Claire thought to herself, Well, perfect...okay, no pressure.

Catherine continued, "A man of Mr. Rawlings's standing is constantly observed by others. Some watch to imitate, others to mar. That is why he requires his home to be a place of quietude. He must do so much for so many that he needs a place to repose and refuel. That is where you have been so good for him."

Claire looked into Catherine's eyes; she was sincere. Claire believed Catherine had Mr. Rawlings's best interests at heart; however, she was sure Catherine didn't understand the ways he expected to be helped.

Catherine continued, "But, above all, Mr. Rawlings requires confidentiality on the part of anyone who works for him or is near to him." Claire pondered that thought. "Ms. Claire, you have had the rare opportunity to get to know Mr. Rawlings in a way most do not. The information you hold must not be shared with anyone. He has allowed you to see a more intimate side of himself. The Mr. Rawlings the world knows is much more guarded. He has placed a trust in you. You should know he does not fully trust many people. Do not ever discuss Mr. Rawlings or your relationship with anyone." Catherine smiled and squeezed Claire's hands. "I know you will be wonderful, Ms. Claire. Mr. Rawlings will be proud to have you on his arm."

For a moment, Claire sat silently contemplating Catherine's words-a rare opportunity?-a trust?-an intimate side of himself? She hadn't asked for any of this. With all honesty, she considered the possibility of bolting from the symphony. Did Catherine expect her to feel honored? She mostly felt...well, conflicted.

Catherine insisted that Claire eat a light dinner before dressing. The beaded silk gown with the halter bodice fit like it was custom made for Claire. With the Ralph Lauren black high-heeled shoes the dress' length was perfect. The beading made the material heavier than Claire had anticipated. Watching herself in the mirror, Claire turned ever so slightly and the skirt pitched that direction. It was the most stunning dress Claire had ever seen, much less worn. Next, Catherine assisted Claire with a lightweight black silk wrap and matching handbag. Inside the handbag she placed lipstick and powder. Catherine reminded her, there will be people everywhere, remember appearances are everything.

"Ms. Claire, you are striking!" Catherine's eyes shone in approval. Claire looked at herself again in the mirror and felt like she was viewing someone else. Tentatively smiling at that person in the mirror, Claire agreed she looked beautiful.

At 5:50 PM they left the suite for the foyer. Instead of the usual route, Catherine took Claire the longer way, forcing them to descend the grand stairs. When they reached the top of the stairs Catherine coughed ever so slightly. She looked up at Claire, taller than her in her heels, and gave her one more reassuring smile. Catherine gestured for Claire to descend the staircase first.

Waiting by the front door, iPhone in hand-texting, stood Anthony. He emitted confidence and animal magnetism. His tuxedo, obviously tailored specifically for him, looked exquisite as it accented his broad shoulders. There wasn't a piece of his dark hair out of place as it was gelled and combed to perfection. His face was smooth like he'd recently shaven. Claire couldn't help but think that he looked incredibly handsome. Following the sound of Catherine's cough, he glanced to the top of the stairs. Suddenly, the business that was demanding his attention appeared to be forgotten. He watched as Claire gracefully descended the flight of steps. As his eyes beheld her every move she wondered if she should smile. She wasn't sure how he would react. His expression emanated favor. Claire wanted his approval. She told herself she didn't need it. She was happy with the way she looked, but she knew she wanted it.

Once at the bottom of the stairs she proceeded to Anthony's side. He didn't speak at first, then not to Claire but to Catherine, "My dear Catherine, you have outdone yourself. You're an artist." He bowed to her at the waist.

"Mr. Rawlings, an artist is only as good as her canvas. You are accompanying a beautiful canvas."

"Or"-he said-"should we say-she is accompanying me." Now to Claire, he commanded, "We must go, Eric is waiting."

If Claire were concerned about conversation topics on the drive to Davenport, she needn't have been. After assisting Claire into the back of the limousine, Anthony once again became engrossed in his iPhone and multitasked with his iPad. On days he worked from home, Claire was often expected to stay in his office in case her services were required. She overheard many business calls, web conferences, and webinars. Therefore, listening to him discuss some dealings on the phone on the way to the symphony seemed strangely comfortable.

Claire wanted to thank him, tell him how excited she was to leave the estate and see something-anything; however, his work preoccupied him throughout the ride. She was busy too, watching out the tinted window, seeing different views and different things. Even the sensation of being in a car exhilarated her. She'd never ridden in a limousine. The interior was exquisite, and she could smell the soft leather seats that formed a horseshoe.

They approached Davenport as the sky filled with a mixture of pink and purple; it reminded her of vibrant paints swirled together. Soon the sky began to darken and the lights of the city illuminated the horizon. It was the most splendid combination of sky and skyline she'd ever seen.

Minutes before their arrival, Anthony ceased his business and turned to Claire. "Has Catherine prepared your behavior for the evening as well as she has your appearance?"

Claire thought to herself, Somewhere in that statement is a compliment. I'm going to take it. "She's given me her advice, but I'd feel better if I heard yours."

"Very well, when we arrive there will probably be photographers. Don't act surprised or shocked by the attention. Just flash a beautiful smile and radiate confidence. Stay next to me at all times. There will be reporters who'll try to learn your identity. I have a publicist who'll know the time to release any necessary information. That is not you. I will do most of the talking; however, common sense will need to be with you. If spoken to, you will respond, but do not share information that is privileged. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"I've been asked to attend this event because of a donation I made to the Quad City Symphony and the Support the Arts Foundation. Have you ever been to a symphony before?" Claire said that she had not. Anthony continued as the limousine snaked and crawled along narrow streets. Traffic was stop and go. Claire thought this meant they were getting closer. "The symphony is a delightful evening. I believe you'll enjoy the music. This conductor is incredibly talented."

"Thank you, Anthony, for allowing me to join you this evening."

"I admit you've learned your lessons well. Now it's time to see if you can continue to follow the rules outside the boundaries of my estate."

"I'll do my best."

Anthony gently took Claire's chin and turned it toward him, "You will succeed. Failure in a public setting is not an option." Their eyes locked on each other.

"Yes, Anthony. I will continue to follow your rules." The car slowed and stopped.

Anthony whispered, "Wait for Eric, he'll open the door and assist you in getting out. I will be right behind you and we'll enter the theater together."

Catherine said there would be people looking at them, and Anthony warned about photographers, but Claire hadn't expected the Emmy red carpet treatment. There were cameras everywhere and people shouting questions. At WKPZ there was a meteorologist, Jennifer, about ten years Claire's senior. She took Claire under her wing and taught her all about working for a news station. Jennifer was preparing Claire for the cameras, prior to the buyout. The stage advice Jennifer gave her about appearance and demeanor proved helpful. She told Claire, "When those cameras turn on and your image transcends people's living rooms, they don't care if your dog just died, your boyfriend cheated, or you won the lottery. They care about the weather. So find a mask, keep it polished, and when that red light turns on, wear it proudly." It worked for Jennifer. She retained her position after the buyout.

Eric opened the door. Claire gently swung her legs outside the car and put on her mask. It was the mask of the beautiful face she'd seen smiling back at her in the bathroom mirror earlier that evening. Her movements flowed gracefully and her smile never waned. She diligently followed everyone's advice.

Anthony exited the car, nodded with a handsome smile to the crowd, and gently placed his hand in the small of Claire's back. Her nervousness changed to exhilaration as they advanced through the crowd and into the theater. Waiting inside the doors was a man who enthusiastically greeted Mr. Rawlings and escorted them upstairs to a private room. Once there, the reporters were gone, but the people remaining were equally anxious to speak with Anthony Rawlings.

As they mingled, Anthony took two crystal flutes of champagne and handed one to Claire. His voice sounded different-chatty-as he greeted and was greeted by different people. He graciously introduced his companion, Claire Nichols, to the individuals and couples they encountered. Claire smiled politely, shook hands, and made small talk. Claire watched the man she'd come to know; he seemed so different. Many people wanted to talk to him, and he knew all their names. After so much time alone, his social skills captivated her.

After the lights flashed, he gently touched her elbow and led her to their seats. They stepped through the black curtain where Claire could see the entire theater. Anthony had directed her to a private box above and to the right of the stage. They sat and she beheld the magnificent view, ornate walls, crowds of nicely dressed people, and beautiful velvet curtain. Too quickly, the auditorium darkened and the spotlight hit the stage.

A woman with a German accent began to speak, "Before we begin tonight's performance, I would like to thank everyone for their attendance. I would like to ask you, the audience, to join us at the Quad City Symphony in thanking the one man who made this evening's performance, as well as future performances, possible, Mr. Anthony Rawlings."

Suddenly, the spotlight shone directly into their box. The crowd erupted in applause and a standing ovation. Claire watched as Anthony stood and acknowledged the gratitude with a dashing smile and a wave. He sat back down, and with the light still on them, leaned over and took Claire's hand. She smiled at him; his eyes were so light. The spotlight turned off and the symphony began.

They hardly spoke during the entire performance other than to comment on a musical piece. When not occupied with applauding, Anthony's hand continued to gently hold Claire's. The entire concert ended too soon. The lights came up and they stood to go. Whispering in his ear Claire thanked him again. It was more than she could have imagined. He smiled, gently placed his hand in the small of her back, and led her through the crowd to the foyer. Once outside, Eric opened the door of the waiting car and Anthony assisted Claire as she entered the limousine.

The stark contrast in volume left Claire's ears ringing as the limousine pulled away from the curb. Her mind swirled with thoughts, the evening was wonderful-music, champagne, people, theater, everything. They were riding for a few minutes when she realized Anthony hadn't spoken since they entered the limousine. Her heart rate increased as she contemplated the possibility he was upset. She told herself he couldn't be. She did everything everyone told her to do. She kept up appearances and let him do most of the talking. She felt his eyes upon her, but was afraid to turn and face them. The ringing in her ears turned to silence-completely devoid of sound-silence. She adjusted her new mask and turned. "That was a magnificent evening, thank you again."

"Do you really think so?"

She wondered if he was asking about the symphony or her. "I do. The music was performed beautifully and you were right about the conductor." Her pulse quickened, unable to take the suspense any longer, she asked, "Did I do all right?"

"What do you think?"

She contemplated her answer. "I think I did well. I listened to Catherine, and to you, and did well." She hoped her voice didn't expose her insecurity.

Anthony didn't respond but reached into his briefcase. Claire assumed the conversation was now over, and he planned to resume work. She decided if the conversation was over and he didn't say she failed, she must have succeeded. She exhaled.

Suddenly, he turned to her and extended a square black velvet box. "I believe you did well." She liked the tone of his voice, it sounded like the man at the theater. "I told you every action has a consequence. That can be negative, as we've seen, or positive. I believe that tonight, you earned a positive consequence."

"Anthony, I don't need a gift. I wanted to make you proud. If I did that, then I'm happy and that's enough."

"It is a gift, or at least I believe it was; however, it's not new." Anthony still held the box before Claire. With the running lights illuminating the cabin she could see his smile: genuine, not cruel or sadistic. "Will it always be this difficult to get you to open gifts?"

She took the box. "You have my curiosity peaked. What are you giving me that's old?"

She opened the velvet hinged box. The lump in her throat made her choke, unable to speak. The dainty white gold chain with a pearl on a white gold cross hung on the satin. The surprise overwhelmed her. She only saw the necklace for a millisecond before her eyes filled with tears. She looked at Anthony again, tears trickling down her cheeks. "How did you? Where did you get this? It was my grandmother's."

"It was in your apartment in Atlanta when it was cleaned out. I thought you might want to have it. Do you?"

Claire listened to his words. Her apartment had been cleaned out. Where were the rest of her things? She needed to compartmentalize. Right now, she concentrated on her grandmother's necklace. "Oh, yes, I do!"

He asked if he could help her put it on. She nodded yes-a verbal answer wasn't required. Next, he took the box out of her hand and started to remove the satin board. Claire observed his tenderness as he held the fine chain and delicate clasp. She turned away and he draped the necklace around her neck. Taking the compact out of her purse, she watched as the pearl moved up and down to the beat of her heart.

"Anthony, there isn't a necklace you could have bought that would mean more to me than this." Her tears dried, yet her emerald-green eyes sparkled.

"People who know me well, and they are numbered, call me Tony. You may call me Tony."

"Thank you, Tony. This has been an amazing night. How can I ever thank you?"

Tony turned off the riding lights in the cabin. Home was still over a half hour away and the window between them and Eric was closed. His smile morphed into a devilish grin. "I have a few ideas."

My formula for living is quite simple. I get up in the morning and I go to bed at night. In between, I occupy myself as best I can.

-Cary Grant

Chapter Nine.

The weather continued to warm. Claire could now sunbathe in her new bikinis. Each time she stepped through the door onto the deck of the pool, she felt like she was entering a resort. She could eat at one of the umbrella tables or read in a lounge chair or swim in the tepid water. The Iowa sunshine resulted in a beautiful, golden tan. Her hair, which was always brown, now shimmered with golden highlights contrasting the normal chestnut shade.

It seemed impossible, but Claire actually felt busy. She would wake, work out, shower, and eat breakfast. Then, if Tony were out of the house, the possibilities were numerous. The pool remained a good option; however, Claire preferred that in the afternoon. What she enjoyed beyond anything was exploring the woods. The land around Anthony Rawlings's estate extended for miles in most directions. One evening, she asked if walking in the woods was permitted. Tony explained that she could probably walk hours and not reach the property line. He never ventured into the woods, but he had flown over in a helicopter to survey the land, determining the best location for the house. This made her feel better about exploring. He didn't want her leaving his property without him or his permission, but she could wander and roam and still follow the rules. The fact that even Tony hadn't been out there made it more appealing.

Claire wanted to learn all about the land. To do this she decided to go different directions each time she ventured through the trees. She discovered areas where the trees were so dense there was no ground vegetation and it remained cool even as the temperatures of summer increased. She also found spontaneous clearings usually filled with flowers. The earlier in the morning Claire went into the forest, the more flowers she would see. There were morning glories blue as the sky above. After the sun's warmth caused those to close, the white daisies and yellow mustard flowers would fill the void and create a multicolored canvas. With flowers came insects. Claire watched the bees busily pollinating and the multiple kinds of butterflies fluttering about. She decided to check Tony's library to see if he had a book that would help her classify the different species.

Catherine expected Claire back for lunch each day, so she tried not to venture farther than an hour and a half in any direction. During her past life, she walked for exercise, sometimes at a gym but more often around her neighborhood in Atlanta. Walking on sidewalks and through a nearby park she measured distance by time. One mile took fifteen minutes. Lately, her adventures took her along the path less traveled. It wasn't unusual for her to climb over fallen trees or up steep embankments. Due to these obstacles Claire estimated that one mile took closer to twenty minutes. With those calculations she traveled approximately four miles away from the house on each adventure.

One morning, she happened upon a den of foxes. Initially frightened, she watched them from a distance. There were two large and three small foxes. The small ones ventured away from the den, but the larger ones would always be within sight. It reminded Claire of camping with her dad. It filled her with warmth and a reassuring glow of protection.

It seemed like more recently she thought about her childhood and not her pre-contractual adult life. Perhaps it was a compartmentalization thing. Childhood was the past. It couldn't be changed, only remembered.

Her life before March 15 was actually present-or should be present. She should be in Atlanta, tending bar at the Red Wing and trying desperately to find another job in meteorology. She should be going out with friends and drinking so much her head hurt the next morning. She should be talking to her sister on the phone or e-mailing her and learning about her and John.

Currently nearing the end of June, Emily would be out of school for the summer. John was a busy associate in a law firm. Before Claire disappeared, Emily mentioned visiting Claire. "You know I'm off work in the summer and John is busy. I could come spend some time with you in Atlanta."

"Gosh, that would be great, but it gets really hot here in the summer, and I have to work, so you would probably be bored." Claire now felt bad that she hadn't been more encouraging. Honestly, she worried that Emily would disapprove of her tending bar or something else. Claire hadn't wanted to listen to her advice. Now she would love to hear her advice or even her voice. Claire sighed and wondered about Emily, did she wonder where Claire had gone? Had she tried to contact her? Soon she realized the wooded scene in front of her was blurry and tears were spilling over her lids onto her cheeks. Claire decided to avoid those thoughts. Put them away in that compartment labeled later. Childhood provided safer thoughts and memories.

Tony explained that his land was virtually pie-shaped. The front of the property was where the drive met the highway, then the house, and then the land fanned out from there. Claire felt as though she was getting a handle on the layout of the property but it was taking time. Luckily, she thought that is the one thing I have plenty of, because there's a lot of land to explore. Of course, that followed with thoughts of the mysterious timetable. When would her debt be considered paid?

One cool morning, Claire sat on her jacket at the edge of a beautiful clearing and watched a magnificent wildlife performance. First, she saw deer run across the open field. With each jump their white tails caught the sun like bright white powder puffs. The longer she sat the more deer she saw. They would slowly approach the clearing, run across, and slow again once in the safety of the trees. There was no threat to them at that time, but instinct told them that the trees held security. Claire wondered where her security was, or perhaps, this was a lesson in instinct?

Claire contemplated talking to Catherine about packing a lunch so that she could stay out in the woods longer. Then she decided that might be something to do when Tony was out of town. She didn't want to get lost and not be back to the suite by 5:00 PM. She hated his rules, but following them made her life more pleasant.

On days Tony stayed home, exploring wasn't an option. He required her to stay near in the event her services were needed. She was often told to stay in his office where she would read, sitting on the soft leather sofa until he summoned her. There were days when he never requested her services, yet she wasted the entire day in his office. Claire knew it was more of the continued power play. He controlled her time, her body, and her life.

To continue her busy days, after lunch Claire sunbathed by the pool or read on the sun porch. She also had the library that could captivate her for hours at a time. If it rained she might opt for a movie in the theater. There were so many things to do. The addition of an occasional evening out with Tony was the biggest change to Claire's busy schedule. It started with the symphony. Since that time she accompanied him to a few other events. None as formal as the symphony, and all charity related, different foundations having dinners or cocktail parties or benefits. Each time Tony would tell Catherine that Claire needed to be ready for a specific event. She liked getting out away from the estate, but an invitation instead of a mandate would be nice. Apparently, companionship to events had now been added to her job description. Claire believed she did well at each turn and felt confident as long as Tony was near her. He would handle any situation that came her way.

At an event to honor donors of the University of Iowa's Children's Hospital, Claire stood dutifully at Anthony's side while he spoke with a gentleman to whom she'd been introduced. Another man began to speak to her. It started innocently enough, "Hello, Ms. Nichols, I'm not sure if you remember me? We met a few weeks ago at the Quad City Symphony." His volume was low-to either lure her away from Tony or not be heard by him. Claire believed she remembered him. She tried to remember names as well as Tony, but she could only recall his face. He then introduced himself, "Charles Jackson," and made small talk about the symphony. He started asking her about her place of residence, did she live in the Quad City region? Chicago? What brought her to this area? The entire time Claire stayed steady to Tony. She didn't want to interrupt Tony's conversation, but her instincts told her this wasn't good. She successfully avoided direct answers, but he persisted beyond political correctness. She decided she needed to get Tony involved before this man dragged something out of her she wasn't allowed to divulge. She lightly placed her hand on Tony's arm. At first, he didn't respond, so she squeezed it a little. When he excused himself from his conversation, he turned to Claire. She hated that she interrupted him, but she wore her mask and politely motioned toward the gentleman.

"Anthony, this is Charles Jackson." Anthony turned to Charles and shook his hand. Charles appeared uncomfortable. It was not an emotion shared by Tony. "Mr. Jackson has been incredibly inquisitive. I thought you might be able to be of assistance to him."

Claire stood back a half a step, still holding Anthony's arm, and watched as he turned to Mr. Jackson, who looked increasingly pale. Anthony's voice was one Claire recognized immediately. It was not his chatty social voice, "Mr. Jackson, I'm very good with names and faces. I remember seeing you at the symphony. I do not believe we were introduced. It's not my practice to converse with members of the press. It is my policy to allow my publicist to discuss such matters. I recommend that you speak to her, not my companion."

Mr. Jackson didn't have difficulty distinguishing the tone or the meaning. He apologized profusely to Anthony and then to Claire and made his way out of the event. Claire felt ill. She honestly didn't know how she would have handled it without his help. Tony placed his hand on top of Claire's as Mr. Jackson walked away.

"Tony, I'm sorry I interrupted your conversation. I just felt uncomfortable."

Leaning down to her ear and squeezing her hand, he whispered, "It's fine. You made the right decision." She exhaled with relief.

Her current job passed its three-month anniversary. She still felt trapped and hated that she was there, but she didn't hate every day. She thought of each day as a new possibility, and like everyone else in the world, some days were better than others. She knew the difference with her life was that her barometer was not her. It summed up her dependence on Anthony Rawlings. The tone of her life depended totally and completely upon his frame of mind.

He traveled a few days a week every couple of weeks. While she was secluded to her suite, he'd been in Europe, which apparently happened with some regularity. These momentary freedoms upset her. Instead of relishing them, she felt lonely. There would be some evenings that he had business obligations and wouldn't dine with her or even come to her suite. Some of his ideas for her job requirements didn't settle well, but she came to prefer that to being alone.

June came and went. Since Claire chose to not watch television, she didn't know that the entire country was enduring a heat wave. She just knew that the outside air was heavy and within minutes could feel the perspiration dripping between her breasts and down her back. If a breeze blew it felt sticky and oppressive, not refreshing. Even being at the pool was uncomfortable unless early or late.

One evening, Catherine told Claire that Mr. Rawlings wouldn't be home until late. Claire didn't like vague terms like late. Normally she would wait in her suite to see if he came to her, but the day was scorching and she knew late could mean not at all. With the sunset, she decided to take a swim.

Walking to the pool, Claire realized she rarely ventured out of her suite at night. The house seemed eerily quiet, like a museum after closing. The staff were mostly retired to their rooms and the lights were low. Her flip-flops echoed as she stepped onto the marble floor at the base of the staircase. After four months, Claire didn't need lights, she knew her way through the arches and into the sitting room. She paused at the windows and looked out to the pool. The water changed from pink to green to yellow to purple to blue to clear and back to pink. The deck lights were off, creating the illusion of a colorful abyss engulfed in complete darkness. She considered turning on the deck lights and decided against it.

Stepping into the summer night, the air sat heavy and still. The contrast from the air conditioning reminded her why she stayed indoors all day. Looking toward heaven she knew she made the right decision about the lights. The velvety sky glistened with a million stars. The water enveloped her body as she walked down the steps, its temperature barely varied from the air and she quickly submerged herself. After swimming a few laps she floated on her back, watching the sky and thinking about constellations. Suddenly, Claire froze.

Deep in thought and enjoying the stars, she realized Tony was standing at the edge of the pool. He'd been speaking, but her ears were submerged and she couldn't hear him. Seeing his silhouette from the lights of the fountain startled her. She lifted her head out of the water to clear her ears and began to tread water.

"Tony, you startled me. Catherine said you wouldn't be home until late." She couldn't see his eyes. She waited for him to respond. He stood in silence for a moment. As she debated about talking, he walked to a chair hidden in darkness. When he returned she could only see his silhouette, but knew he was now nude.

Still not speaking, Tony dove into the pool. He swam up to Claire and wrapped his arms around her. Within seconds, Claire's bathing suit disappeared. His actions were fast and rough. Their mouths united as their tongues searched wildly for one another. He moved from her lips to the nape of her neck and all places in between. The pool depth allowed Tony to touch but not Claire. She wrapped her legs around his torso, allowing him to support her. He continued to nuzzle her neck, lifting her body so her round supple breasts found his lips. His kisses became nips and he gently bit the tips of her hard nipples. Claire groaned with pleasure.

His hurried movements caused his bristled face to scratch her soft skin; however, the pain of his beard was quickly forgotten as the pleasure from his touch filled her consciousness. His mouth tantalized and his hands explored. Claire's back arched as she pressed her breasts toward his mouth and wrapped her fingers in his wet hair. Though the night was hot, Claire's arms and legs cloaked with goose bumps. In the silence of the country night her moans echoed as her body convulsed.

Tony eventually led Claire out of the pool, onto a chaise lounge. He resumed his exploration; however, not with his hands. They still hadn't spoken. Claire's mind teetered between the cognizant he doesn't seem upset and the unconscious ecstasy. His actions slowed-became more deliberate and sensual-causing sensations deep inside of her. She held on to his massive shoulders and accepted everything he had to offer.

The carnal heat intensified by the night's humidity instigated perspiration. Claire tasted the amazing salty, sweat, and chlorine potion as her lips and tongue seduced his neck. When he finished they were both moist, more from one another than the pool.

Panting, they lay still, listening to the cicadas and crickets. Finally, with a grin, Tony spoke, "Good evening, Claire." His eyes were soft suede brown. "I wasn't happy when you weren't in your suite." Claire started to speak but stopped as Tony's finger lightly touched her lips. "But your idea of a swim on this hot evening was much better than what I planned."

Claire smiled. They moved back into the water to cool off but found that even in the water they had problems staying cool.

Later that night in Claire's suite, Tony brought up the situation at the University of Iowa Children's Hospital Event. He told her it hadn't been a planned test; however, had it been, she would have passed. He believed she could be trusted with more responsibilities and independence. Therefore, on her table was a wallet containing her ID-her driver's license and a new credit card. The card was on his account and was for her use when he wasn't around.

"What do you mean when you aren't around?" Her voice didn't hide her fear. Tony smiled at her trepidation.

"You'll only leave the grounds without me, with Eric, and my permission, but I'll need to travel to Europe for at least a week next month. You've behaved well." He smiled and ran his hand over her bare thigh and buttocks. "Very well, and you've followed instructions much better than I would have given you credit for a few months ago." His hands roamed; Claire's eyes closed as her body responded. Tony's voice was both masterful and playful, "As a matter of fact, I believe right now you would do as I say."

Opening her eyes, she gazed into his, and answered, "I would." Her voice yearned as her body mindlessly obeyed, responding to his touch.

"I think we should continue to test that theory," he said with a devilish grin. "But first I believe you have earned the ability to do some shopping for yourself."

Claire's first thought was, she didn't want to be by herself. What if someone like Mr. Jackson approached? But then again, wasn't that what she'd wanted since she arrived, to be out, away, alone forever? She would need to file these thoughts, compartmentalize, and think about them tomorrow.