Katie laughs. "Shocking, isn't it? Don't worry, we're trying to figure out a safe way to take care of it."

"Why?" Mary blurts. "Aren't you thinking about getting married?"

I don't want to elaborate. Mary only knows a little bit about what my parents suggested because I was so stressed afterward I needed someone to talk to. "I apologize for what you overheard."

"No offense taken." Mary sits in the guest chair in front of my desk. "Remember, I love Jodi Ellen Malpas!"

How could I forget? My little wallflower can be found in the erotic romance section whenever the store is empty. If I don't explain, she'll never look at me the same way again. I can't have that hanging between us. "There was only one boy in high school I ever considered sleeping with." A half-truth at best.

"Erik Grant." Katie and I say his name at the same time. I've never shared anything about Foster. I slap her arm. "Blond hair, blue eyes, and the tightest a.s.s I've ever seen."

"Quarterback," Katie adds.

"I loved jocks," I admit. "Think junior prom. After splitting a bottle of Champagne with my girlfriend, Erik took me to his parents' bedroom. Everything was perfect, candlelight, soft music, a king-sized bed with silk sheets. I was pretty buzzed, but I wanted him. He stripped down to his boxers and I waited to see him completely naked for the first time."

Mary places both of her elbows on my desk and leans forward, hungry for details. "And?"

I hold up my pinky-small p.e.n.i.s. It's a universal symbol like the peace sign.

"Oh. My. G.o.d." She nods sympathetically.

"Frederick has a couple single friends," Mary offers.

I close my eyes, conjuring the mental image of skinny, sun-deprived computer geeks who game all night. "Thank you. I don't like blind dates or vampires."

The chimes on the front door sound and I jump up, ready to end the conversation. "Take a break, Mary, I'll help the customer."

Foster I pray I'm standing in the middle of the right bookstore. The lush surroundings remind me of Erin. She always had sophisticated taste. There's framed prints of Shakespeare hanging on the walls and a showcase displaying various antiques. I take a closer look. The centerpiece is labeled as an early nineteenth century black Ansonia Shakespeare mantel clock. There's also a ten-volume set of the works of Edgar Allan Poe, circa 1903, in decorative leather.

"Can I help you?"

Her sultry voice is more than a little tantalizing. I glance up, and find her blue eyes fixed on me. "I'm interested in the Edgar Allan Poe collection."

Erin Covington is striking up close. Her blond hair falls loosely around her shoulders, and those b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the ones I venerated in high school, are as tempting as ever. f.u.c.k. Everything about her is the same, down to her tiny feet.

"Sir?"

She doesn't recognize me. "The collection, I'd like to buy it."

She clears her throat and approaches the showcase. "A fine selection," she says. "I purchased the set at an auction in London last year." She reaches into her front jeans pocket and produces a key, then unlocks the gla.s.s, her hands shaking. "Which volume do you want to see?"

"You choose."

She picks the first, carefully offering it to me. I scan the t.i.tle page pretending to be interested in what I'm reading. Satisfied, I hand it back. "Do you gift wrap?"

"Absolutely." She walks a few feet to the cash register and picks up the phone. "Mary, I need your a.s.sistance up front please." She hangs up. "Cash or credit?"

"American Express." I reach inside my breast pocket and pull out my wallet.

"She's a lucky lady."

"Excuse me?" I hand her the credit card.

"Forgive me." She blushes. "I a.s.sumed you were getting the set for your wife or girlfriend."

"I'm not married," I say, hoping for a reaction.

Her thick lashes flutter as she avoids eye contact. Although she doesn't recognize me, she's undeniably guarded. Maybe there's a subconscious alarm going off in her head. Regardless, the attraction is obvious, whether she knows me or not. And if I have my way, her defensive walls are going to crumble soon. Nothing has changed between us, never will. She swipes my card.

"Four thousand dollars," she says quietly, waiting for the machine to spit out a receipt.

A dark-haired woman joins us. "What do you need me to do?"

"Finish Mr.-" She sucks in a breath. "Wagner's transaction."

Our gazes lock, and I'm drowning in blue.

She turns to Mary. "He purchased the Poe collection."

"Really?" Mary seems mesmerized. "I'm impressed."

I grin.

Erin walks around the counter, heading to the back of the store.

"I need to see your I.D., please."

"Of course." I hand her my driver's license.

"Foster Everett Wagner," she reads. "Why does that name sound familiar?" She gives it back.

I shrug. "Common enough name."

The clerk is still trying to place me, tapping the corner of her gold-rimmed wire gla.s.ses.

"I know," she exclaims. "The Face Forward Gala. Your family hosted."

Apparently she reads the society section in the newspaper. "Guilty."

"Wow." She slides the receipt across the counter and hands me a pen. I sign and she tucks the paper in the register, slamming the drawer shut. "You dressed like Marlon Brando in The G.o.dfather."

"I'm fond of cla.s.sic gangster movies."

"You don't strike me as a Poe type."

"I'm not."

She freezes, frowning. "You just bought four thousand dollars' worth."

"For a very good cause."

"Charity auction?"

"No." I lift her hair off her shoulder so I have access to her ear. "To meet Erin."

Chapter 3.

Erin OH my G.o.d. Foster is standing inside my store. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d just bought the most expensive item I have. What's he doing here? Why didn't I say something? Coward. That's what I am. A total loser for not exerting myself. All those nights I spent staring at his photo-dreaming about him-wondering what it would be like to see him again. Hear his voice. And that face . . .

Well, I can't let Katie see me falling apart. I've had eight years to get over that arrogant jock. I moved on a long time ago, right? Finished college and opened my store. And I have a bright future. After all, who would turn down a chance to marry a man their parents picked out? I release a breath and open the door to my office, putting on my best I-don't-give-a-s.h.i.t smile.

"You're still reading about s.e.x clubs?" I'm surprised to find my best friend planted in my chair. "I have a stack of receipts to scan."

Katie looks up. "Actually, I discovered something even more intriguing. Have you ever heard of sugaring?"

"No."

"Apparently it's a newer spin on an old concept sweeping the United States. Young hot women seeking older, wealthy men." She grins.

I hope she's being sarcastic. "Mistresses?"

She nods. "Companions is the politically correct term now."

"Oh," I say, wondering why different labels convince people things are less diabolical then they truly are. "s.e.x for money."

"In some cases. Maybe you should see if a sugar daddy can take care of that virgin problem."

"I don't need financial a.s.sistance," I remind her. "I just want a night of mind-blowing s.e.x, remember?"

"I'm glad to hear that," she says.

"What?"

"I have a confession." Katie stands up, looking guilty. About what exactly, I'm afraid to ask.

"Remember what I said about that college thing some of our sisters getting involved with at that club?"

"Not you?"

"Almost."

I let out a sigh of relief. "And?"

"I've maintained friendships with some of the people who are still active members. I wanted to help, Erin. I can't live with the idea of Thomas being your first. I know how much you hate him. So I called in a favor and had that invitation sent to your house."

I gape at her, completely caught off guard. I guess everyone harbors secrets. "Why didn't you just say so?"

She smiles. "I wanted to make sure you made an informed decision without any influence from me. I want you to own this opportunity, to be in control."

"I'm a virgin, remember? What do I know?"

Katie laughs. "Technically yes, but you've done things, girlfriend."

I don't know whether to take it as a compliment or insult. But Katie doesn't do anything half-a.s.s, she's gregarious. "Yes." With Foster. But I don't want to discuss this right now. Not with him only feet away. I need to think, alone. "There's a new order of books in the storage room that need tags. Think you can handle it?"

"Erin?" Mary is back.

"Is everything okay?"

"Mr. Wagner is gone, but . . ."

"What?" I stand. "Did his credit card get denied?"

"No." She shakes her head. "He told me he doesn't like Poe and only bought the books to meet you."

Katie clicks her tongue.

"I think he was flirting with you."

"No, he was serious."

"Do you remember his full name?" I ask.

"How could I forget?" She's practically swooning. "Foster Everett Wagner."

"The Foster Wagner?" As if I need confirmation. Eight years has only blessed him with more ruggedly handsome features and a body most women would crawl through fire or broken gla.s.s to possess. "b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"You know him?" Katie asks.

I turn, hoping all color hasn't drained from my face. Time to make my own confession. "Too well."

"Can I close the store for a few moments?" Mary asks.

Another tell-everything session at the cost of my dignity and privacy. "Yes."

She rushes away.

"Talk about skeletons in the closet," Katie remarks. "What dark secrets have you been keeping?"

I drum my fingers on the desk, waiting for my gossip-hungry groupie to return. A few minutes later, I'm pacing, and the girls are waiting expectantly.

"Sorry I haven't been completely forthcoming about my past, Katie. I never thought I'd have to explain myself. h.e.l.l, I never thought Foster would come back into my life. We dated my soph.o.m.ore year in high school. He played football and basketball, chased all the cheerleaders, had uber wealthy parents, and the biggest ego."