Philadelphia

Copyright © 2014/N.M. Silber

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties.

Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by

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express written permission from the author / publisher.

NOTICE: This is an adult contemporary romance novel and contains explicit descriptions of

sexual acts and mature language. It is intended for readers over the age of eighteen.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the

author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Digital Edition ISBN #

978-0-9895984-8-4

Print Edition ISBN #

978-0-9895984-9-1

Cover Design by Ashley Byland
Formatting by JRA Stevens
Edited by Julie Roberts and Marla Selkow

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the witty women and comediennes, who

have inspired me, and made me laugh through the years.

Chapter One

Beth

10:30 AM

When you wake up and find a pair of pantyhose without a run on the very first try, you know it

will be a good day, but I had no idea how good, and it certainly didn’t seem that way at first. I came
charging down the hall from my office at The Justice Project, reading the file in my hand, en route to
the law library to find Bruce, the head researcher at our small legal nonprofit. As soon as I cleared
the door, I felt an impact like I had crashed into a brick wall. Glancing up in shock, I saw smoky gray
eyes, first filled with surprise, and then twinkling with amusement. Oh God, not again.

I had managed to run smack into Mark Patterson, staff attorney, one of my big brother’s closest

friends and the reason I went through so many batteries every month. I felt burning heat travel up my
neck and into my cheeks. Why was I such an awkward klutz around this one man, when I had always
been known for my poise? And why was I always having these conversations in my head these days?

“Oh God! I’m sorry,” I apologized with a shaky laugh. I took a step back, biting my lip, and

fiddling with the file in my hands.

“You okay?” I heard Braden, my big brother asking. I looked over and saw him standing on the

other side of the room next to Adam Roth, also an attorney and a close friend of Braden’s. He had a
trace of a smirk on his face, but then, that was Adam’s natural expression.

“Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention,” I said, backing up quickly. Suddenly, I just wanted to get out of

there before I embarrassed myself any more than I already had. “I was just… I was looking for…”

“Watch out,” Mark warned, and suddenly, I felt another impact, this time against my back. I had

misjudged the doorway and slammed into a bookcase behind me. An avalanche of legal journals came
tumbling down, and I dropped my file and threw my arms on top of my head. “Beth!” Mark rushed
toward me, tripping over something in the process. He slammed into me, knocking us both over, while
a mountain of paper covered us. I’m so glad I left before I embarrassed myself.

I looked up at him, and even through the chaos and confusion, I felt a powerful energy surge

between us, almost like an electrical current. For one brief moment, I was intensely aware of his
weight on top of me, and the feeling of his breath on my cheek, and then Braden and Adam crossed the
room to help us, and the spell was broken. Mark quickly got up, and Braden took my hand and helped
me to my feet.

“Be careful or you’re going to kill somebody,” my brother warned after he made sure that I was

okay. Mark seemed to turn me into a walking disaster area.

“She was just distracted,” Adam said, kneeling down to reassemble and collect my abandoned

file. Something in his eyes told me that he knew how distracting Mark was to me. But then, this was a
very tight-knit office. Everyone probably knew, including Mark. I felt myself blushing more if that
was even possible; and starting to sweat. It probably sounds immature. I mean, I was twenty-six, not
sixteen, but since he had never demonstrated a romantic interest in me, and he was my co-worker and
a friend of Braden’s, I tried to be as subtle as possible about my little infatuation. So much for
subtlety.

“No, really guys don’t worry. I’m fine,” Mark said, brushing himself off, and straightening his

shirt cuffs.

“You landed on top,” Adam reminded him.
I knelt down too and began stacking journals in an effort to clean up the mess. Braden pitched in,

and I stood up and spun around, moving forward and kneeling down again to start forming a new pile.
Unfortunately, Mark was moving forward to help too, which meant that I fell to my knees directly in
front of him, and inertia almost brought us crashing together again - this time face to crotch. He
jumped back about three feet, and then immediately began retreating around the conference table,
obviously getting as far away from me as possible.

Just then, Bruce came in with Liz, our office manager. Both of them stopped in their tracks to take

in the scene. I was wildly grabbing journals, probably shredding a few in the process. Braden and
Adam were forming legal journal Stonehenge, and Mark looked like he wished that he had a chair and
a whip.

“What’s going on?” Bruce asked, looking at us like he was watching aliens land.
“Mark and Beth were rolling around on the floor together,” Adam answered helpfully as

continued to stack.

“Okay,” Liz commented, seemingly taking that information in stride. Not much seemed to throw

Liz, which was probably a good thing working here.

“It was an accident,” Mark said quickly.
“I backed up into the bookcase and he tried to help me.”
“By rolling around on the floor with you in a pile of legal journals?” Bruce asked.
“Some people are into that,” Adam noted.
“Let’s finish talking in my office,” Braden said, picking up the last fallen edition. He got up,

turned and left with Adam and Mark following close behind. As soon as they left, I let out a deep
sigh.

“I came to talk to you,” I said, standing up. “I wanted to let you know your new computer arrived.

I signed for it and it’s sitting there in the middle of the floor. In fact, I think that’s what Mark tripped
over.” I pointed to a pile of boxes.

“Oh, yay! I hope he didn’t damage it,” he said, going over to check out his new prize. Bruce

wasn’t always the most sensitive guy in the world. Adam’s wife, Lily was fond of calling him
“Brucie Dearest” and “The Diva,” but he loved her nicknames.

“I’ll help you set it up. Just let me go put this file away and take care of a couple of things. I’ll be

back in a few.”

I smoothed down my skirt and picked up my abandoned paperwork from the table where Adam

had placed it. Then, I headed toward my office, looking out the windows along the way at the view of
Center City Philadelphia that I loved, and had often painted. It was a gorgeous day in May and I
would have rather been outside.

When I reached my door, I couldn’t help smiling a little as usual. Even after three months, I still

felt a surge of pride whenever I saw the gold plaque, “Beth Pierce, Director of Development.” It
sounded very impressive but then, I was capable of handling the job. My degree may have been in Art
History, but my dad was a U.S. Senator, and my mom had always supported lots of charities; so I had
grown up attending fundraisers.

I went in and closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment to compose myself and

calm my racing thoughts. Then, I crossed my office, tossed the file on my desk, and my eyes traveled
automatically to a photo hanging on my wall. It was of the three of them, back when they had been
roommates in law school at Georgetown.

Braden was leaning against a building, cool and confident. Adam stood beside him, smirking of

course. And there on Adam’s left, stood Mark, with that sexy smile of his that made him look like he
had just been caught doing something naughty. He was gorgeous, with his thick brown hair and those
smoky gray eyes.

A knock on my door startled me out of my reverie. “Come in,” I called out, turning around. A

warm smile greeted me as my friend, Lily entered. She wrote books in her off-hours and I painted.
Our common creative streak made us particularly close.

“Hey, what’s this I heard about you and Mark rolling around together on the library floor?” She

walked over to where I was standing.

“News travels fast in this place.”
“It’s a small office, and Brucie Dearest has a big mouth.”
“What is he, the town crier?” I asked and sat down in my desk chair.
“I love this picture,” she said, looking at Adam in much the same way I had just been looking at

Mark. It wasn’t hard to tell that they were newlyweds.

“Me too,” I replied. My friends definitely knew about my infatuation, even though we hadn’t

really discussed it much.

“Do you remember Adam and Mark back when they were in law school?” she asked, settling into

an orange armchair across from me.

“Yeah, they visited Braden at our parents’ place over breaks a few times when I was home from

college.”

“Did you drool over them because they were your big brother’s hot friends?”
“I definitely noticed them. They’re only two years-older than me though.” I shuffled some papers

on my desk.

“And did you happen to notice Mark, in particular?”
“You’re such a lawyer!” I laughed, looking up at her. “I happened to like his style. How many

law students wear leather jackets and Doc Martens?”

“Well, I’m sure he ‘noticed’ you too. It’s hard for most guys to miss gorgeous blondes with mile

long legs,” Lily said.

“I’m not sure, but I think that I might have caught him checking me out a few times,” I admitted, a

little sheepishly. It’s not like guys never found me attractive, but I got such mixed signals from him
that I almost felt conceited assuming that he was interested.

“Well, I’m sure he was. It’s not exactly hard for anyone else to tell that the two of you are

attracted to each other, especially since you started working together every day. I wonder why he
doesn’t do anything about it,” she said, knitting her brows.

“Probably because he’s Braden’s friend, and I’m Braden’s little sister.” I sighed and gazed out

my window wistfully.

“Who cares?”
“Obviously, he does, and like you said, we work together. It could get awkward if we suddenly

started sleeping together too,” I noted with a light-hearted tone, even though it had been weighing on
my mind.

“Beth, you and Mark are among the only people in this office not sleeping together, and I think

there’s more there than just physical attraction. You two seem different with each other than with
other people.”

“Yeah, I’m different with him all right. I’ve never had coordination problems, or episodes of

unbearable awkwardness before, but around him, I’m a nervous, lusty, filthy-minded, mess,” I joked.

“Speaking of lusty, filthy-minded messes, how was the gala Saturday night?”

“Well, I made some good contacts. I met the Director of the Disability Law Center. She was very

nice. We might be able do some joint projects with them. I also got a chance to talk to the lead
attorney at the Philadelphia chapter of the ACLU.”

“No creepers?”
“I didn’t say that. I ran into a local businessman who seemed to have forgotten about his wife,

and a guy from the city government who seemed to have forgotten that he was an asshole. He copped
a feel and tried to pretend it was an accident.”

“Ew.”
“Tell me about it.” I glanced at my watch. “Oh, I promised Bruce I would help him set up his

computer.”

“Well, God forbid you keep The Diva waiting. See you later.”

11:00 AM

“That black wire doesn’t seem to fit anywhere,” Bruce said. We were both on our hands and

knees, side-by-side, under a desk trying to assemble a computer that was probably more advanced
technology-wise than NORAD.

“According to the diagram, it’s supposed to plug in the back of the CPU, under the hole for the

printer cable, but I can’t get it in,” I told him, trying in vain to insert part J into part K. I pushed
harder, and felt my hands becoming slick with sweat.

“I have to run to the little law librarian’s room. I’ll help you in a second,” he said crawling out

and then getting up and leaving. I stuck a couple of more cooperative pieces together, and then went
back to tackle the black wire again. I was focusing on it intently when my mind vaguely registered the
sound of the door opening.

“I think if you put it in from behind it will fit,” I said, assuming that Bruce had returned from

using the facilities.

“I’m sure we could make it fit lots of ways,” Mark said. “But from behind works for me.”

Because we were all friends outside of work, this office was more casual than most, and he rarely
passed up an opportunity to tease. My stomach flipped over and I sat up quickly, too quickly; I
slammed my head on the desk. “Are you okay?” he asked, wincing, and then coming over and
dropping down on the floor himself. Oh God. We were on the floor together again. Steady, Beth.
Don’t injure the man.

“I’m fine. Can you help me plug this wire in? The diagram makes it look easy, but I must be

doing something wrong, because it doesn’t seem to fit in the hole.” I showed him the wire and where
it was supposed to go. He crawled under the desk next to me, took the wire, and did his best to get it.
Apparently, it wasn’t just me.

“Let me see that,” he said taking the diagram and furrowing his brows with concentration. In this

confined space, I was surrounded by the scent of Armani Code and guy soap and guy. I had never
realized how powerfully erotic the sense of smell could be. But then, he could probably smell like a
plastic shower curtain and it would turn me on.

“Everything else seems to fit,” I said, giving myself a mental shake, and trying to focus on the

damned wire.

“You connected part H, right?” he asked glancing up from the diagram, and pausing. His eyes

widened slightly, and I think his pupils must have dilated, because they seemed to get darker within
seconds. It was mesmerizing, like storm clouds gathering.

“Yes,” I answered thickly. His gaze dropped to my lips and I noticed the pulse point in his neck

begin to throb. I had never noticed anything so subtle before. It was like I was hyper-aware of and
attuned to his every reaction. He swallowed and looked away quickly.

“Here, hold the wire up this way while I try to get it in the port,” he instructed, handing it over to

me. I grabbed on like he showed me and tried to help. After another minute of struggling I got
impatient. This was ridiculous. It couldn’t be this difficult.

“Push harder,” I told him, with a note of nervous tension in my voice.
“If I push harder I might damage it,” he answered, sounding as tense as I did.
“If you don’t push hard, you’ll never get it in the hole. I think it’s just a really tight fit.” Even I

noticed how husky I sounded. In my agitated state, I tugged on the wire.

“Don’t yank on it,” he admonished, grabbing my hand. My heart slammed against my chest wall

so hard, it felt like I might fracture a rib. I tried to breathe through my nose, so that I wouldn’t start
panting. I hoped that somebody in this office knew CPR.

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to help you get it in.” Nose breathing wasn’t working. It felt like there

was no air left. Screw CPR; I needed an oxygen mask. He stared at my mouth again for a second, and
then he looked away and renewed his efforts vigorously.

“Almost there…” he said in a low voice. “So close…”
“Like that! Push harder!” The cord slipped into place and I cried out, “Yes!”
“What are you two doing down there?” Braden asked from somewhere behind us. This time both

of us sat up too quickly and banged our heads into the desk. I was clearly headed for the hospital at
this rate.

“I’m assuming that this is probably not what it sounds like,” Adam added. “But if it is, then for

Christ’s sake, Mark, be a gentleman and give it to her however she wants.”

“What’s going on now?” I heard Liz say.
“Beth and Mark are on the floor together again, and she wants him to push harder, but he’s afraid

he might damage her hole,” Adam answered. Mark sighed and rolled his eyes. Then both of us
crawled out quickly and stood up.

“I see,” Liz replied. “I’m going to make coffee.” She turned to leave.
“I was helping her set up a computer!” Mark called out to her, sounding irritated.
“Obviously,” Braden said, looking at him like he was crazy.
“Just don’t think that I was doing anything inappropriate,” he said, sounding defensive, and

giving Adam a dirty look.

“In the law library in the middle of the day?” Braden asked.
“He’s hard up,” Adam chimed in. “It’s been a while.” The look Mark gave him that time,

bordered on homicidal. Adam might be the one headed for the hospital.

“So it’s set up now?” Braden asked. Giving Adam a warning glance, he began running his fingers

through his hair and pacing.

“It should be fine,” I answered. “I’ll be in my office if you need me for anything else, Bruce,” I

said walking toward the door.

“Don’t forget the meeting later,” Braden reminded me.
“Right,” I called over my shoulder. I saw Mark rub the back of his neck and roll his head back

and forth like he was working out the tension, and I tried very hard not to picture how it would feel to
give him a nice long massage. I failed.

When I reached my office, I shut my door behind me and sat back in my desk chair thinking again.

I couldn’t go on like this. Maybe the meeting this afternoon would be a good time to mention all the

creepy guys who hit on me at these fundraising events I attended without a date.

4:00 PM

We had an executive staff meeting every Friday afternoon in the library, just so everyone could

touch base. Braden and his wife Gabrielle, who I adored, had started The Justice Project to represent
people wrongly accused and convicted of crimes and they believed in what they did. They had hired
their closest friends to work with them, and there was a strong feeling of teamwork here that everyone
loved.

The attorneys had all arrived; Lily, Gabrielle, my cousin Cameron, and his girlfriend, Jess,

another good friend of mine, joined Braden, Mark and Adam. Bruce and Liz were both there too. We
could start the meeting.

I had planned out what I was going to say, and I knew my girls would have my back if necessary.

In fact, as it turned out, I didn’t even have to say anything; toward the end of the meeting, Lily brought
up exactly the subject I had been planning to discuss.

“So, Beth, there’s that fundraiser tomorrow night at the art museum. I read that the theme is Old

Hollywood,” she said casually.

“Old Hollywood? Oh, that should be fun, honey, well, as long as nobody hits on you,” Jess

jumped in.

“I can’t even imagine having to fight off those jerks every time you go to one of those things,”

Gab added, making a sour face.

“It’s a shame there isn’t anyone you could bring with you. Don’t you have any male friends you

could invite?” Lily asked, looking concerned.

“I’ll go if they let me dress like Joan Crawford,” Bruce volunteered and Lily kicked him under

the table.

“Beth, are you being harassed at the events you’re attending?” Braden broke in suddenly, leaning

back in his chair and plowing his fingers through his hair. Both Braden, and my younger brother
Drew, could be very protective of me. Having grown up in the public eye had made us particularly
close.

“There are guys who mistake these things for single’s bars, but they usually cease and desist

eventually,” I answered truthfully. I didn’t want to worry him, but I did want him to suggest that
maybe someone escort me…

“Why don’t you bring a date then?” he asked, and I hesitated a beat. Okay, not quite what I was

hoping for, but close.

“Because I’m not dating anyone at the moment.” I started shuffling through the papers in front me

as if there were a reason for it, other than to avoid the subject of my not-very-successful dating
history.

“Why not?” Braden asked crossing his arms and raising one eyebrow.
“Why not?” I gave him an appalled look. When you don’t know what to say, repeat the question

and look offended. It usually works.

“What happened to the filmmaker?” Oh, shit here we go…
“I found out his most successful production to date was entitled Suzie Loves Gangbangs, Part

II.”

“Wait, there’s a sequel?” Adam asked, earning him a raised eyebrow from Lily.
“How about the Green Architect who was all into sustainable energy?” Braden went on,

undeterred. He could be like the Spanish Inquisition.

“He couldn’t sustain enough energy to get off the couch.”
“The i-banker from New York?”
“I” was his very favorite word. In fact, He was a poster child for narcissism. This is an

interesting approach to running a staff meeting, Braden. Whose dating history should we discuss
next?”

“I’m just trying to figure out why an intelligent, attractive, single woman doesn’t have a date on a

Saturday night.”

“Maybe I’ll get a cat to keep me company, or ten. Could we discuss something business related

now?”

“This is business related. You represent this organization at these events and it sounds like

you’re being harassed. I’m the Director here, and so, I’ll have to address that somehow, probably by
making sure that you’re escorted.”

Hearing that, everyone shot a surreptitious glance at Mark at the same time. I shut up and looked

down at the file in front of me, feeling my face heat up. That was what I had wanted him to say, but I
could have done without the public reminder of what a loser I was when it came to romance. Why
was nothing ever easy?

Afterward, they really did discuss business. Specifically, they discussed their caseloads.

Whenever they got into the details my mind wandered. It usually wandered to Mark. I figured I cold
use a mental break, so I let myself daydream about the two of us being alone in the office one night
and having sex on my desk. And his desk. And my desk again. It was a long meeting.

Chapter Two

Mark

Friday 5:00 PM

Braden and Adam were in my office discussing a case after the staff meeting when he brought it

up. I had been waiting because I knew it was coming.

“You’re quiet, Mark. Got something on your mind?” Braden asked and looked over at me. I was

tapping a pen against my desk like a machine gun, but I hadn’t offered much to the conversation.

“He’s probably thinking about his weekend,” Adam cut in with a knowing smirk. I loved Adam

like a brother, but I swear, there were times I wanted to beat the shit out of him.

“Going out tonight?” Braden asked me. His tone was casual, but that didn’t mean anything. I

could see the set of his jaw, and I had a feeling that I knew what was on his mind.

“Yeah, probably.” I looked out the window at the building across the street. “I’ll hit Happy Hour

at the pub with you first, though.” There was a moment of silence and I glanced back at Braden. He
just nodded.

“I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.” I waited for it; three, two, one… “Would you mind

going with Beth to that fundraiser tomorrow?”

“You want me to go with her?” I tugged at my collar. Suddenly, my tie felt too tight, and had

somebody turned up the heat in here? Adam looked amused. What a shocker. He knew that I had been
going nuts trying to curb my desire for Braden’s younger sister.

“Yeah, I mean, I would go, but Gabrielle and I have plans, and so do you and Lily I assume?” he

asked Adam.

“Uh, yeah.” Adam laughed. “I would guess that Cam and Jess do too.”
“I’m not letting Bruce go as Joan Crawford, but he and Jason probably have plans anyway,”

Braden added. “You’re the last single guy Mark.”

“I thought maybe you wouldn’t feel comfortable with me going with her.” I had no idea how to

handle this. Braden was really protective of Beth, and even though I’m sure that he could see how
much I wanted her, we had never openly discussed it. It was becoming one big-ass elephant in the
room.

“You wouldn’t have a casual hook-up with my sister?” I could see his muscles tensing. Oh fuck,

we were going to discuss it. Here came the circus.

“No, I was just wondering if anyone would say anything. Your dad is a senator, and everybody

keeps talking about him running for president.” He seemed to relax, but he still looked as
uncomfortable as I felt.

“There are usually journalists and photographers at these things.”
“Like paparazzi, here in Philly?” Adam asked sounding surprised.
“It’s not like New York or LA, but there’s usually a couple of nosy tabloid reporters and maybe

a paparazzo or two with nothing better to do than try to catch a senator’s kid fucking up.”

“Fucking up how?” I asked, carefully.
“Acting drunk, starting fights, engaging in too much PDA.”
“Beth’s a brawler, but he could keep her under control,” Adam joked.
“I’m sure it would be fine,” Braden said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of that.

“I mean this is a business event, with my sister, not a hit and run with some chick you met in a club.”
He laughed but it didn’t sound like a happy laugh.

“So, don’t put your hands anywhere that might not look good on Twitter,” Adam offered

helpfully. I gave him a smile but it wasn’t a happy smile.

“It’s just that, I would be blind not to see that…” Braden began, conversing with the file in front

of him.

“Braden, I’m sure that you realize that I find Beth very…” I interrupted, speaking very earnestly

to my bookshelf.

“She’s an adult,” he broke in, addressing my coatrack. “She’s twenty-six. But dude, if you plan

to… do anything, please just remember that you work together, and if she were, you know, upset…”

“Braden, I swear, I wouldn’t. I mean it’s not like that.”
“It’s not?” he asked looking back at me. “So, what is it like? You did say you were going out

tonight, right?”

“I was, I am, but… Oh shit.” I rubbed my temples.
“He’s been going out for weeks and going home alone,” Adam broke in. “You and I both know

where that leads.”

“Really? You have?” Braden asked, sitting forward and looking a bit stunned. “So, it’s more than

just wanting to bang her?”

“I think I want to ask her out, but I’ve been worried about pissing you off, and I’m not even sure

she’s interested in dating a guy who she’s always seen as a player.”

“Interested?” Adam asked incredulously. “If she gets any more interested, she might kill you.” I

had to laugh at that. It was kind of adorable, if a bit painful, that she got so distracted around me. She
had injured me more than once.

“Adam and I both get that it can take some time to wrap your head around this stuff. When you’re

ready, just do it right. If you do it right, then I’m fine with it. Hell, I would rather see her with you,
than the assholes she usually dates.”

“Yeah, what’s with that?” I asked with a laugh.
“I don’t know. But I do know that Adam’s right. She’s interested. She’s had a thing for you since

you guys visited my parents’ place in our first year of law school. I overheard a comment that she
made to her college roommate that almost made me go deaf.”

“What did she say?” I sat forward in my chair and felt my dick stir as I remembered vividly what

Beth looked like that summer in her little white bikini.

“I’ve blocked the details out, thanks to the trauma I sustained hearing it, and half a bottle of

Stoli.”

“But she liked me, huh?” Why did that make me so excited?
“She definitely liked you. Now let’s never mention it again,” he said getting up. “Happy Hour at

O’Malley’s, I’m taking my wife out later on a date to a blues club.” The smile on his face said it all.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky later,” I joked.
“I get lucky every night. Let me know if you get lucky tonight, and what conclusions you come

to.” I watched as the door closed behind him.

“You’re actually going out tonight looking for some action?” Adam asked.
“I don’t know that I’m ready for anything else yet, and I have to get laid, man. I’ve got an

important job and I have to be able to concentrate.”

“So, what’s your plan?”
“I’ll have to find myself another blonde, dim the lights, and try not to call her Beth. I spend plenty

of time fantasizing about her already. I’m good at it.”

“Yeah, nothing weird about that,” Adam said on his way out.

Chapter Three

Beth

6:00 PM

When I got to the pub, I saw that the others had found a couple of tables in a corner and pushed

them together. I walked over and saw a seat across from Mark. At least I would have a nice view. I
pulled the chair out carefully and made sure there were no full cups of beer anywhere near me.

“About the art museum thing,” Braden said as I sat down. “Mark’s free to go with you tomorrow

if you want.” I froze. If I wanted? He was kidding, right?

“You don’t mind?” I asked Mark, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to impose. I mean, if you had

plans.”

“No imposition, it would be my pleasure,” he answered quickly and took a big swallow of his

beer. I saw Adam give him an amused look.

“I know that I can trust Mark,” Braden said. “And that neither one of you would do anything in

public that would create gossip.”

“But we can have sex in the limo on the way there, right?” I joked and Mark almost choked. At

least I made Adam laugh.

“The tabloids are always lurking around at those things,” Gab said.
“Don’t worry, it’s not like they’ll be rolling around on the floor together. Oh wait,” Adam joked

as Mark glared at him.

“Well, as for the details,” I said, ignoring him and speaking to Mark. “It’s black tie and it starts

at seven. I have a car coming, so you can just meet me at my place at about quarter of. Like Lily
mentioned, the theme is Old Hollywood.”

“Do they all have a theme?” Lily asked.
“Most do. It’s how they make these things seem more like a fun evening, and less like hitting

people up for money,” I explained as I caught myself peeling the label off my beer bottle, distractedly.
I couldn’t seem to keep my hands still. “There’s one coming up soon where everyone stays at a
mansion for the weekend. You play a famous detective and try to solve a crime. I was thinking that
you might enjoy that, Gab.”

“Oh my God! I would love that!” she beamed. “Braden, let’s go! In fact, we should all go!”
“Thanks, Beth,” Cameron said as he and Jess lifted their beers in a toast to me.
“Any of them have an underground sex party theme?” Adam asked. “Mark has the perfect outfit.”

Poor Mark would never live down the night that Gabrielle convinced him to take part in one of her
crazy plans.

“It’s not like I’m going to kill you. Oh wait…” Mark responded.

9:00 PM

I couldn’t believe I was home alone at 9:00 on a Friday night. Well, not completely alone. I was

doggie sitting, so that Braden and Gabrielle could go out together. Still, I was an uncoupled twenty-
six year-old woman spending my Friday night with a Chihuahua. Braden was right. There was
something wrong with that.

I stood there in a smock, preparing to paint a picture of a street performer from a photo I had

taken. According to my artistic vision, he was purple. As I paused and mixed my palate, I wondered
what, or who, Mark was doing at that moment. I was an open-minded person, and so that kind of thing
had never really bothered me. Ironically, despite my attitude, casual hook-ups were something very
hard for me to indulge in myself. Senator’s sons ‘sowed their wild oats,’ while senator’s daughters
created scandals.

“So Bruno, here’s the story.” Hearing his name, the tiny dog paused and pricked up his enormous

Chihuahua ears. “I’ve got a ‘thing’ for your Daddy’s friend, Mark. And I even happen to suspect, that
he likes me too. But it’s complicated. And so, he’s probably out having sex with a stranger, and I’m
here talking to a dog.” Bruno yipped. He got it.

As I slid under the covers with a book, later that night, Bruno begged to get into bed with me.

“Do Gabrielle and Braden let you sleep with them?” I asked. Great, now I was not only talking to a
dog, I was asking him questions. He just whined and gave me a sad little stare.

Oh well, I wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. I scooped him up and put him down next to me. And

so I lay there, at midnight on a Friday night, trying to fall asleep with a tiny Chihuahua poking me in
the ribs. Something had to change. Before I dozed off I wondered again where Mark would be
sleeping that night.

Chapter Four

Mark

11:00 PM

I had never had a problem finding female companionship. Usually, I only had to be at a club or a

bar for fifteen minutes or so before I was heading off to a hotel or some chick’s apartment.
Occasionally I brought one back to my place, but I usually liked to keep my private space private. Of
course, I wouldn’t mind if Beth… Okay, don’t think about Beth, Mark.

I hit a local bar that was trendy at the moment, and when I arrived, I was determined that I was

going to find a companion who would keep me busy all night. As I sat there, nursing a beer, I told
myself that I needed to get it out of my system, so that I could behave at the fundraiser the following
evening with a minimum of discomfort. Until I was ready to make some kind of serious move, I had to
be on my best behavior with Beth. Okay, thinking about Beth again, dude. I looked at my watch. I had
already been there an hour. It was time to get off the fence and into bed.

I smiled at the blonde across the bar that had been eyeing me up like a hungry dog eyeing up a

steak dinner. Not that I was calling myself a hunk of meat. My brain worked just fine when all the
blood hadn’t rushed to parts further down. And I wasn’t calling her a dog either. First of all, I
wouldn’t do that, because I’m not twelve, or an asshole, and secondly, she was pretty hot. Forget the
whole dog and steak analogy. She was eyeing me up like a chick in a bar who was Jack and Coke
horny and had spotted a hot prospect.

I’m no expert, but I could tell she probably hadn’t entered the world with that hair color, and her

tits were a little too Goodyear-like to be gifts from God, but who was I to judge? I was considering
having a relationship of an extremely short duration with her. Well, not extremely short. I would give
her a good workout first. Like I said, I wanted to get it out of my system, and I’m also a gentleman
after all.

A gentleman… “For Christ’s sake be a gentleman, Mark… ” I sighed. And of course, now, I

was thinking about Beth again. Why was I thinking at all? I wasn’t here to think. The blood could rush
out of my brain at will in this place. In fact, I had probably lost a few IQ points the minute I walked
through the door. I knew that I might as well just pack it in. Sorry, Miss Potential Hook-Up, this
wasn’t your lucky night. Even in a totally dark room, I would know you weren’t her and she’s the one
I want.

I tossed some cash down on the bar, and got up to go. The blonde got a confused look on her

face, but then, that might have been her natural expression. I had first noticed her pushing like hell at
the ladies room door. It had a sign on it that said, “Pull.”

Looked like it would be another Friday night of video games and self-love. Those two things

formed the basis of my social life these days. It wasn’t always like that, though…

This time last year all three of us were still out playing every weekend, even Braden; although

both Adam and I sensed he was going down at any moment. He was more than just a little interested
in having Gabrielle examine his briefs, even though he knew it would mean more than a one-night
investment. He was always talking about her, and staring off into space. He might as well have had
those little hearts in his eyes like Pepe Le Pew. Still, it did take him a while.

But then, one night, it happened; he decided he was just “going home” from a club… alone. He

hadn’t even gotten any on-location action. He was just going home alone, like Adam started doing a
few months later… and like I had been for the past few weeks. I knew the signs. I was going down.
Still, I walked out the door with no regrets. I was kind of tired anyway.

I looked up and there she was, the beauty who had stolen my heart long ago… a fully restored,

silver 1971 Karmann Ghia. I called her Heidi, like Heidi Klum, hot German, get it? In case you were
unaware, the Karmann Ghia is the ultimate badass hipster’s ride. They just don’t make them that cool
anymore.

“Hey baby, I need to be inside you right now,” I joked as I deactivated the alarm. Great, I was

talking to a car, like freaking Knight Rider. I had officially gone around the bend. It had to be lack of
sex. Why wasn’t I back there with the blonde again? Oh right, I was nuts. As I strapped myself in and
hit the ignition I wondered briefly where Beth was at the moment and who she was with.

1:00 AM

Later that night, I lay in bed thinking. I hadn’t hooked up in almost a month. I hadn’t gone that long

without getting laid since I was in high school. Sex had always been just a release of tension and a
way to feel good. It had never mattered who I was with before, as long as I found her physically
attractive, willing, disease-free and not obviously unstable in any way. You had to watch out for the
ones who seemed like they might be fun that night, but listening to Madame Butterfly, and boiling your
bunny the next day.

Things had changed, though. I knew that I wasn’t going to be interested in anyone else anytime

soon, and I had started talking to a car. I wasn’t going to make it that much longer. So was I planning
to make a move? Yeah, I guess I was. Braden had to tell me that bit about her comment to her friend,
didn’t he? Picturing her, fantasizing about me officially did me in. There was no going back after that.
He said, “Just do it right,” but what did that mean? Where was the rulebook on this kind of shit?

Maybe she and I could ease into dating. I could just keep taking her to these fundraisers, like

practice dating, with no expectations and no pressure. And in the meanwhile, I could find out what the
rules were. There you go, just go slowly. That was a plan. Good thinking Mark. Okay, thinking about
Beth again…

Saturday

12:30 PM

“

So you went home alone again,” Adam said, squeezing some lemon into his iced tea. We had

gone out to grab lunch at a local Italian place.

“Can you die from sexual frustration?” I poured some dressing on my antipasto and signaled the

waitress for more water.

“You’re not going to die, but you might get carpal tunnel. You can’t go on like this anymore. You

won. You were the last man standing. Now, give up and date the woman already.”

“I’m twenty-eight, not twenty-one. I see how happy you guys are.”
“So, what’s the problem? You’re not worried she’ll shoot you down, are you? It doesn’t sound

like she has really high standards.” He laughed.

“The problem is that I’m flying blind. Women have all these rules when it comes to that shit and

I’ve never had an interest in riding that rollercoaster before.”

“If you’re that worried about it, just start off quietly until you get used to it.”
“Oh yeah, just don’t mention it. Because Braden would be so grateful that I spared him any

awkwardness by dating his sister behind his back.”

“It wouldn’t exactly be a shock if he found out. Don’t you remember yesterday’s conversation?

He knows. Everybody knows, man. The cleaning lady asked me if the two of you had gotten together
yet, and she barely speaks English.”

“Yeah, I remember. He said, ‘just do it right.’ But what does that mean?”
“It means date her rather than just fucking her. Women have rules, but they’re subject to

interpretation, and half of them don’t even follow them.”

“What if I forgot myself and accidentally put my hand on her ass at some public event? It’s like

you said, it would probably wind up on Twitter and Braden would just love that.”

“So, don’t forget to only put your hand on her ass when you’re alone. What, were you raised by

wolves? Just make sure you do everything by the code, man. Treat her like you plan to see her in the
morning, that’s all. For example, do say something like, ‘I would love to spend the night with you.’
Do not say something like, ‘that was great, baby. Do you need cab fare?”

“Since you brought it up, how do you handle the afterwards? How long do you have to, you

know, hold them?” God, it was freaking uncomfortable discussing this. It felt just like when my dad
handed me a copy of What a Boy Needs to Know and asked me if I masturbated.

“You’ll figure it out. You’ll be surprised how naturally it comes when you’re motivated. And the

rest is the standard stuff. Just stick to the code. If she’s on the pill by the way, you’ll finally know
what you’ve been missing.”

“Stick to the code. I can do that.” I chewed thoughtfully.
“Good. Now, let’s talk about something else before I grow a vagina.”

Chapter Five

Beth

Saturday 6:45 PM

I checked myself out in the mirror one last time. My blonde hair was tied back in a chignon and

my diamond earrings matched my necklace. I had on evening make-up and five-inch heels. I was five
foot eight barefoot, so in these shoes, I would be almost as tall as Mark was.

I turned around, admiring my white Elie Saab chiffon gown that tied at one shoulder. It had a

gathered waist, and a light, flowing floor-length skirt, slit up one thigh. It showed off my long legs,
which I thought were my best asset.

“Not too shabby, Beth,” I said with a smile. Great, now I was talking to myself. At least the

Chihuahua was a separate living being. Maybe I should get a cat. Oh God, that was the first step
toward being a crazy cat lady.

My buzzer rang and my confidence waivered even more, but I took a deep breath and reminded

myself that he wanted me too. I crossed the room to the call box.

“Hello,” I said, pressing the intercom button.
“Hey, will you buzz me up?” Mark’s deep, rich voice made my tummy flutter even filtered

through the speaker.

“Sure. I’ll see you in a minute.” I pushed the door lock button and waited nervously. I caught

myself twisting my fingers together and I fisted them at my sides, which only served to make my
palms sweaty. “What is wrong with you, Beth? You know how to keep your composure.” I paused.
“And stop talking to yourself or people are going to wonder about you.”

My doorbell rang and I jumped. Rolling my eyes, and forcing myself to calm down, I went over

to answer it. When I swung it open, my mouth went dry. Mark stood there in a tuxedo, looking
positively wonderful.

His attention snapped to me when he heard the door open. I saw his eyes quickly travel up and

down my body. Then a sexy smile slowly formed on his lips, and it felt like my heart was trying to
beat its way out of my chest. All I could think was, “Please don’t let me break out in hives.” And then,
“You suck at romance, Beth.”

“Were you always this tall?” he asked, looking into my eyes, which were almost level with his. I

got lost in the gray smoke for a moment.

“I’m wearing higher heels,” I mumbled. “Because there will be dancing. And I wanted our parts

to line up well.” Then what I had just said sunk in, and I closed my eyes and felt my face get hot. I
wanted our parts to line up well?

“Uh, well, that’s always good I guess,” he said with a laugh. I opened my eyes again and forced a

bright smile to cover up my humiliation.

“The car isn’t here yet,” I spit out quickly. “Come in, though, and make yourself comfortable.” I

stepped to the side to give him room to pass, and then turned to close the door. I wanted to ask him
what he thought of the place, and so I spun around quickly, sweeping my arm out, in a warm and
expansive gesture of welcome.

Unfortunately, he had paused right behind me, which meant that I essentially punched him in the

gut. His eyes watered a bit, but the smile never left his face.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Personally, I myself, wanted to crawl into a hole and

die at that moment.

“I’m fine. No worries,” he replied sounding a little hoarse, as he backed away from me slowly.

Again. I sighed, and resolved to do my best not to cause him any further injury. “This place is nice. I
like bold color,” he said, looking around.

“Me too. Bold color is… good,” said the woman with a Masters degree in Art History from

Vassar. “And bright color too… is good.” Have I mentioned my semester at the Sorbonne? He gave
me a funny look. I can’t imagine why.

“Are you okay?” He sounded a little concerned, like he was wondering if I had sustained yet

another head injury. I wanted to slit my wrists.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t get a lot of sleep.” I walked over to the sofa and sat down. “I shared my bed

last night.” I leapt back up to my feet. “With a Chihuahua!”

He gave me a surprised look, and suddenly, I was overcome with amusement at how ridiculous I

sounded. I stopped talking and bit my lip, trying not to laugh. It didn’t work. I cracked up.

“What?” he asked. He was smiling, but now he was looking really confused and maybe a little

afraid.

“I’m sorry… it’s just that… I’m usually so much cooler than this.” I choked out, holding my

stomach. “I’ve never been so fucking awkward in my life.” I was laughing so hard I could barely
breathe, but his reply was what actually took my breath away.

“First of all, never apologize for laughing. You’re even more beautiful when you laugh.

Secondly, I’m kind of nervous myself.”

I stopped laughing and dry swallowed. Then, it was like there was something pulling us together,

like we were magnetic. We began to move toward each other in a barely perceptible way, until the
buzzer rang. The car had arrived. Damn.

When we got to the parking garage, Louis, the guy who usually drove me to these events was

waiting. He worked for my father and he was trained in security. He held the door for us and Mark
helped me into the back seat.

It was a short ride, and we were approaching the museum within minutes. I reached into my

clutch bag and pulled out a mint, offering Mark one, and popping another into my mouth. After all,
there was nothing more embarrassing than getting caught with bad breath. Remember that I said that,
by the way.

“So, still up for the limo sex?” Mark joked.
I laughed in surprise, and accidentally sucked the mint into my throat, getting it lodged there. I

started choking and making a gurgling sound, and Louis, who was also trained in CPR, immediately
crossed three lanes of traffic, and illegally parked on a median in the middle of the Ben Franklin
Parkway.

Mark was already attempting to apply the Heimlich maneuver, but Louis was having none of it. It

was his job to save the senator’s daughter from the killer Altoid, and no one would stop him. He dove
out of the driver’s seat, flew around to the back, and hauled me out of the car. Then he proceeded to
stand behind me and squeeze my ribs so hard, that my feet left the ground.

Mark was out of the car in an instant. Unfortunately, the instant, in question, was the one where

the mint became dislodged and flew out of my mouth, hitting him square in the eye like a torpedo. He
cried out in pain and covered his face, staggering forward. Have I mentioned we were in the middle
of the Ben Franklin Parkway? Horns blasted, and Louis, who was also trained to take a bullet if
necessary, threw himself into traffic, grabbed Mark and tossed him onto the median, covering him
with his own body.

All of this happened within seconds, but luckily, we were close enough to the museum that the

waiting photographers, who had zoom lenses, were able to capture all of it for posterity. And the
tabloids. And my brother.

Mark and I were in great shape considering that I had nearly choked, and probably had a few

cracked ribs, and he had been thrown to the pavement and blinded in one eye. In an effort to reclaim
some semblance of dignity, we got back into the car, and Louis proceeded to drive us to the museum
as if nothing had happened. I was going to have to speak to my father about giving Louis a raise.

We arrived at the museum and entered the line of cars. A few minutes later, Mark was helping

me out and we were being escorted off to an area where journalists and photographers were waiting.

“Ms. Pierce, are you injured?… Ms. Pierce, what was going on out there?… Ms. Pierce, is your

driver a member of the Secret Service?…” And then…

“Who is this handsome man escorting you, Beth?” That one stopped me in my tracks. I turned and

saw a female reporter, with a spray tan in a shade of Oompa Loompa orange, and hair the color of a
brass doorknob, giving Mark a flirtatious look. Fucking tabloid journalist.

“This is Mark Patterson, a friend and colleague,” I muttered and smiled weakly.
“So Mark, are you and Beth an item?” asked the guy standing next to the Oompa. He had black

hair, slicked down with more oil than in Venezuela, and he was wearing more bling than in the Tower
of London. He also had a camera and a smarmy smile. Fucking paparazzo.

“Like she said, we’re friends and colleagues. I couldn’t let such a lovely lady attend a party

alone. Nobody would pay attention to the celebrities,” Mark said suavely and the journalists all gave
appreciative chuckles.

Wow. This man had just been wounded by a missile, plucked from traffic and crushed beneath a

six foot five inch, two hundred and eighty pound chauffer. He had abrasions on his palms and his eye
was starting to swell. Yet there he was, cracking jokes, grace under pressure. Fucking amazing.

We joined the reception, and as soon as we were inside, a passing waiter offered us champagne

flutes. If ever there was a moment for alcohol this was it. I looked around and took everything in.
There were actors dressed like old movie stars, mingling with the crowd. I saw Clark Gable and
Marilyn Monroe right away. And there was Joan Crawford. Sorry, Bruce.

A steady stream of people approached us, making their circuit around the room. We spent time

talking to representatives of non-profit organizations, local business owners and even a federal judge.
I watched Mark charm them all like nothing had happened. He told them about our work and the cases
we had won and I could hear how passionately he believed in what he did.

Just when everything was going really well, I saw a familiar face approaching and I sighed to

myself. It was Caitlin Reynolds. We had grown up together. I didn’t have anything against Caitlin, but
I didn’t have much in common with her either, at least not on a personal level. It wasn’t that she was a
bad person. She was just very self-centered in a child-like way. And although she was the
granddaughter of a very famous painter, she didn’t seem to have much appreciation for art. That really
got to me.

I sensed Mark tense up beside me. Uh oh. I could guess why. He was a player, and Caitlin was a

party girl. Great. I could just imagine how they might “know” each other. Here came the awkward.

“Beth, I’m glad you’re here,” Caitlin said when she reached us. “I wanted to talk to you.” She

glanced up at Mark, and got a puzzled look on her face for a moment. “Hey, I know you.” Then
recognition seemed to dawn. “Oh wait! We hooked up once! Mike, right?” she asked as if she were
discussing having gone to college together, rather than having had sex with him. I felt like kicking her
in the shins.

“Mark,” he answered coolly.

“Oh right,” Caitlin said with a faraway look. “Thanksgiving weekend. That was the night that

Lydia Stuart unfriended me on Facebook. Mike here provided some good distraction.” She snort
laughed like she was remembering something funny. Good times. Forget kicking her in the shins. I
wanted to beat her senseless. Okay, more senseless than she already was. Fucking oblivious.

Mark looked like he couldn’t decide whether he felt more mortified or apoplectic. He subtly slid

is arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. I can’t say that I minded, but it was a useless
gesture. It wouldn’t have occurred to Caitlin that I might have minded her reminiscing about having
carnal knowledge of my date. At least the warmth of his body, pressed against my side, was
providing me with some good distraction though.

Just then, another familiar person approached. I recognized Paul Gerard, a handsome and

sophisticated man in his fifties, who was the scion of a wealthy old Philadelphia family, an art
collector, and very active philanthropist. I was happy to see him, but then, at that point, I would have
been happy to see an IRS auditor.

“Beth, how nice to see you,” he said with a warm smile, leaning in and kissing me on the cheek.

“And Caitlin is here too,” he added, and that pretty much said it all.

“Hello Paul,” she replied, glancing around and looking uncomfortable.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said to Mark.
“Mark Patterson,” Mark said, extending a hand for Paul to shake.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mark,” he said in a friendly tone, and then turned to me again. “I

came over to tell you that I’m the owner of several of the photographs in the exhibit, and I could
arrange for you to have a private showing before everyone else.”

“That would be wonderful,” I said glancing at Mark. I was thankful for the excuse to get out of

there. “Nice seeing you, Caitlin,” I said, automatically handing her my business card. Then I followed
Paul, who was already headed for a hallway off to our left. Mark walked beside me resting his hand
on the small of my back. I was hyper-aware of the warmth of his skin through the fabric of my dress.

Paul was leading us toward one of the smaller exhibit rooms. He had a word with a guard at the

entrance, and then signaled us to follow him into the exhibit space. There were several glass cases
with movie memorabilia, and framed photos, lit with spotlights, adorning the walls.

“I’ll leave you two alone to enjoy,” Paul said, and with a wink, as he left.
“I think that was a rescue mission,” I noted dryly.
“ Beth, about Caitlin…”
“Mark, you’re both single and over eighteen. I promise that I’m not judging your lifestyle

choices.”

“I just meant it was uncomfortable. I can’t believe she said that.”
“Oh, well, don’t worry about that. I know that Caitlin is just clueless, not malicious. And it

doesn’t matter anyway.”

“About that other thing, though… I realize I must seem like a womanizer, but it’s not that I have a

problem with commitment.”

“It’s okay, Mark…”
“It’s just that I hadn’t met anyone who I wanted to commit to in the past.”
“Really, it’s okay, you don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I just wanted you to know. It’s not because I have any emotional baggage and it’s not because I

don’t respect women. I mean, I could commit.”

“Mark, as Braden so helpfully pointed out, I’m not exactly an expert on commitment. I’ve dated

plenty of guys. I mean, not plenty plenty! I’m not like, prolific, or anything.” We stared at each other,

and after a beat, we both laughed.

“So, while this conversation is incredibly awkward, this event isn’t too bad,” he said casually.

“Well, I mean the parts after the car. Actually, I wouldn’t mind going with you to one of these things
again.”

“Really? You wouldn’t? Well, next Saturday night, I’m going to a Great Gatsby party for a

foundation at the home of that guy you just met,” I said, hesitantly.

“Great Gatsby? Would I have to wear a costume?”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He sighed. “I’ve done it before.”
“Actually, he’s also the person hosting the mystery weekend. It benefits the public library. He’s

very involved with local causes.”

“Can we make Adam dress up for that one?” he asked with a smile.
Things got much better after that, although admittedly, it wasn’t a really high bar. Dinner was

quite good, though, and the entertainment was even better. A modern film star gave a great tribute to
movie stars of a bygone era, and then later, a Big Band orchestra began to play. Nothing, however,
compared to the dancing.

It’s true that when he initially took me into his arms, I winced. But he figured out a way to hold

me that avoided the ribs that were bruised. And I, in turn, made sure that I avoided the swollen eye.
Mark was a really good dancer, and he led me expertly. I loved the feeling of being pressed up
against him and having those strong arms wrapped around me. Not to mention the fact that he smelled
wonderful again. Who would have thought that this night could have gone from Hell to Heaven?

“There’s a lot to be said for lined up parts,” he whispered in my ear, as he held me close and

spun me around the floor to Benny Goodman’s String of Pearls.

“We fit together well,” I answered and he breathed in deeply and pulled me against him even

more tightly. As corny as it may sound, I felt like I was floating on air, and it crossed my mind that I
could definitely get used to this.

I was tempted several times to try to lure Mark off somewhere alone with me. After all, I knew

this museum well, and I had to admit that the thought of a quick, secretive tryst excited me. I knew that
in reality, though, I would probably knock him down a flight of stairs or something. I didn’t want to
literally become a femme fatale.

Later, when he took me home, he walked me up to my apartment and I invited him in, not really

knowing if anything would happen. Something did happen, something that didn’t involve pain. It
didn’t involve sex either, but it was still good. He stayed for coffee and we talked for hours.

We discussed our families and discovered we had some things in common. He and I shared a

passion for helping the underdog largely because of our moms. His mom was a social worker and my
mom had always brought me with her to do volunteer work.

We talked about our college experiences and he told me some funny stories from law school

about my brother. From there, we wound up talking about all kinds of things, books, music, movies,
even art, and I discovered that being with him came easily when we were relaxed. It was the first,
real, in-depth, grown up conversation that we had ever had. Time flew by and before we knew it, it
was 2 AM.

“Wow, it’s late,” he said looking at his watch.
“Yeah,” I said regretfully. It really had turned out to be a great evening, even with the injuries,

and even without a fun sexy tryst.

Standing up, he walked over to the door. When I came over to let him out, he turned, looking

deeply into my eyes. “I have one more question for you. Was this a date?” My pulse shot through the
roof and I got goose bumps on my arms.

“Did you want it to be one?” I asked breathlessly.
“Yeah. Does that mean I can kiss you goodnight?”
I nodded, not really trusting my voice not to come out like a squeak. As he stepped closer to me,

the butterflies in my tummy took off and my heart started pounding like a sledgehammer in my chest.
He smiled that flirty smile, and put his hands on my hips, pulling me up against him gently. He paused
for just a beat, to gauge my reaction I think, and when I wrapped my arms around his neck, he seemed
to relax.

He leaned in, and at first, our lips met softly, and then again, and again, just a taste to whet the

appetite. His arms tightened around me, and he increased the pressure, urging me to open and invite
him in. I demonstrated how inviting I could be, and his tongue swept into my mouth, making it clear
that as long as I wasn’t resisting, he wasn’t going to hesitate to take what he wanted. I had heard that
he was a force to be reckoned with in a courtroom, so it made sense he would be that way in the
bedroom. Trust me, I had no problem with that. I liked forces to be reckoned with in the bedroom.

He tasted good, like coffee and mint, and he kissed as well as he danced. He moved his lips

against mine, and made delicious little thrusts and flicks with his tongue, teasing and tantalizing.
Meanwhile, he also pressed me tightly against him, and stroked my back, in the most incredibly
sensual way. Kissing him was a full-body experience, and I was tingling from head to toe. Eventually,
he pulled away and I felt so boneless that I took a big step back… right into the entry table, knocking
over a vase. He grabbed it just in time. He had quick reflexes.

“Sorry about that,” I said, dizzily.
“It’s okay. It’s your vase,” he answered, with a husky laugh. He placed it back on the table, and

turned around, taking a step forward… just as I was opening the door, which hit him right in the face.

“Oh my God! Are you okay? Do you need some more ice?”
“No, I’m okay,” he said rubbing his face. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
He left, and I stood there and watched him go. Then I closed the door behind me and leaned

against it trying to steady my breath. I hoped I hadn’t injured him too badly.

Chapter Six

Mark

My head was still spinning as the elevator started moving and I don’t think it was because I just

got hit with a door. That kiss was incredible. I started out worried about moving too fast, but she was
so eager and willing. I loved how she pressed up against me, and that tongue….

Okay, don’t think about her tongue too much. Oh fuck, too late. Well, the answer was that I could

get even harder. I adjusted myself. It was going to be an uncomfortable ride home. I was going to have
to check out these injuries too. I reached up and rubbed the knot on my forehead. When I finally got
her there, I might have to tie her to the bed for my own protection. Oh don’t picture that, Mark.

The elevator doors slid open and my car Heidi was waiting. I got in and put on my seatbelt.

Before I hit the ignition, though, I just sat there for a minute and I thought about how Beth had just
melted against me when I rubbed her back. And I thought about how adorably dazed she looked after
we kissed. Even just dancing with her had been great. She said we fit together well. I smiled. Don’t
think about it, Mark.

Let’s face it, I wanted her and I was going to go insane if I didn’t have her. For the first time,

though, I felt something, more than just turned on. I felt warm, like I wanted to hold her all night, even
if I didn’t fuck her. Well, okay, I would rather fuck her and then hold her all night. I adjusted myself
again. Okay, Mark, Hallmark moment over. Time to go home and get rid of this problem.

Later, after I had jerked off, and showered, and jerked off again, I lay in bed thinking again. I was

a regular Descartes these days. I couldn’t believe my luck. What were the chances I would run into a
former hook-up? Well, the chances might not be that bad, I had hooked up a lot, but what were the
chances Beth would know her? Beth had been so classy about it though. She let it roll of her back and
she didn’t judge either one of us.

So, why had I been so defensive? I didn’t feel like I had to apologize for being a single guy who

didn’t lead women on, but I couldn’t shut up about it. The answer was that I didn’t want her thinking I
had some kind of weird commitment issues. I cared what she thought. Oh man, this was uncharted
territory. I was finally going down… dressed like Jay Gatsby.

Sunday 7:00 PM

Sunday nights, Adam, Braden, Cam and I always got together to watch whatever sport was in

season, eat pizza and drink beer. We called it Game Night, and it was a long-standing tradition. As
soon as I walked in the door of Braden’s place I knew I was in for it.

“So, Mark, jaywalking on the Ben Franklin Parkway, huh?” Adam started.
“I took a shot to the eye. I was wounded and disoriented.”
“I appreciated your effort to help Beth,” Braden said, sounding sincere. “And I also thought it

looked like the two of you pulled it together really well afterward. At least in the pictures.”

“Did you have fun?” Cam asked.
“Actually, I did. It wasn’t bad at all. There was this really good orchestra that played Big Band

music…”

“Did you dance?” Adam cut in with a smile. This was another one of those moments when I

wanted to beat the shit out of him. He was still getting back at me for yanking his chain when he was
dating Lily.

“Yes, we did, and she asked me if I wanted to go with her next week. There’s this Great Gatsby

party.” No sense delaying the inevitable.

“The Great Gatsby! Ah, the Roaring 20’s. You’re going to wear a costume, aren’t you?” Adam

looked so happy.

“I believe it is a costume event, yes,” I replied through gritted teeth.
“So, how was Friday night?” Braden asked. Adam had obviously waited to share the news.
“I didn’t see anyone who interested me, and I was kind of tired…”
“And the last man goes down!” Cam laughed.
“You didn’t hook up?” Braden asked, looking happy.
“No. I didn’t hook up. And, I didn’t last night either; I assure you. My one month streak is

undisturbed.” I shot Adam a resigned look.

“Have you said anything to Beth?” Braden asked.
“We haven’t discussed it in detail, but we did, I think, acknowledge the fact that we were

interested in dating.” Our tongues in each other’s mouths, and the fact that we decided it was a date,
were a dead giveaway.

“Okay.” He nodded, looking like he was processing that information. “No pressure. I mean

you’re just dating. That’s all. We all understand that. Look at Cam; he and Jess have been together
almost a year and he’s not engaged yet.”

“They do live together, Braden,” Adam pointed out.
“And, well, um, I am planning to pop the question soon,” Cam replied.
“You are?” Braden asked. “That’s great! Gabrielle will be thrilled.”
“Hopefully, Jessica will be too,” Adam added.
“Congratulations, Cameron, and we’ll have to celebrate, but back to the part where you give me

your blessing, Braden,” I broke in.

“This is definitely a monogamous relationship?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And you’ll take her out to nice places, and let her bring you home to talk to my parents, and all

the stuff that I’m sure she’ll want to do eventually?”

“Yes,” I repeated.
“And you’ll make sure you don’t let her get caught up in anything that could create gossip or put

her in danger?”

“Like what?” I asked, not sure I knew what he meant.
“Like anything Braden’s wife might put her up to,” Adam piped up.
“No underground sex parties, or digging through garbage cans, or following call girls around

town,” Cam put in.

“No cocktail parties for gangsters, or breaking into people’s apartments,” Adam went on.
“Or visits to UFO landing sites,” Cam added. “You’re a very patient man, by the way, Braden.”
“You went right along with Gabrielle on every one of her little I Love Lucy adventures,

Cameron,” Braden said smiling at his cousin.

“That’s because Jessica went along on every one of those adventures,” Cameron shot back.

“Fred and Ethel are officially retired now.”

“No crazy shit,” I agreed.
“Well, then as long as you two don’t get caught messing around while you’re representing The

Justice Project, I’m happy. So no playing around at work or at the fundraisers.” I breathed a sigh of
relief. “Wait, is this going to affect your work relationship?” he went on, knitting his brows.

“Braden, the only people in the office not involved with someone else in the office, are Liz

who’s married to an accountant, Bruce who’s married to a guy, and the cleaning lady, Conchita, who
doesn’t speak much English,” Adam pointed out.

“What about April, the receptionist?” Cam asked.
“She’s dating the security guy that works the desk downstairs. He checks our offices at night.

That counts,” Adam replied.

“Okay, but all of us keep our couple-like behavior out of the office,” he responded. “Just promise

me you won’t get too intimate there.” I saw Adam take a sudden interest in a bookcase. I strongly
suspected that he and Lily had christened his desk.

“It’s not an issue, Braden,” I assured him. “Your sister and I will not be having intimate relations

at our place of work, or at the fundraisers that we may attend together.” Remember that I said that.

Chapter Seven

Beth

Sunday 7:00 PM

My friends and I had a Sunday night tradition. The guys got together to watch sports, and the

women got together for wine, cheese, and conversation.

“So, you’re okay?” Gabrielle asked, taking a sip of chardonnay.
“Yeah, other than my pride. By the way, never laugh with a mint I your mouth.”
“You’re lucky you two didn’t get killed on the Parkway, honey,” Jess said sympathetically while

spreading some cheese on a cracker.

“That Louis guy is pretty amazing,” Lily noted. “He did the Heimlich, saved Mark from becoming

road kill, and then drove you to a party. Now that’s an employee.”

“Braden and I were very impressed by how well you and Mark pulled it together,” Gab said,

supportively. “You both managed to maintain your dignity. Even when you were on the ground with
your dress hiked up like that.” She smiled and I winced.

“Don’t worry honey, you’re undies were only showing in one of the pictures,” Jess added. “And

nobody reads that paper anyway.”

“Braden noticed what a good job Mark did?” I asked. “His eye was all red and he got scraped up

when Louis jumped on him, but you would have thought that nothing had happened.” I realized that I
was sounding rather protective, and not just a little smitten, and my friends shared some surreptitious
smiles.

“Yes, he did notice,” Gab assured me. “He said that he owed him a beer for this one, and then he

said he owed him a whole case of beer.”

“Now, who was this trollop you ran into?” Jess asked, cutting in.
“Caitlin Reynolds. She’s a party girl but she’s not really a bad person. She’s just such an airhead

and so self-absorbed, that it never occurs to her how offensive and annoying she may be to others.”

“She said it was at Thanksgiving that she hooked up with Mark?” Lily asked. “I remember him

saying something to Adam about it.”

“You do? She was that memorable?” I put down my cracker. Suddenly, I felt ill.
“Not in a good way,” Lily replied. “He told Adam that she was so annoying he left right

afterward.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Caitlin.” I picked my cracker back up.
“Oh, right, I remember now,” Gab chimed in. “The one who kept talking about Facebook and

yelled out Mike when they had sex.”

“That’s definitely Caitlin.” I put the cracker down again. The image of Caitlin calling out his

name depressed me, even if she got it wrong.

“That was the night we told him you two would make a good couple,” Lily said with a smile.

“And he’s been infatuated with you ever since.”

“I think he’s always crushed on her,” Gab said. “Remember that weekend last summer when we

were all talking about Lily’s books? Mark found it very interesting that Beth was a fan of erotic
romance novels.”

“I do remember that,” Lily said. “Everyone was paying attention to you and Braden getting

engaged though.”

“And you and Adam denying your obvious desire for each other,” Jess teased.

“And Cameron struggling with how he should ask you out,” Gab informed Jess.
“Wow, we’re one big lusty group of people aren’t we?” Lily laughed. “Speaking of lust, what

happened after the fundraiser?”

“Uh uh,” Gab broke in, wagging her finger. “I think we should ask no detailed questions about

that for now. They both need to build up their confidence.”

“Did he kiss you, honey?” Jess asked, ignoring Gabrielle. She and Mark were good friends from

their public defender days.

“Oh my God, did he kiss me,” I said with a huge grin and they all broke out with cheers and

catcalls. Even Gabrielle. There may have been some applause.

“Did you have sex?” Lily asked, sitting forward eagerly.
“No. But if there was one good thing about running into Caitlin, it was that it gave him an opening

to tell me he had never gone the serious relationship route, but it wasn’t because he had baggage, but
just because he hadn’t wanted to in the past.”

“He said ‘in the past’?” Jess asked excitedly.
“Yes.” I beamed and another cacophony of squeals erupted. “Anyway, he brought me home and

we had this amazing conversation that lasted for hours. Then he asked me if it was date and he kissed
me goodnight. He’s going to go with me to the fundraiser next weekend.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Gab broke in. “No pressure. And let’s talk about something besides men.”

I loved my friends so much.

Monday 10:00 AM

I was sitting at my desk going over a grant proposal and trying to concentrate, but unfortunately,

we had thin walls. The office noises didn’t bother me, but I would occasionally hear Mark’s voice
coming from the hallway and I would get distracted. The figures in front of me would disappear into
memories of how good Mark tasted. I was about ready to give up and take a break anyway when
April, our receptionist, buzzed me.

“Hey Beth, there’s somebody here to see you, but she doesn’t have an appointment. She says

you’ll see her though. Caitlin Reynolds?” I rolled my eyes. What in the hell did Caitlin want, and how
did she know I wasn’t busy? I was tempted to make her wait, but I told myself to take the high road
and have more class than that.

“Send her back please,” I answered, putting away my work. A moment later there was a knock on

my door and Caitlin breezed in, without waiting for an invitation.

Knowing that she had hooked up with Mark made me look at her more critically. She was very

attractive, I admitted, tall and blonde like me, but her hair color wasn’t natural. She also had style,
and she was always dressed to the nines, but her skirts were just a little too tight.

I sighed, annoyed with myself for being jealous and catty. It probably wouldn’t be the last time I

ran into someone who Mark had sex with. Between the three of them, my brother, Adam and Mark had
probably hooked up with half the single women in Philadelphia.

“Hey Beth. I didn’t know you were a lawyer.”
“I’m not a lawyer. I’m the Director of Development. I’m in charge of fundraising, grant writing

and public relations.”

“Oh, but you work for a law firm, so you must know a lot about the law.” She sat down and

stared at me blankly. Caitlin wasn’t exactly an intellectual.

“No, actually, I know a lot about fundraising, grant writing and public relations. Did you just stop

in to say hi?” I asked with a smile.

“No. Why would I do that?” She looked confused.
“So, why are you here?” I willed myself to be patient.
“I need to talk to you about something. But it has to be a secret, like attorney/ client privilege.”
“Caitlin, I just told you, I’m not an attorney.”
“But you work for a legal practice. Doesn’t that count?” I wanted to slam my head against my

desk. On second thought, I wanted to slam Caitlin’s head against my desk.

“No, sorry, Caitlin, but attorney/client privilege is only between attorneys and clients. Hence the

name.”

“That sucks,” she said, looking depressed. “Well, can’t you just put it in the vault, and like,

promise not to tell?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea Caitlin…”
“I know where my grandfather’s missing painting is,” she broke in and my mouth almost popped

open. It was rumored that Caitlin’s grandfather had completed one last painting, one that he claimed
was his best work. Before it had been exhibited anywhere, though, he died and it disappeared.

“Why don’t you tell the police?” I sat forward eagerly. This case was famous.
“I can’t.” She bit her cheek and fidgeted in her chair.
“Why not?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Uh huh.” I sat back again. “Well, that’s kind of vague, Caitlin. I don’t know what you want me to

do. Have a fundraiser?”

“I need someone to help me get it back privately, without the cops getting involved. You know

all about art at least.”

“Caitlin, although I know something about art, I don’t think…”
“Beth, he left it to me, and it would be the only thing I would have of my own that would be of

any real value.” Her words made me grimace with disdain.

“So, what, you just want to sell it?”
“No! I swear. I would let them hang it in a museum or something. But it’s mine and it’s all I have.

And I liked my grandfather.” She sat forward, and grabbed onto the edge of my desk. Why did I
suddenly feel a little pang of sympathy?

“Even if I were a lawyer, we don’t handle those kinds of cases here,” I explained in a softer

tone. “We defend people wrongly accused and convicted of crimes.” She looked so earnest that I
almost wished I could help her, but what could I do?

“That’s it? That’s all you do here?”
“Some people consider that important,” I said, my skin prickling with indignation.
“Hey, is that Mike a lawyer?” Breathe, Beth.
“He is, but he works here with us. Helping innocent people seek justice. Sorry,” I said, glancing

at my watch.

“Okay, whatever. I guess you can’t help it if that’s all you do.” She got up and walked to the

door. “Will you be at Paul’s party next Saturday?”

“Yes, he’s raising money for the Gerard Foundation, and so I think I should be there to show

support from our organization. You’re going?”

“Yeah, I usually go to his parties. He was a friend of my grandfather’s,” she said as she opened

the door to leave. “Oh by the way, that Mike’s really got some mad sexy skills doesn’t he?” she asked
in a conspiratorial tone, wiggling her eyebrows at me. “Hey, does he have any friends he could fix me
up with for a night?”

“His closest friends are married,” I said smiling through gritted teeth.
“Oh well, it’s okay. Not like it’s hard to find a player.” She snorted and left.
The only thing that prevented me from leaping over my desk and slamming the door behind her,

was the knowledge that she was just an idiot, rather than intentionally cruel. Well, that, and the fact
that I don’t think I could actually leap over my desk. I took a deep cleansing breath, and pictured my
happy place, a peaceful deserted beach on a tropical island. And look, there was Mark in a bathing
suit…

Wednesday 2:00 PM

I was getting coffee in the break room when Mark strolled in and my pulse immediately sped up.

I had never met anyone who could affect my physiology so much just by entering a room. He was
looking quite yummy in his navy suit and red tie. I could always tell when he had just gotten out of
court. His stride was more forceful and his eyes had a certain shine to them. It was almost like he
radiated adrenaline.

“Hey there,” he said with a smile. He paused and his gaze went to the steaming mug in my hand. I

couldn’t say that I blamed him for being concerned. I put it down on the counter and he approached
tentatively. Oh, and there it was, Armani Code. That stuff was becoming like heroine to me. I resisted
the temptation to breathe it in deeply.

“Hey,” I said, returning his smile.
“So, how are you?” he asked with a slightly husky tone to his voice, staring at my body for a

second and dragging his eyes back up to mine. I had on one of my favorite outfits, a lilac paisley dress
that hugged my curves without being too tight. Just sayin’.

“Great, thanks. How are you?” If he sounded husky, I sounded like I had been drinking bourbon

and smoking for fifty years. I started twisting my fingers together but I caught myself quickly and
stopped. He twisted his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Great. Oh, hey, apparently, the Third Circuit judge who I chatted with the other night is going to

appoint us to a big case. Braden was thrilled.”

“That’s wonderful. I have some good news too. First of all, I did get all of us into the mystery

weekend. And secondly, my parents are going to be traveling a lot soon, and my mom has offered us
use of the house in Bryn Mawr. I thought we could have a Justice Project pool party to really kick of
summer.”

“A pool party…” He was starting to look a little flushed.
“Is something wrong?” Oh man, was I being too pushy?
“No, I was just remembering seeing you out by the pool at your parents’ place once, wearing this

little white bikini. You had your belly button pierced, and I noticed what kind of looked like it might
be a tattoo right about…” he reached out and gently touched my hip.

“You’re very observant. That was a tattoo,” I said, grinning. “I remember that you have one of

Lady Justice in the middle of your back.”

“You remember that?”
“Yeah, it fascinated me.” I was starting to breathe more heavily.
“What do you have there on your hip?” He sounded really husky at that point.
“You’ll just have to find out for yourself someday,” I said and gave him a flirtatious look. His

expression, in turn, took on a distinctly predatory quality. Steady, Beth. Don’t. Injure. Him.

“I’m going to be in my office for a while,” he said abruptly and left. Damn, I probably scared him

away.

6:00 PM

It was six o’clock and I was about to head home. As I walked to my office door, I almost ran into

Mark, who was coming down the hall. He stepped back just in time.

“Ha! No collision this time,” he said with a smile.
I didn’t answer immediately because I was busy noticing that he was dressed for the gym. His

legs and his biceps were muscular, and there was the outline of a six-pack against the snug fabric of
his t-shirt. Then there were the shorts. Tight shorts. And, oh wow. I felt like I wanted to cry.
Suddenly, it dawned on me that I was openly checking out his equipment and I felt my face get hot. I
looked up, and saw him trying not to smile.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to… ogle you.”
“It’s okay, I ogled you surreptitiously earlier.” He gave me the flirty smile. “I’m just headed for

the gym, to work out and relieve some tension.”

“I’m going…” Suddenly, I couldn’t think straight. Where was I going again? “Uh, home. To

relieve some tension,” I mumbled. “Painting! I’ll paint for a while to unwind.” I wandered out the
door dazedly. He followed close behind and we got into the elevator together.

“Beth,” he said, a few beats after the doors slid shut.
“Hmm?” I asked, turning to look at him and willing myself to keep my eyes above his neckline,

as elevator music played in the background. Just then the doors slid open on the floor below and a
group of people got on with us.

“Nothing,” he replied, stepping closer to me to make room. “I’ll talk to you about it some other

time.” I rode the rest of the way to the lobby, filled with curiosity, and intensely aware of every
centimeter where our bodies were lightly touching. I went home that night and painted. And then I
relieved some tension.

Friday 4:00 PM

We took our seats around the conference table and the meeting began. First we discussed how we

soon would be taking on several new staff members. We were really growing. Then, when the
lawyers started discussing their current caseloads, my mind started to drift.

As usual these days, it drifted to Mark. Specifically, I started having one of my favorite

daydreams, about the two of us being alone in the office one evening, and having sex right there on the
conference table. The meeting went much more quickly after that. I caught Mark giving me curious
looks a couple of times, and I wondered if my expression gave away what I was thinking about.

When the meeting concluded, we all filed back to our offices. Liz stopped me in the hallway a

few minutes later, as I was coming back from the ladies room, and asked me if I would drop a file off
with Mark for her. I took the file down to his office, but he wasn’t there, so I just put it on his desk.
When I turned to go, though, I realized that I had dropped a paper. So I picked it up and bent over the
desk to pop it into the file. Just then, I heard Mark’s voice.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a minute,” he called out to somebody. Before I could move, he spoke

again. “Oh my God. You’re bent over my desk. And you look even better like that than I imagined. All
those times.” I quickly stood up and turned around in time to see him rake both hands through his hair.
“Oh shit! I can’t believe I’m sexually harassing you in a law office.”

“You’re not sexually harassing me.” Before I could stop myself, the words were out of my mouth.

“It would be sexual harassment if it was unwanted attention. Mark, I want you to bend me over your
desk.”

He closed his door and came toward me, pulling me into his arms and bringing his mouth

crashing down on mine. I responded by offering him my lips, my tongue, my whole body, arching my
back and burying my fingers in his hair as we consumed each other wildly. His hand slid up between
us and he began kneading my breast through my blouse, making me want to rip it off, the blouse, not
his hand.

I moaned quietly into his mouth, and it seemed to drive him crazy. He backed me up against the

desk and thrust his hips against me, but then he groaned and broke away, taking a step back, and
staring up at the ceiling. I followed his gaze, half expecting to see God, but all I saw was florescent
lighting.

“We have to stop,” he said, breathing hard.
“I know. I’m sorry,” I said, making an effort to compose myself.
“I haven’t been this desperate since I was a teenager. I can’t concentrate. You know those Viagra

commercials where they say go to the hospital if you have an erection that lasts longer than four
hours?” I nodded. “Well, how long is our work day?”

“I can’t concentrate either; I think about you all the time. And you’re not the only one with a thing

for office furniture. I’ve thought about your desk, too and during that meeting, I fantasized about
having sex with you on the conference table.”

“Oh my God.” He groaned again. “Don’t tell me that!”
“Mark, I can’t go on like this. I’m going through so many batteries.”
“I wanted to try to take it slowly, because I didn’t want to screw up, but Beth, I want you so

much. There’s no blood left in my brain.”

“I was so jealous of Caitlin.”
“Of… what?! Beth! She thinks my name is Mike. I didn’t even remember her name. I’m not sure I

ever knew it. The only thing I remember about her is how annoying she was.”

“Still, she’s had sex with you and I haven’t.”
“We can remedy that.”
“Can we?” I asked breathlessly.
“We have to. I’m running out of office furniture to fantasize about banging you on, and I’m

Googling ‘injury’ and ‘excessive masturbation’.”

“Okay, well we have a date tomorrow,” I said, in a throaty voice and I saw his eyes darken and

start to look hazy as he came closer again.

“And what are the female rules when it comes to physical contact on the second date?” he asked.
“There aren’t really any hard and fast rules.” I paused. “Is it just me, or did that sound kind of

dirty?”

“Everything you say sounds dirty to me. In a good way.”
“Will you come out to the pub tonight with everybody? I mean, you’re not going to go out…

somewhere else tonight?”

“No! What do you think; I’m going to make a farewell appearance at the clubs?” He was leaning

down, about to kiss me again, when the sound of a quick knock and the door opening surprised us.

“Hey, you’d get lost?” Adam asked, and Mark spun around quickly. “Oh! Sorry, didn’t mean to

interrupt.” He looked amused, as usual.

“And yet there you stand, interrupting,” Mark replied. Adam laughed and I got the feeling that it

was an inside joke.

6:00 PM

Happy Hour at the pub was entertaining. We all had a good time joking around and talking about

the week, but as it turned out, nobody wanted to stay all that late.

Cam and Jess left first. They wanted to enjoy the warm late May evening by grilling salmon on

their deck, and before they left, they invited everyone else over to BBQ with them. Gab and Braden
took them up on it, but said they had to go get Bruno first, and they left shortly afterward.

Adam and Lily had thanked them, but declined, citing “plans” for the evening. They had been

flirting the whole time they were there, so it wasn’t hard to figure out what they had planned. They
traded some suggestive looks, whispered something in each other’s ears, and wished us a good night.
Then, Mark and I were alone at last, well, alone with a bar full of other people.

We stared at each other silently for a moment, and that energy was there between us again,

pulling us together. I was starting to get much more confident now that our feelings were finally out in
the open. I hadn’t even injured him lately.

“So, everything is on the table tomorrow physically? So to speak?” he asked, taking the last sip

of his beer, and looking at me in a way that made my lady bits warm and tingly.

“Yes,” I smiled and took a deep breath. Then I laid my hand on his leg, and gently traced a path

up his inseam with my fingertip. I was actually hoping that we wouldn’t have to wait until the next
day.

“I love how you say that word, and I want you to touch me like that tomorrow night, and the next

morning, and possibly into the afternoon, depending on how much stamina I have.”

“You don’t want me to touch you now, though?” I started to withdraw my hand but he stopped me

and put it back.

“You can touch me. We’re in a crowded room; so there are limits on how far it can go. If we

were alone right now, though, I would ask you to stop, because otherwise we wouldn’t make it until
tomorrow night.”

“Why can’t we be together tonight too?” I wondered if that would be too much togetherness for

him at once.

“There may not be any female rules on point, but there’s a code that guys live by, and it will

make everything go a lot more smoothly down the road if I stick to it.”

“And part of the code is that you can’t be with a woman two nights in a row?” I asked, furrowing

my brows in confusion.

“No, it’s not that. There needs to be date-like activity before you and I go there. Trust me on this;

I’m setting you up for girlfriend status.”

“What kind of date-like activity?” I went back to tracing a path up his inner thigh with my

fingertip. There was something about touching him under the table in the middle of a crowded bar that
excited me.

“If a guy is interested in a relationship with you, he makes sure that the first time you have sex,

the evening includes something special.”

“Like a fundraiser for a charitable foundation?” I asked dubiously.
“It’s a party. That’s close enough. Braden went the fundraiser route, and Adam even stretched it

to a book signing.”

“But a bar doesn’t count?”
“That’s hooking up activity, and it confers one-night-stand status.”

“There are a lot of rules on the male side of dating.”
“Not rules, a code.”
“Does the code cover the actual sex part?” I asked curiously.
“Well, it does in some ways, but nothing you need to worry about. Trust me, it works in your

favor.”

“So what’s the plan for after the fundraiser?” My fingers traveled higher still. Now I was within

inches of what I had caught a glimpse of under those gym shorts, and his breathing picked up.

“Then I want you to come back to my place. I would really love to spend the night with you.” He

paused looking pleased, and then went on. “I want to have a lot of time, and a lot of space and a lot of
condoms. By the way, I’m healthy. You’re not on the…”

“No, but I’m healthy too, and I have a prescription for it. It’s actually in my desk at work.” He

looked at me curiously and I shrugged. “I had my annual exam recently. Call me an optimist. So, what
do you think?”

“What do I think? I think I love your optimism, and I think that we should go back to the office,

and I think that I’m so happy right now I might cry.”

“I guess that means you would like me to fill the prescription,” I said and smiled. “It still takes a

week, though.”

“I’ve been waiting since puberty. I can wait a week, but no sense wasting time.” He tossed down

some cash on the table, grabbed my hand and led me toward the door. “We can stop off at a drug store
after we leave the office,” he said over his shoulder.

“What’s the rush?” I asked when we got to the sidewalk. “There are tons of places open on

Saturdays.

“But if you start tonight, we’ll be good to go by next Friday. And as I stated, there is no code

provision against two nights in a row, so we can start a really great tradition even earlier.”

“Thank you counselor, and good thinking.” I was onboard with that plan. No more Friday night

dates with a Chihuahua.

Chapter Eight

Mark

We were back at our building in minutes. We smiled and waved casually at the security guy at

the desk, signing in and showing our identification cards, and then, we headed for the elevator and
rode to our floor, listening to piped in mood music.

When we arrived, I punched in the alarm code to our suite and we entered, heading straight to

Beth’s office. She sat down in her desk chair and dug through her drawer. When she found the
prescription, she stuck it in her purse. Then she looked up at me. And kept looking.

I was sitting in her armchair, with my tie loosened and my shirtsleeves rolled up. I had a five

o’clock shadow and my hair was probably half wild. No wonder she was staring. I must have looked
like shit.

“What?” I asked.
“This code of yours… can it be interpreted liberally?” she asked sitting back, crossing her legs,

and striking a contemplative pose. Immediately, my dick sat up and took notice.

“What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.
“Well, how do you define ‘sex’ for example?”
“How do I define sex?” I tried not to smile. “Remember the black wire and the computer port?” I

couldn’t help teasing her. She was so damned adorable.

“So, if you don’t insert part J into part K, it doesn’t count?” Uh oh. I had walked into that one.
“Well, wait a minute, Mr. Clinton…”
“We’ve kissed and that was okay,” she pointed out, pushing her advantage. “I mean it was better

than okay, but it allowable, even without date-like activity.”

“Are you negotiating with me?” Holy shit, this was hot.
“We’re here alone, and kissing is allowable,” she went on.
“The thing is Beth, kissing you is a particularly stimulating experience for me. It can get a bit

frustrating after a while.” I was already headed for blue ball land after this little bargaining session.

“Well, what if while the kissing was occurring there was also some touching?” she asked in a

throaty voice and I felt my dick twitch.

That was it. I was done. The one thing Braden had asked, that I not do. And I was about to do it.

It wasn’t during work, though. It was after hours. That made a difference didn’t it? Make one last
attempt, Mark. You owe him that.

“I don’t think it would be in the spirit of the code to hang out with you in a bar and then have you

give me a hand-job as soon as we’re alone.”

“I think that it would, arguably, be a demonstration of your respect for me, and of your self-

control, if we did touch each other, but you still didn’t actually insert part J into part K until
tomorrow night.”

There was a moment of charged silence where we just stared at each other and then I conceded.

If I was going to die, this was at least one hell of a way to go. “Are you sure you’re not a lawyer?”

She smiled, got up and walked over and shut the window blinds and turned on a small lamp on

her bookcase. I got up and locked her door, went over and sat down on her loveseat, smiled and
patted the cushion beside me. She wanted this and I needed this. I didn’t have to ask twice. She
crossed the room quickly, sat down and reached up to bury one hand in my hair and run the other

along my back.

I kissed her pretty demandingly, pushing her lips apart rubbing my tongue up against hers. She

didn’t resist at all, just accepted me into her mouth and leaned back, pulling me with her. I knew I
could have had her ten different ways at that moment, but I decided to stick with the plan and be as
minimally sexual as possible, while still making sure we both got off, of course. I really am a
gentleman after all.

There wasn’t much room to work with, but somehow we managed to semi-recline, while kissing

and touching each other. I slid my hand under her blouse and ran it over the curve of her hip. Jesus,
she felt good, so soft and warm. She was tall, but she was voluptuous. What a freaking great
combination that was. I was so hard it was almost painful.

She squirmed and arched her back, so I moved my hand higher and slid it under the soft fabric of

her bra. Oh man, her cup overfloweth. Her tits were perfect, exactly how I liked, full and heavy. I
wanted to rub my … Okay, focus on her, Mark. The way she shivered and moaned into my mouth
when I rubbed my thumb across the tip almost made me lose it.

Her hands traveled down and undid my belt and pants. I was just trying to stay in control. I

desperately wanted to be buried deep inside her. She slid one hand under the waistband of my boxers,
and wrapped it around my cock and I almost came right then. When she started moving her fist up and
down, I groaned and started reciting baseball stats in my head.

Oh God, she was using just the right amount of pressure and just the right speed. I couldn’t

remember this ever feeling so good. Nothing What a Boy Should Know prepares you for this. My
head was getting fuzzy when I moved my hand away from her breast and pushed her skirt up. Sliding
it into her panties, I discovered how ready she was for me. Okay, Mark, not going to fuck her. Not
going to fuck her. Why not? Not going to fuck her!

She breathed out sharply and started making this little keening noise that was probably the hottest

thing I had ever heard when I slid my fingers deeper into all that hot, wet goodness and began teasing
her pussy. She was panting and pushing against my hand so desperately that I didn’t want to tease her
too much. Besides, I didn’t know long I could hold on. I felt like I was going to explode.

“I can’t wait to be inside you,” I said as I slid my fingers in and out of her. I started circling her

clit with my thumb and I felt her pussy clench. The rhythm of her stroking faltered, and I realized I
was going to have to get her off first, which was fine with me. I wanted to watch her come.

She was whimpering quietly, breathing fast and rocking her hips against me as I pumped my

fingers in and out, rubbing her inner wall and her clit along the way. I was so focused on her pleasure
at that point, I didn’t even mind that she had stopped stroking me all together. She was becoming as
tight as a vice and I felt her muscles stiffen. I knew she was on the edge, so I leaned down and
whispered in her ear, “You’re going to come. I can feel it.”

That did it. She arched her back and moaned. Her body shook and I felt her pussy start to spasm

as she lost control. Her face was flushed and her eyes were squeezed closed. When she opened them
again a moment later they looked dazed and unfocused. She lay there gasping and then she seemed to
pull out of it and she looked up at me. Adam said it would be more intense. I think that was the
moment when I understood.

Still looking into my eyes she firmly gripped me at the base of my cock again and slid her fist up

to the tip. I was so hard that I could feel myself pulse in her hand and I felt the pressure and the hot
ticklish sensation in my balls that let me know I wasn’t far behind her.

Our mouths met again and our tongues tangled together, licking and thrusting against each other

while she stroked me. My hips began to pump in rhythm with her hand and I felt my muscles tensing. I

had to break the kiss because I was so close. I was so out of it I could barely form a coherent thought.
I sucked in a breath and pushed my hips forward when I felt the pressure start to build beyond the
limit and I reached the point of no return.

“I’m going to come,” I said hoarsely and shoved my shirt out of the way. I groaned and went still

as I exploded in her hand, pulsing in hot waves against my stomach. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Then,
I finally breathed out raggedly and my muscles relaxed. I lay there panting, and lightheaded, as a
feeling of euphoric exhaustion settled over me. “I come a hell of a lot harder in your hand than in
mine,” I said finally. I was spent. I could have slept for a month.

“That was so sexy,” she mumbled in a sated voice and I smiled. I would actually liked to have

held her tightly against me, but it would have caused some gossip at her dry cleaners. It was a
wonderful moment while it lasted. And then we heard Bruce’s voice in the hall.

“Hey, what are you guys doing here?”
“Oh, fuck!” I growled. She quickly reached for a side table, grabbed a handful of tissues and

gave some of them to me, as we set about cleaning ourselves up.

Like lightening, we got up and started fixing our disheveled clothes. Making sure she was decent,

I went over to the door and popped my head out. Across the hall, Adam popped his head out of Lily’s
office.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” I asked.
“Probably the same thing you’re doing here.”
“Hey guys,” Bruce said. “Are you having a late meeting or something?”
“We stopped by to drop something off,” Adam answered.
“Uh, so did we,” I volunteered. Oh shit. Brilliant, Mark.
“O…kay,” Bruce said, sounding dubious.
Beth walked out into the hall with her head held high and a cheerful smile on her face. Adam

walked out into the hallway, and Lily joined him, looking as flushed and as rapidly put together as
Beth did.

“Hi, everyone!” Beth said brightly. And then I heard a little Chihuahua-like bark and I almost

cried. Braden and Gabrielle walked in with Bruno on a leash. What was this, a reunion?

“What’s everybody doing here?” Braden asked.
“They were dropping something off,” Bruce replied looking at Adam and Lily. “And so were

they.” He glanced over at Beth and me.

“We were all here together,” Lily emphasized.
“Okay,” Braden said, giving her a funny look. “We stopped by to pick something up. I left my

cell phone here,” he said, heading for his office.

“The four of you have fun together,” Bruce said, heading off toward the library.
“Hey honey, maybe the Patterson’s want to have a key party with us next weekend,” Adam said

with a smile. “Uh oh, Mark’s glaring. Is that a ‘no’?”

“I just wanted to let Braden know that they weren’t alone,” Lily explained.
“Wait, you guys were here together?” Gab asked quietly.
“Not together, together,” Lily answered. “Just at the same time.”
“Why?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“We didn’t plan it,” I said through gritted teeth.
“And who is Bruce together with?” Gab asked, looking confused. Just then Braden came back

out of his office.

“Okay, well, see you guys Sunday,” he said as he headed for the door. “Come on baby, that

salmon won’t wait all night.”

“Have fun,” she said following her husband out.
“If anyone ever asks, and by anyone, I mean Braden…” Mark said when the door had closed

behind them.

“As far as I know, you were dropping something off,” Adam said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’d

like to get the missus home so that we can finish dropping something off.”

“Have a good night,” Lily said. We waved and Beth wished her a good night too. As soon as they

were gone she turned to me.

“You have no idea how much that turned me on.”
“Me too,” I said, grinning like a fool I’m sure.
“Not just what we did, but the fact that we did it here. I’ve never done that before. I mean, well,

I’ve done that before, but only in a bedroom.”

“Never anywhere else?” Wow.
“Never. Not in an office, not in a car… not in a club, not in a bar.” She smiled at me and I

wanted carry her off to do her on the conference room table. I don’t think Bruce would have
appreciated it though.

“The door was locked, you know. Nobody would have walked in. I just didn’t want it to be quite

so obvious what we were doing.”

“I know. It’s not the danger of getting caught that excites me. It’s just doing it somewhere

different. I’ve always been so careful. I’m not even sure it was necessary, though. It’s not like
paparazzi follow me around.”

“Well, I would love to explore this with you further, but we have to be exceptionally well

behaved together. There’s a lot at stake here.”

“Mark, I know you want to be very good with me, and I’m fine with that. But I also want to be a

little bad with you. Maybe we could compromise and just be careful.”

“What are you suggesting exactly?” And why was I simultaneously so worried and so turned on?
“The fundraisers have themes. Maybe we could play a little, sneak off for a sexy tryst?”
“At the fundraisers? Where the paparazzi actually are? That was one of the two places I

promised Braden we would never be intimate. The other one was the office. I’m obviously doing a
great job so far.”

“You discussed where we would be intimate with Braden?” Uh oh. She didn’t sound happy. I

knew there were rules!

“I wanted him to give me his blessing. He’s one of my best friends and you’re his sister. He said

he was happy for us, but he asked that we please don’t mess around at the office or when we’re
representing The Justice Project.”

“Well, your intentions were good,” she said. She no longer sounded annoyed and I relaxed again.

“Just for the record, though, I don’t consult with my brother about my sex life.”

“I’m glad, believe me. Still, he has a point when it comes to not letting it interfere with work. I

was thinking that we should also limit sex to weekends, just for now. I don’t concentrate very well
when I’m exhausted, and until I get used to being with you, I have a feeling I’m going to be keeping us
busy at night.”

“That’s good,” she said breathily, looking a little dazed. I smiled and she seemed to give herself

a mental shake. “I mean that’s fair. Okay, only on weekends for now, not in the office, or at
fundraisers, but maybe we can have a sexy tryst somewhere else?”

“I’m sure I could come up with something,” I said and she smiled a distinctly happy smile.

Chapter Nine

Beth

The fundraiser the following evening was being held at the Gerard estate. Like my own family,

the Gerard family had established a private charitable foundation that supported various worthy
causes and community-based projects.

Mark and I looked like we had just stepped out of the Roaring 20’s. He was nattily dressed in a

maroon blazer with white stripes, white trousers and a black bow tie. I wore a mauve-colored dress
cut in a drop-waist style, with ropes of pearls around my neck and a sequined band with a feather on
my head.

We exited our car, and once again, faced a gauntlet of waiting journalists and photographers, a

necessary evil to bring publicity to a cause. They stood waiting in a roped-off area just outside the
festivities, and one had to walk a path right through them to get to the party. I felt like I was navigating
between the Scylla and Charybdis.

The onslaught started with the more serious journalists who were interested in a political tidbit.

“Ms. Pierce, when will your father be back in the district?… Ms. Pierce, is your father planning to?
… How is Senator Pierce planning to vote on?…”

Then came the paparazzi and the tabloid reporters, who were less formal with their address.

“You’re looking quite handsome this evening Mark,” said the female journalist who had eyed him up
the week before. “Will you be a regular attendee at these functions going forward?”

“As long as Ms. Pierce can put up with my company,” he answered and I reached out and took

his hand and cameras started clicking everywhere.

“So, you’re confirming that the two of you are an item now?” shouted the same obnoxious guy

with the slicked down black hair and bling who had been at the art museum. Once again, he was
standing next to the brassy haired reporter.

We didn’t bother to answer him; we just put our heads down and kept walking toward the party.

The questions didn’t stop, though. The reporters and paparazzi just shouted at us more loudly as we
retreated.

“Any wedding plans?”… “Any political ambitions of your own Mark?”
As we got closer, I saw that the trees outside the mansion had been strung with lights, and a jazz

quartet was playing on the porch. People were milling about holding champagne flutes, and laughter
filled the air. It was like a scene from another era.

“Well, this is impressive,” he said, leaning down to speak into my ear, so that I could hear him

over the din of the crown and the lively jazz music.

“Paul Gerard is famous for hosting fabulous parties. Looks like this one will be no exception,” I

answered as he led me up the stone steps to the entry of the mansion. I nodded to the mayor on the
way in.

When we got inside the massive entry hall, there was even more music, more champagne and a

bigger crowd. A stage had been set up in the center of the room and four women dressed like flappers
did a lively Charleston there. Mark plucked two glasses of bubbly from the tray of a passing waiter
and handed one to me, as he looked around taking everything in. The Gerard mansion was the perfect
setting for a party of this type, as the décor was Art Deco and quite elegant.

As with the previous event, we didn’t need to do anything other than find a place to stand. People

“working the room” made their way over to us and we chatted with some new people and some from

the weekend before. Our conversations always wound their way back to the mission of our practice
and the difference we were making, and I had a feeling that we had impressed some important
potential donors. Mark was doing a fantastic job charming people, and we made a great team. I was
actually having a very good time, until I turned around and saw Caitlin bearing down on us.

“I’m glad you’re here. Come on before he sees us talking,” she said urgently, looking around the

room as if she were searching for someone in the crowd.

“Who sees us? What are you talking about?” I asked, annoyed already. Why couldn’t she just

leave me alone? Every time I saw her these days, I pictured Mark kissing her and it made my stomach
roil.

“We don’t have time,” she said, clutching onto me. I didn’t want to go anywhere with Caitlin, but

she seemed so desperate, and, frankly, I wondered why.

“What exactly do you want Caitlin?” Mark asked, reaching down, and removing her hand from

my arm.

“My grandfather was a famous painter and his last painting was stolen ten years-ago. It’s here

and I need to show Beth. She’ll recognize it.”

“It’s here?” Okay, now I was intrigued.
“We have to go now,” she said, still searching the room frantically. I nodded to Mark to let him

know I wanted to go and at least see what she was talking about.

“Okay, but we can’t be gone long,” Mark said, putting his arm around me as we followed Caitlin

out of the entry hall. She seemed to know her way around, which struck me as odd. We were heading
away from the party and into a private part of the house.

“Caitlin, where are we going?” I asked, starting to feel uncomfortable. My family’s home was

quite impressive, but this place was amazing. It was huge and everywhere I looked I saw expensive
furnishings and art. It was more like a palace than someone’s house.

“I told you, to see the painting. It’s in his private study, but we’ll have to get in from outside,”

she said over her shoulder, looking around nervously as we made our way through winding hallways.
Initially, we passed catering staff or servants bustling about, but eventually, there was nobody but us.

She was moving very quickly and before I even realized what she was doing, she had opened a

window and climbed out! What the fuck? This was getting weirder by the moment, but I had to admit
that my curiosity had really been piqued.

“No! No way, Beth,” Mark said stopping dead in his tracks.
“Mark, the painting she’s talking about is legendary. People aren’t even sure it existed. She

seems very sincere, and it makes me wonder.”

“If we get caught…”
“Caught what? Climbing through a window to the outside of the house? Sure, we’ll look kind of

nutty, but we’re not really doing anything illegal are we?”

“Oh… fuck!” he growled. What is it with the women in your circle? You all want me to dress up

in costume and climb through windows for you.”

“I’ll make it up to you later,” I said, squeezing his hand.
“Promises, promises,” he grumbled but he followed me. Just then, Caitlin stuck her head back in.
“What’s taking you so long?” she hissed and Mark muttered something obscene in response. We

got to the window and looked around quickly to make sure nobody was watching, then he helped me
climb through, out onto a back porch facing the rear lawn.

“How do you know your way around Paul Gerard’s house so well?” I asked suspiciously, as

Mark came through the window behind me.

“There’s no time for that now,” she answered. “He’s supposed to be making a speech soon, so he

should be in the main hall, but we can’t take any chances. Come on.”

She took off, moving quickly again. It was dark out and I could just barely see her up ahead.

Thankfully, there was nobody else in sight. She stopped and reached into her bag pulling something
out. A moment later, a door swung open.

“Hurry,” she said quietly. Mark and I caught up and followed her into a small room that looked

like it was used for storage. She went to another door, and opening it a crack, peeked through. Then
she turned and signaled for us to follow. The door led to a long hallway, and Caitlin stealthily went
directly to a door on the right, once again, opening it a crack and peeking inside, and then signaling
for us to follow.

We entered a large room with a high ceiling. There was enough light coming in from outside to

see that the walls were lined with books. Caitlin headed for a small alcove in the back of the room. It
was darker in there, and I could barely see anything, but she reached into her bag again and took out a
little flashlight.

“Okay, this is starting to feel not quite legal,” Mark said in a tense voice. “In fact, it started to

feel not quite legal way back there.”

“Shh! Not so loud, Mike. We’re not going to take anything.”
She approached the back wall of the alcove and shined the light on a painting hanging there. I

walked over and stared at it with fascination. It was a portrait of an elderly woman, holding an empty
bowl and it was beautifully rendered. The woman’s expression was so vivid that she looked like she
was made of flesh and blood. I could even see the fine blue line of a vein under her thin skin.

I examined the painting as carefully as I could from my position, the brush strokes, the color

palate… It certainly looked like a Reynolds, and not just any Reynolds, but one of the best I had ever
seen. This painting was a contemporary masterpiece.

“Unbelievable,” I mumbled with awe.
“See, what I mean,” Caitlin asked triumphantly. “You recognize it, don’t you?”
“It definitely looks like your grandfather’s work,” I answered. “I’ve never seen this painting

before, though.”

“Nobody has but me and the people who stole it.”
“You saw it before it was stolen? You could identify it?” I asked.
“Yes. And this is it. I’m positive. I remember seeing it in his studio.”
“Maybe Paul didn’t know.” Even I didn’t believe what I was saying. How could a collector not

know that a painting he owned was a missing masterpiece?

“Of course he knew, Beth! He was involved. He had to be.”
“How did you get the key to get in?” Mark asked suddenly.
“What difference does it make?” Caitlin asked. Suddenly, we heard a noise that sounded like

someone talking just outside the door to the study. “We have to get out of here!”

She immediately took off for another window. Not having much choice, Mark and I followed.

She opened it quickly and climbed through with us right behind her. As soon as we were on the porch,
she pulled it closed and we all headed off in the dark.

Chapter Ten

Mark

Caitlin took off through the dark and Beth and I followed her. It was obvious, again, that she

knew her way around more than the average party guest. When we got to the window where we had
originally entered I confronted her.

“Okay, look,” I said, feeling very annoyed. “If that painting really is stolen, then your only choice

is to go to the police and report it. Although, I think they’re probably going to want to know how you
got a key to this place too.”

“If I go to the police something very bad could happen to me. If you guys can’t help me, I’ll just

have to figure out some other way.” Then she opened the window and started to climb back through.
“Are you coming or not?”

“We’ll walk around to the front, and go through the door like normal people if you don’t mind,” I

said taking Beth’s hand and leading her off through the darkness.

“Mark,” Beth said when we got some distance away, “Do you think she’s right and Gerard was

involved somehow with the theft?” I stopped walking and faced her. We were standing under a tree
filled with lights, so I could see her expression and she looked concerned.

“I don’t know and I don’t want to know. She’s a little too familiar with the floor plan to be a

stranger here, and she has a key to get into the house. Something is definitely not right with that.”

“It’s just that, the painting, it looked authentic. You have to understand, if that’s really the

Reynolds, it would be like finding the Rembrandt that was stolen from the Gardiner Museum.”

“All the more reason why she should go to the cops.”
“Unless she’s really in danger if she goes to the police.”
“No good can come from us getting involved in this. We don’t even know for sure this is the right

painting. You looked at it from at least five feet away by flashlight.”

“So, you don’t think we should do anything?”
“No, Beth, I don’t. I don’t even know if she has a legal claim she can make. Besides, I don’t think

that Braden would be thrilled about us representing his nonprofit by climbing through windows with
some nutty broad, who I hooked up with once.”

“I know. I know. But it’s just not right and he shouldn’t get away with it. Even though Caitlin is

annoying, and an airhead, she’s not really a bad person. I hate to see someone steal her last memento
of her grandfather. And she said she would lend it to a museum. It breaks my heart to see a painting
like that locked away where nobody can take pleasure in its beauty.” She looked so earnest and
something stirred inside me. I got that warm feeling again, the one that made me want to hold her all
night.

“And that’s why you’re different than anyone else I’ve met, because you care so much. You care

about justice, and beautiful paintings, but most of all, you care about people, even annoying people
who put you in embarrassing situations.”

I looked into her eyes and I all I could think of was how much I wanted to kiss her. I couldn’t

resist. She was like a drug. Our lips pressed together lightly, and then I slid my arms around her
waist, grabbed that gorgeous round little bottom and pulled her closer, increasing the pressure. Just
like before, she gave herself to me willingly, and it was more than just hot; it was passionate, electric
and utterly intoxicating. I was getting lost in the sensation, running my hands over her body, tasting

champagne on her tongue, and listening to those sexy little sounds she always makes.

The clicking sound registered somewhere on the edge of my consciousness and I came crashing

to Earth. I pulled away and looked around but it was hard to see in the darkness surrounding us.

“I heard a camera. Fucking paparazzi,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Come on, let’s get back to the party,” she said taking my hand, and quickly led me off toward the

front of the house. The band was still playing outside, and people were still milling about, laughing
and talking, wandering in and out of the mansion.

We never actually made it back inside, as we kept getting stopped by people wanting to chat.

Inevitably, Gerard came over to do his duty as host and say hello. I wondered how Beth would handle
it, but as usual, she was the picture of grace and class.

“Beth, tell your mother that I’m looking forward to attending the Pierce Foundation event this

year,” Gerard said warmly.

“If it’s half as good as this one, it should be a huge success,” she replied. Even though she was

smiling, I noticed that her voice was cooler than usual.

“Well, fill me in on the details,” he said with a smile fixed on his face.
She began describing her mother’s plans for their fundraiser, but I noticed that while he nodded

as if he were listening, he seemed distracted, and he kept looking at something or someone over her
right shoulder. I followed his gaze but all I saw were the journalists and photographers questioning
people who were leaving. Miss Flirty and Mr. Greasy were still there, and still standing next to each
other. Maybe they were from the same tabloid.

“Will you be coming to my mystery weekend as well?” he asked, still seeming distracted.
“Several of us from The Justice Project will be there,” she answered, giving him a stony look.
“You’re an attorney with Braden’s practice, Mark?” Gerard asked, now paying attention to me.
“Yes, we’ve been friends since law school,” I answered.
“Well, you and Beth make a striking couple,” he commented. “Perhaps there’ll be another Pierce

family celebration soon.” He patted me on the arm and Beth and I smiled politely as if everyone on
their second date wanted to hear people hint about future wedding plans. No pressure.

Eventually, he moved on to other guests, and we moved back inside. We hit the buffet line, filling

plates of food and finding a place to sit, where we enjoyed some lively jazz accompaniment as we
ate.

“I’m sorry about the questions and the hints. I know it’s weird for reporters to ask about wedding

plans when we haven’t even had sex yet,” she said, popping a grape into her mouth. Lucky grape.

“By tomorrow that won’t be an issue anymore.” Thank you God.
“Let’s finish this and get out of here,” she said, letting out a deep breath.
“Sounds good to me,” I answered enthusiastically. I had planned this night out and I was ready to

rock. “When we get to your place why don’t you grab some clothes for tomorrow and change into
something more comfortable.” And more easily removable, I added mentally.

“Okay,” she said giving me a look that went straight to my dick.
“When we get back to my place, I’ll change, and then we can maybe dance? I really liked

dancing with you.”

“You know, for someone without a lot of dating experience, you’re doing a really good job.”
“Good. Because I want this to be a night we’ll remember. Now we need to call Louis or I’m

going to re-examine my position on fundraiser trysts, and that’s probably not a great idea.”

Chapter Eleven

Beth

Louis brought the car around, and we got into the backseat. Mark rested a hand on my leg, and

traced a path much like the one I had traced at O’Malley’s. I swear that if Louis didn’t work for my
father, I would have put the divider up and suggested some limo sex for real. I was dying to at least
make out but I had known Louis since I was a kid. It would be like making out in front of my uncle.
Thankfully, there wasn’t a lot of traffic and we were back in the city in no time. Louis dropped us off,
and Mark and I went up to my apartment.

He waited for me in the living room while I went into change. I decided to be daring. I found a

light, loose cotton mini dress and I slipped it over my head without a scrap on underneath. I found a
decently comfortable pair of strappy heels, and with some moisturizer on my legs, and a dab of Jour
d’Hermès, on my pulse points I was done.

I did toss some undies in an overnight bag along with some comfy clothes, make-up and

necessary toiletries, and I made sure to take my pill. When I came back into the room Mark was
examining a painting on my wall. He turned around and his eyes went to my legs.

“That’s one of mine,” I said, wondering what he thought of the explosion of color.
“I know I recognize it,” he said, surprising me. I was about to ask him how when I was

distracted. “You look great,” he said letting his gaze travel lazily back up to my eyes, and walking
over to kiss me softly on the lips.

“Thanks.” I smiled thinking about how he would react when he found out I wasn’t wearing

anything underneath my dress. He took my hand and we left.

When we got to the parking garage, he led me to his car and deactivated the alarm. I confess, I

paused to ogle for a moment. That was one hot car.

“This is a classic Karmann Ghia,” I said, lightly running my hand over the hood. “The Karmann

Ghia is like the coolest car ever made, and it’s in beautiful condition. What is this, a 1970?” He
didn’t reply so I looked up. He was staring at me with a funny look on his face.

“1971,” he answered, still looking at me strangely.
“Are you okay?” I asked, wondering if he was suddenly feeling ill or something.
“Yeah. I’m good. I’m great. I’m just… Let’s go.”
Fifteen minutes later, we were back at his place. I knew he had recently moved, but I hadn’t

realized that he had moved into a renovated warehouse in the hip Northern Liberties neighborhood. I
was immediately in love with his place. It had bare brick walls and hardwood floors. There was a
circular wrought iron staircase leading to a loft overlooking the living room, a modern kitchen
underneath the loft was done in black and chrome and the fireplace was made of dark wood.

It was what was hanging over the fireplace that made freeze in my tracks. It was one of my

paintings. I had been lucky enough to get a place in a few local gallery showings. This one had been
shown a couple of months ago. Like the one in my apartment, it was an abstract explosion of color,
but this had words incorporated into the design “art” “music” “live” “breathe” “desire” and
“experience.”

“You bought my painting,” I said spinning around and smiling with delight.
“Yeah, bold color is good.” He smiled.
“Bright color is good too,” I said smiling back and feeling my cheeks heat up. I saw him breathe

in deeply, and he walked over to me and gently ran his knuckles along my jaw.

“You know, hardly anybody blushes anymore. You’re so beautiful.” He leaned down to kiss me,

and my lips parted in anticipation, and then my phone rang.

“I had better see who it is,” I said puzzled at who would be calling me. I grabbed my purse and

took my phone out. I didn’t recognize the number and there was no name.

“I’ll go change. I’ll be down in a minute.” He headed for the staircase.
“Hello?”
“Beth, somebody is following me!”
“Caitlin? Is that you? How did you get my number?”
“Beth! I’m serious! There’s somebody following me.”
“Go to the police.”
“I can’t. Look, I want to tell you the whole story.”
“Okay, fine. Come into the office on Monday. In the meanwhile, if you won’t go to the police, go

stay with a friend.”

“I don’t have a friend,” she answered.
“What? You… really? Well, go to your place and lock the doors and don’t let anyone in. You’re

probably just imagining things, but you should be safe that way. You live in a secure building don’t
you?”

“Yeah.”
“Caitlin… if you need to…” Oh God, don’t do it Beth!
“Oh shit! Are you with Mike? I’m sorry Beth.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey, it will be okay.

I’m almost at my place now. I’ll ask the doorman to tell me if anyone weird is hanging around.”

“Okay, come in Monday, but you had better tell me everything.” I paused. “And be careful.”
“Thanks Beth. You’re nice.” With that she hung up. Was she serious, or was she trying to play on

my sympathy? Okay, Beth, Mark is upstairs getting ready to get sexy with you. Don’t stand here
worrying about whether Caitlin has friends.

As if on cue, Mark came back down the stairs wearing a pair of loose fitting black lounge pants

and nothing else. His muscles were hard and defined, but not bulky. He had a sprinkling of hair on his
chest, a six-pack and sweet baby Jesus he had that V.

“Did I hear you say that was Caitlin calling you? What did she want?” he asked, walking over to

his sound system. He bent down to look for something. My God his ass was magnificent.

“Huh? Oh, uh, she thinks someone’s following her.”
“You’re kidding. Did you tell her to go the cops?” He found his iPod and placed it on the

speakers. I recognized Jace Everett’s Bad Things and I smiled. He turned and faced me.

“Yeah, I did. Uh, she said she couldn’t. Then I told her to go to a friend’s place, and she said she

didn’t have any. Mark, do you think…”

“I don’t know, and I have to confess, I have other things on my mind at the moment. I’m going to

be initiating foreplay now, Beth. So I’m going to need you to turn your cell phone off. You’ll be busy
for quite a while.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. I reached into my bag and shut off my phone. He came over and

put his arms around my waist and pulled me against him. The moment our bodies made contact, I felt
his arousal grow. And grow. And grow. Oh my. He wanted me, and he was going to have me. And I
was going to have that in me. Oh my. We started to move to the music and then he leaned down and
kissed my neck sending a thrill down my spine. I ran my hands over the hard muscles of his back and
his hands slid lower to cup my bottom.

“Are you wearing anything under here?” he mumbled against my neck. The vibration tickled.
“No,” I answered, whispering in his ear and pausing to gently bite his lobe. His breathing got

heavier and he reached lower and slid his palms up the backs of my thighs, pushing my dress higher
and higher. When he got to my bare bottom he groaned, squeezed and pulled my hips against him even
tighter. Our mouths found each others and our tongues twisted, rubbing together deliciously. His hands
were roaming over my bare body under my dress and mine were tucked down into the back of his
pants, kneading that magnificent ass. I wasn’t the only one who had gone commando incidentally.

There we were, making out, exploring each other’s bodies and still swaying to the music. It felt

powerfully erotic. We made it through the rest of that song, and also I’m on Fire by Bruce
Springsteen. I definitely saw a theme here. Near the end of the song he broke our kiss and sang in my
ear and it did me in. I was too feverish, lightheaded and turned on to keep dancing.

“Mark,” was all I could manage.
“Beth,” he said in strained voice and pulled back to look at me. His eyes were hazy and he was

breathing hard and fast. “I would love to carry you off to my bed but…” He glanced at the narrow
circular stairway. “Considering our history.”

“It’s okay,” I said kicking off my heels. My voice was so heavy with desire that I barely

recognized it. My skin was tingling from head to toe, and in some places, throbbing and aching. I
couldn’t remember ever having been this turned on before.

“You go first in case you fall. And so I can look up your dress,” he teased. I smiled and headed

for the stairs, climbing as carefully as I could. By the grace of God we both made it safely to the top.
I’ll note that he quickly stepped away from the top of staircase.

The music carried upstairs through a sound system. I began to realize that Mark really loved

music, which probably explained the Gibson Les Paul standing in the corner. I wasn’t surprised to see
it; it fit his personality and besides, I had noticed the calluses on his fingertips. I was an artist and he
was a musician. How perfect was that? I heard the opening notes to Chris Isaak’s Wicked Game and
when he turned to face me I almost swooned. That song would melt me for the rest of my life.

I looked him deeply in the eyes, and then I reached down and took hold of the edge of my dress,

lifting it over my head and tossing it aside. Like many women, there were things I would have
changed about my body, but the way he looked at me made me feel absolutely flawless.

“So now you know,” I said throatily, and pointed to my hip.
“Picasso.” He smiled. “And your belly ring. So many fun things to discover.”
After he had taken his time to look me over, his eyes traveled back up to mine and he pushed his

pants down over his hips and let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them and kicking them aside.
He stood still and let me take a good long look too. I didn’t even try to be delicate or tactful; I stared
openly. He was like a work of art… but better.

“What are you thinking?” he asked in a low, thick, velvety voice.
“That if you were a statue you would need a really big fig leaf,” I answered truthfully and after a

beat he burst out laughing. I looked up and smiled. “You asked.”

“God, you’re… I mean you’re so… Beth is good,” he said finally.
“Mark is good too,” I answered and he went to the bedside table and took out a condom packet.

Then he paused and seemed to reconsider. Reaching back into the drawer he took out the whole box.
That was promising.

“Will you share my bed with me tonight Beth?” he asked walking over to me and pulling me into

his arms. There are some sensations in life that are just unparalleled, a soothing hot bath at the end of
a long day, a soft cozy bed on a cold winter night… Mark’s warm bare skin pressed up against mine

fell into that category. In fact, it was better. It was truly heavenly.

“I’ll share your bed with you any night,” I answered wrapping my arms around him. He kissed

me again and we resumed our intimate exploration, his tongue caressing mine, while his hands gently
stroked my breasts. As we moved to the music, he guided me over to the edge of the bed and urged me
to sit down on the edge. Then he knelt down in front of me and looking into my eyes, he began to
slowly run his fingers up and down my inner thighs, mirroring how I had touched him the other night.

“Does this feel as good to you as it did to me?” he asked. His voice sounded so deep and

seductive that my insides liquefied.

“It feels incredible,” I answered breathily and he smiled the naughty smile.
Gently nudging my legs apart further, he leaned in and brushed his tongue up against my nipple. I

breathed in sharply and he scraped me with his teeth and then covered me with feathery little licks
and kisses. The hair stood up on my arms and I got goose bumps, as my nipples, impossibly, became
even more rigid. I was starting to pant when he moved to the other side and did the same thing again.

“You like that,” he mumbled against my tingling skin.
“Yes.” I gasped. I was starting to tremble.
“Lie back.”
I didn’t think twice. Although I was becoming increasingly lightheaded, I was also conscience of

so many things, the soft comforter beneath me, the intoxicating music, my tummy tightening in
anticipation… and him. I was so very aware of him, standing above me. He looked so big and
predatory, but in a really good way, and I swear that I could almost smell the lust in the room.

He braced himself over me and went back to work on my breasts, lightly licking, biting, and

gently sucking until I was moaning. Then he slowly moved down and sucked at my belly ring, sending
waves of sensation throughout my body, and I moaned louder. “Do know what it does to me when you
make those sounds, Beth?” he asked in a silky voice.

“Mmm.” That was the only answer I could offer at that moment. My brain was too busy

processing all of the stimulation to handle things like speech.

“Your Picasso is more beautiful than the original,” he said tracing my tattoo with his tongue as I

sighed with pleasure. He moved lower and the stubble on his chin brushed against my inner thighs
making me tremble. “And you’re blonde everywhere.” I felt him smile against my sensitive skin just
before his tongue started licking a trail to the Promised Land.

“Ahhh,” I responded, still limited to single letter sounds. Then I felt his hot tongue part me and

begin stroking my pussy, and that inspired a whole word, “Yes!”

“Mmm,” he mumbled, quoting my earlier comments. I clutched onto his head, just in case he was

planning to ever leave.

His tongue played, pushing up inside me, stroking and exploring. Finally, when he had reduced

me to a quivering mess, he moved higher and started licking my clit like a lollipop. That was it, I was
gone, out of my head, moaning, writhing around so much he had to hold me down.

I could feel every inch of my body, like a million tiny hot pinpricks, while an explosive tension

was building steadily between my legs. He was unrelenting, alternating between stroking and sucking,
driving me wild. I could barely think, and I was about to lose control anyway, when he slid two
fingers up inside me and I immediately went plummeting over the edge into a powerful orgasm.

“Mark! Oh God!” I cried out as I felt my pussy clench and potent waves of release coursed

through me. I was shivering with sensation and my inner muscles didn’t stop convulsing for several
seconds. It was gut wrenching, but finally, my body relaxed. As I lay there basking in the warm
pleasure of afterglow, he raised his head.

“Thank you for remembering my name,” he said as he gently trailed kisses along my belly. I

laughed and it felt wonderful. He climbed up on the bed and lay down on his side. “Come here, sexy,”
he said with a smile. I turned over and crawled on rubbery legs to lie beside him, looking into his
beautiful smoky gray eyes, still hazy with desire. “Listening to you moan makes me crazy.” He traced
my bottom lip with his thumb.

“Kiss me,” I whispered. He hesitated for a second but I gave him a reassuring look and he

lowered his head and slid his tongue smoothly into my mouth, moving his lips against mine. After
kissing me slowly and sensually for a while he pulled back.

“See how good you taste?” he asked, moving his lips to my neck. There really was something

very erotic about tasting myself on his tongue.

“I want you,” I said in a voice thick with desire. He didn’t hesitate, but sat up immediately and

reached over to the bedside table for a condom. Ripping open the packet, he rolled it on expertly
while Mass Undergoe sang I Need You, and it dawned on me that Mark had been exhibiting great self-
control, putting my needs first, even though he was probably as desperate as I was.

“How would you like me to take you first?” he asked and my stomach flipped over.
“However you want me,” I answered, feeling again like I might actually swoon. Just for the

record, nobody had ever made me swoon before. I wasn’t even sure swooning was a real thing before
now.

“I want you every way.” He smiled the naughty smile. “And I’ll have you every way eventually,

but how about for the first time, we start with you on top.”

“Yes,” I said simply.
“That word sounds better every time you say it.”
He moved up and braced his back against the headboard. “Come and show me how well we fit

together.” I climbed onto his lap straddling him, and he held my hips and bent his head and trailed
kisses along my breasts while I positioned myself over him. I used my hand to guide his cock to my
entrance, and I rested my other hand on his shoulder, he tilted his chin up so I could see his eyes and
then I slowly slid home.

I loved the look of pleasure on his face as I took him inch by inch until I was fully seated on his

lap with him buried deep inside me. “Oh, Mark.” I gasped.

“Beth,” was all he said and then he lifted me up slowly, and pulled me back down filling me

again. I started to ride him faster while he guided my hips. “Oh baby.” I liked it when he called me
baby. He sounded so turned on. I ground against him as I bounced up and down and it wasn’t long
before I felt the pressure building again.

“Mmm mmm, Mark, yes. Oh God yes,” I ground out. He was so big that I could feel him

stretching and completely filling me. It was bliss coupled with a quick stab of pain and it was
successfully bringing me to the fastest orgasm I had ever experienced through sex alone.

“So beautiful, Beth. You’re so fucking beautiful.” He was breathing heavily through his mouth

and he looked dazed. “Come on baby,” I rode him even harder and faster working for my climax. “Oh
fuck. You feel so good.” I was covered in sweat and my hair was sticking to my forehead. I was
moaning and then I felt it; my leg muscles locked and my abdomen tensed. “That’s it, come on baby,”
he coaxed as I let go.

My body shook as my inner muscles grabbed onto him over and over again. White-hot pleasure

and then breathtaking relief washed over me. Finally, I collapsed against his chest, panting. He stoked
my hair and my back until my breathing slowed down. “Your turn,” I mumbled and he rolled me over
onto my back and knelt between my still shaking legs.

He stared down at me lying there ready to take him again and the look on his face was almost

reverent. “I may not last long. It’s been a while and I want this so much. I’m barely holding on.”

“That’s okay. I’m satisfied. Now I want to watch you come apart.” He let out a ragged breath as

he grabbed my legs, rested them on his shoulders, and positioned himself. “And Mark…” He looked
up at me expectantly. “You can go hard.” He smiled the naughty boy smile and thrust into me deeply.
“Oh God!” I cried out and arched my back, grabbing onto the sheets.

“Too hard?” he bit out.
“No. More. Like that,” I said hoarsely and he thrust into me hard again. “Mmm yeah. It feels so

good.” He began to build his rhythm as I moaned with pleasure.

“Beth.” He was thrusting steadily now, “Need this so much.”
“Yes! Give it to me just like that. I love it.”
“Oh yes.” He was thrusting hard and fast and he looked completely dazed and absolutely

gorgeous. He was flushed and breathing hard, as he alternated between looking into my eyes and
watching his cock slide into me over and over again. “Oh God.” He groaned. “I’m going to come.”

“Come on, baby,” I urged him on. He made a guttural sound and then his rhythm faltered and his

muscles tensed. He looked up at me almost desperately.

“Oh God. I’m coming, Beth!” He let loose a loud strangled groan, went still and closed his eyes.

Then he blew out a sharp breath and collapsed on top of me. I held him and felt his heart pounding,
stroking his back as he lay in my arms, the sound of his breathing filling the room. I was stunned by
the intensity of what had just happened. Watching him lost in ecstasy had blown my mind.

Finally, he rolled off to his side, and I immediately missed the feeling of his warm weight on me.

He was facing away from me and I traced Lady Justice with my fingertip.

“Oh shit,” he said rolling back over. “I’m not, I mean… I’m planning to hold you, but I have get

rid of this.” He glanced down at the condom he was still wearing.

“It’s okay. It gave me a chance to look at your tattoo,” I mumbled in a sated voice. “I still find it

fascinating.” He smiled and sat up, taking the condom off carefully and dropping it in a wastebasket
beside the bed. Then he lay back down and pulled me into his arms.

“Next week I won’t have to do that,” he said with a big grin. “Which means that I won’t have to

wait to hold you.” I sighed and snuggled even closer.

“Next week is the mystery weekend. Braden will be there too. Is that too awkward?”
“No, he won’t be sharing a bed with us, and after waiting all week I don’t think I’ll have

performance anxiety.”

“Waiting during the week definitely will build our anticipation.”
“Yeah, because we haven’t had enough of that,” he said dryly.
“It was worth the wait. This has been the most intense sexual experience I’ve ever had. And very

romantic.”

“So, I’m doing this right?” He sounded relieved.
“Yeah.” I laughed. “Dancing with me, asking me to share your bed, and the music, I love the

music.”

“I love the music too. Can I play you something myself sometime?”
“Are you kidding me?” I pulled up to look at him. “I would be thrilled. Can I paint you?” I asked

tracing the lines of his gorgeous face.

“Sure. Should I wear a fig leaf?” he teased.
“I think I like you better in the nude.” I leaned up and nuzzled his neck. When I noticed he had a

pensive look on his face. “What are you thinking?”

“It’s just hard to believe. I always thought you were really hot, but I never imagined that we

would… you’re my girlfriend now, right?”

“I guess so, yeah. Are you okay with that?” Suddenly I felt a little uncertain.
“Yeah, sure.” He squeezed me tighter, and I relaxed. “I just didn’t really see it coming. I mean

your dad is a senator. My dad is a high school history teacher. Your mom is a socialite. My mom is a
social worker. You’re from the Main Line. I’m from The South Side of Pittsburgh.”

“My dad studied history in college too. And my mom is a big supporter of all kinds of charities.

So, they do have things in common. But more importantly, we have things in common. We both love
art and music. We both care about justice and helping the underdog.”

“Yeah.” He rolled me onto my back and looked into my eyes. “That’s what’s so different about

you. That’s what makes you so special, that you care about those things. Beth, I’m not only okay with
you being my girlfriend; I’m really happy.”

He leaned down and kissed me, and Lily was right, there was definitely more than just lust in that

kiss. When he was ready, we had sex again, but we took our time, and it was slow and sweet but no
less incredible. He was right too. I was busy for a long time.

Chapter Twelve

Mark

10:00 AM

“Hey,” I said with a smile when Beth’s eyes fluttered open. I had been awake for about five

minutes, and telling myself it wasn’t really that weird to watch somebody sleep. Even after the night
before, I had woken up with a raging hard-on, but I didn’t want to disturb her. We were both
exhausted. We definitely had to limit this to weekends for now, or I would never make it to court on
time.

“Hey.” She smiled back.
“You’re even beautiful in the morning,” I said and I meant it. For the record, freshly fucked hair

looked very good on her.

“You’re even romantic in the morning.”
“I was worried I would screw that part up, but Adam said it’s easy when you’re motivated. Just

so you know, you’re very motivating.”

“So are you.” She reached up and traced my jaw with her finger. Oh man, I loved it when she did

that. The tent in the sheets reminded me what else I liked. I would probably wind up hobbling to
Game Night later.

“I want you again.” I was about to guide her hand down to examine my supporting evidence,

when her stomach let out a loud growl and she quickly hugged herself and blushed. God, that blush
would do me in.

“I’m hungry too,” I said, putting my gentlemanly instincts ahead of everything else. “How about if

I make us breakfast?”

“You cook too?” She sighed sounding content, and I got that warm feeling again. What was this

woman doing to me? For a second I regretted how much I had tortured Adam about Lily, and then I
remembered how Adam had tortured Braden and I didn’t feel so bad. I hopped out of bed and Beth’s
eyes went straight to my groin. I almost laughed.

“Hey, missy, my eyes are up here,” I teased.
“Did you want to spend some more time in bed before breakfast?” she asked, looking up at me

with a sexy smile. She stretched out under the sheets like a cat, and I almost gave in when her stomach
rumbled again.

“I need to feed us or we won’t have enough energy. Wait for me here. I want to bring you

breakfast in bed. Then after we eat, we can do other things in bed and then take a shower together.
And do other things there too.”

“You’re on. Do you mind if I watch the news for a few minutes?” she asked glancing at the TV

mounted on my wall.

“Not at all. Go ahead. The remote is in the drawer on my side of the bed.” I hesitated for a

second, as what I just said sunk in. Holy shit. I had a side of the bed. Okay, think about that later.
Food, get food. I grabbed a pair of sweats and put them on, heading down to the kitchen to whip up a
couple of mushroom omelets.

I heard Beth put the T.V. on as I dug out a pan. She was watching a local morning news program.

I had just grabbed some eggs and butter when she called out to me.

“Mark! Come here! You have to see this!” I put everything down on the counter and quickly

headed back up to the loft. She was kneeling on the bed, wearing one of my t-shirts and she looked
amazingly sexy, but I wanted to know what had her so worked up, so I tore my eyes away and looked
at the T.V. There was a reporter standing in front of an upscale apartment building and the text below
said “Mysterious Center City homicide.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, feeling my gut tighten.
“There was a quick clip, and Caitlin was… wait ssh!”
The body of woman was found this morning in the Heights Terrace residential apartment

complex in Center City. Sources say that foul play is suspected. The victim has been identified as
journalist Elaine Cooper, employed by the Philly Beat.

A picture of a woman appeared on the screen. It took me a minute to place her but then it clicked.

“That’s the tabloid reporter from the fundraisers,” I said and Beth nodded.

Ms. Cooper, who does not live in the building, was discovered by resident, Caitlin Reynolds,

in the hallway directly outside of her apartment door. Ms. Reynolds is the granddaughter of
painter Winston Reynolds, well known for his realistic still life portraits, one of which
reportedly went missing at the time of his death. After being interviewed by the authorities, Ms.
Reynolds gave the press a brief statement earlier.

A piece of footage started playing and there was the nitwit, surrounded by microphones.
“I just opened my door and there she was… all dead! I could tell because her eyes were

open and there was blood. Ew! Ew! Ew!”

I rolled my eyes. Why was this woman suddenly everywhere? The reporter came back on and

made a quick closing statement and the station went to commercial.

“She lives in a secure building. How did that reporter get past the doorman?” Beth asked

sounding stunned.

“I don’t know. But what I do know is that this has nothing to do with us.” I walked over and sat

on the bed beside her.

“She asked me for help. She said she didn’t have any friends she could turn to.” Oh fuck! Here

we go. I sensed more window hopping on the horizon.

“Beth,” I reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into my arms. I’m not sure if I was trying to

comfort her or stop her from whatever she was planning to do. “We don’t even know that this has
anything to do with Caitlin. She’s not the only person who lives in that building. She’s just the one
who found her.”

“She found her outside her apartment. She said she thought someone was following her. She

doesn’t have anyone to turn to and she said I was nice.” Beth sounded miserable. I realized at that
moment that I was already being tested. Was I going to respect the wishes of one of my best friends,
who specifically asked me not to let his sister get involved in anything that could be dangerous, or
was I going to do whatever I had to do so that my girlfriend wouldn’t look so sad. Oh fuck. Fuck.
Fuck. Well, at least Braden could only kill me once.

“Okay,” I said tucking a strand of her adorably messy hair behind her ear. “Why don’t you call

her, and see if she can come into the office to talk to us. Tell her though, that she has to be completely
upfront about everything or we will not get involved at all. Understand?”

“I understand,” she answered and she looked genuinely grateful. She leaned up and kissed me

and then pulled me back into bed with her. Caitlin and breakfast could wait for a while. Good choice
Mark.

1:00 PM

“Tell us the story. But you had better not leave anything out. And no promises that we’ll do

anything at all with the information,” I said to Caitlin, sitting in the orange armchair across from us.
Beth and I were sitting behind her desk next to each other. I liked that, girlfriend over here, two hours
of my life I’ll never get back over there.

“I had a sexual relationship with Paul. It began a couple of months before my grandfather died.” I

grabbed a pen and pad. I still did it Old School when it came to interviews. Can’t doodle very easily
on a laptop.

“Paul Gerard?” I asked, taking notes.
“Yes, Paul Gerard, the guy whose house we were at.”
“Wait a minute,” Beth Broke in. “Your grandfather died when you were sixteen.” I could tell she

was trying not to sound appalled.

“Right. I was sixteen and Paul was forty.” Alrighty then. I made note of that. “Caitlin = Lolita,

Gerard = mid-life crisis.”

“How did that come about?” I asked, trying to stay on track.
“He was a close friend of my grandfather, who was my guardian. He used to come over a lot. In

fact, I used to think that maybe he and my grandfather were having a relationship.” I paused. Okay…

“You mean like a…” Beth began and I wanted to reassure her that she wouldn’t be a homophobe

just because she found this situation messed up.

“I’ve never had confirmation of it, but I’ve always suspected that Paul is bisexual,” Caitlin

interrupted. “Anyway, he paid a lot of attention to me, you know? And I liked it. He made me feel
special.”

“Was this at his place?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s why I had the key.”
“What does this relationship have to do with the painting?” I asked, getting impatient. I didn’t

want to hear about how special Caitlin felt with a forty year-old guy when she was sixteen, or any guy
frankly.

“He started sleeping with someone else too, and I guess she was the jealous type. Paul was

worried that she would do something violent if she ever caught us together, so he suggested that we
start having sex at my grandfather’s house.” Smooth! What a dick. Guys like that gave the rest of us a
bad name.

“With your grandfather living there too?” Beth asked.
“It’s a big place, and my grandfather was sick by that time, but there were servants wandering

around and if we got caught it would be scandalous.”

“It would be more than scandalous,” I informed her. “It would be illegal. You were a minor.

That’s a no-no.”

“Anyway, the only room in the place with very limited access was my grandfather’s studio. So,

Paul suggested we go there, since nobody would walk in on us. I got the key and we started meeting in
there.”

“He cheated on his girlfriend, with the sixteen year old granddaughter of his friend, and possible

lover, who was upstairs dying,” Beth said, shaking her head. Yep, Paul Gerard sounded like a real
winner. At least Beth never dated him. Even the pornographer sounded classy next to this guy.

“After a while, he started to want to look around while we were in there together. He collects

art.”

“So, he was knowledgeable enough to be able to see the value of the portrait of the elderly

woman and he knew it existed,” I noted.

“Yeah, and it disappeared on the night my grandfather died, but there was no sign of a break-in.

Then about a month later, Paul said we had to end it. I didn’t really care at that point, though, because
I had started to figure out what had happened to the painting.” It took her a month to figure that out?
Then I reminded myself who we were talking about here.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone back then what you suspected?” I asked.
“I didn’t have any proof. If it weren’t for the fact that my grandfather had left it to me in his will,

there wouldn’t be any evidence there even was a painting, and I knew people would believe Paul
before they would believe me.”

“How did you find out for sure he had it?” Beth asked.
“A reporter for a local rag did a fluff piece on him a couple of months ago, and took a picture of

him in his study. There was a little bit of the painting showing, and I recognized it. I had put a copy of
the key away in a bank box just in case I ever needed it for proof. I couldn’t believe it worked.”

“He probably thought you would never figure it out. Hubris,” Beth said.
“What does the temperature have to do with it?” Caitlin looked confused.
“Hubris, not humid. He thinks he’s smarter than everyone else,” Beth explained. “He even let

them photograph him near the painting. It’s been ten years and he probably figures he’ll never get
caught. He may even wish he could show off a little.” I agreed. I knew this guy’s type.

“That sounds like him all right. He’s got lots of humorous,” Caitlin said disdainfully, nodding

rapidly in agreement.

“So you trespassed and searched his place without his knowledge.” I broke in, glancing at Beth.

She needed to remember that Caitlin wasn’t a complete innocent here. She wasn’t sixteen anymore.

“Right, and I found it, but I realized that my word wouldn’t even be enough to prove that it was

my grandfather’s painting.”

“And you wanted someone knowledgeable about art as a witness,” Beth said. I could see by the

set of her jaw that she didn’t appreciate being used.

“Yeah, and I thought of you. You studied art and you seem honest. Are you mad?” She sat

forward and gave Beth a very earnest, childlike look. I didn’t buy it. Caitlin may not have been a
scholar, but she was shrewd.

“Um… yeah,” Beth answered. “I wish you had told me upfront you wanted me to be some kind of

witness for you. I really don’t want to get too involved in this personally.” I smiled to myself. Thank
you baby Jesus.

“What’s the deal with the reporter?” I asked, changing the subject, before Beth changed her mind.
“Oh yeah, that’s the really weird thing,” Caitlin said sitting back again. “I recognized her.”
“She was one of the reporters who covered a lot fundraisers,” Beth noted.
“Not just her face, her name too. Elaine Cooper is the reporter who wrote that fluff piece on

Paul, the one that tipped me off.”

“Okay, that’s a little weird,” I conceded, “but it could be a coincidence.”
“A reporter with a connection to Paul winds up dead on your doorstep, you have to tell the

police,” Beth said sounding determined.

“Tell them what? That the dead lady wrote an article about the guy I was sleeping with when I

was sixteen, who may have my grandfather’s painting, which I only know because I broke into his
house?” The innocent waif was gone and Caitlin sounded impatient and a little testy. I saw Beth
narrow her eyes. Beth might be a sweetheart, but she was no fool, and she was nobody’s pawn.

“I’m sure they interviewed you. Did you at least mention that you felt like you were being

followed last night?” she asked coolly. I smiled again. She really should go to law school.

“No. I didn’t say anything except that she looked like one of the journalists I had seen at events

I’ve attended. I didn’t want to have them start investigating me too much. Besides, the person who
was following me was wearing a ball cap and a raincoat. She wasn’t wearing those things when I
found her.”

“There you go. It could be totally unrelated. Maybe she had a boyfriend in the building and they

had a fight and he killed her… in front of your door,” I said, not very convincingly. “What is it you
want us to do?”

“Anything,” Caitlin said, looking desperate and uneasy.
“How did she get by the doorman?” Beth asked.
“I don’t know. I guess the police will find out.”
“You can stay with me. I have a futon you can sleep on,” Beth said matter-of-factly and I almost

got whiplash turning to face her.

“What? No, she can’t! Somebody is following her. They may have left a dead body in front of her

door.”

“You said that might be a coincidence and totally unrelated,” she pointed out.
“I don’t want to take that chance,” I said through clenched teeth.
“You’re not taking it; I am.”
“You’re my girlfriend!”
“You and Mike are going out? Congratulations!” Caitlin perked up.
“I live in a secure building,” Beth said, ignoring her.
“So does she!” I reminded her.
“Well, do you want to stay with us?” I have to admit that for about a millisecond… Hey, I’m a

guy!

“You two are into that?” Caitlin cut in. She paused and seemed to consider it. “You know, I

might be up for it.” Beth and I both gave her a death glare at the same time, and then continued
ignoring her.

“Beth, for now just let it be. We can talk to the building owner and make sure he understands that

security needs to be tightened.”

“Isn’t there anything else we can do? I just don’t want to see anyone else get hurt.” The look she

gave me made me want to find a way to make her happy. Fuck, I was a goner. I would be BBQing
with the other marrieds soon.

“Maybe we can poke around online… from the safety of our office, and try to find out more about

this reporter. Other than that, I’m not sure what we can do… unless Gerard invites us into his study
where you happen to see the painting,” I added without thinking.

“Wait, if he invited us in… the mystery weekend,” Beth said looking excited. Nice job Mark. I

doodled a picture of a big mouth on my pad.

Chapter Thirteen

Beth

6:00 PM

Cam opened the door and invited us in. When we got to the living room, all conversation

immediately ceased and everyone turned to look at us in unison. Even Bruno, who looked like he was
thinking, “tramp.”

“F. Scott and Zelda have arrived,” Cam announced with a smile.
“Nice tree. Well lit,” Braden said, not smiling.
“You, know Mark, standing under a tree filled with lights kind of defeats the purpose of copping

a feel in the dark,” Adam added.

“Oh shit,” Mark said, looking pained. Paparazzi. I sighed.
“It was a beautiful picture,” Lily said, quickly coning over to stand next to me and throwing a

threatening glance at her husband.

“It was very romantic, honey,” Jess added. “The two of you really could have been F. Scott and

Zelda Fitzgerald. Except that you weren’t drunk. Or crazy.”

“What’s the big deal anyway?” Gabrielle asked, dismissively. “Braden and I had sex during your

family’s fundraiser last year.”

“Gabrielle!” Braden said through gritted teeth.
“We all knew what you were doing, Braden,” Cam said. “Who sneaks off to a pool house during

a formal dinner just to hang out?”

“At least we were inside a building,” he answered defensively.
“We were just kissing! We’re single adults, who have known each other for years, and we’re

dating. Deal with it,” I demanded irritably.

“She’s right!” Jess said, coming over to join Lily and putting her arm around me. “And for the

record, honey, the two of you make an adorable couple.”

“I think you make a nice couple too,” Cam added. Braden and Adam both turned to look at him.

“Just sayin’.”

“I’m thrilled that you’re dating,” Braden said, “but you still can’t be all over each other in public

at a fundraiser.”

“Uh, Braden…” Adam broke in.
“We were inside a pool house,” Braden replied testily, glancing at his wife.
“I’m sorry, man. I know we should have been more careful,” Mark said, sounding miserable. Oh

great, now he felt guilty about kissing me in public. If Braden had his way, Mark and I would go join
the Amish.

“The picture was romantic, not scandalous,” Lily piped up.
“Where is this picture?” I asked. “I’d like to see it myself.”
“Here, I’ll show you honey,” Jess said, going over to a laptop sitting on a desk. She and I both

went over to take a look.

She went to the website of The Philly Beat and pulled up a photo of Mark and me standing under

the sparkling lights. Our costumes really did make it look like we had stepped out of the 1920’s. My
arms were around his neck, and his were around my waist, but one hand was on my bottom holding
me up against him. That gave me a little thrill and I felt a flutter in my lower belly. I had to get a copy
of that.

“I like it,” I said, not caring what anyone else thought.
“So do I,” Mark, who had walked up beside me agreed. I looked up, surprised, and saw him

staring down at me with the hint of a smile playing on his lips. We gazed at each other and shared a
moment that made me feel like someone had lit a fire inside me.

“Okay, time to stop falling in love and order some food,” Braden announced. “Let’s try that new

Israeli place. Where’s the paper?” Then suddenly, something sunk in, the paper.

“Wait, Mark, The Philly Beat! That paparazzo was from the same tabloid as the reporter who

was killed. He may have overheard our conversation.” I saw by the look on his face that he
acknowledged that these coincidences were piling up a little too quickly.

“You know something about that case?” Gabrielle asked. Mark and I exchanged looks, and with a

subtle nod, he told me he was onboard.

“There’s something we want to tell you about…” I began.

6:30 PM

Mark and I took turns telling the story. When we finished, everyone sat quietly for a second and

then we all looked at Gabrielle, who was positively glowing.

“No,” Braden told his wife firmly.
“No what?” she asked innocently.
“No to whatever crazy plan you’re coming up with. This woman isn’t a close friend of theirs.

She and Beth went to high school together, but they didn’t hang out together, and Mark…” Braden
glanced at Mark… “only met her once. Right?”

“Yeah!” Mark insisted.
“This is the chick from Thanksgiving?” Adam laughed. “The one who called you ‘Mike’ and kept

talking about Facebook?”

“The very same,” Mark answered giving him an annoyed look.
“And you want to help this woman?” Lily asked, dubiously.
“Gerard took advantage of a teenager to steal a great painting just so he could hang it in his own

study. Look, Caitlin isn’t a great friend of mine, but that’s just wrong, and he shouldn’t get away with
it.” She nodded, understanding my point.

“If that dead reporter is connected to this, Caitlin could be in danger,” Jess pointed out. “Even if

she is annoying, that shouldn’t be a death sentence. If it were, Adam would be a goner.” Adam shot
her a sarcastic smile.

“Which is why we should tell the cops,” Braden put in, giving her a stern look. “I can’t believe

you two climbed through a window,” he growled at Mark and me.

“I can’t believe Gabrielle wasn’t involved,” Cam added.
“Me neither,” Gab agreed sounding disappointed.
“I hate to point this out Braden,” Adam said, “but the Philadelphia police may have more urgent

matters than a hearsay report that a nutty party girl, who broke into a house, thinks somebody stole her
painting ten years ago.”

“Yeah, there’s no solid evidence that any of this is connected to the dead woman, or that there’s

even been a crime committed,” Lily added, “well, other than Caitlin’s breaking and entering of
course.”

“I think that in good conscience, we should at least try to see if maybe we could get a little

something for them to investigate,” I argued. “Mark said that if he invited us in, and I recognized the

painting, it might help.” Braden shot Mark a deadly look and Mark winced a little.

“How would we get him to do that?” Lily asked, knitting her brows.
“The guy is arrogant. He might actually do it for kicks. So, I was thinking maybe we could try at

the mystery weekend.”

“That perfect!” Gabbed said, clapping her hands together and practically leaping out of her seat.

“We’ll butter him up and make him feel all cocky and see if we can get him to invite us into the study.
That’s all we have to do. Beth has a degree in art history and she’s a senator’s daughter. People
would take her seriously if she backed Caitlin up.”

“That’s all we would have to do?” Jess asked, looking like she didn’t believe her. Considering

Gabrielle’s track record, I couldn’t say that I blamed her.

“Fire up the Mystery Machine and pack the Scooby snacks,” Adam said with a grin, “the gang is

back in action.”

“I’m not wearing the schoolboy outfit again,” Mark said, looking beaten. “I mean it. I won’t do

it.”

“Not schoolboys, honey,” Jess consoled, “famous detectives.”
“I want to be Hercule Poirot,” Cam piped up.
“I think you enjoy this stuff,” Braden said, giving him a suspicious look and Cameron laughed

tellingly, earning him a suspicious glance from Jess too.

Chapter Fourteen

Mark

Monday 8:20 AM

Adam and I talked while we waited for Judge Epstein to take the bench. In the PBD (pre-Beth

days) I would have filled him in with lurid details about my weekend, but guys don’t talk about wives
and girlfriends that way. Let’s face it nobody wants to be sitting around the dinner table,
complementing the pot roast your buddy’s wife cooked up, and picturing her screaming his name.
Adam was married to a very sexy woman, who I had imagined screaming my name a few times before
they got together, but now she was Mrs. Roth, future mother of his children. So, the point is, we kept
the conversation pretty general.

“I’m assuming that your one month experiment with celibacy is now ended,” he commented,

shuffling through some files.

“Thank you lord,” I replied and he laughed.
“And I assume you figured it out?”
“Yeah, you were right. I didn’t have to think too hard. She was very motivating. In fact, I think I

may have been worried deep down that after all the fantasies, reality wouldn’t stack up, but it was
even better.”

“Yeah. It’s funny how that works sometimes. So now you’ll be able to get your head back in the

game. I was starting to worry about you.”

“I was starting to worry about my clients.”
“Now you’ll be getting laid more than ever before. Maybe you’ll become the next Clarence

Darrow.”

“Beth and I decided to focus on work during the week, and make the weekend playtime.”
“That won’t last. The first rough day you have in court you’ll be knocking on her door that night.”
“ What do you mean? I used to make it through the week before no matter how rough it was.”
“Yeah, because after a rough day, who wants to go searching for companionship? But now, you

have easy access. I’ll bet you a Benjamin that you don’t even make it through this week.”

“You’re on,” I shot back just as the bailiff came out from the judge’s chambers and called court

to session. Judge Epstein, who made Judge Judy look like a sweet and docile young thing, stalked out
onto the bench. I saw the Assistant District Attorney and the public defender approach the bench for a
conference and the next thing I knew, Judge Epstein was bellowing at Adam and me to join them.
Great.

“You two, The PD has to conflict out of some cases. Rather than continue them, I’m going to

appoint you to represent the defendants.”

“Your Honor, we would have to continue too,” I replied. “We haven’t had any time to prepare.”
“You can handle the first one this afternoon and then I’ll spread them out through the week. That

should be plenty of time to prepare. These guys are not exactly on the FBI’s Most Wanted List.” With
that, the matter was decided. Her clerk handed Adam and I each five files. I had a bad feeling about
this. I glanced over and saw Adam looking amused and one hundred bucks richer.

Wednesday 5:30 PM

We held a meeting to discuss the details of the mystery weekend and introduce Caitlin to

everyone. My court week had already become stressful, but I wasn’t going to give in. It was a matter
of principle. I was a grown man and I could control my urge to unwind with Beth beneath me for a
few days at least.

“Okay everyone!” Gab said excitedly. “I got our instruction packets with our roles. Cam, I was

able to get you Hercule Poirot.”

“Yes!” he said with a smile, earning him several dubious looks.
“Jess, you are going to be Jane Marple,” Gab went on.
“Great, honey. I’ll break out the support hose and join AARP.”
“Braden, you and I will be Nick and Nora Charles.” Braden started to say something but Gab cut

him off, “And yes, I got permission for Bruno to be Asta.” Braden smiled. He loved that Chihuahua
like a first-born son.

“Adam you will be Phillip Marlowe, and Lily will be V.I. Warshawski.”
“Hey, Lilith. We get to dress like normal human beings,” Adam said, and the two of them high-

fived each other.

“Caitlin will be Nancy Drew,” Gab continued.
“Oh! I’ve read her books!” Caitlin looked happy.
“And last, but not least, Beth will be Irene Adler and Mark will be Sherlock Holmes.” Adam

laughed. I glared. Great, I could walk around in a deerstalker cap and a cape, and Beth could wear
enough clothing to assure that I never get her naked. Then I remembered that this Friday would be the
first night her pill was working and I felt like I might cry.

“What’s the schedule like?” Lily asked.
“We show up in costume Friday evening for a late dinner at seven,” Gab answered. “After

dinner, we’ll break into teams of two and each team will be given a story card with clues. We try to
figure them out and solve the mystery. Saturday morning we’ll have a full breakfast and we’ll all
explain our theories about the solution.”

“Wait, I don’t have a partner,” Caitlin said sulkily.
“Yes you do!” said a voice from the corner. We looked at Bruce, who stood there positively

glowing, “Meet Charlie Chan.”

“You’re not Asian,” Lily pointed out.
“Neither was anyone who ever played Charlie Chan,” Bruce shot back and she rolled her eyes.

Yeah, this was going to be fun.

Friday 6:00 PM

We had all left early to go change and grab an overnight bag, and then met back at the office. I

had managed to secure my Sherlock gear, and while I wasn’t thrilled about it, at least it was better
than the schoolboy outfit. It had been a week from hell in court, but somehow I had held out for
tonight. I seriously needed to unwind, though, and after we got done with whatever we had to do, I
was locking Beth and I in our bedroom until morning.

When I got there Adam, Lily, Beth and Caitlin had already arrived. I looked over at Adam

wearing a trench coat and a fedora. He looked a little older than twenty-eight maybe, but basically
normal. That bastard. Lily was dressed the same way. Caitlin had a red wig on her head and was
dressed like she was going to a sock hop. Amazingly, Beth somehow managed to look hot in a
Victorian high-collared dress. At least it wasn’t hard to tell she and I were together.

I heard a bark and in came Braden, Gabrielle and Bruno looking like a rich married couple with

a dog. That was a stretch. Jess and Cam came in behind them and I tried not to laugh. Cam had an
enormous black mustache and a bowler hat, and Jess looked like my grandmother. The best, though,
was yet to come. To my great joy, the final person to arrive was Bruce, who actually looked even
more stupid than the rest of us put together in a long satin gown, a glue-on Fu Manchu, and a hat that
made him look like a Shriner. Adam promptly cracked up and Lily gave Bruce a disdainful look.

“What in the hell are you supposed to be?” she asked.
“Charlie Chan!” he answered irritably.
“Charlie Chan wore suits. You look like a walking White Sale. Are those drapery tassels on your

head?”

“It’s a traditional Chinese costume. At least I don’t look like a flasher.”
“Okay break it up,” Braden said, like a good Director.
“I have a question,” Cam broke in and we all looked at him expectantly.
“How do we get him to invite us into the study, especially since Caitlin will be there and he

knows she would recognize the painting.” Damn. He had a point. We all looked at Gabrielle.

“I’ve given this some thought,” she began.
“Of course you have,” Adam interrupted.
“As long as he invites us into the house, and doesn’t specifically say the study is off limits, we

should be okay. So, I say we wait until everyone is asleep and then we head down there. If anyone
stops us or catches us, we’ll say we were looking for something to read.”

“All of us together?” I asked. This plan sounded kind of lame.
“You and Beth do things together with the Roth’s,” Bruce said with a smile at Lily who gave him

a death glare in return.

“What are they going to do, accuse a senator’s son and daughter of attempted burglary or

something?” Gabrielle asked.

“Maybe we should take a picture of the painting while we’re there,” Jess suggested and Cam

gave her a proud look. He was rubbing off on her.

“Good idea,” Beth agreed. “Now Caitlin, you’re going to have to be really careful, because

Gerard will probably be watching you.”

“I don’t think it will be a problem,” she replied. “Like you said, he’s got lots of hummus.”
“Hummus?” Adam asked, looking confused.
“Hubris,” I said with a smile and he nodded with understanding.
“I guess we have a plan. I think it’s Go Time,” Braden announced, and we all turned and headed

out to solve The Mystery of the Nitwit’s Stolen Painting.

Chapter Fifteen

Beth

6:45 PM

When we arrived at the Gerard estate, the usual group of reporters and photographers were there

to capture the moment. Well, not the Oompa Loompa obviously. I noticed that her companion, the
walking oil well, was there again, though. When we got inside, we saw that the reception was well
underway. There were about twenty other guests all together, dressed up in all kinds of costumes.

As waiters made their way around the room handing out champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres,

Caitlin gave everyone the lay of the land and we tried to memorize where everything was. We would
have to watch out for any servants that might be wandering around, and Gerard himself. That was
something we hadn’t considered, what if he was in his study? We would just have to take our
chances.

Looking over at Mark, my mind moved onto other subjects. He looked so cute in his Sherlock

Holmes costume, and the thought of being with him somewhere new and different excited me. I
couldn’t wait to get him alone later. I was surprised that Braden was acting so nonchalant about
actually being present in the same house where Mark and I were sleeping together, but I suspected
that Gabrielle had encouraged him to behave himself. Bruno was being a very good little doggie, as
Gabrielle held him tucked under her arm. I assumed that he would be staying in their room as a
lookout when we went on our little nocturnal adventure.

At seven on the dot, we were invited in to dinner. Bruno got his own little bowl on the floor,

which seemed to make him quite happy. The food was quite good and a small chamber music
ensemble played off to the side of the room. It was a shame that Gerard was such a sleazebag because
he really did know how to throw a good party. At one point he stood up and proposed a toast.

“Here’s to great detectives. Maybe while you’re here, you’ll get to become ghost hunters too.

The spirit of one of my long departed ancestors haunts this place at night.” A mumble went through the
crowd and there were a few nervous laughs.

He was acting the part of the perfect host, moving from table to table, chatting pleasantly with his

guests. How could he be so casual around Caitlin after what he had done? I wondered what had
happened to the jealous former lover. I hoped she had dumped him.

He eventually made it to our table where everyone addressed him with cool politeness and I

tried not to look disgusted. When he moved on to the next table Bruce spoke up.

“Well, he’s pretty smooth. He doesn’t seem fazed at all that his former teenage girlfriend, whom

he burglarized, is sitting right at this table.”

“Hummus,” Caitlin said with a solemn nod.

8:00 PM

When dinner had been cleared away, we began the mystery portion of the evening. Mark and I got

our clue card and looked over it together.

“I’m tall when I’m young, and short when I’m old. What am I?” I read.
“Tall when I’m young…” he mumbled, knitting his brows. “I know! A candle, when it burns

down it’s short.” I smiled, feeling impressed. He was so smart.

“There are two big candles on the table in the entry,” I pointed out and we were off on our

mystery adventure.

As we traced the clues one by one, I noted other couples moving around throughout the house.

Finally, two hours later, Gerard called time. We would get another hour the next morning after
breakfast to wrap it up, but it was time for cocktails before bed. All of us gathered together into a
little circle as everyone headed for the billiard room.

“Okay, we’ll do cocktails and then go to our rooms,” Gab said quietly. “Let’s set our alarms for

two in the morning. Everyone should have turned in by then.”

“I asked and the guest rooms are on the second floor,” Lily added. “How about if we meet at the

top of the staircase.”

“My phone, has a camera and a flashlight,” Cam chimed in.
“Pretty much everyone’s does these days Cam,” Mark replied. Having worked out our plan, we

all turned and followed the crowd. Bruno yipped and Braden spoke up.

“I think he has to go out.”
“I’ll go with you,” Cam offered and the two of them set off as we headed for drinks and billiards.

As the others headed for the bar, Mark stopped me.

“Let’s not stay too long,” he said quietly and the stormy look in his eyes told me clearly what he

would rather be doing.

“You know tonight is the night…” I began.
“I know,” he interrupted in a husky voice, eyes dropping to my lips. I took a deep breath and felt

my heart start to beat faster with anticipation. “If we turn in by eleven, I’ll have a good three hours to
get you out of that dress and make us both feel really good.”

“Okay,” I answered breathlessly, swallowing hard. He smiled his naughty smile and I felt

butterflies in my tummy. He put his hand on my back and guided me toward the bar where the others
were waiting for us.

Braden and Cam rejoined us after having put Bruno in Braden and Gabrielle’s room. As they did

Braden said quietly, “We took a walk around the side of the house where you said the study was and
we think we saw a weird shadow moving around out on the porch.”

“Maybe it was the ghost,” Adam said with a smile.
“Not unless he smoked,” Cam added. “Looked like somebody lit a cigarette.”
“Gerard might have security stationed out there,” Lily suggested.
“We can go through the house,” Caitlin spoke up. I wasn’t sure how much faith I had that she

would be able to find the study in the dark in this labyrinth, but it seemed like we didn’t have any
other choice if Gerard had security outside.

We went on to discuss the details of our individual clue cards for a while, and then Gab and

Braden decided to turn in. That was the signal for the rest of us to do the same. Mark and I glanced at
each other and smiled with lusty anticipation.

Chapter Sixteen

Mark

11:00 PM

As soon as our bedroom door was locked behind us I took Beth’s hand and pulled her into my

arms. It had been one long, stressful week, and I needed to relieve some tension. Knowing that I was
about to take her without anything between us, made me impatient and more aggressive than usual. I
leaned down and kissed her hard, urging her lips apart and sweeping my tongue into her mouth. She
melted and kissed me back eagerly, letting me know with her body that she would give herself to me
willingly. She tasted good, like brandy, and I groaned as she pushed her hips up against me.

I wrapped her hair around one hand and held her head firmly in place, grabbing her ass with the

other and grinding into her. I could tell already that tonight would not be my best example of restraint;
I wanted her underneath me as soon as possible. Luckily, that seemed to be her plan too.

Pulling her body back, without breaking our kiss, she started unbuttoning her blouse. I tossed my

hat and cape on a chair and started undoing my own buttons. To my relief she was out of that damned
dress in record time. I finished the job by quickly getting her out of her bra and panties and practically
knocking her onto the bed. She didn’t seem to mind at all, though. In fact, she was pulling me on top of
her very impatiently, like she couldn’t wait to take my cock. Her skin was warm, soft and smooth, and
the way that she squirmed underneath me was making me almost painfully hard.

“We should slow down,” I said kissing her neck as she tilted her head back to give me better

access. “You won’t be ready.” With just a tiny moan that made my dick jump, she grabbed my hand
and guided it between her legs, where I discovered, to my delight, that she was definitely ready. “Oh
fuck,” I mumbled and pushed her legs apart further, positioning myself between them. She helped to
bring me to her entrance, and when I felt that wet heat against the head of my cock I breathed in
sharply and forced myself to hold back.

“I want you inside me now,” she said in an almost pleading tone that drove me nuts, and that was

it. There was no holding back anymore at that point. I thrust into her and felt the most incredibly
intense sensation I had ever encountered. It’s funny how you never know what you’re missing until
you actually experience it. The problem was, that it was so intense, that I wasn’t sure I could control
myself for long. I could feel everything for the first time, the heat, the velvety, wet softness of her
clenching against me. It was pure ecstasy and I realized that all of my experiences before this had
been like taking a shower with my socks on.

“I don’t know how long I’ll last,” I admitted, in a strained voice, breathing raggedly, my muscles

tensed. I felt like I was seventeen again, like I might explode at any moment, even though I never
wanted this to end.

“It’s okay,” she said soothingly, rubbing my back and wrapping her legs around my waist. “Just

stop when you need to.” Her voice was so warm and sweet; she took the pressure to perform away,
and it almost overwhelmed me.

At that moment, I felt something just as intense on the inside as what I was experiencing

physically. The first time with her had been fantastic, but this was something beyond even that. I had
never felt that kind of intense intimate connection with a woman before. I wanted to be inside her,
connected to her and claiming her like this forever. She was mine and I never wanted to let go.

I started slowly rolling my hips and sliding in and out of her incredible pussy, stopping when I

needed to and then beginning again. She kept whispering gentle loving encouragement and rubbing my
shoulders and my back. We made love slowly like that for a long time and finally I sensed her getting
close. She was breathing hard and moaning quietly, pushing her hips up against me and arching her
back. I couldn’t think clearly, but I also couldn’t look away from her. She was so beautiful. Finally
her muscles tensed and she cried out and went still, squeezing her eyes shut and then opening them
and giving me a look that guaranteed that she owned me.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. I needed to come desperately and I started thrusting faster and

harder feeling the pressure rapidly build. Then there was the tingling and I let go with a gasp. It was
absolutely gut wrenching and there was something primal about it as I exploded inside of her,
claiming her and marking her as mine. I collapsed on top of her with my heart hammering in my chest
and blood rushing in my ears. Exhausted euphoria overtook us both and we fell asleep still joined
together.

2:00 AM

We met at the top of the stairs like we had all agreed upon. Everyone was there, everyone but

Bruce and Bruno that is.

“Where’s the Diva?” Lily asked.
“He must still be asleep,” Gab answered. “We’ll go without him.”
“Where’s Bruno?” Adam asked.
“We left him in the room,” Braden replied.
“Okay, Caitlin, show us the way, honey,” Jess said and Caitlin started down the stairs, with the

rest of us following as quietly as possible.

A couple of times we thought we heard something, so we froze and waited, but it turned out to be

nothing. After what felt like an hour, we finally made it to the hallway where Gerard’s study was. We
kept watch as Caitlin tried the door. It was unlocked, and she opened it a crack. It was dark inside,
and I let out a breath. I had been worried that Gerard would be in there doing something. Caitlin
pushed the door open and we all slipped inside.

Shining our lights ahead of us we headed for the alcove. And there it was, the painting. I took a

step forward and almost tripped over something in the dark. I shone my light down onto the floor and
froze.

“Hit the lights somebody,” I ordered. There was some scrambling as everyone felt around for a

switch, and then suddenly the room was illuminated and I squinted, letting my eyes adjust.

“Oh my God!” Beth exclaimed.
“Ew!” Caitlin added. It was Gerard and he was very obviously dead with a bullet hole in the

center of his forehead.

“Step back,” a strange voice commanded. Looking up I saw that greasy paparazzo that was

always covering these fundraisers. Instead of a camera, though, he was holding a gun.

“You!” Beth said sounding surprised.
“Me, and you have very bad timing.”
“This guy is a photographer from the tabloids,” I explained. “I assume he heard us talking about

the painting that night and he wants to steal it for himself.”

“Yeah, both Elaine and I heard you talking, but whereas she was just interested in a scoop, I had

a bigger interest. That painting was supposed to be mine a long time ago.”

“What do you mean yours?” Caitlin asked sounding petulant.

“Mine. Paul distracted everyone the night the old man died, and I went in and got it. He was

supposed to find a buyer for us. The money was going to go to setting me up with my own gallery. I
should have known that unfaithful bastard would double cross me.”

“Wait, you’re not saying you were the one that Gerard was seeing?” Beth asked, sounding

shocked.

“Ew,” Caitlin added again.
“I don’t have time for this. I’m taking that painting and I’m getting out of here, and I’m taking her

with me,” he grabbed Caitlin. There was a moment of silence while we all just stared.

“Okay,” I said and shrugged.
“No! Not okay,” Beth said scowling at me. “Take the painting but leave…”
Before she could finish the lights went out again and a shimmering figure seemed to glide across

the room. Just then a ferocious sounding growl came from somewhere, and our thief yelped out in
what sounded like pain and terror. Holy shit! This place was haunted!

There was a clattering sound and a thud as he hit the ground and let go of the gun. Then there was

more scrambling, and the lights came on again. I don’t know what in the hell I expected to see, a ghost
I guess? What I actually did see was Bruce, still in his Charlie Chan outfit, and Bruno with his teeth
buried in the photographers ankle. Braden had grabbed the gun and Adam was already calling 911.

Chapter Seventeen

Beth

June

Mark stood with his arm around my waist, out by the pool at my parents’ place. We were

laughing at something funny that Adam had just said while watching Braden BBQing up our dinner.
Mark and I had been dating for over a month now, and we were very happy together. Braden had
gotten comfortable with it, and so had my younger brother, Drew, who had finally graduated from law
school and would be joining the Justice Project after taking the summer off to study for the bar exam.

My parents were absolutely thrilled to find out we were a couple, and my father seemed very

interested in talking Mark into a political career someday, since at the moment at least, neither one of
his sons seemed interested. There was other good news too, Cameron had finally popped the
question, and he and Jess would be getting married that fall. Adam and Lily were considering starting
a family soon, and I had a feeling that Braden and Gabrielle wouldn’t be far behind. Perhaps the most
unexpected news was that Caitlin would be joining our staff soon as a legal secretary. Liz was
training her diligently and Liz was a miracle worker. So it seemed that Caitlin would finally have
some friends. She also had her painting back, and would be lending it to the art museum.

The paparazzo art thief was facing trial on a number of charges, and while there was a bit of

scandal surrounding Gerard’s untimely passing, he had left his estate to charity, so he was largely
forgiven.

“Hey man, did you have fun last night?” Mark asked Drew, who had come over.
“Oh yeah, I had a hook-up that I will never forget,” he answered with a laugh.
“And on that note…” I said giving Mark a final squeeze and moved on to go chat with the girls.

As it turned out, Drew was right by the way…

The End

N.M. Silber on Amazon

Website

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About the Author

N.M. Silber is an attorney, turned full-time author, who survived the Philadelphia criminal court

system, largely by having a sarcastic sense of humor. She used her experiences there as a starting
place to build her humorous cast of characters and sexy story lines, and she uses her knowledge of
legal practice, courtroom procedure, and how lawyers really think, in every one of her novels. She
has been a USA Today Bestselling author and a #1 Bestselling author in Romantic Comedy on
Amazon. She was voted an Amazon Reader’s Choice Best New Author for 2013, and has been ranked
as a Top 100 author there overall. She has stated that her goal is to write books that make readers
laugh, blush, swoon and genuinely feel good.

N.M. Silber’s Writing Manifesto:
1) My characters don’t cheat. 2) My characters treat people with dignity.3) My male characters

do not refer to women as “whores,” “sluts,” or “bitches.” 4) My female characters are strong,
intelligent and unwilling to be involved with men who act like they are A) fifteen B) emotionally
disturbed C) asshats.5) My couples communicate rather than react.6) My couples have fun, healthy,
hot, and sexy sex. Nobody gets hurt - physically or emotionally. 7) My goal is to make you laugh,
swoon, blush and hide in the bathroom to read. My goal is NOT to make you to go through a box of
tissues or throw your Kindle. 8) There will be no amnesia, secret babies, dead parents, break ups
over misunderstandings, book covers with Fabio on them or use of the words “throbbing manhood.“9)
Despite all of the above ^^ I will still provide PLENTY of conflict and tension and sizzling chemistry
between my characters.

Allow me to introduce you…

I’m lucky enough to be friends with three very intelligent and fabulously witty authors, Daisy

Prescott, Zack Love and Penny Reid. They are all extremely talented individuals who have written
books that I include among my personal favorites. I’m very honored to say that they each leant me an
excerpt from their books to share with you. If you like smart, funny, unforgettable stories, I highly
encourage you to keep reading and check them out.

Nadine

Missionary Position

By Daisy Prescott

Synopsis

Sex? Absolutely.
Love? Not my thing.
I didn’t do love or butterflies, but I loved him.
I was screwed, and not in a good way.

Selah Elmore is a confident, curvy woman who knows exactly who she is and what she wants.

She loves her life being a professor and popular pirate erotica author. However, when she leaves the
Pacific Northwest to spend six months studying sculpture in West Africa, she learns she doesn’t know
a thing about love.

Cocky, suit-wearing Gerhard charms her during a stopover in Amsterdam, but dashing,

adventurous Kai sweeps her off her feet in Ghana.

Sparks fly on three continents when perpetually single Selah discovers there’s more to love and

life than she ever imagined.

Chapter One

“You should meet my brother.”
I had been picked up many times in airport bars, but a brother set up was a first. Not that I

expected the woman sitting next to me with her glass of Pinot Grigio to be the type to hit on strange
women, but this was JFK. A crossroads of world travelers meant anything was possible. We’d been
sitting silently next to each other at a sushi bar, poking away at our phones when our identical orders
of spicy tuna hand-rolls were placed in front of us. She instigated a conversation and we fell into an
animated discussion about the delicious merits of quality sushi.

Married? Never. Her? Divorced
Kids? No way. Her? A thirteen-year-old daughter.
From? Portland. Her? Chicago. Her accent told me she wasn’t born there. I guessed someplace

like Scandinavia where they bred super models.

The typical questions of where we were headed and sharing our woes of travel followed. I liked

her.

“Is your brother in Dubai?” I asked. Anita had shared her excitement over her upcoming week

there. I admitted it sounded glamorous and far more luxe than my travel plans.

“No, Dubai is for business and a little fun. My brother’s in Amsterdam, where I’m from. You did

say you’re going to Amsterdam, didn’t you?”

Dutch. I was close. Must be all the cheese. Or chocolate.
“Oh, right. I’ll be there for a week before my work takes me to Ghana.”
“Are you a missionary?” the athletic blonde asked me.
“A missionary in Amsterdam? Is anyone that much of a masochist? I’m not even a fan of the

missionary position.”

She spit out her wine. Wiping her chin with a napkin, she gathered her composure. “I thought

perhaps you planned to visit Amsterdam to sin a little before doing the good work in Africa. Isn’t that
what most Americans do there? Meddle with the best intentions in the name of a church?”

I blinked at my bar mate. “Not a fan of religion?”
“I grew up in The Netherlands. Churches are for tourists in most towns.”
I laughed. “I think I’ll fit right in there. To answer your question, I’m a professor. My sabbatical

is taking me to Amsterdam and then on to Accra to study the female form in Ashanti sculptures.”

“You study naked women?”
“Not only women. I’m an equal opportunity nudist. I mean I study the human form across cultures.

Nothing against the penis, but it’s hard to represent one in all it’s glory without it seeming silly or
grotesque.” I giggled. Anita chuckled, too. “I prefer female bodies in art with all the beautiful
variation.”

She blatantly swept her gaze over my body, from my messy, dark bob down to my overnight flight

outfit of an open cardigan over exposed, but tasteful, cleavage, down to my yoga pants and
comfortable but not fashionable flats. Maybe she was hitting on me. I straightened the scarf around my
neck.

“You really should look up my brother.” She tapped her phone, bringing it to life. “I’ll give you

his information. Text him. He’ll be perfect company while you’re in Amsterdam.” Out of her designer
bag she pulled a business card and an expensive looking pen, which she used to scrawl a name and
number on the back of her card.

“Your brother’s name is Gerhard?” I failed to fully stifle my snort. Get hard. Gerrharrd. Gerhard

would make the perfect name for a scoundrel pirate. I’d have to remember the name for my next
pirotica novel.

“I know. Isn’t it the most uptight name? I wish I could say it doesn’t suit him, but he can be a

complete prat sometimes.”

The garbled voice of a boarding announcement broke over the speakers. She glanced down at her

watch.

“Oh, my flight’s boarding. Call Gerhard. I think you’d have fun with him.”
“Didn’t you just say he was a prat?”
“Sometimes, but women seem to love the bad boys, don’t they?” She gathered her things and left

a sizable tip on the bar. “Great to meet you, Selah. Best of luck with your sabbatical.”

I smiled at my new super model friend. If her brother shared her genes, maybe I would look him

up when I arrived. “Bye, Anita.”

“Say hi to Gerhard for me.” With a sparkling white smile and a wave, she disappeared into the

crowd of travelers.

What an odd, but friendly woman.
I spun her card on the bar. Anita Hendriks, management consultant. She had the same last name;

the brother part could be legit. Gerhard, though. Get harder. I giggled and finished the last of my
saketini. Scrolling through my mental file of lovers, aka The United Nations of Peen, I realized I’d
never slept with a Dutchman. Maybe Gerhard could check off an item on my fuck-it-list.

Being a professor might sound glamorous and interesting to some, but for me it meant having to

fly coach on international flights. A window seat earned me a place in a slightly higher level of hell
than a middle seat or the row right next to the bathrooms where the seats didn’t recline. Still, it was
hell nonetheless.

The crush of summer tourists filled the flight to capacity. College backpackers, stoners and

shifty-eyed men populated the plane. I doubted they would be seeing any Van Goghs or Rembrandts.

I wanted a cigarette. Damn quitting. Stupid aging and health. I reached into my bag for a piece of

nicotine gum. Over the past three months, I’d managed to ween myself off cigarettes, deliciously
comforting, soothing, invigorating, cancer causing cigarettes. After smoking for decades, I missed the
habit of it. At least flights were smoke-free these days. I might have been tempted to stand in the
smoking section and acquire a contact nicotine hit.

Groggy after a sleep-aid induced nap, a gray sky greeted me when the plane landed at Schiphol

Airport. Even in summer, Amsterdam had more rain than my beloved Portland. And cooler
temperatures. I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck. The variation in climates meant I had
packed for three seasons for two countries. Ghana promised to be hot, humid, rainy and dry, but never
cool.

At immigration, Anita’s business card fell to the floor when I reached for my passport. The man

who picked it up and handed it to me looked half my age, which meant he was young enough to be one
of my students. This reality didn’t stop him from brushing against my side and flirting with me while
we waited in line. With his guidebook opened to “cafes” I knew the type of adventure he wanted.
Been there, smoked that. Before he could continue his attempt to flirt or ask to share a cab into the
city, I brusquely thanked him and moved forward to the immigration agent.

Sitting in the back of a cab slowly making its way through morning rush hour into the heart of

Amsterdam, I pulled out Anita’s card with Gerhard’s name on it. I admitted I was more than curious.

After the attentions of the much younger man in line, I wondered how old Anita’s brother was. It
would be crazy to call him. Anita was gorgeous, and if her brother swam in the same gene pool,
chances were he was as tall, blond, and athletic. Everything I didn’t typically find attractive.
Although I shut down Backpack Romeo in the airport, these days my type meant anyone with a pulse,
single, and not looking for a housekeeper. Viagra optional. I took pills to sleep and had a wee
nicotine addiction. Who was I to judge the need for a little blue pill?

My fingers flicked the card to the beat of a techno song on the radio.
Anita wasn’t a friend or even a friend of a friend. What would I say? Hi, I thought your sister

tried to pick me up at a sushi bar at JFK, but turns out she wanted to set me up with you.

No, that wouldn’t work.
Hi, your sister gave me your number. I’ve never had sex with a Dutchman, so I’m calling you.

Are you up for some Flying Dutchman action?

No. Wasn’t the Flying Dutchman some haunted ship doomed to roam the oceans forever? Maybe I

could ask Gerhard.

Jet lag forced a yawn from me. After stretching my arms and rolling my neck, I tucked the card

back into my purse. No need to rush things.

First things first. Coffee and something made of ninety-percent butter. Maybe some cheese.

Followed by chocolate.

Maybe some bitterballen.
I snorted. I might have been too old for college backpackers, but my sense of humor still lingered

around fourteen-year-old-boy.

Amsterdam, I’m coming for you.
You too, Gerhard.

Missionary Position

By Daisy Prescott

Get it now!

Amazon

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Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

iTunes

Author Bio

Before writing funny contemporary romances about adults, I dreamed of being an author while

doing a lot of other things. Antiques dealer, baker, blue ribbon pie-maker, fangirl, freelance writer,
gardener, pet mom and wife are a few of the titles I’ve acquired along the way.

Born and raised in San Diego, my husband and I currently live in a real life Stars Hollow in the

Boston suburbs with our dog, Hubbell, and an imaginary house goat.

Ready to Fall, my second novel, features John Day, the hot, sexy neighbor in my debut novel

Geoducks Are for Lovers. Both can be read as standalones.

My third novel, Missionary Position, a contemporary romance/romantic comedy, released on

June 10, 2014. It stars Selah Elmore, from Geoducks, and can be read as a standalone.

Sex in the Title

By Zack Love

Synopsis

New York City, May 2000. The Internet bubble has burst and Evan, a computer programmer, is

fired with an email from his boss. The next day, his girlfriend dumps him, also via email. Afraid to
check any more emails, Evan desperately seeks a rebound romance but the catastrophes that ensue go
from bad to hilariously worse.

Fortunately, Evan meets Sammy — someone whose legendary disasters with females eclipse

even his own. To reverse their fortunes, they recruit their friends — Trevor, Yi, and Carlos — to
form a group of five guys who take on Manhattan in pursuit of dates, sex, and adventure.

When Evan, a closet writer, falls desperately in love with a Hollywood starlet, he schemes to

meet her by writing a novel that will sweep her off her feet. Sammy knows nothing about publishing
but is confident of one thing: Evan’s book should have the word “sex” in the title.

With musings about life, relationships, and human psychology, this quintessential New York

story about the search for happiness follows five men on their comical paths to trouble, self-
discovery, and love.

Chapter 1

Evan’s Journey from Bad to Worse

“Your employment is terminated. I’m out of the office this morning for meetings but you should

pack up your belongings by 1 p.m. today. Your last pay check will arrive in the mail.”

That was the first email waiting for Evan on Monday morning, May 29, 2000, at the office where

he had worked for the last two years. ChocaChump.com, the Internet-based, chocolate home delivery
company, was another dot-com whose days were numbered. About six weeks earlier, the NASDAQ
had dropped more than twenty-five percent from its peak in a single week.

The tech crash would continue, and Evan’s boss, a mercurial CEO who closely managed his

twenty employees, grew increasingly bitter and difficult as his company faltered. After Evan read the
email terminating his employment, he recalled their curt discussion from the previous Friday.

“Tell me the real reason why you were gone so long yesterday.”
“It’s the reason I gave you: my grandma had a bad fall and needed to be taken to the hospital. She

called me for help because my parents were out of town.”

“You were gone for six hours.”
“Well, I had to go to Queens, where she lives. She needed a bunch of medical tests. And I wasn’t

just going to leave her alone in the hospital. She’s a seventy-five-year old widow, so I had to be there
to comfort her, and help her deal with insurance forms, doctors, etc.”

“Evan, everyone’s got problems. You don’t think I have a grandma who needs me just as much?

Do you think our competitors care about our grandmas? It’s war out there! And we’re losing. Things
used to be much better, but our operating budget no longer covers middle-of-the-day-grandma-
emergencies.”

“But this is the first time I’ve ever done that. And I told you before I left that I had a family

emergency. I can come in this weekend to make up for the lost work time.”

“Yes, please do that…I’ll have to think things over.”
As he promised, Evan spent much of his Saturday making up for his time away from the office.

But there was no reversing a CEO desperate to trim his payroll.

Evan decided not to tell his girlfriend, Alexandra, about the fact that he was now unemployed.

He would wait until after they returned from the Puerto Rican vacation that he had promised her a
month ago, so that she could fully enjoy the experience, rather than feel guilty about the expense. The
quality time with her would also help him to refocus on what really mattered to him, he thought.

Hoping for a fresh and positive start the morning after he was fired, Evan turned on his home

laptop and purchased the airline tickets online. He then logged into his email account, so that he could
forward the trip details to Alexandra. He noticed a new email from her in his inbox.

“Evan, Hun, sorry to tell you like this over email, but my plane’s leaving soon, so I don’t have

time to do this in person. I’m leaving because I really need a break. From everything. Please don’t
start wondering what this means or what you did wrong or anything, because you’ve been great. And
that means that I have to use that trite line about how this isn’t about you. Because it really is about
me…I’m twenty-four years old and I feel like I’m losing my youth suddenly. I just want to feel young
and free for a few months. And I’m tired of this city. It’s making me old. The routine, the stress, the
constant competition. I just need to escape for a while. I know we were supposed to go away one of
these weekends, but I need more than a weekend. Much more. I decided – in a totally spur of the

moment kind of way – to go to Australia. I know this all seems crazy and surprising, but that’s how
these things go when you’re young. Without planning too much. I’ll be gone for six weeks. Maybe
more. I’d ask you to wait for me, but that wouldn’t be fair to either of us. And I’m just not sure we’re
right for each other, even though you’re really a wonderful guy…I think a clean break would be best
for both of us. By the time you read this I’ll probably be on a plane. I’m really sorry, Evan, because I
know this will hurt, even though that was never my intention. Call it a crazy and selfish impulse, but I
just need this change right now. You’ve always been a sweetheart and I’ll totally miss you. Postcards
will follow! Kisses, Alexandra.”

*****

Evan stared at his laptop screen, in speechless disbelief.
For the lonely three months that followed, he struggled with the loss of a job he had mostly

enjoyed, and a woman he had begun to love after almost five months of dating her.

On the few occasions when he could motivate himself to go out and act like a single man again,

Evan crashed and burned with every woman he approached. Julia, a sexy, thirty-two-year-old
therapist, was the only exception, but there were too many issues for that prospect to go anywhere.
She couldn’t resist psychoanalyzing Evan whenever they met, which he soon realized was just her
way of avoiding her own doldrums. Julia was clinically depressed and desperately seeking marriage
and children (which Evan didn’t want for another four or five years), so his conscience forced him to
nip things in the bud, even though she seemed open to a fling with him.

Thus, Evan continued stumbling along his losing streak, learning just how much being down is

not particularly appealing to anyone – especially the attractive women of New York City, clad in
their heels or hipster boots, looking for a good time.

Evan Cheson was actually a charming and good-looking man. He had a full head of thick, black

hair; blue eyes; an athletic, six-foot-one build; smooth, dark eyebrows; and facial features suggestive
of his French-Italian ancestry. And for most of his adult life, he had been a confident and successful
man, from school, to work, to women.

But several major failures in rapid-fire succession can inhibit good judgment, and thereby invite

more failure. For Evan, losing a job and a girlfriend, each via email, one day after the next, was too
much to avoid the absurd downward spiral that would ensue. He even avoided checking emails for a
while, but that didn’t help.

On Thursday night, after a few months of fruitless rebound attempts and embarrassing faux pas

with women, there was something perverse in Evan – maybe even carelessly self-destructive – that
wanted to know just how laughably low he could go.
So he put on a new pair of dark slacks and a collared, button-down, sky blue shirt just snug enough to
suggest his occasional gym routine. His clean look – with a dab of cologne, a gargle of mouthwash,
and freshly polished leather shoes – was calculated to minimize the entrance hassle into Manhattan’s
clubs. But had Evan fathomed just how hard he would end up crashing that night, he would have
surely stayed home in his T-shirt and boxers.

Chapter 2

Evan Runs Full Speed into the Wall Ahead

It began in a bar. The Bowery Bar. It was the end of summer – an auspicious time for an

unattached twenty-nine-year-old male in Manhattan. Scattered sparingly about the spring, summer,
and fall, there are about fifty days of perfect weather in New York City: zero humidity, clear skies,
and seventy-five to eighty degrees fanned by a light, cool breeze. During such days, smiles sprout
more readily, clothes pronounce rather than protect, and the sweet scent of promise wafts everywhere
in the air.

The last day of August 2000 was one of those perfect fifty days. And it was a Thursday, which

meant that most of the Manhattanites leaving the next day for a weekend in the Hamptons were still in
the city, and that meant more female prospects for Evan. Indeed, that Thursday felt so promising that
Evan thought he might finally reverse a dry spell that somehow felt longer than his postpubescent
years. But Evan’s new insecurity, which resulted almost entirely from his recent bout of bad luck,
made him somewhat desperate to prove himself any way he could. And as his desperation led to ever
greater and more frequent fumbles, he began to question the quality of his goods, as even the most
steadfast traveling salesman does after enough slammed doors. He lost his touch, hesitated with his
humor, and forgot some of the tactics that had served him so well in the past.

So when Evan spotted a woman across the bar who easily qualified as a “9+ hottie” in his book,

he broke one of the most important rules of the pick-up: never wait more than a minute to make a
move. A longer delay after initial eye contact suggests a lack of interest or – even worse – a lack of
confidence. It also converts the interaction from the flowingly spontaneous to the self-consciously
calculated. Evan’s five-minute delay before approaching a woman who absolutely attracted him was,
in this case, attributable only to his three-month string of prior botches. To exacerbate matters, when
he finally gathered the gumption to approach her, he allowed some form of autopilot to take over, in
the hope that luck alone might produce some good results.

She was wearing body-tight, silk white shorts, and a pink wife-beater undershirt with no bra. Her

perky, full breasts looked to Evan like two deliciously firm, cherry-topped cantaloupes, daring him to
look anywhere else. The woman oozed sex and her name was Tina, although Evan would never
actually come to learn this basic fact about her. He would instead remember her only as “the soft porn
babe I massively underestimated.”

As Evan arrived next to her at the bar, he realized that the only thing about her that he had

observed was that this sultry, petite blonde in his crosshairs had the figure of an exotic dancer or a
soft porn actress. Evan’s autopilot skills were reliable enough to avoid a disastrous opener like,
“Say, did anyone ever tell you that you could be a great exotic dancer?” But they were sufficiently
lacking in foresight and imagination to realize that asking Tina what she does for a living might be just
as bad, if she was, in fact, an exotic dancer. So when Tina turned and noticed that Evan had squeezed
into the small space at the bar next to her, all Evan could say when she looked at him was “So…What
do you do?”

Tina, who had noticed Evan hesitate for several minutes before walking up to her, just shook her

head with a mockingly disappointed look on her face. “Couldn’t you do any better than that?” she
replied.

As Evan’s continuing bad luck would have it, Tina had already been approached by four

conversationally unimaginative men during the last two hours. All four had started with a similar
question, and they were each clearly interested in Tina only as a sexual object. So by the time Evan
came by, Tina was more than ready to dish it out.

“Well I realize it’s not a great opening line,” Evan began excusing himself, “but you’ve gotta

start somewhere, right? So why not with what you do?”

“Because that’s probably the worst question you can ask a woman you don’t know.”
“Why?”
“It’s about as original and sincere as a flight attendant greeting.”
“Is it really that bad?”
“Guys ask me that question all the time. You think any of them actually cares what the answer

is?” Tina perked up her chest a little, as if to emphasize what they really care about.

“But I do care.”
“I’m sure you do,” she replied. “Which is why I’m sure you stopped to consider the possibility

that I might not like what I do, or might not want to discuss it with a stranger.”

Evan realized that he had to get off autopilot fast, because the young beauty in front of him was

far sharper than he had estimated. He feared that he would soon be adding her to the list of females
who had abruptly walked away from him in the middle of his attempt to “make a new friend,” as he
liked to think of his bungles.

“So,” he began, “should I have started by asking you what you don’t do?”
“Maybe.” Tina released a slight, reluctant smile at the question. “At least it would have been

more original.”

“All right,” Evan started anew. “So tell me. What do you not do?”
“I don’t tell guys I don’t know what I do.”
“OK. What else do you not do?”
“I don’t play basketball.”
“How funny! I also don’t play basketball,” he said, forgetting his love of the game.
“I don’t approve of how the city government handles New York’s solid waste problem.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more about solid waste,” Evan replied, despite his complete

indifference to the issue.

“And I don’t particularly like your outfit.”
“Really?” Evan smiled with some embarrassment. “It’s actually refreshing to hear a woman say

what she really thinks, at my personal expense…”

“At least you don’t have to wonder what I really think.”
“I actually spent four hours in the store, consulting with every female in the area, before I bought

it.”

“That just goes to show you that your shopping time isn’t helping the quality of your shopping

decisions.”

“I hate shopping.”
“It shows.”
“Say, can we restart this conversation at some point where I was doing better?”
“There is no such point,” she responded with a playful half-smile. “You were always doing this

bad.”

“So I should probably quit while I’m ahead?”
“Probably,” Tina replied, mysteriously. “But I’ll let you crash and burn for a little longer by

telling you what I do for a living.”

“Thank you…I guess.” By now, Evan was at once intrigued, intimidated, and otherwise totally at

a loss with respect to how he should proceed with this woman.

“I actually don’t know why I’m going to share this information with you…” Tina paused for a

moment, to give the value of her confession the respect and seriousness that it deserved. “Because I
ordinarily don’t tell this to strangers, but for some reason I trust you.” Tina suddenly seemed
vulnerable and exposed to Evan, who now felt awkwardly unworthy of whatever it was that she was
about to disclose about her job.

“You know, we really don’t have to talk about what you do,” Evan said, trying to match Tina’s

tone. “I mean, people start there because it can tell you a lot about someone’s choices in life, and
what their day to day life is like, but sometimes it can be very misleading. I mean, look at me. I’m a
computer programmer.”

“Really?”
“Yeah. I’m another survivor of a dot-bomb,” Evan explained, putting the best spin he could on

things. “My company went bankrupt two months ago, and I’ve been freelancing as a software
development consultant. But that has nothing to do with my real passion, which is writing.”

“What do you write?”
“I’ve been working on a novel for the last five years. And I’ve written a bunch of screenplays as

well.”

“You write screenplays?” Tina’s interest rose for a moment. “Have you written anything that was

made yet?”

The only thing Evan hated more than that follow up question was the answer that he had to give to

it. “No. Not yet…Why do you ask?”

“I work in film too,” she replied.
Given Tina’s original reluctance to discuss what she does, Evan concluded at this point that she

was either 1) a disgruntled actress who was stuck at the bottom of the totem pole, grunting away on
some low-budget film production with the hope that her travail would someday pay off in the form of
a film job that would be less embarrassingly exploitative than her current one; or 2) a soft porn
actress who bore her flesh in those late-night cable TV films that had too little sex to qualify as true
porn and too little story or character to qualify as true cinema. Either way, he thought it best to change
the subject.

“You know, I don’t even know your name yet,” he tried.
“Well if I tell you what I do, then I certainly won’t tell you my name, so you’ll have to choose:

my name or my job.”

Now he was almost positive that she was a soft porn actress, and knew that a discussion about

her job should be avoided at all costs. “Your name. I don’t need to know what you do. But I do need
to know your name.”

“That’s too bad, because I’ve already prepared myself to tell you what I do, and now I’m feeling

the need to share it with you.”

“Because I write screenplays?” he said, trying to feign ignorance and still hoping to change the

subject.

“No. Because I trust you for some strange reason. There’s something honest and reassuring about

you.”

“There is?”
“Yeah…Like you mean well – even if your delivery needs work…So here’s what I do.” Tina

looked away for an awkward moment.

Evan felt even more uncomfortable now. He knew that this conversation had grown too serious

too fast and there was no recovering from it now. There was only a graceful exit strategy to be
devised as quickly as possible.

“I’m an actress…” Tina started. She made eye contact with Evan for a moment, and then looked

to the side a little. “I work mainly in skin flicks…I mean, I work in skin flicks right now…Nothing
really hard core…There’s no actual intercourse involved and it pays really well…”

Tina tried a forced smile at Evan, and Evan looked at her acceptingly.
“I ran away from home when I was sixteen, and I needed something to pay the bills and then get

myself through college…Then, I guess I just kept doing it…But I want to get involved in other films –
you know, normal films – one day soon, I hope…”

Evan sighed at the end of her confession, and – still clueless about how to respond but painfully

aware of the need to say something – he reverted once again to autopilot. “I think that’s really cool
that you can admit to that. I mean, it makes you real. Someone who knows her issues and has dealt
with them.”

“I guess,” Tina replied distantly, with a self-reflective gaze that suggested she might not have

even heard what Evan just said. Evan hoped this was the case because he had no idea what issues he
had just referred to in his compliment.

“And I think it’s really cool that you’re so comfortable with your body and with your sexuality…

I mean, not everyone can look natural on camera…And a lot of people are very inhibited about their
bodies and their sexuality.”

“Are you?” she asked, suddenly focused on this question.
“Well I could never…” He tried to think of a polite way to describe what Tina does, but

preferred to stay away from that topic. “I mean, I’m very comfortable with my sexuality, but…Well, I
don’t know…Women tell me that I’m definitely comfortable with my body sexually. And I’ve never
really felt uncomfortable in bed, so I guess – ”

“Women tell you that?” she asked, somewhat intrigued. “So have you been with a lot of women?”

There was a genuine curiosity in her question that gave Evan some hope.

“Actually, I’ve been with my fair share, for my age.”
“And you’re what – twenty-seven years old?”
“Thanks. But I’m twenty-nine.”
“So what’s the body count?”
“The body count?”
“You know: how many women have you slept with in your twenty-nine years?”
Evan wasn’t sure whether to overstate the number to look sexually impressive to a soft porn star,

or whether to understate the number to look less promiscuous and more like the responsible, clean
cut, solid-boyfriend type. Since he still hadn’t quite figured out what Tina was looking for or who she
really was, he decided just to tell the truth.

“I’ve been with about sixty-seven women.”
“What do you mean ‘about sixty-seven?’ You say ‘about sixty’ or ‘about seventy.’ But not ‘about

sixty-seven.’ You’re obviously keeping track.” Tina looked amused at another opportunity to toy with
Evan.

“All right. You got me,” Evan conceded. “I’ve been with precisely sixty-seven women.”
“Unless, of course, you said ‘about’ because the total depends on how you define ‘being with a

woman.’ For example, if you just got a blowjob and nothing else then maybe you don’t count that.”

“OK. To be more precise, I’ve had sexual intercourse with sixty-seven women.”
“All right, so then you’ve probably been with many more women than sixty-seven?”
“Yeah. But I don’t keep track of those.” Evan suddenly wondered why he didn’t bother to keep

track of anything but consummation.

“I see…So when did you get started on these sixty-seven women?”
“You mean, how old was I when I lost my virginity?”
“Yes.”
“Twenty.”
“So you’ve slept with sixty-seven women in just nine years.”
“Well, actually I’ve had six serious relationships that together took up about two years.”
“Serious? Let’s see…Six serious relationships in two years…So each one lasted an average of

four months. You call that serious?”

“Well, it was an intense four months. And I wasn’t seeing anyone else. You know, that’s kind of

a big deal in New York,” he added ironically. “Dating someone exclusively for four months in New
York is like four years in Anchorage.”

Tina chuckled at Evan’s joke. “All right, so not counting the serious relationships, you’ve slept

with…” She crunched some numbers in her head. “You’ve slept with sixty-one women in just seven
years…That’s an average of almost nine per year…A new woman every forty days.” Tina seemed
impressed, which suddenly made Evan feel rather promiscuous.

“Do you think that’s a lot?”
“You probably have a few STDs by now, right?”
“None that I know of, thank God.”
“So you’ve been tested? I have to get tested before each of my films.”
“Yeah, I actually just got my AIDS test last month. And I’m clean.”
“But were you tested for herpes, gonorrhea, and hepatitis?”
“No.”
“And you might have chancroid, crabs, HPV or molluscum contagiosum.”
“I hope not.”
“What about scabies, chlamydia, syphilis, or Trichomoniasis?”
“I don’t think so.”
“But you were only tested for HIV.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you have genital warts?
“Nasty! No, I don’t have warts.”
“They’re actually not all that bad. An actor who used to work on my films got them and couldn’t

work anymore until he got them removed. But they’re really just a cosmetic nuisance.”

Evan was feeling overwhelmed by this sex education class.
“You sound really knowledgeable about this stuff…Do you have any STDs? I mean, with your

line of work, you’ve probably slept with a lot more people than I have.” After Tina’s grilling, Evan
felt emboldened – and relieved – to turn the microscope onto her.

“I told you that in my line of work, which is soft porn, I don’t need to have actual intercourse

with any of the actors.”

“But you said that you have to get tested before each film.”
“We do. The producers don’t want to take any liability risks, in case there’s some kind of

accident…And certain scenes do require quite a bit of skin-to-skin contact, even though there’s no
actual intercourse or head involved. So if anyone has anything that could spread by accident, it could
slow down production – particularly with STDs that don’t look good on camera…So our producer is
extra careful about these things.”

“Oh.”

“There’s something else I should ask you.”
“What?”
“Are you comfortable with homosexuality?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I do a lot of scenes with other women, and I’ve had some sexual relationships with

women, and I just need to know that you’re comfortable with that sort of thing.”

This question gave Evan some hope. Tina had just asked for explicit reassurance on a personal

and sexual topic – something that she wouldn’t have done if she had absolutely no interest in him.

“Oh, well, I’m totally comfortable with it.”
“Have you ever had sex with another man?”
Evan was again faced with a conversational dilemma: should he lie and try to impress her with

just how comfortable he is with homosexuality by claiming to have had at least one experience, or
should he honestly report the truth because Tina prefers her men to be unflinchingly straight?

“No. I’ve never had sex with another man…I mean, I just never really had the urge.”
“Oh. That’s what I figured. That’s cool. So now I just have two more questions before I can

reach a decision.”

“A decision?”
“Yeah. A decision about you.”
“About me?”
“Yeah. You know, whether you’re someone I’d want to date.” She grinned mischievously. “Or

just have a fling with.”

Evan’s face broke into a huge blush of relieved optimism. He didn’t have a clue where the

conversation had been going, and now he finally received a clear signal that things had actually been
going quite well.

“Sure. Bring on the questions.”
“Now this may strike you as a bit forward and vulgar, but we’ve talked about quite a few

intimate issues, and I’m feeling very comfortable with you…”

“Ask away.”
“Are you hung? All of my men have been really well endowed. So I’m a bit spoiled in that

department. And I always need to check.”

“I’m very well hung,” Evan replied, proud to be answering such a promising question from such

a sexy woman.

“But all the boys say that.”
“Well I can prove it,” Evan replied, blushing a little.
“All the boys say that too.”
“But not all of them can.”
“True…Do you know why that is?”
“Because not all of them are hung,” ventured Evan.
“Nope…Because not all of the boys who are hung are uninhibited enough to prove it. Which

brings me to my second and last question.”

“What’s that?”
“I’m a very sensual and uninhibited person, so it’s very important for me that my man be equally

sensual and uninhibited.”

“I think I probably am.”
“Well, the way to find out if you are, in fact, as uninhibited and well hung as you say is really

quite simple…” Tina seductively licked her lips and suggestively looked down with interest at
Evan’s groin area. He suddenly realized where she was going with all of this.

“So your next question is whether I’m uninhibited enough to prove to you, right here, that I’m

well hung?”

“Right here. In the Bowery Bar.”
Evan was dumbfounded because he had never before encountered such a request, and felt

genuinely torn about whether to grant it. He looked at the inviting, azure eyes in her ravishing face,
and then passed over her sultry, perfectly curved body, as if to weigh carefully the certain humiliation
he would experience upon publicly revealing himself against the joy of a potential “score” with one
of the sexiest women he had approached in years. He remembered that he hadn’t come this close to
succeeding with anyone, much less a stunner like this, in a painfully long time. Evan imagined how he
would later think himself a coward and a fool for having walked away from the opportunity. He
looked around the bar quickly and didn’t notice anyone in particular paying attention to the two of
them. He calculated that he could probably drop his pants quickly and then pull them back up before
anyone could see. “Hell, I’m still young and crazy,” he thought. “At the very worst, I’ll just have a
funny anecdote to tell everyone,” he told himself.

Evan tried to look Tina in the eyes with complete cool, but he started blushing as he fumbled

awkwardly with the button at the top of his pants. Tina just stood there, propped up against the bar,
looking mildly amused but slightly unimpressed with how long Evan had taken to reach his decision
and implement it. She glanced at her watch. It was 12:50 a.m. Evan thought she might actually begin
timing how long it would take him.

He finally unfastened the top button and quickly unzipped his pants. Tina still looked

unimpressed. He knew he had to be more adventurous about the whole thing if he was going to prove
to her that he was as uninhibited as he claimed to be. So, after tucking his thumbs under the waistband
of his underwear, he looked her straight in the eye again, smiled for a moment, and then pushed
everything down with a confident and unreserved extension of his arms.

As he stood there exposed, Evan became acutely aware of the many people in the immediate

vicinity who – up until that moment – had seemed oblivious to him. Evan noticed the thirty-something
barman in black trying to sneak in peeks while serving some customers at the bar. He noticed an
attractive young couple that had stopped making out by the bar to watch. He looked at them for a
moment, and they laughed self-consciously, returning to their tongue lock but occasionally angling
themselves for another view. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed four slick-looking guys in their
mid-twenties, joking amongst themselves about this guy just twenty feet away whose pants were
dropped in front of this babe. “Now that’s what I call balls at the Bowery Bar!” one of them yelled.
Evan pretended not to notice this group or hear its heckles only because there were too many of them
for a threatening stare to do anything but goad them into even more obnoxious behavior. The only
thing to do now was get it over with as quickly as possible, and walk out with the gorgeous prize that
would vindicate virtually anything he had done in public. Who could argue with his manliness or his
judgment if, after he pulled his pants back up, Tina gave him one of those triumphant, Hollywood
French kisses, and then took his arm and walked out of the bar with him?

As he stood there with all of his manhood dangling in the cool, smoky air, he thought only of that

glorious moment. He didn’t see all of the people watching him with a mixture of fascination and
repugnance. He focused only on Tina. He waited for her to acknowledge his courageously stupid act
with some look of impressed gratitude and/or validation of his size. He waited for her to signal in
some way that he had gone well beyond the call of duty, and that he could now pull his pants back up

and receive his reward. But he saw none of this in Tina’s face, which just looked slightly amazed that
he had actually gone through with the whole thing.

So Evan ended up holding his pants down for longer than he had originally planned to, and lifted

everything back up only after realizing that he would receive no instruction from Tina to do so. As he
zipped his pants back up, he heard some ornery howls from the crowd of guys, and saw the couple
quickly resume their kissing with another you-caught-us-staring blush. He couldn’t tell how much the
barman had seen.

“So?” Evan asked, looking expectantly at Tina. “Did I pass your test?”
Tina looked unmoved by Evan’s Bowery Bar boldness. Somewhat reluctant to answer his

question, she replied, “Well…To tell you the truth…I don’t think you did.”

“Really?” Evan felt a devastating humiliation barreling his way, but – in what was to become a

pathetic pattern that night – he felt perversely determined to confront it head on. “Why not? I’m not
hung enough for you?” he asked, preparing himself for the worst.

“No. I actually think you’re probably hung enough.”
Upon hearing this confirmation, Evan exhaled a small sigh of relief, but was still waiting for the

bad news.

“So what is it? I mean, I’m obviously uninhibited, right? I mean, you weren’t expecting me to

dance on the bar naked, were you?”

“No, please. Spare us.”
“So what is it? Why didn’t I pass your test?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Do you really think I would take home someone who drops his pants in public just because I

asked him to? I need a man with a little more self-respect than that.”

“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“But you get naked in public all the time. Hell, you even simulate sex for the public.”
“No, I don’t.”
“What do you think being a soft porn actress is?”
“It’s definitely getting naked and simulating sex in public, but I’m not a soft porn actress.”
“What do you mean?” Evan asked in dismay.
“I develop swaptions, derivatives, and other hedge instruments for the futures markets at Morgan

Stanley. Princeton grads generally don’t go into soft porn.”

“But…But you…”
“I know that’s what I told you. But that’s just my screener. I get hit on by a lot of guys, so I like to

filter out anyone who’s really promiscuous, bisexual, infected with an STD, or willing to drop his
pants in public…I’m too busy to waste a bunch of dates finding out deal-breaking data that I could
have uncovered from the get-go…Life’s too short not to cut to the chase, right?”

And when Tina finished that reply, 104 anvils, each carefully crafted and weighed in the best

metal workshops of the American heartland, came crashing down onto Evan’s head.

Get your copy of “Sex in the Title” now at all major online e-book stores (all links can be found

here:

http://zacklove.com/my-books/sex-in-the-title/

)

Zack Love’s Amazon author page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00GG9GI2S

Sign up for Zack Love’s newsletter:

http://zacklove.com/about-me/newsletter/

AUTHOR BIO

Zack Love graduated from Harvard College, where he tried to create a bachelor’s degree in

Women. With the bachelor portion of that degree in hand, he settled in New York City but – to afford
renting his bed-sized studio – found himself flirting mostly with a computer screen and stacks of
documents. Determined not to die a corporate drone, Zack decided to sacrifice sleep for
screenwriting, an active social life, and Internet startups offering temporary billion-dollar fantasies.

To feed his steady diet of NYC nightlife, he regularly crashed VIP parties in the early 2000s and

twice bumped into his burgeoning crush, a Hollywood starlet. But – much to Zack’s surprise – neither
of those awkward conversations led to marriage with the A-list actress. Zack eventually consoled
himself by imagining fiascoes far worse than those involving his celebrity crush. In the process, he
dreamed up a motley gang of five men inspired by some of his college friends and quirky work
colleagues. And thus was born Sex in the Title. But the novel is not autobiographical: Zack never
had his third leg attacked by any mammal (nor by any plant, for that matter). In fact, keeping his
member safe has been one of Zack’s lifelong goals – and one of the few that he’s managed to
accomplish.

Sneak Peek:

The Hooker and the Hermit

By Penny Reid and L.H. Cosway

By LH Cosway and Penny Reid

Release date: February 2015

Goodreads link:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23285659-the-hooker-and-the-hermit

Chapter One

The Email Checker: When one pretends to be checking his/her email on a smartphone, but is

instead actually taking a picture of a person/the people directly in front of him/her.

Best for: Most situations where it is socially acceptable to be checking email, e.g. coffee shops,

while dining alone at a restaurant, waiting for public transportation.

Do not use: In locations with no cell phone or internet reception.

*Annie*

I’m not going to pretend that I have pristine intentions. But to be fair, when he initially entered the

restaurant I was already checking my email.

In fact, I didn’t look up from my phone until I heard the kerfuffle and squawking of excited

females. These sounds—giggling, squeals, oooohhhhh, whispered Oh My God! and Is that really
him?—typically accompanied the arrival of a male celebrity. I’m especially tuned into the signs and
symptoms for two reasons: my job and my hobby.

I am the primary project lead of the Social Media Marketing division at Davidson & Croft

Media. My specialty is transforming reputations in the court of public opinion. Give me a disgraced
celebrity, politician, or public figure—sex tape scandal, DUIs, arrests, the great rehab escape, sex-
ting an intern (what I call ‘Donkey Donging’)—and I will transform that person’s image.

I will make her sparkle. I will make him shine. I am legendary in my field. I am the best at what I

do.

And I admit this as truth with absolutely no conceit or vanity, because I’m terrible at almost

everything else in life. Take walking or talking for instance, never mind attempting both at the same
time. Or smiling. Or not being weird. Or not creeping people out. Or not being the cause of every
awkward silence in a five mile radius.

The only other things at which I excel in life are: 1) responsible financial planning, 2) my hobby

blog, and 3) eating.

Which brings me to now and Tom’s Southern Kitchen and the group of ladies molting feathers

left and right as they try to dry hump the remarkably attractive and muscular man who has just entered.

I’d lifted just my eyes, peering at him and the women as I tried to place his face. He was standing

in profile and his handsome mouth was curved in a patient, polite smile. I couldn’t tell if he was
enjoying the attention or if he just had exceedingly excellent manners.

Regardless, he looked quite a lot like the Irish actor Colin Farrell, except a Colin Farrell who’d

been working out non-stop, had thighs like tree trunks, and was ten to fifteen years younger. So,
maybe a Colin Farrell just back from a visit to the plastic surgeon and a CrossFit boot camp. This
glorious specimen of maleness had dark brown hair, spiky and short. His nose was perfect, almost
adorable, but somehow fit his face. His jaw was angular and strong. He even had the actor’s high
cheekbones, dark brown eyebrows, thick lashes, and doe eyes.

I couldn’t decide if this guy was a doppelganger or if he was the real deal; but it didn’t really

matter. He would be perfect for my Saturday Celebrity Stalker post. It was, without fail, the most
popular post every week.

Which leads me to my greatest and most closely held secret. The truth is that I, Annie Catrel, am

The Socialmedialite, the owner and purveyor of the blog, New York’s Finest.

That’s right.
I’m the Socialmedialite

I’m that girl, the most influential infotainment blogger in the world.
And, because I am meticulous about my security protocols, no one knows who I am… that I am

she… that she is me.

Never mind. You know what I mean.
Anyway, Saturday Celebrity Stalker is my weekly post dedicated to celebrities or their look-

alikes wherein their physical features are picked apart John Madden style (John Madden being the
famous American football coach then announcer who loved to draw on the home viewers’ TV screen
with circles, arrows, and random lines to demonstrate errors in football plays).

Except, I do this to celebrities (almost exclusively male celebrities) and question their judgment

regarding grooming, makeup (yes, makeup), clothes, and accessory choices. And, if they’re walking a
dog, I do it to their little dog too.

The level to which I pick apart the celebrity’s lack of judgment depends on several factors, and

I’m the first to admit I’m a good deal easier or/nicer to those people with talent than I am to
celebriturds (people who are famous because they’re famous/rich, with no redeeming qualities to
offer society) and celebritrash (celebriturds who are also fame whores).

However, I try not to comment too much on bodies or facial features. Personally I feel like we—

western culture—are so body obsessed, there’s no need for me to add to the hysteria. Especially
since these famous people already give me so much fodder with their ridiculous million dollar fanny
packs (made in third world sweat shops) and their gold plated floss holders.

Why does anyone need a gold plated floss holder? Tell me. Why? Why? Why?
I don’t know. I don’t get it.
Most men loved being featured on my blog. My posts typically resulted in emails of praise and

thanks from publicity hungry agents and celebrities. Sometimes they’d make a donation to charity in
the name of the blog or respond with a self-deprecating parody on YouTube.

I took care to focus on satire, poking fun at the extremes, playfully objectifying these untouchable

gods among men. Women, especially females of notoriety, in our society had to suck up and swallow
daily doses of criticism about everything—too fat, too skinny, wearing the same outfit twice in
public, having an opinion—from fake TV personalities and tabloid vultures.

In comparison to these self-esteem vampires, I provided a public service. So I make fun of these

famous-people-specific idiosyncrasies on a blog followed by twenty million people. It was all in
good fun.

The lookalike continued to smile and sign napkins for the group of ladies. He might not have

actually been the Irish actor, but he was definitely a somebody. Luckily for him, it was 3:30 p.m. on a
Thursday afternoon; that meant Tom’s Southern Kitchen was virtually empty of customers.
Surreptitiously, I angled my telephone and clicked out of my email, pulling up my smartphone’s
camera.

I then took about forty or fifty shots over the next two minutes, until my view of the hubbub was

blocked by a waiter bringing over my bag of takeout. I didn’t quite make eye contact with my server
as I paid for the food, collected my belongings as leisurely as I could manage, and left the small
restaurant.

Eye contact is difficult for me. I know that seems strange; it is strange. For the longest time I

assumed I was just very shy; that is until I started engaging with people online. That’s when I
discovered in-real-life-Annie is shy. She is reclusive and quiet. She observes. She seldom speaks.
She dislikes attention of any kind.

But the Socialmedialite, my online handle, is gregarious and silly. She is opinionated. She craves

interaction and attention. She is clever and witty (mostly because, online, wittiness is not a factor of
time; in real life you have to be quick-witted in order to be considered witty).

My bag slung over my shoulder, I carried the takeout in one hand and held my phone in the other.

I was eager to thumb through my new pictures on the short walk back to my apartment. I hadn’t taken
notice of much except for the guy’s resemblance to the Irish actor while sitting at my table pretending
to check my email.

Therefore I was anxious to analyze what he was wearing, what he was carrying, and any other

potentially remarkable external manifestations of eccentricity. I turned the corner of XXX and XXX,
now just a half block from my building, and studied the shots.

Initially, all I saw was a guy who looked like Colin Farrell with a strange looking, albeit small,

apparatus strapped to his back, his feet in those God-awful toe-shoes that make the wearer look like a
hobbit. His shirt was lime green, skin tight, highlighting his impressively muscled physique, and
appeared to be made of Lycra; his thighs were chorded and thick, plainly visible because he wore
spandex—black spandex, not lime green.

On 99.9% of people, this outfit would have looked completely ridiculous. But not on this guy. He

looked hot. Really, really hot.

However, during my second, third, and fourth perusal—and especially in the pictures where his

face was turned toward the natural light of the windows—I noted something remarkable about his
eyes. Though his mouth held a wide, welcoming grin, his eyes struck me as sad. Terribly, terribly sad.
And when I say struck me I mean they made my steps falter and slow, and a sudden involuntary intake
of breath.

Here was this guy, physical perfection, obviously living a charmed life, walking around with

mesmerizingly sad, soulful eyes. They were the kind of eyes that pull you in, ensnare you, bind you,
hold you and your focus and your priorities hostage.

They took my breath away.
Some strange, long dormant and heavily suppressed instinct urged me to run back to the

restaurant, wrap him in my arms, and cradle him to my bosom. My heart gave a little twist. I wanted
to kiss away his hurts… or at least make his hurts some cookies.

I shook myself, forcing my feet to move purposefully forward toward home, and burry these

arresting and unwelcomed instinctual reactions.

The critic in me reassessed the image and couldn’t ignore the toe-shoes, the lime green workout

shirt, or the spandex—SPANDEX!—shorts. Even the top 1% of good looking men should know better
than to wear spandex shorts outside of a sporting event.

Just… no.
Sad and soulful notwithstanding, this man needed an intervention.
Although, spandex is nice for highlighting…
Struck by sudden curiosity, and because I am a red-blooded woman, I zoomed in on the area of

his groin.

That’s right, I’m a reclusive pervert and I make no apologies for it. And, giving the matter some

thought, a reclusive, shy pervert is much preferable to an extroverted pervert. I might also be a tad
sexually starved since I avoid all physical, real life human interaction.

Just a tad.
I walked past my doorman and into my building, keeping my attention affixed to the phone as I

studied the bulge in the man’s spandex running shorts. Tearing my bottom lip between my teeth, I
boarded the elevator and tried another picture; in this one he was angled toward the window, half

facing the camera. I zoomed in a bit more.

“Whatever you’re looking at must be really interesting.”
I jumped back and away from the voice, sucking in a startled breath, jostling the bag of takeout in

my hand and clutching my phone to my chest. I hadn’t realized that I was not alone on the elevator.

I found him, my companion, looking at me with an amused smile. His blue eyes were suspicious,

but good-natured, slits. I recognized him immediately as my very tall, very nice looking, ambiguously
single next door neighbor.

Ambiguously single because he always had a date, but it was never the same lady friend twice.
I didn’t blame him, not at all. By all outward appearances this guy was a hot commodity.

Impeccably tailored designer suit and Italian leather shoes that announced both power and wealth; a
chiseled jaw beneath perfectly formed lips framing stunningly white teeth; strong nose, bright blue
eyes, expertly spiked and shaped blond hair. He looked like the type that subscribed to a beauty
regimen. I was pretty sure his eyebrows were plucked and shaped by a professional.

I guesstimated his age as just cresting thirty; hard to tell with meterosexualizing of his

appearance. Add to all this a body that reminded me of a cyclist or a runner—lean and well
maintained—he was a well groomed wolf in wolf’s clothing and the females in Manhattan were
helpless sheep.

After two seconds of stunned staring, I ripped my eyes from his amused half-lidded gaze and

blinked around the mirrored space, trying to get my bearings.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry; in fact, I was pretty sure he was trying not to laugh. “Sorry I

scared you.”

I shook my head, my phone still clutched to my chest, and affixed my attention to the floor of the

elevator.

“It’s fine. I was just startled.” I said, swallowing.
We were quiet for a beat but I could feel his eyes on me. I glanced at the display above the floor

buttons, trying to gauge how much longer I was going to have to share the elevator with Mr.
Ambiguously Single.

To my dismay, he spoke again. “You’re Annie, right?”
I nodded, my eyes flickering to the side to glance at him then back to the display.
“I’m your neighbor, Kurt.” In my peripheral vision I saw that he’d turned completely toward me

and offered his hand.

I glanced at him again, at his friendly, easy smile and friendly, easy eyes. Then I glanced at the

takeout bag in my right hand and the phone held to my chest. I seriously debated whether or not to
shrug and say nothing.

See, the problem with being a really well paid shy person is that you have no incentive to ascribe

to social niceties and norms. My company loves me (most of the time), the clients love me, they love
the magic I work. I seldom go into the office—only Wednesdays and Fridays. I have an office, I just
prefer to work from home.

I’m not agoraphobic. I go out in public, I walk five miles in the park every day, I love the Natural

History Museum and visit once a week; as well, I frequent places where celebrities are typically
spotted so I can get shots for the blog. Being a lurker doesn’t require social interaction. Therefore, if I
speak—in person—to more than ten people during any given week then it’s been an above average
week.

Nevertheless, some part of me rebelled against being rude. I might contemplate becoming a

wackadoodle recluse in my brain, but I could never fully commit to the role. Therefore, I shifted my

belongings, placed my phone—with the crotch shot—into my bag, and accepted his hand for a quick
shake.

But it wasn’t a quick shake. His fingers tightened around mine until I lifted my eyes to his and

relaxed my hand. His gaze expectant, interested; his smile soft and really very attractive. I was
perplexed as to why he was wielding both in my direction.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Annie.” He sounded like he meant it.
I returned his smile as best as I could, felt my eyebrows lift on my forehead. “You too, Kurt.”
“We should get together some time. Get to know each other.” He said these words in a rush,

almost like he was afraid I might disappear before he finished speaking.

“Yeah.” I nodded, trying to mimic his intonation of sincerity. “Sure. We should do that.”
Thankfully the doors opened. I took advantage of the distraction to pull my hand from his and dart

out of the elevator. Of course he was close behind since we both lived on the same floor.

“You know, we’ve lived next door for going on two years and this is the first time we’ve spoken

to each other?” He asked this conversationally, with a lilt of humor in his voice.

“Hmm,” was all I said, placing my takeout on the floor and digging in my bag for my key.
I did know it. But I didn’t think it was all that remarkable. He was a good looking playboy who

likely spent more on one bottle of moisturizer than I did on all my hygiene products over the course of
a year. I was a mousy, low maintenance hermit. The chances that we moved in similar social circles
or had similar interests were not good. Not good at all. Why talk to a person if you had nothing in
common with them? What would that accomplish other than a painfully stunted conversation?

Successfully unlocking the door, I tossed the keys back in my bag and picked up the food. Kurt

hovered at my side, leaning against the wall. Again I could feel his eyes on me. Rather than ignoring
him and ducking into my apartment, I turned slightly and gave him a small wave.

“Well, I’m going to go inside now and eat this food,” I held the bag up as evidence, “See you

around.”

“We should trade numbers,” he said, reaching into his back pocket for his phone, “so we can

arrange dinner.”

My smile morphed into a frown and I stared at him, my next words slipping out before I could

catch them. “Are you serious?”

Kurt’s eyes flickered to mine, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth; “Of course I’m

serious. I never joke about dinner.”

He said the words so smoothly, like words should be said, like an expert in banter and flirtation.

My heart gave an uncomfortable twist then took off at a gallop. It was one thing to trade polite chit-
chat in the elevator with my beautiful neighbor when I was certain it would lead nowhere. It was
quite another to give aforementioned beautiful neighbor my telephone number and, therefore,
permission to contact me for a shared meal.

I couldn’t do that.
I couldn’t.
My table manners were terrible. I’d never been taught.
I sucked at conversation and therefore always ended up tongue tied, silent, and beet red.
I cussed like a sailor.
My wardrobe consisted of black, gray, or brown pants, skirts, and tights; and oversized black,

grey, or brown sweaters. I was wallpaper. This was purposeful.

I stared at his phone with helpless panic—confused, horrified. I waited a beat for him to say,

“Just kidding!”

But he didn’t. Instead he lifted his gaze to mine. It moved over my face then back to my eyes—his

were still easy and friendly—and I was paralyzed.

His smile widened. “You are too cute…” he said these words like he was talking to himself.
I started, flinched, my eyelashes fluttering at the unexpected compliment, and I gave into the

panic. Looking everywhere but at him, I darted into my apartment, saying lamely, “Uh, my phone is
broken or needs repair or got lost, so I’ll just give you the number later, when it’s fixed or I find it.
But it was really nice meeting you. Goodbye.”

And, with that, I shut the door in Kurt’s face.

***

New York’s Finest
March 13
If Sporty Spice married a hobbit, had a three-way with a leprechaun, and then gave birth to a

sexy, bizarre baby (paternity unknown)

Guess who was spotted this week looking equal parts hot and ridiculous in every kind of

synthetic fabric currently manufactured by the miracle of chemical engineering? None other than
Colin Farrell (or his doppelganger) down near the Village. Obviously no one loves him. Friends
don’t let friends dress like this (unless it’s cosplay or part of a bedroom role-play fantasy). If you
take a look at the pictures above, you’ll certainly understand my horror at finding anyone willing
to wear lime green Lycra and speedo running shorts. The only explanation I can think of is that he
was drunk (you know how those Irish enjoy their whiskey… and beer… and any and all alcohol).

I could have forgiven the spandex, but I can’t forgive the freaky feet. Toe-shoes are never

okay. They’re weird and disturbing and really, really pretentious. And, as an aside, for those of
you who are interested in looking like a hobbit, this particular brand of toe-shoe will set you back
$635. That’s right! You too can look like a weird little man for the very low price of six hundred
and thirty five dollars!!! WTF?

Also, for the record, Colin needs to invest in a cup. Yes, I enjoy the occasional bulge, but this

bulge was verging on concealed weapon status. If he continues to run around in these spandex
shorts, he will only have himself to blame for the gropings. Goodness, if I’d been within arms-
reach I definitely would have copped a feel. Amiright, ladies? You all know how I like my bangers
and mash and there’s nothing more Irish than sausage!

Booyah!
<3 The Socialmedialite

Amazon Author Page

Penny’s Blog

Author Bio

Penny Reid is a part time author of romantic fiction. When she is not immersed in penning smart

romances she works full time in the biotech industry as a researcher. She’s also a full time mom to
two diminutive adults (boy-6 and girl-4), wife, daughter, knitter, crocheter, sewer, general crafter,
and thought hijacker.

Acknowledgements

I would like to offer my sincere thanks to everyone who makes it possible for me to bring these

characters to life. My assistant, Angela Smith, or as I call her “mom” keeps me on track and makes
me clean up my stuff. Without her, I wouldn’t be able to find anything. I work with a couple of
amazing graphic artists, Ashley Byland of Redbird designs who does my covers, and Jada D’Lee who
creates my book trailers. Marla Selkow and Julie Roberts both work extra hard to edit me since I am
the ADD Queen and drop, repeat and substitute words on a regular basis. My faithful Jury Women
have been with me for most of this wild ride and thanks in particular to Mayas Sanders, Vanessa
Foxford and Stacey Schleissman for running by book page, and to the lovely Cindy Meyer, for always
having my back. Finally, thanks to my smart and funny author friends, Daisy, Penny and Zack for
keeping me almost sane.