"Understood."

"Dinner at the country club?"

Kevin checks his watch. "Seven?"

"I'll meet you there."

He stands to leave.

"One more thing," I say. "Invite Thomas to join us."

"What?" He looks stunned.

"Arrange it."

He exits my office, sure to pause in the doorway to let me know he disapproves.

I haven't laid eyes on Thomas in three years. We ran into each other at a charity function my parents sponsored, did our duty and shook hands for the photographers, then went our separate ways. But I know his type, and old dogs typically don't learn new tricks, especially ones with money.

Chapter 14.

Erin "You're playing with fire," Katie warns.

"More like explosives." She knows what happened last night.

"But I thought you hated him."

"Never said that, did I?" I can't think straight, and my memory has been compromised after the last couple of days. "Maybe I just don't know any more."

"I understand. Sometimes emotions blind us from the truth. Now cancel your membership to Lazarus and ride into the sunset with Foster's ginormous d.i.c.k. End of story."

"No."

"Why?"

"I'm committed to Jeffrey." I cover my mouth, ashamed I let his name slip.

"Jeffrey?"

"Um . . ."

"Uh-uh." She wags her finger at me. "Spill."

Once again I push the limits of my Lazarus contract. But the nondisclosure didn't specifically mention best friends. "I think he's the one I'm going to have s.e.x with on Halloween."

"But what about Foster?"

"Jeffrey could pa.s.s for his brother."

"Really?"

"Maybe even a twin."

"That's creepy kinky s.h.i.t."

I laugh. "Guess we know what I like."

"Ditch Jeffrey. At least you know what's hiding in Foster's pants."

I shake my head, then look down at my desk, and see that one of the worksheets Jeffrey gave me is still blank. "Will you ever take me seriously?"

"Once we get past this, I'm sure I will."

I nod in appreciation. She might talk tough, but underneath, she's all heart. "Can I get some privacy?" Katie isn't scheduled to work today, but she's hanging out.

"I'll go grab a sandwich. Want anything?"

"No."

After my door closes, I sag in my chair. Danger lurks in every corner of my mind. If I put my fantasies into words, it breathes life into them, then I can't forget.

The first section of the worksheet asks for a description of my ideal partner, including s.e.x, physical attributes, education, and personality. Is there a box for genitalia size? My work phone rings and I pick up.

"Erin?"

"h.e.l.lo, Mom."

"Where have you been? I've called every day."

Avoiding you for good reason . . . "Lots going on at the store."

"Do you have plans for Sunday evening?"

I glance at my desk calendar. "Nothing, why?"

"We're hosting an informal dinner. Bring Katie, we'd love to see her again."

Informal means fifty people. I chomp on my lower lip, knowing Thomas will be on the guest list. "Great idea, Katie enjoys your cooking."

Mom chuckles. "You mean our caterer's."

"Same difference."

"Eight o'clock, dear."

"Love you."

"I love you too, Erin."

Now if I can only get her to change her mind about Thomas. I glance down at the paper again and pick up my pen.

Partner preference: Male Physical description: Six feet tall, dark hair, dark eyes, athletic, and tan.

Personality: Great sense of humor, extrovert, organized, dominate, pa.s.sionate, and confident.

I review what I've written and chew on the pen cap. G.o.d I lack creativity. Dominate? Pa.s.sionate? No s.h.i.t. I draw a line through those two, then change my mind, and rewrite them.

The second section calls for deeper consideration. What turns you on? A simple enough question at first glance, but when you've held back as long as I have, it makes it harder to envision. Voyeurism, I jot that down without hesitation. I enjoyed watching Catalina. Whips and chains. Duct tape. b.u.t.t plugs. Nipple clamps. Maybe I should just adopt scenes from Fifty Shades of Grey as my mantra.

No, I can do this.

If I'm going to play, I need to express myself clearly. Blindfold. I don't want to see Jeffrey, I just want to feel him, maybe taste that mouth again. Spanking. A few taps on my a.s.s with a riding crop sounds exciting. Chills run up my spine as Foster invades my thoughts. Fingers and tongue, that's what I want for my first experience.

Before I realize it, I've written over two pages.

Where did that all come from? I fold the papers in half and slide them into the folder, locking it in my desk drawer. If Mary got her hands on it, she'd publish it on Amazon.

My phone rings again. "Mary?"

"Mr. Wagner is up front."

My heart drops into my stomach. After I didn't get a call this morning, I a.s.sumed he was angry. I clear my throat. "Send him back."

"Yes, ma'am."

A few seconds later, he knocks.

"Come in." The door opens. He's wearing a black, pinstriped suit with a deep blue shirt and tie.

"Erin."

"I'm surprised to see you again."

Foster shakes his head and closes the door. "That's not what I was hoping to hear."

"Sorry . . ." What am I supposed to do? Admit I was wrong? Or should I just strip and sit on my desk while he licks me crazy again? Oh G.o.d, he's staring at me. "I'm glad you're here."

"That's a start." He sits in the chair in front of my desk, then loosens his tie. "You're killing me, Erin."

"The feeling is mutual."

"What's the problem? I'm single, you're free."

"I'm not free, Foster. That's what I've been trying to explain. My life is pretty much mapped out for me."

"Only because you're letting your parents take advantage of your loyalty. If my old man told me to marry someone I hated, I'd tell him to-"

"I'm not you."

He blinks, crossing his arms over his beautiful chest. "No, you're not. Thank G.o.d."

"So where does that leave us?"

"p.i.s.sed off."

"Sorry." Very sorry for ever letting this get out of hand. "We should have abandoned any hopes of starting a friendship after we kissed at lunch. We were never meant to be casual, Foster."

"Friends with benefits?"

"No. You want more. And so would I."

He scrubs his face. "You finally realize it. We belong together."

"No."

"Yes." He walks around my desk, standing beside me. I swivel my chair, meeting a determined face. "I'm not going to lie, Erin. Yes, I want to make love, but . . ." He kneels in front of me and nudges my legs apart. "You're different."

Different than what? Should I take it as a compliment? All I can think about are the headlines and pictures in the newspapers, even Texas Monthly Magazine featured Foster's business accomplishments last year, accompanied by another article in the Cultural section. Texas Playboy sets Austin Music Scene on Fire. Apparently Foster knows how to play more than just the guitar. It's intimidating.

"Earth to Erin."

"Would you like to have dinner with my parents on Sunday?"

He relaxes on his heels. "Sure."

His confidence drives me crazy. My heart flutters at the notion of him sitting at the same table with Thomas. Maybe my mother will see I can do better for myself. Not that I want to marry Foster, but if faced with the choice . . . "It's not a date."

"You need to understand where this is heading," he says. "I've made my intentions pretty clear. Friendship is only one of the advantages. You can't invite me to dine with your parents and then tell me it's not a date."

"Thomas will be there."

He rubs the back of his neck, instantly upset. "Still sticking with the pretend fiance defense?"

I nod.

"All the more reason for me to go." He climbs to his feet. "Get rid of him, Erin. Live your own life."

My gaze darts around my office. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not rich. I earn my money the old-fashioned way."

"I'll take care of you."

"What?" Typical silver-spoon-fed-little-rich-boy response. Throw money at it and everything will work out.