"Did you get Laura's number before she had a panic attack?"

Sarah picked out a red pencil from a pack and said, "Yep. We've been texting a little today. I think we might go out this weekend." I was arranging the books on the counter for the fiftieth time while we were in the bookstore. I was unable to release the anxious energy.

Even twenty-four hours after my erotic evening, Dominic was still on my mind. It was time for coloring, and I had been too preoccupied with work to try to locate him online. The whole therapeutic coloring trend appeals to me. It is superior to meditation. Markers and pencils, however, definitely wouldn't distract me from him.

"Poor thing. She looked terrified," I said.

Sarah shoved her purple cat-eye specs up her nose and looked up from her Zen nature pattern. "Yeah. Wow. We were having a really good time, chatting and talking about going to a movie later this week. Then she started to breathe funny. I thought maybe it was asthma, and then she said she was having an anxiety attack. I tried to get her to sit, but she lost her shit and went to find her brother. I meant to ask her where she works, too. I'll call her later."

I muttered something about how she and her brother collaborate, and then I frowned when I realized I didn't even know Dominic's last name or the name of his business. I'd have to forget about him unless he came back to Story Brothel the next month. I was more disappointed by the thought than I had anticipated. I hadn't really been searching for a man. Apart from the issues at the bookstore, I had an amazing life. satisfying. busy with job, friends, and creativity.

However, Dominic had served as a reminder that life could be even more delightful, particularly if it included a strong sexual current. I had been missing that. I let out a sigh.

A man in his twenties approached the counter and began to scratch his chest. "Dudes, do you have any animal pages to color?"

I rummaged through a pile of documents. Since it was the first Thursday of the month, my bookstore was hosting its monthly event, Color After Dark. In an attempt to decompress, hipsters, pensioners, and anxious artists who worked as theme park cast members rushed to the store to color with pens, markers, and pencils. They brought the alcohol, and I brought the supplies and some relaxing music. At Orlando, it was starting to become a big local event, and that night, a few dozen people arrived at the tables I had set up at the rear of the store.

"Here," I responded, presenting the bearded man with five distinct animal predators. He picked up a lion and walked away, saying, "Take your pick."

After sharpening her pencil, Sarah drew a frog. Sarah was the manager of the bookstore and my best friend. Since she was pursuing a PhD degree in library science, the position worked nicely with her schedule.

I inquired, "Since when are frogs red?"

She flung her long curtain of chestnut hair. "It's my frog, bitch. Don't judge."

When I heard the bells on the front door jingle, I was laughing and looking around at the tables occupied by grownups who were focused and relaxed. a latecomer. When I looked up, I saw a man smiling as he walked up to the counter.

Dominic. God, he looked even more beautiful tonight. Those cheekbones would make Michelangelo cry.

I caught Sarah raising an eyebrow out of the corner of my eye. "Who's here?" she muttered. "Surprise, surprise, surprise..."

He put his large hands on the counter and muttered, "Hey," quietly. In the strong light of my bookstore, he seemed more macho and vibrant somehow. I looked at him, silent for a moment. With his bow-shaped mouth and silvery-black hair, he looked tempting in black pants and a black T-shirt tonight. So were his biceps, which had been hidden beneath his white dress shirt button-down the night before.

Sarah said, "Hey there," as she grabbed her coloring books and gave me a stern look. "I'm going to make myself comfortable at the table. I need to spread out."

I gave a nod. My gaze met Dominic's, now alone. I tried breathing steadily to try to calm my erratic heartbeat, but it probably looked more like hyperventilation.

"Isabella, I'm sorry about last night. I'd hoped to get your number, but my sister-"

"It's okay." He appeared so nervous and contrite that I wanted to make things less unpleasant and take a breather.

"She's had those attacks for years, but they still freak me out. I feel helpless, you know? I've taken her to the hospital so many times, but there's never anything I can do."

"I can imagine. Did you take her to the hospital last night?"

He gave a nod. "Yeah. They ended up giving her a tranquilizer and sending her home. Still, I wanted to apologize."

I tried to grin and said, "There's no need to at all. I felt awful for her." "How did you find me?" I said, feeling a twinge of caution. The fact that he had made the effort to locate my bookstore both excited and alarmed me.

He smiled.

I taunted, "Are you stalking me?"

"Um, no." He took a piece of paper out of his back pocket, unfolded it, and set it on the counter. "You were in the paper. With a beautiful photo."

Books in Chapter One to Preserve Color After Dark

"Oh, right. I forgot I was in The Sentinel today."

"I opened the paper at breakfast this morning, and there you were. It was a very welcome surprise. Serendipity, even."

With a burning blush, I said, "I love that word." "So, you came to color."

"No, I didn't."

"Oh." I suppressed a grin.

"I came to ask you to read me a bedtime story."

My jaw fell open, and I looked at the tables. His suggestion had obviously gone unheard because everyone was too busy coloring. I felt sparks fly through my stomach.

I took out a set of markers and a dragonfly-patterned page and gave him a playful smile, saying, "I don't read for money outside of Story Brothel."

He chuckled. He said, "I wasn't planning on paying you. I want to take you to dinner, though." He brought up a steakhouse that I had heard about but had never visited; it was a pricey establishment housed in a posh hotel at a theme park resort.

I slid the coloring sheet and markers in his direction and said, "I'm a vegetarian." It goes without saying that I wanted to read him a story and spend dinner with him. However, I also wanted to prolong this and see where our flirting would take us. "Maybe you want to sit and color for a bit?"

He opened his mouth, and I could see by the expression on his face that he was about to mock my offer. Then he smiled. "Sure. I'll color."

I grasped him by the arm after stepping around the counter and beckoning with my fingers. I led him to a vacant seat behind Sarah and gave him a squeeze on his exposed bicep. I was aware that my hands were small, but they appeared incredibly small when they were wrapped around his bicep. I pictured myself beneath him, clinging to both of his arms as he penetrated me. My entire body felt a surge of heat.

He took a fancy-looking watch off his wrist and placed it on the table next to his pencils while he sat. "I'll try to stay between the lines."

Sarah spoke up. "You don't have to. That's the beauty of adult coloring. You can do whatever the hell you want."

They burst out laughing and began to talk quietly. I stepped back so I could sit at the counter and look at him. With the tiny silver hair strands on the sides of his head, he was just exquisite. They made him appear more edgy and stylish rather than older. He looked at me several times while I stared, and then I turned away and grinned. After about thirty minutes of this, Sarah shook his hand and got up.

Sarah yelled out, "Say hi to Laura for me," and then she moved to the counter where I was ordering books.

"Em, I'm leaving. I got the whole story on his sister," she said. She hugged me and walked out of the store, saying, "Call you later." In an attempt to signal everyone else to leave, I turned down the music and took Sarah's seat next to Dominic.

I took a breath and said, "Enjoying yourself?" and there it was. I wanted to eat his skin because of the aroma of oak, vanilla, and mint.

He tinted the dragonfly's wings blue and said, "Actually, I am. This is oddly captivating." "I don't think I've colored since first grade."

"Plenty of people say that. Then they discover it's soothing. What do you do for stress relief?"

He shrugged and said, "I run, work out, typical guy stuff." "Maybe I need to color. Maybe it would calm me down. Whatever I do, it's not enough. Work takes over, and I never feel fully relaxed, you know? But this is cool." He looked around, nodding.

"I do know that feeling." I wanted to let him know that the bookstore and coloring nights might disappear in a few months due to a recent building purchase. Rumor and an incomplete newspaper story combined to show that the new owner would demolish the property and build a massive new condo complex. I was arranging for all of the independent store owners to attend and demonstrate at the upcoming meeting over the block's redevelopment. I started to invite him, but I stopped myself. No, I didn't want to come across as pitiful or needy. Why would I bring up my fight against cookie-cutter development in downtown Orlando with a guy I just met?

Given what he did for a job, it was unlikely that he would sympathize with my plight. Instead of asking Dominic for help, I wanted to fuck him. Even before I scrimped, saved, and took out loans to keep the bookstore going, I had ensured that my business was mine.

His voice was quiet as he asked, "How long have you owned this store? I love the feel of it. "It also smells good. Like paper."

Taking a pencil, I began coloring one of the dragonflies on his paper after moving my chair close to his. With a slender pencil between his fingers, his hands appeared even bigger. I took a deep breath, attempting to push the fantasies out of my head.

"Five years. Are you from Orlando? I'm surprised I've never seen you here."

He flinched. "You know, I live right down the street. And I walk by here all the time. But I usually buy books online."

I muttered, "Hush," trying to sound serious. "You should be punished for that."

"I'm sure you'll think of some way to punish me."

I smiled. "You're a flirt."

"And you're not?" He asked with a smile that was even more sinister than mine, and I could feel the energy between us.

I bit my lip and tried to resist the impulse to rub myself against him, as my cat does with the coffee table, but I didn't answer. I pictured his fingers reaching around to caress me till I had an orgasm, and his mouth moving down the back of my neck and then down the column of my spine. His gaze darted across my face as I trembled a little.

There was a wonderful silence as we colored on the same sheet of paper. We shaded the same dragonfly once, me coloring one wing blue and him shading the other green, pausing occasionally to look up at one another. I wanted to grasp his face in my hands and just gaze into his eyes tonight since they seemed to be an even deeper sapphire blue. And because his body was taut and strong, the hints of gray hair gave him a more prestigious and manly appearance.

He placed his fingers on the back of my hand as I went for the black pencil, shooting sparks up my arm. I flipped my hand over and held the pencil out to him. With elegant precision, he removed it from me without saying a word.

It was nine o'clock, when Color After Dark usually came to an end, and people started packing and leaving. When the last person had gone, I stood up and locked the door after saying goodbye to everyone. Now that Dominic and I were alone, I turned off the music. In the midst of the silence, he got up and stood beside me at the counter. That night, for the first time, I felt uncomfortable, dependent, and uneasy. When it came to males, I was typically in control of my emotions.

Not this guy.

His words were, "So I was thinking, how about I make you a vegetarian dinner at my place tomorrow night?"

I reached for my handbag. How come he didn't ask me now? "You're willing to cook vegetarian for me?"

"You sound skeptical of my cooking abilities."

"Maybe I am, since you suggested a steakhouse."

"I figured you'd want to go to the hottest restaurant in the city."

"Doesn't mean anything to me. I've never been."

"Usually, that's where men take women to impress them. Women like flashy restaurants."

I shrugged. "The last time I went out to eat was at Taco Bus, three weeks ago."

I put my black patent-leather purse over my shoulder and giggled as he said, looking a little bewildered. "Taco Bus?"

He said, "Is it a...bus?"

"It is. I would take you, but you don't seem like a Taco Bus kind of guy."

He licked his lower lip at that. "Try me."

Perhaps he was more accepting than he seemed. However, I was only anticipating a one-night stand and a dinner date with him. That was all that was required. didn't desire it. All I wanted was his body and mouth, and then I had to let go of this small fixation with him.

"Can I walk you to your car?"

I gestured for him to follow me through the back storeroom, grinning at his archaic ways. It was just a few steps to my beat-up Honda from the bookstore's back entrance, which opened onto the parking lot. A couple of gentle raindrops fell on my face as we stopped at my driver's side door. Even though I detest getting caught in the rain, tonight I wasn't worried for some reason.

I appreciated that he was organizing an evening for us, but I thought about inviting him to my house. The hookup became more sexual and less raunchy as a result.

I could hold out. I felt like an adolescent rather than an adult lady while I waited, my heart thumping against my chest and my stomach fluttering.

I said, "Text me your address," and took my card out of my bag before giving it to him.

"I'll see you tomorrow night. Don't bring anything. I'll handle it all."

I whispered, sensing a few more droplets of rain, "No wine?" For the first time, I enjoyed the way they felt, and they were cool against my warm face.

"Nope."

"Dessert?"

He chuckled. "I could say something really cheesy and totally inappropriate, but I won't. So no, don't bring dessert. I've got it covered."

I chuckled and took a step forward. "Dominic?"

"Yes, Isabella?"

"What's your last name? I don't usually go to a man's home unless I know his last name."

"King. Yours?"

I tapped the back of his palm, carrying my business card, and said, "Hey. It's also here." After putting the card in his back pocket, he held it up.

"One more question."

"Yes, Isabella?" He murmured my name, and it felt luxurious and sensuous, like slipping into a bed of velvet.

"Are you going to kiss me goodnight?"

The corners of his mouth lifted as he cocked his head. I resisted the impulse to lick him when he leaned into my ear. I had never been so aroused before as his lower lip touched my lobe. What on earth was going on here?

"No. It's about to rain hard, and you need to get home before it turns into a monsoon. So you're going to have to wait," he whispered. "I'm not going to kiss you. Not now, not here in a parking lot, under a streetlight in the rain."

Jesus asked, "Wh-why?" I had to gather my thoughts.

His hand cradled the opposite side of my face, and his lips found my cheek, pressing them against my skin. I let my eyes drift close to relish the powerful, tactile sensation as he rubbed my cheek twice with his thumb. Although his mouth was hot, my face was hotter. I was heated between my legs, but not that hot. My limbs turned to jelly as I held my breath, and all of a sudden, I forgot about the rain in Florida.

He laughed and stepped away from me, saying, "Because you deserve to be kissed properly, in a perfect place. Like my bed."

Oh.

My brows went up. I was now even more interested and aroused. "You like to tease and be teased, don't you, Mr. King?"

"Very good, Ms. Heyes. You've picked up on that."

I smiled and took a step back. It was game time. "See you tomorrow night."

"Isabella," Mark groaned, "I don't see how we're going to fight city hall on this deal."

Barely able to control my nervous, restless energy, I tapped my foot. I still needed to take a shower and get ready for my date with Dominic, so this meeting needed to end quickly. Rather, I remained at the bookstore with a few other building business owners. They would visit me to talk about the most recent sale. For two hours, we had been circling, talking about our strategy. Mark, the towering, tattooed owner of the record business next door, wore bulky, black-rimmed spectacles. There must be a way to combat this. There are zoning restrictions and historic protection considerations. I scratched my forehead while other individuals spoke simultaneously, and my voice died off. Sarah made an effort to quiet everyone.

We were not making any progress with this. We had to put on a united show. Additionally, since we were unaware of the building's buyer, we needed to conduct additional research. The prior owner had told us the purchase had gone through, but we had only been given the bare minimum of information. According to the most recent media report, the building was acquired through a blind trust, and the final developer has not yet been made public. However, plans to construct a new, forty-story skyscraper on our property have been submitted to a county or city authority. I had no idea where to start and had no understanding of zoning or real estate law. We need a lawyer, guys," Mark remarked.

All but the ground floor of our six-story building was deserted. All of the business owners had sneaked upstairs with flashlights to have a look on Halloween after it had been years. The lonely, dusty hallways were eerily eerie. Not as good as the hotel in The Shining. I still adored the old building, even though the thought of the upstairs made me shiver. It might be lovely once more."It's a fucking tragedy to demolish the entire building and construct something ugly, but I could understand if they wanted to update the upstairs," I remarked.

Thirty minutes later, we were still unable to agree on a lawyer, the cost, and whether we had any legal basis to challenge this enormous scheme that endangered the entire essence of our historic downtown block in Orlando.

I had to move more quickly. "Look, I have some money saved up. I'll cover the attorney's fees. We all support one another, so I think it's worth the money to save all the businesses here. When you can, you can reimburse me."No, Isabella, that's excessive. Julia, a café owner, objected, saying, "You're going to need that money to open somewhere else if we all have to move."

I let out a sigh. She was correct. I didn't have much money saved up, so I might not be able to move my business or prepare a strong legal defense. Let me at least cover the cost of a legal consultation. See if we have a case at all. When the time comes, I'll take care of moving if I have to. In any case, I have no idea where I would go. All of the potential bookstore locations are pricey, and none of the less expensive ones will attract customers like this one. I might as well try my hardest to salvage the building because I might be screwed."

A somber silence descended across the group. Enjoy a scone. Julia shoved a box of vanilla-frosted candies in my direction. I gave a headshake. After grabbing one, Sarah took a big mouthful. I said, "We need to figure this out." "A lawyer is probably our last hope."

My chest hurt at the thought of closing the store and packing everything. Five years ago, I put a lot of effort into opening this establishment with the aid of some loans and a city redevelopment incentive. After that, I had purchased my little bungalow and was content with a cozy existence filled with books, lovely gowns, and quirky accents. My food, entertainment, and apparel were all heavily discounted because all of my pals worked at amusement parks or ran cafés, catering businesses, or clothing stores.

I didn't know what I would do or how I would pay the bills if the store closed. As it was, the bookshop simply paid my bills and left me a small amount of money most months. I was still running on a very narrow profit margin and maxed out on credit cards and loans. I was afraid that if I closed, I would have to go back to my dad's drab trailer in a little town thirty miles away.

I took a look at my phone. It's six o'clock. Oh no. "Hey, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have to go. Sarah is here until nine, so everyone is welcome to stay and talk.""There's a daaaate out there," Sarah sang. I had requested that she remain late.

The alternative-looking, tattooed, and pierced business owners woke up. I smiled and let out a little laugh. Did you hear that giggle, God forbid?" Mark enjoyed making fun of me. "You never laugh. What on earth is happening? Leak."

I gave an eye roll. I had been laughing uncontrollably. Due to Dominic. which was foolish because this was only going to happen once. A one-night stand that has the character of a dignified night. I didn't mind having sex only for the sake of having good sex. The man from the tattoo parlor by Universal Studios, is that right? Julia inquired.

I gave a headshake. "A single date with him was sufficient. After insisting on attending a buffet, he requested that I cover the cost. I don't mind paying half as much or having inexpensive meals, but this place was unpleasant, and I contracted food poisoning. Soon, it appeared on the Dirty Dining feature on Channel Six. In addition, after devouring a stack of crab legs, he tried to kiss me while chewing with his mouth open.

"So who's the lucky dude tonight?" was the collective ewww. Julia asked.

I shrugged, hesitating. Dominic is his name. Story Brothel is where I first met him. That large condo a few blocks away is where he resides. The one with the dumb moniker.

Julia grinned. "Blu?"

"That's the one, indeed.

Blu, omitting the E, was everything that my friends and I detested about the new Orlando. Amidst parking lots, squat old warehouses, and a few antique buildings like ours, a sleek, blue-glass tower fell. We had assumed that all the terrible new developments would be relegated to the marginally more run-down area on the outside of the city, so we hadn't bothered to protest Blu before it was built.

Now, however, we were being pursued by the redevelopment-progress, as the mayor called it. I inhaled deeply. If Dominic lived in such a heartless place, what sort of man was he? Now that I was with my tribe, my small group of alternative misfits, I pondered if it would be wise to eat dinner with him. It was clear how different we were.

many social groups. distinct aesthetics. Even other worlds.

I reached for my handbag. "Later!" Not wanting to linger and answer more inquiries about Dominic, I called out. inquiries that would cause me to have additional misgivings.

Analyzing my hesitation, I drove home. I decided it was stupid. In addition to passing judgment on poor Dominic, I was also placing a lot of blame on him. I didn't know his history or what he liked. Besides, what was the point? We were going to spend the night enjoying each other's bodies because I was attracted to him and he was attracted to me. It's just a romp.

I chose to primp instead of battling my doubts. Sometimes the highlight of an evening was getting ready, taking a shower, applying makeup, and putting on clothes. The anticipation was everything. The tease, as Dominic quite rightly noted.

I paused as I stood nude in my closet. I could dress more casually by wearing a top and a lovely pair of skinny pants. But because I might be spending some of the evening reading additional stories to Dominic, why not dress up a little and show him my true style? I had to feel confident after reading about sex. I had to act the part out.

I removed a small black garment from its rack. I didn't care that it was perhaps too formal for a dinner date. It had a halter top, a long skirt with a black tulle hem, and a black satin sash around the waist, giving it a rockabilly 1950s vibe. It kept me together fairly nicely up top and concealed my large ass. I thought about going without a bra. I stopped and took a pair of white lace thong panties out of my open bureau drawer.

No, thongs were very visible. I put the panties back in the drawer and picked out a sheer, champagne-colored pair of thigh-high stockings, a pale rose strapless corset with hooks in front and lacing up the back, and matching lace panties. Even though I didn't have anyone to wear it for at the time, I couldn't help but buy the entire outfit recently because it was on sale and so exquisitely gorgeous. I sipped a little wine and wriggled into everything, letting the day's frustrations go.

After putting on my favorite jasmine-tinged perfume and finishing the ensemble with four-inch black patent leather heels with pointed toes, I sailed out of my home. No issue was too big for perfume and red lipstick to solve.

Before I went, I also picked up Dominic's shining watch. I had emailed him earlier to offer to bring it over after he had left it in the bookstore the night before.

Dominic's condo was only a ten-minute drive from where I lived. However, the aqua-colored, glass-and-concrete high-rise next to a few other new condo buildings was a long cry from my old working-class neighborhood with its brick-lined streets. The street felt a little spooky and deserted. Ghosts, or were they all investors, or did anyone really reside here?

After parking on the street, I approached the building, stopping beside a massive palm tree that was wedged in a pile of mud. I thought it would be a good idea to gather myself and play around with my phone. I just wanted to make sure Dominic hadn't changed his mind and canceled at the last minute, not because I had nobody to call.

No messages were present.

I gazed at the tree's trunk's orderly design while standing in the near darkness. The tree itself appeared infertile. Really, what was I doing here? I entered the structure after taking a deep breath of the damp night air.

As soon as I entered the lobby, I looked up at the lofty, high-ceilinged atrium."Hello," I greeted the concierge. In the big room, my voice seemed so small. "I'm here to see Dominic King."

Even though it was evening, the atrium was bright and spacious, with white décor throughout. I was a fluffy, curvy black ball that bounced around the spotless room. I hoped I wasn't sweating too much, and an attempt to slow down my heartbeat didn't work.

God, I was being too dramatic. This was not a party for an engagement. All he would be is a fantastic hookup. I didn't want a clumsy courting, the sad farewell emails, and the eventual conversation regarding ex-partners.

I desired sexual relations. I came to read about fucking and then actually fuck. Simple, huh?

The elderly man who worked as the concierge looked at my attire and tapped a few numbers on the phone. Was I being too sensitive, or was that a tinge of inquisitive disapproval?"What's your name, Miss?"

I told him and gave him a courteous grin. Like an air traffic controller, the man hung up and used his middle and index fingers to indicate an elevator. Miss, this way."

I took a tentative step toward the elevator and then halted. "Uh, what floor?"

The doors opened when the man pressed the button on the wall. He gestured for me to enter, and then he did, tapping a card beside a keypad. "You'll reach the penthouse by doing this. Good luck tonight, Miss Heyes. The elevator doors slid shut as he got out. My ears popped as the car took me up, up, up. The panel had thirty-five buttons before the lit letter P appeared.

I inhaled deeply in an attempt to relax. Dominic's condo wasn't just an ordinary condo. He occupied the most luxurious penthouse in the city's newest and priciest building. I extended my hand, my fingers lingering over the buttons, feeling completely out of my league. I pondered whether or not I should push the red-ringed one that said STOP.

There was no place for eccentric girls from dilapidated trailer parks in a penthouse in a building called Blu. Unlike Dominic, who was obviously raised on the golden streets of progress, I was raised on the sandy dirt of orange groves.

On a lower floor, I pictured the elevator grinding to a stop. My cat, Higgins, would take naps on my old bed comforter while I tore down the fire escape stairs and returned to my comfortable home. I would prepare some tea. Stop trying to be a seductress.

Cease

Before pressing the button, I yanked my hand away.

The elevator then came to a stop, and the doors opened.

"Wow," Dominic said.

I could have said the same thing about him. He was dressed so effortlessly, in a white linen shirt casually rolled up at the sleeves and faded jeans. He was barefoot.

I stepped out of the elevator and into what was apparently his living room. "Wow, good, or wow bad?"

"Wow, good, of course. Wow stunning. Now I feel underdressed. I can change into something more formal if you'd like. Maybe I should at least put on shoes."

I laughed. "No. That's okay. I felt like dressing up."

"I'm glad you did."

"Oh, here." I dug in my purse and found his watch. It was a Patek Philippe and probably worth more than I owed in small business loans. Taking his hand in mine, I slipped the platinum watch over his wide hand and buckled it around his wrist.

"Thank you. I've never done that before, left a watch behind." His eyes studied my face as I made sure the watch was snug.

"You were distracted."

"I was. I still am." He pushed out a breath and rubbed a hand over his short hair. I could have sworn he was nervous.

"Let me show you around." He slipped an arm around my waist and steered me into the sleek condo.

He kept his hand on the small of my back as he led me through his house. Each room was sparse, with modern accents in shades of cream and blonde wood. It was a bit too sterile and calculated for my taste-I loved colors, coziness, and found objects. He'd never like my house. Christ. What was I thinking, planning? This was a one-night stand. A man like him would never want me as a long-term partner.

"And the bedroom," he said, opening a door to reveal an all-white room with near-black wood accents. One wall was lined floor-to-ceiling with books, which was impressive. He hadn't been bullshitting about being a reader, like so many guys did.

"Are those windows behind the curtains?" I asked, pointing to the heavy, white drapes lining two walls.

He nodded and walked in, pausing at the nightstand and flashing me an intense stare. "Come."

Wow, this was only a hookup. Maybe he didn't even intend to have dinner. My smile faded. Sex was all he wanted. Sure, it was what I assumed I'd wanted, too. Now, I was a tangle of double standards and mixed emotions as I made my way toward the bed. Why did I care so much about what he wanted?

The blood whooshed in my ears as I eyed the large platform bed, covered in a simple white duvet. He touched a button on a remote, and the curtains on both walls parted to reveal a bank of glass and a sliding door on one end. I pressed my hand to my chest when I saw the view. "Oh! My goodness."

"Here," he said, sliding open one side of the glass. I stepped outside, and a warm wind caressed my skin. I stared, open-mouthed, at the miles of twinkling lights that stretched before us in the darkness. It was as if all of Florida was below, the entire flat state at our feet.

"The balcony wraps all the way around the condo. I thought we'd eat outside, it's so warm out."

I mumbled in agreement, still stunned by the view. "There's the big Ferris wheel," I said, pointing at the Orlando Eye and leaning onto the balcony rail. "So Disney must be west..." I searched in the distance.

"There." He stood behind me and pointed, his body pressed against mine. I leaned back into the hard wall of his chest and shivered from the heat emanating from him. He rested one big hand on the balcony railing next to mine, and with his other hand, swept my hair away from my neck. A pleasurable shudder traveled through my body.

"Look. What do you see?" His murmur was like a kiss, one I desperately craved.

"Um, I see lights and darkness and..." The feel of his lips along the outer edge of my ear short-circuited my thoughts.

His hand went to my chin, and he tilted it a few inches to the right. I was shocked by how he'd just taken charge of my body and my thoughts, with a single motion.

"There." His hand slowly caressed my neck. Every inch of my skin sparkled like the lights that carpeted our view.

I gasped when I saw the magical bursts of blue, red, and green in the air. "The fireworks! You can see Disney's nightly fireworks show from here."

I realized I sounded unnatural-at least for me. A little breathless and giddy. Because I was.

It was after Dominic sat me at the balcony table, poured wine, and served a delicious bowl of fresh pasta with tomatoes, capers, and mozzarella that I finally relaxed a little. The condo, the view, him-it was overwhelming. Almost too luxurious, way more than I was used to. And despite his obvious wealth, he didn't seem arrogant or oblivious to his privilege. Or if he was, he was doing an excellent job of hiding it.

He seemed more interested in talking about me, asking questions about my life and my work. I tried to keep the conversation light and didn't tell him about my underemployed father who worked as a theme park janitor, my uncle who went to prison for dealing drugs, or how I was the first in my family to go to college. My mother died of heart disease. She hadn't gotten proper treatment because she lacked insurance. How, as a teenager, I was forced to learn to love retro fashion because it was cheaper to assemble a cool wardrobe from Goodwill than shop for new clothes at Walmart.

Was I ashamed of my background? Or angry because of it? Maybe a little. Maybe around people like Dominic. These weren't noble traits, and I was working to overcome them. My attitude toward rich people was complicated, and I didn't feel like unpacking it over a dinner conversation.

Not on his balcony while the candles flickered and Miles Davis songs played softly in the background. Not as he fed me little bites of pasta, and not while he laughed when I told him stories about the quirky customers at the bookstore. I didn't reveal the store's problems because I only wanted to exude pure, positive energy.

For one night, this night, I wanted to be the glamorous, sultry woman holding her own with a worldly, gorgeous man on a penthouse condo terrace. Tonight I wanted a fairytale. Tomorrow, when I unlocked the door to my shop, I'd have plenty of opportunities to wallow in the complexities and struggles of real life.

"Dominic, why are you staring?" I teased. He'd leaned back in his chair and smiled, watching me drink wine.

"I thought your eyes were my favorite thing about you until I heard you laugh, really laugh. Your laugh turns me on."

"Stop. I sound like a dolphin."

"You do not sound like a dolphin. You sound sexy. I can't quite describe it. It's breathy. Did you know you make little noises when you laugh? Little mmms and ohhhs in between the giggles?" He reached out and playfully tugged a lock of my hair.

This, of course, made me laugh more.

I discovered a lot about him, too, the superficial stuff that you learn on a first date. He went to an exclusive private high school in New England, then the University of Florida on a soccer scholarship. How his parents were retired and living in southwest Florida on an island. In addition to his sister, he also had a younger brother who was close to my age. All three worked in the family business, and Dominic was in charge of the entire company. He said he often spent twelve or more hours at the office each day.

"But you must do something other than work. What do you do for fun?"

"Hold that thought." He rose from the table and squeezed my arm as he slipped past my chair. After a few moments, he returned carrying two small bowls.

"I'm not all that interesting, Isabella. I work too much. I push papers around and lobby politicians to get permission to build things. I'm really focused on a couple of big projects now-one in São Paulo that I told you about and another in Miami. Everything else, I let my brother and sister handle. I'm so consumed with these two buildings that I don't know what's going on anywhere else in the world. That night at Story Brothel, then the coloring night at your bookstore, were the first times I'd been out in months. It felt good."

Dominic set a bowl down in front of me. "Dessert, as I promised. It's strawberry basil sorbet."

"Now you're really going out of your way to impress me. First, the delicious pasta, and now sorbet? You made sorbet?"

He laughed. "I confess. No. I didn't. It's from Whole Foods."

I let out a mock sigh. "Okay. Whew. I was thinking you were perfect there for a minute." He smiled, tight-lipped.

"Seriously. I'm shocked you're single. Why aren't you taken?" I dug into my dessert.

"I was," he said softly.

The cold mouthful of sorbet melted on my tongue, and I swallowed hard. "You...were?"

"I was married for ten years. My wife died of cancer when we were both thirty-three. Seven years ago."

I stared at him, my mouth open and the spoon in mid-air. "Oh! I'm-I'm sorry." I rested my spoon on the table and wiped my mouth with a napkin. God, I could be an idiot sometimes. That was why he wasn't taken. He was pining after his dead wife.

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds, and then he smiled. It looked like a sad smirk, and I wondered if I'd ruined the night.

"I haven't been in a real relationship since she died. I occasionally take women out, have fun, but nothing serious."

Nothing serious. Just as I figured. I took the last bite of my sorbet, which had been tart and sweet and sparkled from the unusual taste of basil. Now it tasted muted and flat.

"And you?" he asked, his sad look replaced with a curious one. "I'm surprised you're not married."

I shook my head. "I had a boyfriend for a long time in my twenties, but I felt like I was too young to get married. We eventually broke up when I was twenty-eight. Since then, I've had casual relationships. Nothing serious, as you say. I'm not sure I'm wife material."

Now wasn't the time to tell him about how I'd fallen hard and quick for a secretive man who'd led me to believe he was single. Who really had lived at a Residence Inn during the week and claimed to visit his dying mother every weekend. Whose wife had called me one sweltering summer day and told me that she had two little kids and that her husband was a pathological liar and that I could have him if I really wanted. I'd considered it, briefly, because that's how much I liked him. Then I said no thanks and changed my number.

"Then we sound perfectly suited for each other," he said, resting his hand on my knee.

As I guessed. One night. It's all good, I told myself.

We finished our wine in near-silence, smiling at each other, making little remarks about the unusually warm Florida winter weather. He told me that the building-Blu-was one of his.

I giggled.

"What?" he asked.

"Why did you name it Blu, without the E? That's-"

"Stupid?" he offered.

I nodded, then burst out laughing.

"It was my brother's idea. I handle projects in South Florida and Latin America. He does the rest. And I was on the losing end of a bet."

"What did you bet?"

"Colin went to FSU. He's a 'Nole. I'm a Gator, of course. We had a bet on the game a couple of years ago, and whoever won got to name the next building."

I grinned. Football wasn't my thing, but seeing the corners of his eyes crinkle as he laughed and talked about the bet was charming. I could tell that he loved his brother a lot.

"What were you going to name it had you won?"

"O."

"O?"

"Yeah, O. As in Orange. Or Osceola. Orlando. Good Florida names."

"I like that better than Blu. A lot better than Blu. O is a good letter."

A wicked smile spread across his face. "O is an excellent letter. And speaking of letters and words, why don't you read to me?"

"Out here? It's kinda dark."

He stood. "No, let's go into the living room."

I followed him inside, and he pointed to a sofa. "Get comfortable. I'll refill our wine."