"Correction. Your slave driver."

She giggled softly at the laughter in his voice. "Yeah. If this-I mean-if we're . . . I've never done this before. I kind of don't know the rules for . . . for . . ."

"Engaging in carnal hijinks with your employer," he finished for her. "So are you asking me if this is a one-night stand?"

No. She wasn't asking that at all. She didn't know what she was asking, but now that the subject was all out there . . . "I don't know what I'm asking. I'm . . . I don't know."

"I'm glad you brought it up."

She pressed a knuckle to his pec and grinned when it flexed against her cheek. "I didn't bring it up. You did."

"Right. Well, now that it's been said, let me be clear."

Frankie's eyes scrunched shut, bracing herself for the inevitable "this has to be our little secret" speech. Or maybe it would be the "I'm only in this to get laid" line. She watched MTV. She got it, and she was still willing. In fact, she'd never thought past the point of Nikos's lips all over her girly parts.

None of this had come into her fantasies. There was never any talk of happily ever afters or commitments or even anything more than drive-by casual s.e.x. There'd only been . . . well, the rutting. The fornication. Jesus, the shallow, emptiness of that thought made her just as bad as Mitch. "Okay, I'm all ears."

Nikos forced her chin upward with a gentle hand. "I'm not about casual s.e.x. I've thought about this for the past month, Frankie. In fact, I'm not at all embarra.s.sed to tell you, I've thought about it probably every twenty minutes or so since I first laid eyes on you."

"Are you sure Simon's the blind one here?" she teased, hoping to look away from his intense black gaze.

"Don't do that anymore, Frankie. Stop beating yourself down. It insults my taste in women. So to be clear, I am not, nor will I ever be, the kind of man who only wants to score and move on to the next game. Hear this and hear it loud and clear. It's long, so settle in." Nikos tucked her to him, spreading his thick thighs to encompa.s.s hers then pulling her arms around his waist.

"I want you. You and all your postdivorce trauma. You and your mussed-up hair in a ponytail with the yellow and blue scrunchie. You and your baggy clothes-which I might add, hid a body I wanted before, but now want all up in mine. I want you and the tossed-aside mess you think you are. I want to get to know you beyond the external things everyone else sees. I really want to know what you find so great about the Go-Go's, because you put Gail's iPod on every day at your lunch break and listen to 'We Got the Beat.' I find myself astounded at your poor taste in music when there's so much good Slayer out there to be had. I want to know if you like mustard or ketchup on your hot dog. I want to know if you even like hot dogs. I want to know what brand of toothpaste you use, what kind of soap. I want to know if you're ever going to decide on a hobby because it seems so important to you. And I won't deny, I really want to know what else you have on underneath that skirt that's so tight, you brought me to my knees in it."

Whoa. Her silence was outweighed only by his while he appeared to wait for her answer. The sharp planes of his face, tight and expectant, made Frankie bite her lip.

The words, when she found them, were slow, though offered in complete honesty with no hidden agendas attached. "Okay, first. Mustard and sometimes relish. Second, whatever's on sale at CVS that whitens and moisturizes. Third, I can't choose between raising ant farms as a second income or making furniture out of Hefty bags and beer cans. Lastly, and I'm going to be really truthful when I tell you, I never thought past the actual . . . well, you know. It never occurred to me there'd be anything to talk about but the-"

"So you saw me as just a plaything?"

Well, "plaything" was kinda harsh. Maybe partner in all things sweaty and grunting was more appropriate. "No . . . but . . . it never occurred to me you'd be down with anything else because you can have your pick of women with far less issues than I have. So I never let my imagination go any further . . ." Oh, sweet mother. She could really use a roll of duct tape and an extra pair of hands to wrap around her mouth.

Nikos didn't stop swaying, his hands never stopped swirling in enticing circles over her back muscles. "Whatever you thought, if it wasn't along the lines of what I was thinking, like exclusivity and getting to know one another, then all you have to do is say it."

And so then what? It was over. No gettin' jiggy wid' it? Jesus. How had she managed, after the train wreck that was Mitch, to find herself a man, the first one out of the gate after her divorce, who actually had boundaries and morals when all she thought she'd been looking for was a little some-some?

What did this say about her as a human being? What did it say that a man as divine as this one wanted to pursue a potential relationship with someone as mediocre as her, and she'd never once considered he was capable of it?

Wait, strike that. She'd never even given him enough credit to consider he'd know how to do anything other than run a diner and boink. She'd never allowed the love he clearly shared with his family, the hard work he put into running his father's business, to connect with the s.e.x G.o.d she'd turned him into in her mind.

She'd never considered it because her way of thinking was what she knew. Mitch's way. Superficial, shallow Mitch, whom she'd let lead her to believe she could never be enough. Because he had chosen the young, nubile, undoubtedly prettier-than-Frankie-would-ever-be Bamby, she figured, by default, all men made their choices in the same way her ex-husband did.

Oh, low didn't get any lower than what she was feeling right now.

"Frankie? Did I freak you out? It's not my intention, but I'm determined to begin as honestly as I can. Or not begin at all. All or nothing. That's up to you."

From the look on Nikos's face, she definitely saw some sort of resolution she didn't understand, but it was there.

Huh. Right here, right now, she had the most delicious man she'd ever laid eyes on in the palm of her hand, and she didn't know what to do with him unless it involved ravishing his luscious body, and even then, she was riding the fence about her ability to please all this hunk. "I think . . ."

What did she think? "I think I wasn't at all prepared for you to say something as sweet and profound as you just did, and I'm a little shocked, but if you give me a good, solid twenty minutes, and maybe some shots of tequila, I might be able to wrap my brain around it," she joked.

"You thought I'd just want to screw, didn't you? What is it about women and that line of thinking with me?" He gave her a mocking, tragically crushed look, but his question was genuine.

Oh. Priceless. He was just golden. He was gorgeous and he didn't have a clue. "Oh, I dunno, Nikos. I'm going to take a stab here and guess it might have to do with the fact that finding women who'll drape themselves at your feet while the ma.s.ses line up to hand feed you Twinkies would be the least of your problems. Maybe that has a little something to do with it. In the interest of honesty, and along with the humiliation of showing my cards, you're in a different league than the average man."

"Translation?"

Her smile was watery. "Oh, now you're just fishing, Antonakas."

"I'm wounded."

Frankie rolled her eyes. "Fine. If you need to hear it out loud. You're pretty hot. No, you're unbelievably hot, and for someone like me to hear you talk about anything other than tossing my ovaries around, casually, and without a single shred of misgiving, is like having Scott Baio show up at your door and propose to you."

His chuckle was low, husky, and sweet to her ears. "I am not a casual t.o.s.s.e.r. When I toss, I do the whole enchilada."

"So I've come to discover," she whispered with a shaky timbre to her voice.

"Is that more than you can handle at this point?"

"If I say yes, does that mean there'll be no tossing?"

His smile was tender but firm. "I'm afraid it does. But I'd totally understand if that's how you feel. I'm not suggesting we buy wedding rings and book a flight to Vegas, but I am suggesting you consider having all of me."

Or none of him. Disappointment for that notion seeped into her brain. Yet, what he offered was such a big leap after having been dumped so callously by Mitch. Her heart clamored with fear, but it was her gut that reacted with a toe in the shallow end of the pool. "I come with more baggage than an overbooked flight to Boise."

"Yeah, but I'd be so disappointed if you flew luggage-free. You'd never value arriving on time because you would have never experienced the h.e.l.l that's losing your bags in Tijuana when your destination's Hoboken."

Frankie didn't want to lose again. Not ever again. And she was never going to allow a man to own so much of her that she retreated back to the dark confines of her cave to mourn him. But she was afraid to fall for more sweet talk. She'd done it once. Twice was unacceptable-especially at her age, when she was supposed to be more mature and semi-capable of differentiating between sincerity and bulls.h.i.t.

She'd only just begun to gather not only her wits but also a paycheck free and clear of Mitch's influence. She was so afraid to screw that up by getting involved with someone and ending up hurt. "Losing your bags sucks."

"But it can make you appreciate having to buy those Louis Vuittons to replace your old Walmart brand."

"You do not know who Louis V. is."

"Not only do I know of him, I did some account management for someone on his staff. That's not the point. The point is, if you're not ready for the physical part of this relationship, or the beginnings of something more substantial than a sheet wrinkler, then we'll wait until you are. And if you never are, I'd appreciate your honesty. And you don't have to make any rash decisions tonight. We can go as slow as you'd like."

Tell that to her hormones, who, as obnoxious, uncontrolled crowds go, were voicing their desires in the way of raw, exposed nerves and a desperate need for the show to go on. There was nothing in this choice Nikos posed that held anything unappealing. It was only her fear that she'd end up humiliated by picking the same man in a different body that kept her from jumping at the chance to get to know Nikos better.

However, there was beauty in the thought that nothing could ever be worse than flipping your lid on national television. "I think I'm in."

Tilting her head back, he gazed down at her. "I think I like the sound of that. You do realize what that means, don't you?" Nikos arched her back as he hauled her hard against him.

It meant her nether regions better sing their chorus of hallelujahs in their indoor voices so she wouldn't embarra.s.s herself. Relief, excitement, along with a hot dose of anxiety over unfamiliar territory made her voice hoa.r.s.e. "What does that mean?" Frankie asked with a coy smile, suddenly unsure.

"First, it means you can't go on a date with Marco. Then it means we get to see each other naked," he said against her mouth, whispering over her lips with a lick of his silken tongue.

Frankie had to fight another swell of panic mingling with the heat Nikos was stirring deep in her belly. Naked. s.e.x meant she had to be naked. Oh. Dear. Lord. "That means I have to take my clothes off?"

"Nope," he muttered against her neck, making her tremble. "It means I get to take them off for you."

Wait, where in her fantasy had she been naked? She'd always had something flowy and shimmery on, and her hair was fabulous and lush. But no naked. Her heart began a race against her lungs to screech out of her chest in a game of who was more panicked.

But then, her head fell back on her shoulders as Nikos trailed a hot path along her sensitive flesh, nipping and kissing his way back to her mouth, making her forget her fear. When her head lifted, she remembered. Panic about the naked reared its ugly head thanks to the Christmas tree and its soft lights twinkling in the corner of the room. "It's bright in here, don't you think?"

He chuckled, deep and vibrating against her neck. "It's the getting naked thing, right?"

Oh, Death. Where are you when I need you? "No . . . yes. Well, I guess I just didn't think . . . my entire fantasy out."

Nikos's head bobbed upward, leaving the flesh of her neck mournful. "Fantasy?" His question was deep and hoa.r.s.e.

Okay, Death, if you're off for the night, could I get a little help from Mr. Destruction? Maybe an earthquake that shifts the floor and swallows me whole? "I-it's-I don't know what you're talking about, Antonakas. I said nothing about fantasies." She gave him an indignant glance before looking over his shoulder at the brightly colored wall.

Taking her by the hand, Nikos smiled over his shoulder. "I know what I heard, Bennett, but I'll let you slide until a later date. We have a room with no windows or lights to find."

They ended up in his bedroom. "You do, too, have windows in here," she accused.

"Hang on to your skirt there." Tugging her fully into the room, her feet sinking into the plush carpet with each step, he stopped at the bedside table and picked up a remote. With a click, shades slid from the tops of the windows to the sill, blanketing the room in total darkness.

In fact, it was so dark Frankie could no longer see two feet in front of her. As Nikos pulled her near, she stumbled, falling into his hard chest with a grunt.

Her body tensed, but Nikos molded her to him, soothing her with the strength of his arms, letting the warmth of his length seep into hers. Frankie relaxed in increments, sighing while shivers of anxious antic.i.p.ation slithered along her spine. Her arms wound around Nikos's neck like they were meant to rest there.

He nuzzled the top of her head, inhaling, his wide chest expanding against hers, making her nipples rub with delicious friction against her bra.

"So, about the naked thing," he muttered, kissing her earlobe.

"What about it?" she mumbled back, lost in the sway of their bodies.

His fingers ran the length of the edge of her shirt, toying with her, teasing her hot flesh. "You ready for it?"

Her breathing hitched. Yes. No. Yes, yes, no. "Is this a sticking point, or is there room for negotiation?"

Nikos's chuckle was thick and sinful. "I hear it's part of the deal, but I'm pretty creative. I'm sure I could find a way to work around it. Though, I'll just say here and now, I think you're worried over nothing."

"That's because you haven't seen me and my ribs sticking out or the cellulite on my thighs." Her stomach jolted at the idea of his perfection meeting her imperfection in a blend of perfect imperfection.

"And I won't because I can't see two inches in front of me. So we're good to go?"

Point. "Wait. One more little niggle. What if I'm really c.r.a.ppy in bed? What if, because I am a total novice, and I don't know much more than a recently deflowered eighteen-year-old about, you know, stuff, I end up being the pits in the sack? Will you laugh at me behind my back with Simon and Marco while you slug back brewskis and eat chicken wings?"

"Simon doesn't like beer. He's a booze sn.o.b, and we all know what happens to Marco when he slugs back anything alcoholic. But I'm sure he'd be the voice of admonishing reason in our quest to mock your skillz," he teased against her ear, entwining his fingers with her shaking ones.

"So you will laugh at me. I should have known you were too good to be true," she joked back, knowing full well Nikos was trying to ease her fears.

"It'll only be just a snicker, but then I'll move on to the next postdivorce ex-trophy wife and forget all about you and your not-sowicked bedsport ways. Promise."

Frankie smiled. "I'd feel so much better knowing you'd move forward with such eloquence and tact."

"I'm nothing if not eloquent, and on a serious note, Frankie, here's the deal. Let's just say, for all intents and purposes and to ease your apprehension, we don't see fireworks and rainbows. I guarantee you it'll be a h.e.l.luva lot of fun working that out until we get it right. I do have faith we'll get it right, if not tonight, eventually."

Oh, this man. Either he was the smoothest operator this side of the Mason-Dixon, or he was a really genuine find. In a diner. In Jersey. Of all the places. G.o.d, please-don't let him be like Mitch. Please, please, please, don't let me get this wrong again. I just can't be a loser in such a big way more than once in a lifetime. "You're a very patient, decent man, Antonakas. Or you're full of s.h.i.t."

Another chuckle rippled from his throat. "Well, you won't know that until the day after, and I'll have achieved my dastardly goal by then. So I have time on my side."

"You're very charming . . ." Jesus. That word.

"And that reminds you of Mitch."

"How did you know?"

"I met him. My kind of charming is a whole different breed, Frankie."

The sincerity in Nikos's voice was definitely different than Mitch's brand of genuine. It was a subtle difference, but it was there.

Her sigh was shaking, rattling on its way out. "Then, okay . . . I think I'm ready. 'Think' being the operative word here. As long as you think you have enough const.i.tution to possibly see me naked in the light. There's still that. And it troubles me. Big. I mean, moonlight can be a mighty powerful thing. What if some of it escapes through your fancy blinds and you happen to see what you're contemplating, you know . . . uh, tapping. What if that very light does happen to escape through the blinds and you do see me naked and it totally squicks you out? That would be embarra.s.sing for both parties concerned, don't you think? Then things would be even more awkward than when we originally set out to, you know . . . If we planned to do it, then didn't do it because you freaked out, think about how uncomfortable we'd be when we have to look at each other over a tray of marinating brisket. Oh, the horror-"

Nikos's silken lips quieted her, soothing her fears with their deliciousness.

Clothes shifted, lifted, then fell to the floor in whispers of linen and popping b.u.t.tons. Shoes were kicked off and landed with a heavy thud to an unknown destination. Now she wished she hadn't wanted total darkness if only to see all of Nikos, naked, sculpted, hard. Her hands clung to his neck, longing to boldly run them over every plane of his body. Yet uncertainty warred with desire.

Though, there was no wasting time for Nikos when he opened the clasp on the front of her bra, brushing the straps from her shoulders with skilled hands. Hands that were warm, firm, lightly callused from the physical labor he put in at the diner.

Frankie shivered with antic.i.p.ation when he ran his fingers between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, skirting the globes of flesh, pressing his mouth to hers and sliding his tongue inside.

Her legs trembled, turning to room-temperature b.u.t.ter from the heat of Nikos's tongue, swirling to meet hers. The white-hot pleasure of his mouth encompa.s.sing hers was like nothing she'd ever experienced.

Stabs of desire rose and fell in her belly, p.r.i.c.king nerves, making them aware of sensations she didn't know existed until the touch of Nikos's mouth on hers as his fingers traced the outline of her breast.

His groan was deep, rumbling with approval, bringing a jolt of unexpected pleasure to her. When his thumb grazed her nipple, Frankie bucked beneath his hand, moving closer, seeking more of the crazy need he so easily evoked in her.

Disappointment followed by sheer antic.i.p.ation shivered over her exposed flesh when Nikos left her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to run his hands over her a.s.s, plucking at the garters she wore. "I like," he said with a husky silken tone, drawing her thigh up over his lean hip still clad in boxer briefs she now regretted not seeing.

Frankie's heart crashed against her chest in an almost painful agony of rhythm when Nikos artfully released the garters one at a time, letting them drop to her thighs and pull at her nylons.

He cupped her a.s.s, drawing her hard against him and releasing a hiss of approval when their flesh made full contact. Skin to skin, Frankie was almost dizzy from the combination of warm flesh and the rigid press of Nikos's c.o.c.k against her.

She fought a sharp groan when he slid his fingers under the edge of her panty line, caressing the skin where her thigh met her most intimate place. Frankie's head fell back on her shoulders as Nikos tugged her underwear off, following with his until they were both the naked she so feared.

There was nothing between them but her thigh-high stockings with the s.e.xy line up the back.

More fear swept over her in waves of dizzy reminder.

Nikos's mouth sought hers again but not before he whispered, "Do you hear that?"

Frustration made her question almost desperate. "What?"