You grind my foot against you. "I think we have all we need."

I pull my lips in, smothering a laugh as the waiter leaves the bill on the table. When he leaves, I tug my foot away from you. "Will you ever let me have a meal in peace?"

"Probably not." You pick up a cherry tomato from your salad and hold it up to my lips. When I open my mouth, you pop it in and I kiss your fingers. "You're too tantalizing to resist when your mouth is full and your lips are moving. Reminds me of how you looked this morning when your mouth was full of me."

"Shh!" I almost choke and dart my eyes around us to see if anyone has heard you while you crack up laughing. "It's not funny."

"The look on your face is priceless."

I can't help it, your laugh is contagious and soon we're both sitting there snickering. I stand up and stick a finger in your dimple. "Are you ready to go, or do you want to humiliate me some more?"

You throw some cash on the table and take my hand. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know. Back to my mom's I guess."

"Why not your apartment? Are you avoiding more humiliation?"

I turn to you, uncertain what you mean. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you embarra.s.sed to introduce me to Shannon? Would it be awkward for you?"

"Awkward? No. She's just..." I cringe. "Nosey. Pushy. Opinionated. She'll ask personal questions and make innuendos. Then she'll never leave me alone about what I should do with you and when and how. She's the one who will embarra.s.s me, not you."

You tilt your head and narrow your eyes. "Are you attracted to people who want to control you, or do they seek you out?"

I put my hands on my hips and glower at you. "Well, in your case, you sought me out."

You laugh and take my hand again, leading me down the sidewalk. "I thought you said you didn't find me controlling."

"Only because that position is taken in my life, but you want to. You control everything in your world."

"Does that mean I can count on you to be in my world?" You swing our hands between us.

"Yes. I thought we got past this."

"Then you're going back with me?"

I stop walking. The thought of going back there-with Joan-sends a shock of panic through me. "I don't know."

"Why is your hand shaking? What's wrong?" You pull me into a hug and hold me. "Tell me why you're upset all the sudden."

"I can still feel her touching me," I whisper.

You sigh and press your forehead against mine, holding my head in your hands. "I'm so sorry, Rachael. I didn't know you'd react this way. I never would've--"

"Stop." I press my hands against your chest. "I let her do it. I'm just not sure how to wrap my head around that fact."

You jerk back to look at me. "What do you mean? What's to wrap your head around?"

I throw my hands up. "Merrick. I let another woman...fondle me."

You shake your head not following my dilemma. "Yeah..."

I watch my foot slide in and out of my sandal, clasp and unclasp my hands. "I didn't stop her right away."

Your hands rest on my shoulders. When I glance up, one side of your mouth quirks. "Because you liked it. It's okay that you liked it."

"Is it?" My heart pounds. "I've never thought about a woman touching me."

You caress my cheek. "Rach, it doesn't mean you want women now. If she would've wandered into the bedroom and you were alone, would you have let her touch you?"

"No. It was what you wanted. I did it for you."

"You liked it because it was me touching you through her. It was for us. I wanted you to like it." You cup my face with both hands and kiss me. "We'll never do it again. Only I can touch you. Okay?"

I stare into your deep, dark eyes and smile. "Only you can touch me, huh? You really are a control freak." I grab the back of your head and pull you in for another kiss. "It's a deal."

Your hand whacks my backside with a sharp crack. "I didn't forget you asked me to punish you."

I pinch your nipples through your t-shirt and twist. "I'll punish you back."

"Ow!" You pull my hands away, laughing. "Woman, you're going to be the death of me."

Chapter Fifteen.

Standing hand-in-hand on my mom's front porch, you lean down and place a soft kiss under my ear. "I have some work to do before a meeting with my lawyer. I'd like you to come along tonight so I can introduce you. We're settling some paperwork and having drinks in the bar at the hotel."

I kiss you under your chin. "Where are you staying?"

"The Ritz Carlton. Can you make it? Nine o'clock?" Your lips trail along my jaw.

I'm addicted to your touch, your kiss, the feel of your warm body under my hands and lips, your smell, your voice. "I'll be there."

Your mouth claims mine in a slow, deep kiss that feels like you're weaving a spell with your tongue, putting me in a trance. I never want it to end.

After I watch you drive away, I pull out my cell and call Shannon. "Help!" I say when she answers. "I'm meeting Merrick's lawyer tonight and have no idea what to wear."

"G.o.d, I thought you had an accident or something! Never say 'help' as soon as I answer again unless you're seconds from death."

"Sorry." I bite my cheek so I don't laugh. "Where are you? Want to go to the mall?"

"Of course I want to go to the mall. I'll be by in a few to pick you up."

"I can drive." I sit back on the porch swing and rock.

"Rach, you know I hate your driving. Be there soon."

Flipping through racks of silky, sleeveless blouses, Shannon pulls a light blue one out and holds it up to me. "Is tonight casual? I'm at a loss. We could go with this blouse and a black skirt, or is that overdoing it?"

"No clue. That's why I called you." I fiddle with the tag attached to the seam, turning it to look at the price. "A hundred and forty-five bucks. This one's staying home on the rack tonight."

Shannon rolls her eyes. "Can't you charge it? The color's perfect with your tan."

"No." I pull the hanger from her fingers and shove it back on the rack.

"I know," Shannon says, her eyes landing on a mannequin behind me. "Sundress. Dark colors so you don't look like you're going to a picnic, but not formal either. Fun and flirty, but still somewhat dressy."

She pulls five from a nearby rounder and pushes me toward the fitting rooms. "Try these on."

Ten minutes later, I have my choice narrowed down to the one dress that actually fits me and doesn't look like a sack. It's ankle-length with black, white and navy blue designs, thin straps and a gathered bust twisted in the center.

"Perfect," Shannon says when I model for her. "You look like you have b.o.o.bs." Her phone's to her ear, and she holds up one finger to me. "It is an emergency," she says to whoever she's talking to. "Yes, five-fifteen works. Thank you so much!" She hangs up and tosses her phone in her bag. "You're getting highlights at five-fifteen. Let's find some strappy, f.u.c.k-me- pumps to wear with that dress."

She spins and saunters off, all golden blonde with sunshine streaks. I have to admit, she always has nice hair. "I'm aiming for heels I can walk in and not fall on my a.s.s."

Shannon turns with a c.o.c.ked eyebrow. "Honey, I've seen Merrick. You get your claws into a man like him and hang on for dear life. You're leaving here with every advantage modern retail can give you. Got it?"

Following her to the shoe department, I can't help but smile thinking about what she'd say if she knew I'd been wearing your oversized t-shirts and basketball shorts for the past week, hair in a ponytail and no makeup.

But maybe she's right. You and I have started over. The playing field has changed. We're back in civilization. What if you realize I'm not sophisticated, that I don't fit into your high-cla.s.s business world, your billionaire social circles?

I'm being paranoid. You watched me for three months. You know the real me.

Shannon makes a beeline for a pair of platform silver sandals with crisscrossing straps up the ankles. "These." She flags down a sales a.s.sociate and pushes my shoulder into a chair.

"I thought we were going for s.e.xy, not hooker." I turn around and pick up a black pair. "I like these. They're strappy sandals like those, but without the platform and sky-high heels."

Shannon sighs. "Rach."

I sigh back. "Shannon. I seriously don't want to end up with this dress over my head in the middle of the Ritz bar because of those shoes."

"I'm trying to get your dress over your head in Merrick's bed because of these shoes." She points to the silver heel in her hand. "Trust me?"

Her determination makes me smile. "Fine. But I don't need shoes to get me there." I need to trust you and prove to you that I do.

Shannon narrows her eyes and a sly smile slides across her lips. "So, have you then?"

I glance to the sales lady walking toward us, playing her question off. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"You b.i.t.c.h!" She smacks my arm. The sales lady stops, not sure if we're fighting for real. When Shannon starts laughing, she approaches. "We need this in an eight," Shannon says, not waiting for the woman to ask how she can help us.

She plops down in the chair beside me to wait for the sales lady to come back with the hooker shoes, and stares holes in the side of my face until I look at her. "Everything but," I tell her, feeling my face flush. "Pretty much."

She lifts her hands from the arms of the chair and smacks them back down, gripping them tight. "When? And why didn't you tell me? And why the "but"?"

"This morning. I am telling you, and the "but" is because it's just not the right time yet."

Her eyes widen in disbelief. "It's not the right-Rach! What are you waiting for? A ring?"

"No! We both want to wait until it's the right time. That's all. No big deal." I scoot forward and slip my shoes off, seeing the sales lady returning.

"Here we are," she says, handing me the box. "Do you need help trying these on?"

"No, I've got it. Thanks." I take the lid off and pull a shoe out. "Wow, these are...something."

"Just put it on." Shannon shifts in her chair to get a better view.

I buckle the straps and stand, holding my hands out for balance. "I don't know."

She bolts to her feet clapping. "They're perfect! Put them in the box! We need to get your hair done."

Humoring her, I buy the shoes and hope for the best. "If I embarra.s.s myself, I'm blaming you."

"Fine," she says, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "You can blame me for landing you an incredible piece of man a.s.s, too."

At nine o'clock, I enter the Ritz Carlton lobby, surprisingly stable on top of the high heels clicking on the marble floor. My hair is amazing, caramel and gold highlights nestled against my natural dark brown. I'll never let anyone else touch it.

Shannon knows what she's doing in the hair and makeup department. She applied smoky eye shadow on my lids, bronzer on my cheeks and a pinkish-brown gloss on my lips-to accentuate my tan she said.

I'm hot. I can't keep the smile off my face, and I've never felt more confident. Excitement and antic.i.p.ation bubble through me. I'm like a bottle of champagne ready to burst.

"Rachael!" you call, striding toward me. Your face lights up as you get closer. "Jesus, you look good enough to eat." You pull me against your chest and whisper in my ear, "We might have to skip this meeting and go to my room so I can do just that." You nuzzle your nose in my hair and nip my earlobe.

Heat flushes my chest. "You look pretty tasty yourself." I run my hands up and down your long, lean, muscled back over your black dress shirt rolled up to your elbows. Your tan slacks hang perfectly on your hips making my fingers itch to unbuckle your belt. "I hope this isn't a long meeting."

"We've almost wrapped up. Only one more paper to sign."

You take my hand and kiss it before leading me to the lounge off the sixth floor lobby. I've never been in the Ritz Carlton hotel before and the lounge is nothing like any bar I've ever been in. The large room with plush blue chairs at circular tables, sofas, a marble fireplace and a small bar at one end is more like a stuffy relative's living room than a bar. Drinking tea and eating scones would be more appropriate than sipping alcohol.

I glance down at my strappy, silver, platform sandals that are more nightclub than Windsor Castle and feel entirely out of place.

There aren't more than fifteen other people sitting in small groups of two or three around the room. At a table in the corner, an older man in a gray suit sits alone making notes with a gold pen. He sees us approach, stands and extends his hand. "Ms. DeSalvo. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He takes my hand and smiles with bright, yet coffee-stained teeth.

"Please, call me Rachael."

"This is my lawyer," you say, "Maxwell Campbell."

"Call me Max," he says as you pull out my chair.

"What can I get you to drink?" you ask. "Wine or something stronger tonight?" A dimple winks in your cheek.

"They have an extensive martini list," Max says, crossing his legs and adjusting his suit jacket. "Rocktails they call them. Named after rock songs."