Lucas ordered an expensive bottle of red wine. I knew it was expensive because when I'd graduated from nursing school, my parents had brought me here to celebrate and my father had ordered the same exact bottle. I really hoped he didn't think he could impress me by spending money. I was already impressed by him.

"Are you ready to order?" The waiter's voice broke our intense gaze at one another.

"I am," I said. Lucas nodded at me to go ahead. "I will have the steak gorgonzola with the chef's salad. No onions, please, and the dressing on the side."

"Very good choice." The waitress smiled. "And for you, sir?"

"I will have the twelve ounce sirloin and a loaded baked potato, extra sour cream, and a chef's salad." Lucas handed her our menus and smiled.

"Great. I will be back with your wine and salads shortly."

When she left again, Lucas took both of my hands into his, his thumbs caressing my fingers. Who knew such a simple touch to that part of my body would feel so erotic? I wondered what it would feel like if he did that on other parts of my body – every part of my body. I pulled my hand from his and took a sip of my ice water, hoping it would cool me down a little. I'd only met this man three days ago, and I was already having those types of thoughts about him. God, what was wrong with me?

"So, what do you do for fun when you're not working or reading or baking?" he asked.

"I like to watch movies, either at home or at the theatre. But I'm not a big fan of television." I chuckled. "There's too many reality shows on for my liking, and let's face it, the things that happen on those shows are not reality."

"No, they certainly aren't." He smiled. "Would you like to go see a movie after dinner? We can drive into Covanta and go to the multiplex."

There really wasn't anything currently playing that I wanted to see, but I didn't want to appear rude. It was a nice offer, and the idea of spending even more time with him was appealing.

"We could. It's such a nice night to be stuck inside though." I responded.

Lucas glanced down where he still held my hand and a faint smile emerged on his face. That look would be the death of me if I weren't careful.

"I've never felt such soft skin before," he said, more to himself than to me.

"As much as I wash them, I have no choice but to use a lot of moisturizer." I responded.

That was probably the dumbest thing I'd ever said on a date, and I've said some pretty stupid things before. It was my nerves. They caused me to ramble incessantly about the craziest things, like hand moisturizer, for example.

He looked up at me, and his eyes had darkened. My heart rate spiked. I could only imagine what he might be thinking. I knew what I was thinking, and it was not appropriate dinner conversation.

"I have an idea. I'll take you to the rodeo so you can see what I do, and you can meet some of the other guys."

Excitement swelled inside of me. I'd never been to a rodeo before. I'd seen them on television and in the movies, but I had a feeling a real life rodeo was nothing like the way Hollywood portrayed them.

"I would love that, Lucas."

"Really?" He responded with surprise.

"Yes." I laughed. "You did spend an entire night at my job, so I guess it's only fair I go see yours."

He laughed, but before he was able to respond, the waitress returned with our bottle of wine and an appetizer. She popped the cork and poured each of us a glass. And then she was gone again.

Lucas lifted his glass and I did the same. "To being alive," he said with a smirk, "and to you, for taking such good care of me. But most of all, to us and the start of what I think is going to be an amazing friendship." He gently tapped his glass to mine, and then took a sip.

I brought my glass to my lips and drank, hoping he didn't see the disappointment in my face. He'd said friendship. I didn't know why that upset me so much. It's not like I expected him to become my boyfriend on the night of our first date, but I had hoped he was looking for more. I should've known better, though. He was only passing through, and I was probably just someone to occupy him while he was here. When he left to go to Texas, I was sure he'd find another young woman to entertain him. I quickly pushed those thoughts out of my mind and chalked it up to my overanalyzing nature. _Live in the moment_ I told myself.

He set his glass down and plucked a scallop from the plate between us; then he held it out to me. "I hope you like these."

"They're my favorite," I said, leaning forward and taking the scallop from him. I heard a faint groan from him when my lips closed around the toothpick, pulling the food from it. And then I saw how his eyes darkened again. I washed it down with a drink of wine.

"Your turn," I shot back as I held out a scallop for him. He took it, as his gaze locked on mine.

It was wrong how sexy it was watching him eat. The way his lips puckered, the way his throat worked, his Adam's apple bobbing, the way he licked the taste from his bottom lip. I realized then just how badly I wanted him to kiss me. In fact, I wished he would do it right here and now.

"You have no idea how happy I am that you agreed to go out with me tonight," he said, taking another drink of his wine.

"I'm happy I'm here, too, Lucas." I smiled. The best part was the date had only just begun. We still had all of dinner and the rodeo after.

# Chapter Six

Rodeo

"Dinner was wonderful, Lucas. Thank you," I said as we drove toward Covanta and the rodeo.

I hadn't expected dessert, but when he'd offered to share a slice of cheesecake with me, I wasn't able to say no. The menu had advertised it as classic New York Style Cheesecake, but Lucas had informed it wasn't anything like traditional New York cheesecake. All I knew was it had been delicious. And filling! I'd eaten way too much.

"You're very welcome." He said, looking over at me with a smile. "I honestly don't think I've ever had such an enjoyable meal. Eating on the road usually consists of grabbing something greasy from a fast food place or a sub with dry, stale bread from a gas station convenience store."

"I don't know how you do it." I said laughing. I was by no means a foodie, but I did enjoy food – cooking it and eating it.

"It's a small price to pay for doing what I love."

"Don't you ever get tired of being on the road?" I said, as I twisted in my seat to face him. "I mean, you've said you wanted a family someday. Do you think you'll ever be able to find that with how much you travel?"

"Yes, I do." He nodded emphatically. "As much as I love Bull Riding, I know it's not something I can do for the rest of my life." He laughed. "Could you imagine? Being in my fifties trying to ride a bull."

I smiled, but didn't laugh. I hated how insecure I felt right now. Lucas was a wonderful man, and if things were different, I wouldn't hesitate to get serious with him, to settle down and pursue that family we both wanted. But I could not let myself fall for him when he was on borrowed time.

"Here we are," he announced as he pulled into a large, dirt parking lot.

The place was a lot bigger than I expected. Of course, never having been to a rodeo before, I really had no idea what to expect. Lucas parked the car and was over to my side, opening the door for me before I had my seatbelt unhooked. I took his proffered hand and got out. The air was warm, the breeze light. The sky was dark, though, sprinkled with the brightest stars I'd ever seen.

Lucas laced the fingers of our hands, and led me toward the large barn-like building set off to our right. "This is where we keep the horses when we're not performing. The bulls are kept over there." He pointed to another large barn to our left.

"So, what exactly do you do? Do you ride the bulls or are you one of those guys who ride the horses and lasso the bulls?"

"I'm primarily a bull rider, but there are times when I get on a horse and lasso. But I usually only do that when one of the cowboys isn't able. Even though we have a full staff of people who tend to the animals, we all pitch in and help out. We're like a big family around here."

"That's great." I said, smiling.

Lucas pulled open the door and motioned for me to enter. I stepped inside and was awestruck by how big it was. Not only were there individual stables for the horses, there was a ring with a secluded viewing room.

"Wow," I whispered, my eyes widening in an effort to take everything in.

"Come on. We can watch." He opened another door, and I followed him up a small flight of stairs to the viewing room, which was nothing more than a long hallway-like room with tall, bar-like chairs that faced the plate glass window.

I stood in front of the window and looked down at the ring. There were two men riding horses, trotting around the ring. One of the men swirled a rope over his head and looped it perfectly around a nearby post as his horse galloped by it. The cowboy pulled his heels into the horse's side, slowing it to stop.

I watched, entranced, as the two men worked. It looked more like practiced grace, a well-rehearsed show, which I suppose it was. But what was better was the way it made me feel. Standing here watching man and horse work together in unison reminded me of my childhood, on the farm with my grandparents. Witnessing my grandfather break a horse with a loving but firm hand.

"Those are two of our best," Lucas said, coming to stand beside me. "The one on the brown horse is Dylan, and the other is Greg. When a rider is bucked from the bull, those two will ride in and lasso the bull if the rodeo clowns can't get the bull back to the pin. They are the last resort so the bull doesn't hurt or kill anyone."

I jerked my head to look at him. "That's possible? For a bull to kill a rider?"

"Yes." He smiled as if amused with my naivety. "But it doesn't happen nearly as often as you'd think, and they're part of the reason why." He nodded toward the two men in the ring.

I placed my hand over my racing heart. "My God, Lucas. Aren't you afraid of that happening to you?" I couldn't fathom doing a job day in and day out that had such a high risk of death.

He turned his body to me and caressed my cheek with his hand. I leaned into his touch, loving how warm and gentle it was. I allowed my eyes to flutter closed momentarily, simply enjoying the tender moment.

"I'm a lot more careful then most bull riders."

"How so?" I asked, opening my eyes to meet his gaze.

"You learn to develop a relationship with the bull, and like any animal, you become attuned to its mannerisms. If I feel it getting ready to move a certain way, I counter it. But if I can feel it being overly ornery, I will let it buck me and get the hell out of the ring." He laughed. "Not all riders will do that. They'll try to ride the meanest bull just to show how good they are."

"It all still sounds very dangerous."

"I'm sure some of the guys are doing practice rides right now. Want to go watch?" He said.

The excitement in his voice, the sparkle in his eyes reminded me of the look a child got when I handed them a lollipop after getting an exam. I laughed, unable to control myself. "Yeah, I'd love to." I finally responded.

Taking my hand again, we left the viewing room and across the lot to the other barn. This one wasn't as nice, but it was just as big. It smelled a lot worse, too. My grandfather had a bull once, to the behest of my grandmother, and the thing was always relieving himself. This barn brought on that memory. I made a face, which Lucas noticed and laughed.

"I should've warned you about the smell. I'm sorry." He gave my hand a squeeze. "I guess I'm just so used to it that I didn't think..."

"It's okay. I grew up around animals. It's been years since I've been near any though, so this is nice."

"What kind of animals?" He asked inquisitively.

"Horses, cows, chickens, pigs, and lots of cats and dogs. My grandfather taught me all about them."

"My grandfather is the one who first introduced me to horses, and then bulls. He dabbled in bull riding, but mostly for fun and when his friends would bet him he couldn't stay on longer than them." Lucas said with a laugh. "He's the reason I love the rodeo so much."

Unlike the horse barn, this one didn't have a private viewing room. The practice ring was located behind the barn in the open field. We stood near the reinforced wooden fence that comprised the ring. Lucas rested his arms on top of the fence, and I tentatively reached out to grip it, unsure if the bull would come charging at us.

"Over there," he pointed to a gate located on the opposite side of the ring, "is where the rider mounts the bull. When the buzzer sounds, the gate is flung open, and the bull charges out. That up there," he pointed to a large time clock hanging on the side of the barn, "is the timer. The longer you can stay on, the more points you earn."

"What's the longest you've ever stayed on?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Seven point two four seconds."

"Seconds?"

Lucas laughed. "It's a lot harder than it sounds. Watch." He nodded to the ring.

I turned and the buzzer sounded. God, that was loud. Just as Lucas said, the bull came charging out of the gate, he jumped and bucked, trying to dislodge its unwanted rider. Looking up, I noted the clock was moving rapidly, counting out the seconds the man remained on the bull. My heart raced as the numbers ticked higher and higher.

"Is there a record for your rodeo?" I asked.

He nodded. "Billy currently holds the record at ten point six four seconds."

"Wow." I said as I turned my gaze back to the bull rider, adrenaline spiking through my body. Simply watching was exhilarating. I couldn't begin to imagine what it must be like to be in that ring doing that.

A moment later, the man was thrown from the bull. He was on his feet and running toward the fence, jumping over it to safety before the bull could reach him. I clapped loudly, impressed with the show.

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

"We're having another live show next week. You should come and watch me ride." He turned so his back was to the fence.

I couldn't deny the short show I'd just seen was amazing, but could I watch Lucas do that? What if he got hurt again? How could I ever sit by and watch something happen to him. Although, it was an invitation to see him again, and that wasn't something I could say no to. I smiled.

"Yeah, okay. You don't mind if I bring my sister along, do you?"

"Not at all." He pushed off the fence. "Care to take a walk?"

I nodded, and we walked hand in hand away from the bull riding ring and into the open fields behind it. The grounds were well tended to, but the further they got from the barns, the darker it became. The illumination from the moon and stars wasn't enough to fully bathe them in light, but it did wonders for setting the mood.

"It's beautiful out here," I said.

"Not as beautiful as you." Lucas put his arm around my waist and winked. I realized he said that every time I commented on the beauty of something. I hoped he didn't think I was phishing for compliments.

"My sisters and I used to play in fields like this when we were kids. We'd pretend we were stranded in the middle of nowhere and we'd wait for prince charming to rescue us." I laughed, remembering how adamant I used to be about having a cowboy on a brown and white horse rescuing me.

He stopped walking and tugged me to him, wrapping his arms around me. My breath hitched, but I didn't attempt to pull away. His arms felt too good, his body too strong and safe against mine. I rested my hands on his biceps and looked up into his handsome face.

"Do you still dream of prince charming coming to your rescue?" he asked, a faint smile playing across his face.

"He already has," I whispered, feeling empowered by the intensity of the moment.

Lucas lowered his head, his mouth aligning with mine, and then his tongue grazed over my lips, parting them. I dragged my hands up his arms, over his shoulders, and around to the back of his neck, welcoming his kiss. It was tentative at first, but then became a little harder, more self-assured, deeper. His arms tightened around me, bringing me so close to him I wasn't sure where I ended and he began. I moaned softly, never wanting the kiss to end. And he must've felt the same way because he kissed me so long I was left gasping for breath when he finally tore his lips from mine.

"I want to see you again, Rebecca." He said, with bated breath.

All I could do was nod in agreement.

# Chapter Seven

Sisters

I carried the final moving box inside and set it on the kitchen floor. Wiping the dust from my hands, I looked around and smiled. "This is a really great place, Michelle."

"It's so small," she complained.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. It was my only day off this week, and I was helping my sister finish moving and unpacked, so she could stop sleeping on Mom and Dad's couch. Yet, all she could seem to do was complain. I knew firsthand how hard it was to live alone, how long and lonely the nights could be, but this situation was a hundred times better than the one she was leaving behind.

"Yes, it might be small, but it's all yours. You don't have to share anything with anyone," I said as cheerfully as possible, hoping it might make her feel better.

Michelle flopped down on the couch, which was placed haphazardly in the middle of the living room, and sighed heavily. "Yeah, it will be nice not to be constantly picking up after that bum and tripping over his stupid shoes. I swear he owns more pairs than I do."

I laughed, happy to see Michelle's mood pick up so easily. I sat beside her, surveying the dozens of boxes littered throughout the apartment. It was going to take forever to unpack everything. She'd asked me to cook for her and bake my special chocolate chip walnut cookies, I was afraid we'd never find the proper utensils or ingredients in time.

"We should probably start with the kitchen first if you expect me to cook for you."

Nodding, Michelle said, "Yeah...or we could just order in, save both of us headaches."

"Oh, that would be wonderful." I concurred before resting my head on the back of the couch and momentarily closing my eyes.

I hadn't gotten much sleep last night. After Lucas dropped me off, he called and we spend a few hours on the phone. Once we did finally hang up, I couldn't stop smiling or thinking about him, about that kiss. Even now I could feel his lips on mine, feel his arms around me, holding me. I sighed dreamily.

"What's got you floating around on cloud nine?" The sharp voice of my sister said, cutting the air.

I lifted my head and looked at my sister, knowing she was going to freak out as soon as I told her. She was always on my case to start dating again, but I'd never really had any interest – until. "I had a date with Lucas last night."

Her eyes widened and she sat up straighter, turning toward me and crossing her legs beneath her. "The sexy bull rider from the hospital you told me about?"

I nodded. "Yup, that's him. Lucas Hudson. Even his name is sexy, don't you think?"

Michelle laughed. "Uh, yeah! So, tell me all about it, and don't leave out a single detail."

For the next half an hour, I detailed my date to her, telling her everything. When it came to the part of the date when he kissed me, I glossed over it. It wasn't because I didn't trust her with the information, I did, but for the time being, I wanted to keep it kind of private, something special between just me and Lucas. I should've known she wouldn't let it slide though.

"Whoa. He kissed you? And you let him?"

"Of course I let him." I gave her an odd look, annoyed with the fact she had this misconception I was some sort of prude when it came to men and physical contact. Granted, that's how I'd lived for the past several months, but what she didn't know was just how much I'd missed the touch of a man, the companionship that came with being in a relationship.

She laughed. "Sorry, no reason to get defensive. So, how was it? Are you going to see him again?"

"It was the single best kiss of my entire life," I said, letting the memory of it consume me once again. God, what I wouldn't give to have him here right now kissing me.

"Aw, Becca." Michelle said as she leaned forward and hugged me. It was nice to know that no matter what life threw at her, how low she was in life at the moment, she could put all that aside and be happy for me. And I could do the same for her. "That's great." She smiled. "So, when's your next date?"

My heart raced at the mere mention of seeing him again. "Well, he's performing with the rodeo next weekend and asked me to come watch. He said I could bring you along if you wanted to go."

"Hell yeah, I do!" She laughed. "I need to meet the man who brought my sister out of her self-imposed solitude and put that rosy glow back in her cheeks."

As much as I loved her, Michelle could be so dramatic at times.

"He said he wanted to see me again, but we haven't actually made another date." I continued.

I frowned at that realization. It's not like he'd be around forever so why hadn't he made plans with me? I couldn't read too much into it. Maybe he wanted to see if I would follow through on my promise to watch him ride. Or maybe he'd only been being nice after our kiss, unsure what else to say, so he blurted that out in the heat of the moment. Guys did things like that all the time, didn't they? Say they'd call or that they should go out again, but then disappear off the face of the earth?

Lucas wasn't like that. I had to believe that. He was too much of a gentleman. I'm sure he was just busy with the rodeo and other responsibilities. He did grow up in Covanta after all. He was probably visiting with his family and friends. I couldn't fault him for that. Family had always been the most important thing to me, and it was high on my list of attractive attributes.

"He wants to have kids, you know," I said, standing and preparing to start unpacking.

"He told you that?" My sister responded.

"Yeah." I laughed. "We talked about so much last night, Michelle. He loves the rodeo and clearly doesn't want to give that up yet, but he was very clear about his desire to someday settle down and start a family."

"I don't think I've ever met a man, let alone been on a first date with one, who openly talked about the future and a family like that. He sounds like a keeper, Becca."

I paused with a stack of bowls in my hands. A keeper. I sighed. Yeah, he was definitely a keeper, long term boyfriend and husband material. I'd known that after talking to him in the hospital that night.

"Too bad he's leaving in a few weeks to go back on the road," I said, sadness clouding my voice, as I made my way into the kitchen to put the bowls in the cabinet.

Michelle followed me into the room, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "How long before he leaves?"

"A couple of weeks." I shrugged, not wanting to think about that inevitable day.

"So that gives you a few weeks to change his mind." Michelle smiled triumphantly as if she'd just figured out a big, first world problem.

A short laugh escaped me. "Yeah, right. I have no intention of trying to convince him to stay. The rodeo is his life, his dream, his career. I can't be that selfish, Michelle."

"No, maybe not, but you can get him to fall in love with you...if he isn't already." She winked and pushed off the frame, walking toward me. "I know firsthand how hard and sucky long distance relationships can be, but if you two really like each other, there's no reason this can't work. Like you said, he's not going to be with the rodeo forever."

"No, he's not," I shook my head, conceding to that point. "But how do I know he won't meet someone else in the next town he stops in? Or that he doesn't already have several girlfriends scattered across the country?"

Michelle sighed. "Do you really believe that?" When I didn't answer, she said, "I didn't think so."

"I don't know." I shrugged. "I'm probably getting way ahead of myself here. It was just one date. For all I know, it meant nothing to him."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you need to keep an open mind about this. Don't let something like his job sway you." My sister summarized with a level headed approach that was normally only reserved for me.

The tone of her voice made my stomach twist. She sounded way too much like our Mom, and I would've told her that, if I knew it wouldn't start a big disagreement. Michelle hated it when people pointed out how similar she was to our mother. It was the quickest and easiest way to offend her, which isn't something I wanted to do, but the truth of it smacked me in the face.

We spent the next several hours unpacking and organizing, working in comfortable silence most of the time, and when we did talk, it was about where things were going to go and decorating ideas for the apartment. As the day progressed, I could see Michelle's excitement building. This was the first time she'd ever been on her own and not living with parents or a boyfriend. I remembered how scared I was when I first moved out on my own. Thankfully, I had the support of Michelle, and I was determined to return the favor. I wanted her to succeed.

"I say we grab some food," Michelle said, glancing at her cell phone to check the time. "It's almost five."

"Sounds good. I'm starving. Do you just want to have a pizza delivered, or do you want to go somewhere and get something?" I asked.

"Pizza is fine. I'm not leaving the house looking like this." She held her arms out to her sides and looked down at her ratty, dust covered clothes.

I suppressed a smile. "Okay, I'll order it. Want our usual? Extra cheese, sausage and peppers?"

"Yes, and be sure to get some garlic knots, too!"

I laughed. I'd skipped having garlic bread last night because I didn't want to have bad breath should Lucas have kissed me. It was a good call on my part, but tonight I didn't have to worry about that, so I planned to order double. Garlic knots from the local pizza shop were among my favorite. In fact, I liked them so much, I found a recipe to make them myself.

Retrieving my cell phone from my purse, I swiped my thumb across the screen and was pleasantly surprised to find a voicemail and three text messages – all from Lucas. Actually, giddy was probably a better word. I was giddy. I read the text messages first.

Thinking of you.

_Wish I was with you right now instead of with a group of sweaty dudes._ That one made me laugh out loud.

I miss you, Rebecca.

Then I played the voicemail, which I guessed – correctly – was from him. "Hey, Rebecca. Just taking a quick break and thought I'd give you a call since you haven't responded to a single one of my texts. Or maybe you're just trying to tell me something." He chuckled. "I really do want to see you again. Give me a call so we can make another date."

I sighed, clutching the phone to my chest as if that would somehow bring me closer to him. Then I typed back a quick text response: _helping my sister move and get settled. Will call later this evening. I miss you, too._ As I pressed send, I couldn't remember a time when I'd felt so happy, and I wanted this feeling to last forever.

# Chapter Eight

Special Trip

It had been almost three weeks since my first official date with Lucas, and we'd spent as much time together as we could. My days off were devoted to him, and even on the days I had to work, we'd try to sneak in a meal together as often as we could. And last week, when I had to pull double shifts for four days in a row, he'd driven all the way from Covanta just to spend my breaks with me. I never realized sitting in a hospital cafeteria eating bad food could be so much fun. Then again, any time I spent with Lucas was fun.

He'd gotten into the habit of kissing me every single time he saw me now, and that was one of the best parts of seeing him. His kisses were addictive, and I was beginning to want more – a lot more. And that kind of terrified me because nothing had changed: He was still leaving. I wasn't sure I could give myself to a man in that way, and then have him leave me. It would break me.

As it was, I was already falling in love with him, something I promised myself I wouldn't do for this very reason. But here I was, hopelessly in love with Lucas Hudson. I sighed and finished packing the baked goods I'd made into the cooler.

Yesterday, Lucas had invited me out to his grandfather's ranch, which he'd been helping out at during his stay in Covanta. It's how he spent his time when he wasn't with me. I felt bad every time he left his family to be with me, though. I knew he didn't get to see them very often, and I didn't want to become one of those women who tears a guy from all of his family and friends. But every time I bring it up, he assures me it's not a big deal, that his family understands and only wants him to be happy.

I double checked to make sure I had everything I needed, and then I loaded up my car and pulled out of my driveway. Lucas had offered to pick me up, but it was silly for him to drive down here to get me only to drive back to Covanta. Plus, I was looking forward to the silence of making the drive alone. I was so conflicted about my feelings for Lucas. Okay, maybe that wasn't exactly accurate. I knew how I felt about him. I think I loved him. But I was struggling with whether I should tell him that or not. I turned up the radio and picked up a little bit of speed.

****

"You made it!" Lucas beamed as I got out of the car and made my way up the crazy long driveway.

He walked toward me, and I could tell by the twinkle in his eyes what he was planning. As soon as I was close enough, he wrapped me in a strong hug, his lips landing on mine in a soft, teasing kiss. Every single time he kissed me like that, my heart melted. My body would ignite with need. My breaths would become short, ragged pants that made me want to beg for more just so I could experience him stealing all breath from me.

"Did you really think I'd miss this?" I asked, pressing my palms to his chest, loving how solid and warm it was beneath my touch.

He shrugged. "I often worry you're becoming sick of me."

I laughed and shook my head. "Trust me, Lucas, that's not going to happen."

Smiling, he took my hand, lacing our fingers. "Good because you'd have a really hard time getting rid of me." He said smiling as we walked toward the house.

Correction: the mansion. At least, that's what it looked like to me anyway. It was a four story brick masterpiece that loomed high above the trees that surrounded it. Gorgeous pillars adorned the front of the house, and a rose covered lattice comprised one side of the house. I looked up, taking in the full sight, and realized there were stained glass windows in the cupolas that sat atop the main roof.

"Wow, Lucas, this place is gorgeous." I slowed my steps just so I could stare at it in awe a bit longer.

Noticing what I was doing, Lucas stopped walking and stood behind me. He put his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. "This was my grandmother's dream house. My grandfather had it built for her as a ten year wedding anniversary gift. They'd lived in a rat infested apartment for years just so he could save enough to make the down payment to the builders. That's how she always told the story anyway." Lucas chuckled.

"That's so romantic," I whispered. I wondered what it would be like to have a man be so in love with me that he'd go to such great lengths to make me happy. Would I ever know love like that? Or was it just a silly fantasy?

Lucas softly kissed my cheek, then that sensitive spot right behind my ear. I suppressed a shudder as delicious sensations ricocheted through my body. "A few years after the house was finished, they built the barns and filled them with horses."

"I love horses. My grandfather taught me to ride as soon as I was able to walk." I laughed, looking at him over my shoulder. No matter how often I saw him, his handsome, striking features always stunned me.

"You know how to ride?" He asked.

"Yeah, but it has been a long time."

He grinned. "Good because we're going to take a stroll over the estate today."

Excitement bubbled up in my stomach, and I was powerless to stop it. "Really?" I turned so I was facing him, my hands resting on his shoulders. "I haven't been riding in so long."

"That's okay." He enveloped me in another hug. "I have the perfect mare for you to ride. She's gentle, takes direction well." He brushed his nose against mine. "Unless you just want to ride with me." There was that familiar, mischievous glint to his expression.

"As tempting as that is, I'm really excited to get on a horse again." I told him.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart." Giving the tip of my nose a kiss, he once again took my hand, and we headed back toward the house. "Did you bring the goodies?"

"Yes." I laughed. Lucas had become rather enthralled with my baking skills, and there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't have something sweet waiting for him.

"Good. I packed a picnic lunch for us. There's this great little pond near the edge of the property. I thought we could stop there and have something to eat."

"Sounds wonderful." I said with a smile.

An hour later, Lucas brought his horse, Jackson, to a stop near the pond he'd mentioned earlier. I brought Daisy to a stop beside them, admiring the view. Not only of the surrounding view of nature, but of Lucas. He was good on a horse, a natural. I'd seen him ride at the rodeo, but there was something different about seeing him ride today. It's like he was more relaxed, at peace with everything around him.

He dismounted and tied Jackson to a nearby tree, giving the horse enough length to reach the pond and drink from it. Then Lucas helped me off Daisy and tied her up the same way. "So, what do you think?" he asked.

"Breathtaking," I said. "Really, Lucas, I can see why your grandmother loved it here so much. God, if I lived here I don't think I'd ever leave." I chuckled. "It really is no wonder your grandfather can't bear to part with it, and I hope he never does."

"He's offered it to me, you know?"

"He has?" My eyebrows rose in shock.

Lucas nodded and began to spread out a blanket on the ground. "Yeah. He's told me more than once that if I buy this place from him, it can stay in the family, and I can stay away from the rodeo." He grabbed the picnic basket and set it down; then motioned for me to sit beside him.

"I thought he supported your rodeo career." I said as I sat beside Lucas.

"He does." He put his arm around me, pulling me close. I put my head on his shoulder. "But as his only grandchild, he worries."

I sat in stunned silence, trying to process what Lucas had just said. If he had the opportunity to buy this place, and he didn't, then he must really love the rodeo. In that moment, any lingering – albeit farfetched – hope I had about him suddenly deciding to give up life on the road to stay here with me were dashed. Lucas was a rodeo man. No one or nothing could ever change that.

"I can understand that," I said, "about him worrying. It's not like you're in the safest profession."

Lucas squeezed me closer to him and kissed the top of my head. "No, but just like my grandfather couldn't give this place up, I can't give up bull riding. It's in my blood."

"Yeah."

We fell silent for a few moments, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I stared at the pond, mesmerized by how serene and peaceful it was. There were two ducks in the water, floating around as if they didn't have a care in the world. They probably didn't.

"Hungry?" Lucas asked after a while.

I straightened and smiled. "A little."

I watched as he unpacked the basket, memorizing everything about him from the way his fingers worked to pop the cork on the bottle of wine he'd packed, to the way his muscles tensed then relaxed with each movement he made. I noticed the way the light breeze tousled his hair, and he'd absently reach up to push it out of his eyes; and the way he'd twist his mouth into contemplation as he worked.

And I had the sudden urge to cry.

How would I ever be able to say goodbye to him? In such a short period of time, he'd stolen me, heart and soul. Tears stung the back of my throat, and I swallowed against them, not wanting to ruin this perfect moment he'd created for us. No. I could wait until I got home later and cry in the privacy of my own room. I would grieve for the impending loss of Lucas on my own time, alone.

"To us," he said, raising his glass.

"Us," I agreed, barely able to choke out the words. No matter how short lived 'us' really is.

# Chapter Nine

Night Sky

After a lovely lunch and a lot of stolen kisses, Lucas suggested we ride a bit more. I think we travelled the entire expanse of the estate by the time he motioned for us to stop. We were in front of what appeared to be an abandoned barn, yet it looked like it had been fully maintained. It was weird it was so far away from the main house and all the other barns. But I didn't question Lucas about it. I was having way too much fun just being with him.

He dismounted, and I did the same – without his help this time – and then he gathered a blanket from the saddle bag. It was the same blanket we'd sat on for our picnic.

"Follow me," he said.

We entered through a small side door that creaked when Lucas opened it, and for a moment I was afraid it would fall off its hinges. I looked around, amazed there was so much fresh hay inside. For being unused, I didn't expect it to be so...clean. During my visual perusal, I noticed an open skylight pretty cool.

Lucas spread the blanket out on top of the hay, directly below the skylight. "I thought maybe we could just watch the stars for a while. They're starting to come out."

I smiled. "That would be lovely."

He settled on the blanket, and I lay next to him, both of us on our backs, staring up at the darkening evening sky. Our silence was comfortable, which was refreshing, and I allowed my mind to wander places I hadn't let it go before: the dream of a future with Lucas. Marriage. Children. Making love to him every night. I sighed and closed my eyes.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No." I turned my head so I was facing him. "Everything is absolutely perfect."

He gave me that same sexy smile that made my knees weak the first night I'd met him, and I rolled onto my side. Lucas did the same, his arm going around my waist and pulling me closer, so close our bodies were pressed together. And then he kissed me. Softly at first, then a bit harder until I felt like my whole body was on fire, and he was devouring me. We'd kissed a lot, but never like this, never with so much passion I thought I'd overdose on it.

"You're absolutely perfect," he said, smiling against my lips.

I chuckled, tracing the curve of his cheek, the angle of his jaw. "Thank you for everything, Lucas. These past few weeks have been amazing."

"Yes, they have." He gently guided me onto my back and brought his body over mine. "And they're about to get a hell of a lot better." He said. His grin was wicked, his intentions clear.

I had no intentions or desire to stop him. I wanted this just as much as he did, and damn it, if I had to let him go soon, I was going to have something to remember him by, something I could recall during the long, lonely nights.

Lucas slanted his mouth over mine and kissed me slowly, softly, savoring every second of our embrace. And then he slipped his hand up under the hem of my shirt, his strong, calloused hand grazing over my belly button, causing me to shudder. Goose bumps erupted on my skin when he traced lazy circles around my stomach and ribs. Kissing him like this seared my senses, and I couldn't feel anything other than his body melded against mine, his tongue twisting and turning around mine. And I couldn't taste anything other than the sweet, sugary remnants of fruit on his lips. He tasted and felt heavenly.

I pushed him over onto his back and flung my leg over his waist, straddling him. He looked momentarily surprised, but then his hands landed on my hips, and he held me as I leaned down to claim his lips. I'd never been what anyone would call sexually aggressive, and I really didn't consider what I was doing right now overly aggressive, but I did get a rush from taking control like this. And Lucas didn't seem to mind in the least.

Pulling away, I reached for his shirt, tugging it out from the waist band of his jeans, and then I began to unbutton it, my fingernails grazing along his bare skin each time another button was undone. Every time I did, his stomach would hollow and he'd inhale sharply. He made no move to stop me though. In fact, when my hands fumbled around his waist, trying to yank the back of his shirt free from his pants, he lifted just enough to make that possible. I guided his shirt from his shoulders and was struck by how gorgeous his chest was. I mean, I knew he was muscular, but good God, those muscles should be labeled a deadly sin.

I trailed my fingers down the length of his upper body, noting how soft the light dusting of hair on his chest and stomach was. Then I leaned down and kissed his chest. He groaned, which only empowered me more. I moved down his body, kissing as I went. The feel of his hard body beneath my lips burnt me alive. He gripped my shoulders, and I looked up at him under my lashes. His eyes were closed, his mouth parted on a sigh. I dragged my mouth up his stomach and chest, nipping at his neck and jaw before plunging my tongue into his mouth, kissing him with a ferocity that made it nearly impossible for me to stay still.

I wanted him.

I would have him.

I once again slid down his body, flicking the button on his jeans open, and then slowly pulling his zipper down. My gaze was on him, desperate to know if he was okay with this, if he was upset in any way that I'd decided to take control like this.

He rolled his eyes and moaned. "Rebecca," he said.

My heart was racing so damn fast I fought to breathe. I looked up at him with a sultry smile moments before pulling his thick, hard flesh from the confines of his jeans and wrapping my slender fingers around his shaft.

Lucas looked down at me and watched as I took him into my mouth. He was so big, my cheeks and lips stretched to an almost uncomfortable degree, but the taste of him far outweighed any mild discomfort I had. Besides, once I did this for a little while, it would be so bad. I just had to allow my body time to adjust to him.

He reached down, gathering my hair and holding it away from my face. "Fuck," he groaned, drawing out the word.

I slowly drew back until nothing but my tongue rested on the underside of the head, and then I licked over it with erotic hunger. Down his shaft and up again. From the way he was panting now, I had to assume he liked it. No man had ever tasted as good to me as he did. I wanted to stay like this with him forever, to shut out the entire world, ignore everyone and everything, and just have it be the two of us.

"Oh God, yeah." His eyes rolled back as I drew him into my mouth again, cupping his sack in my hand. "Rebecca, baby, I'm gonna come," he warned me. I sucked him harder for a moment, unsure if I wanted to actually let him come in my mouth, but he made that decision for me when he pulled out of my mouth and guided my lips back to his.

"Lucas," I breathed out his name as his mouth crushed mine.

"That was..." He shook his head. "I have no words, but now, it's my turn." He winked.

I held my breath, knowing full well what his intentions were. Panic seized me, and I opened my mouth to tell him no, but I couldn't get the word to form. I swallowed hard, reminding myself that this was Lucas, and he'd never do anything to hurt me. Yet, I couldn't quite let that thought alone settle my nerves. My eyes widened, and I shook my head back and forth.

Lucas's hands stroked up my legs, his fingers deftly working the button on my jeans. The sound of my zipper being pulled down echoed around the barn.

"Lucas," I whispered, my voice wavering. I couldn't stop myself. I wanted him to know. He deserved to know.

He stopped and looked at me. "Don't tell me you've never..."

"No," I said. "No one has ever..." I could feel the heat rise on my cheeks, and I silently cursed myself for blushing so badly.

Lucas refused to hide his smile as he brought his mouth to mine and gave me a tender reassuring kiss. "Are you a virgin, Rebecca?"

"No," I whispered, "but I've never had anyone..." I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very foolish, "perform oral on me."

He chuckled, giving me another kiss. "Trust me."

I nodded and he slowly removed my jeans and panties before finding my mouth again. I braced myself on my hands and let my head fall back to my shoulders as he nipped and licked his way down my body, removing my shirt as he went. The cool night air blew across my now naked body, hardening my nipples.

"So beautiful," he crooned as he inched closer to my thighs, and I couldn't stop myself from watching him, mesmerized by the sight of his head, with that gorgeous soft hair, between my legs.

Lucas lifted my right leg, bending it so my foot was flat on the blanket and kissed his way toward the apex of my thighs. He repeated this on my left leg. I had no idea what to expect, but the anticipation was killing me. He put his hand on my stomach and gently guided me back so I was lying flat, keeping his head tucked between my legs.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do this?" he said, stroking his thumb over my now throbbing lips, holding my butt still so that I couldn't move away from him. Not that I wanted to.

All the air rushed out of my lungs, and I was left gasping at the feel of Lucas's mouth on my swollen, needy nub. He kissed it, sucked it into his mouth, drew it out, released it, and then flicked his tongue over it. I dug my heels into the hay, bracing myself against the rush of sensations that flooded over me. "Oh, God, yes!" I cried as his tongue played with me, dipping inside me, stoking the already raging fire between my legs.

Lucas let go of my butt and ran his hands along the inside of my legs, spreading them open. I hadn't even realized I'd closed them around his head. It was a reflex to the intense sensations coursing through my veins. His fingers parted my folds, and his tongue licked up one side of my lips and down the other. My hips came up off the ground, and my hands bunched in his hair holding him to me.

It was so good I didn't think it could get any better. Or rather, if it did get any better, I knew I would never survive it. Then he slid a finger or two inside of me, his thumb applying just the right amount of pressure to the bundle of nerves he'd so skillfully teased with his tongue moments earlier, his tongue working me into a frenzy of bucks and moans.

"Lucas," I moaned as I came around his fingers. My orgasm was all-consuming, making my face go numb, my eyes burst with vibrant flashes of light, my legs tremble uncontrollably as he eased his fingers out of me, and my entire body quivered. I don't recall a time I've ever came so hard or fast.

He feathered kisses up my body, lingering on the indentation of my waist and hipbone before climbing over me, putting his palms flat on either side of my head. I sat up on my elbows and looked into his eyes. They were darker than I'd ever seen them before. It was a seething look of desire.

Desire for me!

"Make love to me, Lucas," I whispered.

# Chapter Ten

Night Of Ecstasy

"God, I thought you'd never ask." Lucas chuckled as he fumbled in his jeans pocket, retrieving a condom.

I watched as he finished removing his clothing, happy he'd planned for this possibility, but also a little shocked he was so prepared. I bit down on my bottom lip, enjoying the view of his fully naked body, which was absolutely glorious! As soon as he had the condom on, he leaned over me, finding my lips and kissing them softly. My entire body was buzzing and humming and tingling with anticipation. I wanted Lucas so badly while at the same time, I was a little scared.

Lucas spread my legs with his knees and settled between them. Then he captured my lips again and kissed me, nipping at my bottom lip, sucking on it in an erotic way that had me pushing my hips up into him. He put his hand on my waist, holding me still. "Rebecca, honey, I don't want to rush this."

I groaned with frustration. I didn't want to rush, but I didn't want to wait too much longer either. "Fine, but don't tease me too long." I said as I trailed my fingers down his muscular arms and around his back. He shuddered beneath my touch, and I smiled. "Please make love to me, Lucas."

He left my lips and kissed down my neck, causing me to shudder. "Are you rushing this?" He chuckled softly as he continued his descent down my body. I really didn't want to rush him because I wanted this to last as long as possible. However, we'd both waited so long already; I couldn't bear to wait a moment longer. Besides, we were running out of time to be together, and I wanted to be able to spend our last few days together just like this: entwined in each other's arms, exploring one another's bodies, making love.

Lucas found my lips once more, kissing me until my lips went numb. Then he made another slow descent down my body, his lips leaving tiny, searing kisses on my skin. I wanted to shout at him to keep going while at the same time I wanted to demand he take me right now.

I reached down and threaded my hands into his hair, luxuriating in how soft the strands felt between my fingers. Then I felt his mouth close around one of my nipples and it was like an electric shot straight to my core. "Oh, God, Lucas." I said, wiggling beneath him, desperate for the teasing to end and for the real pleasure to begin. I needed him worse than I needed my next breath.

"I want you on top," he whispered as he dragged his mouth back to mine. His erection was prominent as it rested between my legs.

I didn't know why that took me by surprise, but it did. Didn't guys generally like to be on top during sex? But I guess I should've known. Lucas wasn't anything like all the other guys I'd met.

"Okay," I mumbled against his lips. Next thing I knew, Lucas rolled us over so that I was on top. I half yelped half laughed in surprise.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, kneading my butt in his hands.

"Okay," I said breathlessly. The thought of it hurting had occurred to me the moment I saw the size of him, but I wanted this, him, so much, I knew I wouldn't make him stop no matter what.

He reached down and grabbed his shaft, positioning it into my opening, and then very gently, he eased into me. Then he stopped. "Take as little or as much as you want, Rebecca. Make it feel good for you." He said, rotating his hips ever so slightly, just enough so that I felt the movement.

So that's why he insisted I was on top: to let me lead, let me set the pace to whatever was comfortable and pleasurable for me. It was probably the sweetest, most unselfish thing any man had ever done for me during sex.

"Lucas." I moaned as I put my hands on either side of his head and stared at him. His eyes were hazy and filled with desire. It was that look that was my undoing. A seductive smile pulled at my mouth.

"You're killing me, baby." He groaned. His grip on my waist had tightened, and I knew he was having a hard time not moving.

I smiled as I lowered myself down onto him, wincing slightly as I did. He was definitely bigger than anyone I'd ever been with before, but he also felt a hundred times better. I found his lips and kissed him hard as I rotated my hips on him, driving him deeper into me with each slow downward motion of my body. "God, Lucas," I groaned.

He nipped at my bottom lip. "You feel so good, Rebecca." His hands found my butt again and he squeezed my cheeks, guiding me up and down on him with skilled precision, never allowing me to go too fast or too hard even though that's exactly what I wanted to do.

But our need for each other was too great and from the way he clutched my body and grit his teeth, I guessed he agreed. Digging his heels into the hay, he tightened his grip on me, and thrust into me hard and fast for a few moments, causing me to cry out. The sounds of our moans echoed through the empty barn. Lucas hugged me to him, and then rolled us over, putting him on top of me.

I was so close to coming already, and now having the full weight of his body on top of mine, feeling how he moved in and out of me, the way he held onto me as if he were afraid I would suddenly disappear, the way he kissed me with so much hunger, moaning in between our kisses was incredible.

"Baby, you feel incredible. I've wanted you from the moment I saw you." He said, kissing me, his tongue invading my mouth with a frantic desperation that I matched stroke for stroke.

"Yeah," I moaned. I curled my fingers against his biceps, my nails digging into his skin as he pushed all the way into me. I cried out, his name falling from my lips as if in prayer. The feel of Lucas inside of me, stretching me to a new level of pleasure I never knew existed, driving me to madness was euphoric. This one time wasn't ever going to be enough. Hell no! I wanted to spend the rest of tonight and every night for the rest of my life with him.

"I can't get enough of you." He said, grabbing me, bringing me to a sitting position so that we were chest to chest. I hooked my legs around his back, putting my arms around his neck, and then I rocked on him as our mouths explored each other like it was the first time we'd ever kissed.

His pace was slow, deliberate, and soft. I leaned back and guided Lucas's mouth to my breast. I gasped, ready to explode from the feelings he brought out in me. How could someone I'd never been with before know exactly how to touch me, how to bring me to life in this way? He slid his hands from my lower back up to my shoulder blades, bringing me to an upright position again, and finding my lips. But he didn't kiss me. He teased me – something I was learning he liked to do. Not that I was complaining.

"Kiss me," I demanded. He did, and the world exploded around me. My mind went fuzzy; and the only thing I could focus on was the feel of Lucas inside of me, of my desire to hold him there forever. Our pace increased, my body rocking on his harder and faster as my moans became progressively louder. I could feel him swelling inside of me, and I knew he was on the brink of release with me.

"Yeah," he crooned, "come for me, baby," he whispered, nipping at my ear.

I loved it when he called me baby or sweetheart or any other term of endearment. It made me feel special, like I was the only woman on earth in his eyes.

A moment later, I screamed his name and dropped my forehead to his shoulder, holding him tightly as we reached the crescendo of our climax, climbing the peak together, and then crashing down on the other side, still connected, still holding onto each other. It took several moments for the tremors to ease from my body, leaving me limp and spent. Lucas showered my shoulder and collarbone with kisses while I stroked the nape of his neck, holding on to him for as long as I could.

"That was incredible," he whispered, lowering me back down onto the hay. "You're incredible."

He kissed me and eased out of me, leaving me with an utterly empty feeling. I clung to him, not wanting him to leave me. "So are you," I said, tracing his lips with my tongue before he claimed my mouth as his.

Lucas rolled on to his back, bringing me over with him so that my head was on his chest. I draped my arm across his stomach, and his placed a kiss to the top of my head. They lay silently for several moments, and I couldn't help but wonder what he must be thinking. I dragged my fingers up and down his chest, loving how every so often he'd shudder or his stomach would hollow from the sensation.

His hold on me tightened, and he sighed heavily. "I found out today that the rodeo is moving out in a few days."

My hand froze, and the tips of my ears burned hot. A few days? I thought we'd at least have another week or two together. I wanted to cry. I wanted to beg him not to go. I wanted to scream how unfair this was.

"We're headed to Texas," he said as his hand began to rub my back, but it did nothing to calm the panic rising up in me.

I sighed, forced back the well of emotion that threatened to undo me. Folding my hands on his chest, I rested my chin on them, and looked at him. If he was leaving, I needed to memorize every single detail about him so I could remember him once he was gone.

"Say something, Rebecca."

"I don't want you to go," I blurted out.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "If I could stay, I would. You know that, right?"

I gave an awkward shrug. No, I didn't really know that, but figured it wouldn't do any good to say that aloud.

"I don't want to be without you." Lucas said as he brought me further up his body so our lips were a breath's width apart. He traced my lips with his thumb. "Go with me, Rebecca."

"What?" I'd been so focused on what he said about not wanting to be without me, I must've missed something important because there was no way he just asked me to go with him.

"I want you to go on the road with me. You've said you always wanted to travel. This is your chance, and we can be together."

My heart raced. This was crazy. Yet, the thought of not being with him was unbearable. "Okay," I said, smiling, "I'll go with you."

### To be continued...

### Thank you for reading!

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