“What’s wrong?”

In the faint light of the bedroom, Chris’s expression looked sheepish. “Uh, we need to stop. In my rush to get here, I didn’t have a chance to take care of things.”

He wanted to stop? What for…? Oh.

“It’s okay,” Rei assured him. “I have protection in my purse.”

Chris grinned at her. “You really did think I was a sure thing, didn’t you?”

She shrugged while returning his smile. “I was feeling unusually confident when I called you, so…”

“So hurry up and get that condom.”

Rei rolled off the bed and scrambled for her handbag. Within seconds she’d returned to the bed and tossed several strips of foil packages onto the comforter. Chris looked at her, then at the dozen condoms and back at her.

“Your confidence is going to kill me for sure.”

Responding to the humor in his voice, she laughed. “Maybe. But what a way to go, huh?”

Dear Reader,

The original title of this story was You’ve Got Male because I wanted to explore the phenomenon of e-mail communication and online dating. But, as often happens to me, the lighthearted romp I had in mind segued into an exploration of how to find and accept love.

Neither Rei Davis nor Chris London believes in love. They don’t trust that it will last, and think “happily ever after” is only for other people. At least, until they find each other. With the help of instant messages, a fantasy brought to life and a few leaps of faith, both of their wishes will come true, because love and forgiveness have the power to heal.

I wish you happy reading and I wish you joy,

Mia

P.S. You can contact me via my Web site,

www.miazachary.com. I’d love to hear from you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

A portion of my royalties from sales of this book will be donated to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation.

Afternoon Delight
Mia Zachary

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Wayne

Heartfelt gratitude goes to my creative writing partner, Melissa James. Thank you for helping me open the door to the past and for holding my hand while I walked through it.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

1

TO: Rei Davis <RL_Davis@UFC.sf.gov>

FR: Phoebe J. Hollinger <PJH@hhfs.com>

RE: Are you busy?

If you don’t already have plans with Darren tonight, do you want to get together?

P.J.

Hollinger/Hansen: San Francisco, Tokyo, London, New York

Diversified Financial Services, Individual Client Commitment

TO: Phoebe J. Hollinger <PJH@hhfs.com>

FR: Rei Davis <RL_Davis@UFC.sf.gov>

RE: Tonight

I don’t have any plans. Derek took me to The Top of the Mark last night. (Keep your I-told-you-so to yourself, though. The irony that was not lost on me.)

I finally broke up with him. (Keep your I-never-liked-him-anyway to yourself, too.)

Rei

Unified Family Court, 400 McAllister Street, San Francisco

All kids need is a little help, a little hope and somebody who believes in them. —Earvin “Magic” Johnson

RE: Single again

I told you The Mark was a weird choice for a date. That’s where sailors had their last drink before shipping out to the Pacific in WWII.

Well, I’m sorry it’s over but, hell, I never liked Derek anyway. Like the other men you’ve chosen, he was opinionated, self-righteous and argumentative. You shouldn’t date lawyers.

When are you going to admit that I’m always right?

P.J.

RE: Already over it

Nice ego there, honey. You should have that checked.

And I told you not to say I told you!

I’m not as sorry as maybe I should be. Then again, it’s not like we were serious.

Rei

RE: You can’t be serious

Never had sex with him, huh?

I think one of our Break Away Nights is in order. I heard about this new place, Divas. Thursday night is Ladies Night so there’s bound to be great people (by that I mean men-who-are-not-lawyers) for you to meet. I’ll pick you up at your house at nine.

P.J.

RE: Break Away Night

Is that my nine or your nine? Because my nine is actually nine, whereas your nine usually means ten. So why don’t we say eight? That way we’ll both be on time.

Recess is almost over. See you later.

Rei

SUPERIOR COURT Commissioner Rei Davis clicked the button to send the message to her best friend then signed out of her e-mail program. Turning her chair, she gazed out the small grimy window to the French Renaissance facade of the War Memorial Opera House across Van Ness Avenue. She’d never actually been to an opera or even listened to one to find out if she liked it. Something else to add to her Life List.

Life. The word had a wonderful feel, one that spread through her like bright rays of sunlight through cloud. She’d just gone for her checkup with Dr. Solís this past Monday, April seventh, one year to the day…. She was blessed to still be alive and she knew it.

As she heard the outer door to her chambers open, she turned to see Mary Alice, her court services clerk. The petite older woman held an armful of case files, a harried expression on her kind face. “They’re ready for you, Commissioner. Five walk-ins were just added to the docket, including a case that was transferred from Judge Shuford.”

She schooled her expression, repressing a sigh. She’d already handled thirteen cases before calling a recess for lunch. Now the afternoon caseload would either run late or have to be rescheduled.

“All right, thanks. I’ll be right in.”

Once upon a time, she really had been quick-tempered and over-ambitious, an impatient and obsessively ambitious corporate law attorney who treated everything in her life like a merger or acquisition. Then she’d discovered a lump in her right breast that irrevocably changed her life…

Despite a partnership being well within reach, she had quit her lucrative position with the law firm. Instead she’d accepted a position as a referee, a Family Court officer appointed by the presiding judge to hear cases that involved juveniles. She’d been given a second chance and wanted to make a difference in the lives of others. She’d thrown herself into the job and three months later applied for one of the vacant Court Commissioner slots.

Family was the thread that wove together the fabric of society, the backbone of civilization. On a good day, she was proud to help maintain the family structure by approving adoptions, resolving custody disputes and returning kids in foster care to their homes.

Lately, however, she felt tired and disillusioned. The docket before her made it easy to believe the backbone of civilization was twisted and crumbling beneath the weight of crime, abuse and neglect. There were too many days when she felt like all she could do was shovel sand against the surge. But life was precious, especially the life of a child who had so much ahead if only someone gave them a chance.

Rei pushed away from the desk and stood up, brushing a hand over her chignon, and reached for the black robe hanging on her coat rack. Squaring her shoulders, she mentally prepared herself to tilt at some windmills and try to turn a few tides.

“VISITATION IS HEREBY revoked pending the Defendant’s completion of both anger management and substance abuse programs. Mrs. Landis will continue to have full custody of the children.”

“You can’t do this! You can’t take my kids away from me!”

“I just did, Mr. Landis.” Rei spoke sharply and frowned at the alcoholic who thought it was okay to strike his sons with a beer bottle. “We’ll reexamine this matter in three months. But for now, we’re done here.”

“I’m their father and I can damn well discipline my boys when they need it. You’re not taking my kids!”

Gathering the case files off the bench, Rei briefly glanced at Landis while a bailiff forcibly removed him from the courtroom. He didn’t deserve those kids. Or more to the point, those kids didn’t deserve him. Ignoring the empty threats echoing from the hall, she called the next case, Cannon v. Ogilvy.

“Mr. Willette, am I reading this file correctly?” Rei shot a baleful look at the young attorney standing before her. “You’re bringing charges of stalking and harassment?”

“That’s right, Your Honor. My client, Cindy Cannon, told her parents that James Ogilvy has been following her around and won’t leave her alone.”

“Your client is six years old, Mr. Willette, and so is the Defendant.” She scowled at the child’s mother. “I can’t believe you’re wasting the Court’s time with this.”

Mrs. Cannon, a prissy brunette with rigid features, stood up and wrung her hands. “Cindy talks about this boy all the time. She says he trails after her on the playground, tries to sit next to her at lunch and hides notes in her book bag.”

“That would be exhibits one through five, Your Honor.”

Rei held up the multi-colored sheets of construction paper. “You mean these crayon drawings of hearts and smiley faces, Mr. Willette?”

Defense counsel stood as well, but Rei held up one palm before she could speak. “Don’t bother, Ms. Schaefer. I’m on it.

She slid the “love letters” back into the file and shut it with a snap. “What we have here, people, is a case of very innocent, very normal, puppy love between elementary school children. Nothing more. Mrs. Cannon, I’m sure there are plenty of women at St. Francis Hospital who could clue you in about what stalking really is. I suggest you get a grip on reality. Case dismissed. What’s next?”

“Good afternoon, Commissioner Davis. Frank Dowd, Assistant State’s Attorney.” He smoothed his tie. “Bruce Grayson is accused of viciously beating an elderly storeowner during the course of an attempted robbery.”

Rei glanced over at the child slouched in a chair beside his lawyer. Bruce still had the chubby-faced appearance of a young boy, but his sullen expression and ancient eyes told another, too familiar story. Did happy childhoods only exist in movies and wishful thinking anymore?

“Jeffrey Bates for the Defense, Your Honor. Bruce is only twelve years old. He comes from a broken home, has been in and out of foster care—”

Dowd interrupted. “Yeah, yeah, we all know the heart-breaking story.”

Rei tapped her gavel. “Watch it, counselor.”

“Sorry, Your Honor. But due to the severity of Mr. Patterson’s injuries, as well as Mr. Grayson’s priors, the State feels he should be tried as an adult.”

“Incarceration in an adult facility will only turn Bruce into a hardened criminal.” Bates held up a file. “Our psych eval—”

This time Rei interrupted him. “Hold it, gentlemen. This is going to take longer than we have.” Thursday was one of the two days reserved for short cause matters—the cases had to be heard in less than twenty minutes—and Fridays were reserved for adoptions. She looked over at her clerk. “We’ll reconvene…”

“Monday at nine thirty,” Mary Alice interjected.

“Monday at nine thirty. Thank you, until then.”

Rei felt a tug in her gut as she watched the boy swagger out of the courtroom, shoulders squared and expression unrepentant. The postponement meant a few more nights in juvenile hall, but she had to have time to study his record and evaluations and hear all the facts surrounding the case.

At best he’d spend the next six years in a California Youth Authority camp. At worst he would only be in CYA until he turned sixteen then be sent to the Department of Corrections. She hoped she could find a spark of redemption in Bruce Grayson before it was too late. She hated putting children behind bars, no matter what they’d done.

Shuffling the Grayson case aside, Rei called the next matter. Break Away Night couldn’t start soon enough.

“WELCOME TO Lunch Meetings,” Christopher London warmly greeted his fourth potential client of the morning. He held out a hand but kept his voice low to protect her privacy. “Thank you for choosing us to help enhance your love life.”

Tina Farrell, a conventionally attractive redhead, shook his hand and glanced about. “I bet you hear it all the time, but really, I never did anything like this before.”

“We realize it’s a big step. Most people meet via their family, friends or jobs and, if it doesn’t work out, there may be some guilt or pressure as a result. Here at Lunch Meetings, we try to make dating a fun, friendly and stress-free experience.”

She visibly relaxed and sent him a grateful smile. “Glad to hear it.”

“Why don’t I take your coat and show you around?” Chris hung her jacket in the cloakroom then offered the tumbler of spring water the hostess handed him. “Behind this smoked glass wall is the main dining room, which is open from ten a.m. until three in the afternoon.”

Tina’s blue eyes widened. “Wow. The place is packed. Is everybody in there on dates?”

“No, the food itself has actually garnered some nice reviews, so a lot of people come just for lunch. That’s why we have tables for four as well as for two.” He gently took her elbow and guided her along the passageway. “This smaller dining room was designed with all booths for more personal encounters.”

“So you’re only open during the day?” Tina took a sip of water as she followed beside him.

“We have special events one night a week for our clients, usually just a casual mixer, and we hold formal parties on Valentine’s and New Year’s Eve.”

Tina set her glass down on a side table, challenging him with a look. “What about having to pay extra to be included in events and expensive trips.”

“You don’t have to worry about that here. I’ll give you a membership breakdown that explains exactly what we do and how much it’ll cost.” Chris gestured toward the inviting area as they walked through. “This is where we hold the parties.”

“It’s really beautiful. And you’ve got a stage for live music.” She ran a finger along the aged mahogany bar. “Can I come to this week’s mixer?”

“Sorry, you missed it already. But, if you decide to sign up for our services, I’ll add you to the guest list for next time.”

“Oh, I’ve mostly decided,” Tina informed him with laugh. “One of my coworkers went on seven dates with the same man in the past month. She highly recommended you.”

“Great. A big percentage of our business comes by word of mouth.” Chris smiled and pointed to the framed photographs on the walls. “We’ve had a lot of success in the two years since we opened. At last count I’ve been invited to about thirty-five weddings.”

“It might be thirty-six soon. My coworker and her boyfriend seem pretty serious already.”

He nodded, not surprised. “We put a lot of time, effort and research into our matchmaking program. The key is finding compatible core traits and vital attributes. This enables us to create a portrait of who you are at a deeper level, unlike other services that match people based on photographs and a fictional paragraph.”

She clapped her hands together once. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Then let’s get started on the paperwork.” Chris widened his smile and swept an arm toward his office across the hall. “To your left is the computer café where clients fill out the personality profile and check their LM e-mail accounts. I’ll take you inside when we’re done.”

He waited for Tina to precede him into the office and held the guest chair for her before rounding his desk. After filling a new water glass from the pitcher on the credenza, he reached into one of the file drawers for a new client packet.

“Here are the brochures about the company, about the best ways to present yourself in person and protect yourself online, and some testimonials from former clients. Also in that folder are the application, payment options and an inquiry consent form.”

Tina’s brow furrowed. “You’re going to investigate me?”

“As a precaution, we look into all of our applicants’ pasts, searching for criminal records. We wouldn’t want to accidentally put a client into a dangerous situation.” Chris leaned forward to point to a particular paper. “This sheet is the confidentiality statement, basically stating that none of your personal information will ever be revealed or sold to advertisers.”

He settled back in his chair, allowing Tina a few minutes to examine the brochures. There was no need to continue his sales pitch—he had good instincts. He recognized the signs of excitement and anticipation that love might be only a few dates away.

Tina looked up from reading. “Are you one of the ‘intelligent, dynamic people who are ready to find the love of their life’?”

Chris forced a chuckle. “I’m flattered, but unfortunately not available.”

She smiled shyly. “Too bad. You seem like a really nice guy and I like your honesty. She’s lucky, your lady.”

Honesty was a tightrope he carefully balanced on every day. He hadn’t lied—he never dated clients—but he sure as hell hadn’t told the whole truth either. He couldn’t afford to.

Tina stacked the brochures and closed the folder. “Sounds too good to be true, Chris, but sign me up anyway!”

“Once you fill out all of the forms, I’ll take you into the café and show you how to start the questionnaires.”

Twenty minutes later, he was back in his office with a capocollo and Swiss on sourdough. He pushed aside the mail his office manager, Lara, had left for him to make room for the sandwich, chips and soda. Lunch Meetings had become known for entrées like spinach, mushroom and chicken quesadilla but Chris was a ham and cheese kind of guy.

He stripped off his suit jacket and loosened his tie before diving into the food. He’d had a busy morning and this afternoon would be dedicated to his private seminars, so he had to eat fast if he wanted to get some of the administrative tasks out of the way. After popping open the can of cola, he pushed the speaker button on his phone to listen to his voicemail.

Hi, Chris. It’s Andrea. Give me or Diana a call when you get a chance, will you? Mom is acting really strange. Wait until you see her hair! She’s being very secretive and won’t tell us what’s going on. If anyone can get something out of her, it’s you. Talk later. Bye.

He jotted a note to drive over and see his mother. As the only male in the house with a single mother and two older sisters, he’d quickly learned how far charm would get him—Mom had rarely denied him anything. He’d been meaning to do some yard work for her, anyway, and that would give him a chance to find out what had Drea and Di so worried. He pushed the button for the next message.

Hi, Mr. London. My name is Amy Wong and I write for the San Francisco Inquirer. I’d like to make arrangements for an interview—

He erased the voicemail without bothering to hear the rest. The tabloid had been after his story for months, trying to get the inside scoop—or more likely the dirt—on the business, anything to explain the LM phenomenon. He’d never granted them an interview and he never would to protect himself and his clients from exposure.

Christopher, I’d like my mystery novels back and I have your DVDs. Let me know when it would be convenient to make the exchange. The call disconnected with an audible click.

He and Rachel had broken up after he overheard her tell a friend that he was “the guy you have sex with, not the one you stay with.” When he confronted her, Rachel had accused him of investing more energy into other people’s relationships rather than into his own.

She was probably right. Though he’d liked her, he hadn’t loved her. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever really been in love. Lust, infatuation, but never love. He’d mail Rachel the books; she could keep the movies.

He played the last message. Mr. London, this is Andrew Johnston from Hollinger/Hansen. I have good news. Our principal investor is interested in your expansion project. However, before the Board commits any venture capital, we’d like to see a more detailed business plan. Call me at 555-4642, extension 201.

Chris dropped the last of his sandwich and played the message again. Another investment firm had turned him down two weeks ago. A wide grin spread across his face as he listened. Hot damn! It looked like he might be able to open locations in Oakland and San Jose after all.

He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head, and gazed through the two-way mirror at the dining room and café. He’d done it!

In high school and college, fixing up his friends had been just a game. During his years at UCLA he’d parlayed his knack for matchmaking into free meals and Bruins football tickets. Eventually he’d turned a psychology major with a minor in statistics into a flourishing business. He’d taken a gamble and made it pay off not only for himself but also for his many happy clients.

It was ironic, actually, because love had nothing to do with his success. Despite his track record for others, Chris couldn’t seem to make a relationship last more than a month or so, a fact he was very careful to keep to himself. Who’d want to use a dating service run by a guy who was frequently single, a guy who didn’t believe in the idea of true love he so convincingly sold?

It all came down to science, namely mathematics and chemistry. If you presented people with a potential mate who mirrored the traits they wanted to see in themselves, the probability was high that these two people would experience infatuation. After infatuation, respect and commitment would hopefully follow.

Not that he hadn’t experienced a number of failures. His matchmaking skills hadn’t worked at all on his parents.

Chris had been eleven when his father had dumped the family, walking out on him, his mother and sisters. He’d never seen it coming. His parents had never fought, always discussing everything quietly and rationally, and his father swore there wasn’t another woman. Just some half-assed need to figure out what he wanted from life.

Chris had listened to the calmly delivered speech about things sometimes not working out the way you hope, nodding his head while his whole world imploded. He’d felt like his chest was on fire from the pressure of holding back sobs of anguish. Don’t go, Daddy. Don’t leave me. As his father turned away, the pressure bubble inside him had popped and the tears flowed freely.

It was the last time Chris ever cried.

He’d seen his father regularly, during awkward visits and strained outings, but it felt like there was a hollow space inside him. His mother had wanted her husband back, though, so Chris had done what he could—getting in trouble at school so his parents would have to meet in the principal’s office. But then later his more mature attempts also met with failure…

The intercom buzzed, shaking him off that line of thought. He listened to Lara’s voice. “Hi, Chris. Frank Lanvale is here for his one o’clock.”

He thanked her, silently reminding himself to focus on the positive. Things were looking up business-wise. Just as long as nobody found out the truth about him or the secret of Lunch Meetings’ success.

2

“YOU’RE NOT GOING out like that, are you?”

Phoebe Jayne Hollinger burst through the open door of Rei’s house in Miraloma Park at exactly nine o’clock. P.J. was always prompt about her lateness. Stepping aside, Rei looked down at the white dress shirt and plain black skirt she wore with low-heeled pumps. Judging by P.J.’s incredulous tone, her best friend didn’t like the outfit as much as she did.

“I think I look nice, thank you very much.” Rei turned and walked toward the living room where she’d been reading in her favorite chair near the gas fire.

P.J. followed, her heels clicking on the hardwood floors. “That’s the problem. You’re supposed to look sexy. We’re going to a nightclub, not a Bar Association function.”

“I’m not good at sexy.” A fact that had disappointed some of the men she’d dated. Apparently they’d expected an Asian woman to be a voracious circus acrobat in bed and a bowing doormat everywhere else.

P.J. unfastened her black satin trench coat. “You never let yourself be sexy. When we were growing up, you were always afraid your father would disapprove. Later, you were too focused on school and corporate raiding—”

“That’s the second time this week you’ve mentioned my father and I hope it’s the last.” Rei felt the muscles around her eyes tighten.

P.J. smirked and sank into the couch. “Don’t pull the Judge Face on me. I’m immune. You know you’ll have to deal with him sometime.”

“Not tonight, I don’t. He pushed me out of his life twenty years ago so I’m in no rush to schedule a family reunion.”

Her mother had died in a car accident when she was twelve. With Keiko gone, the stately Queen Anne style house in Pacific Heights had echoed with reproving silences. Only to be interrupted by frightening drunken outbursts from a father who’d been as miserly with hugs as he had been with praise.

After two agonizing years, Gordon Davis had finally decided to move on with his life. Rei had spent all of her time with her beloved maternal grandparents in Japantown while he pursued a seat on the high court bench and a young trophy wife. Once Rei left for college, they saw each other only at the holidays.

“You’re right, honey. I’m sorry. We’re supposed to be celebrating.” P.J. twisted on her seat and dug into the pocket of her coat. She set a small silver box on the bleached wood coffee table. “HappyAnniversary.”

Rei let out a half laugh, half sob and pressed a hand to her mouth. Her vision wavered as tears filled her eyes and a knot of emotion formed in her throat. She sat down next to her friend and reached for her hand. “Thank you for remembering, Peej. And for a lot of other reasons as well.”

P.J. squeezed her fingers in return and offered a watery smile. “I’m just so glad that you’re still here. There were so many days when you didn’t think you’d make it this far, but I wasn’t about to lose my best bud.”

“God, I still can’t believe it’s been a whole year since the diagnosis….”

Ductal carcinoma in situ.

Her doctor had said she was lucky—lucky?—the tumor was less than one centimeter, they’d found it early, and the cancer hadn’t spread to the lymph nodes. Rei’s immediate reaction had been disbelief—the ultrasound tech must have screwed up because there was no history of cancer in her family. She’d been stunned and confused and sorry as hell that she hadn’t gotten regular mammograms as she was supposed to.

Then she’d been terrified. She would never forget the knife jab of fear that wouldn’t go away. Sure, in the abstract, everybody had to die sometime. But, not her. Not now. After that came anger, a lot of anger. At her body, at the universe, at her father who acted like it was contagious and at Jack, another of her arrogant, opinionated ex-boyfriends, who had walked out when she most needed comfort and reassurance.

After lumpectomy surgery she’d endured radiation treatment and chemotherapy sessions that had left her exhausted and nauseated. The glossy black hair she’d always been so proud of had thinned out and she’d lost fifteen pounds from lack of appetite….

Then, as suddenly as she’d been diagnosed, she’d finished with the treatments. There had been no formal exit from sick to well, just the slow physical and mental recovery until one day she woke up and the cancer wasn’t the first thing on her mind. Of course, she would continue to take the Tamoxifen for another four years and have a follow-up visit every six months.

Rei had survived and in surviving had reevaluated her priorities. She’d gotten rid of a soulless renovated flat in North Beach and bought her house; taken up yoga and a healthy diet and tried to appreciate every day of the rest of her life.

Not to mention the people in it. Rei kissed P.J.’s cheek and tucked one leg up on the couch. Reaching for the box, she unwrapped it to find a silver charm bracelet. Holding it to the light revealed that each of the twelve clear crystals had a tiny pink ribbon inside.

“Oh, Peej, it’s beautiful.”

“A little classier than a rubber band, I thought.”

Rei fastened the delicate chain around her wrist. “I love it. Thank you so much.”

P.J. cleared her throat then cheerfully clapped her hands. “So, are you ready to go party with wild abandon?”

She sighed and rubbed her neck. “Actually… I had a bad day at court and I don’t think I’m up to screaming to be heard over a syncopated drumbeat. Why don’t we just go out for a late supper and talk?”

“Nope. You don’t need talk, you need action.” P.J. wiggled her brows suggestively.

Rei responded with a tiny twinge of interest. It had been awhile—a long while—since she’d had any “action.” Lately there’d been an almost constant tension inside her, a restless frustration that she couldn’t meditate away. Like her body was too small for the spirit within.

“We are overdue for a night on the town, but I’m not sure a nightclub is such a good idea. I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

P.J. crossed her arms beneath her ample bust, straining the limits of her bra top. “The whole point of this Break Away Night is to celebrate our friendship, to be a little daring and have some irresponsible fun.”

That sounded so tempting. It wasn’t as if she were a nun or anything. However Rei was never anything but responsible—to her family, to her kids at court and to herself. She had to be taken seriously in order to succeed. But maybe throwing caution to the wind was exactly what she needed. Just for tonight.

“I bought a mango.”

P.J.’s forehead crinkled. “You what?”

“I bought a papaya, too.”

“Oo-kay…” P.J. sat on her coat, bewilderment clouding her light eyes.

Rei felt warm spots of color on her cheeks. “I read an article in a women’s magazine that suggested taking two risks a week. You know, creating a little adventure in your life. Well, I never tried those fruits before so I bought them.”

“What did you think?”

She shrugged. “I liked the mango, but wasn’t crazy about the papaya.”

“I’ll bet it felt terrific to get out of your apple-grape-banana rut.”

Rei laughed. “It was oddly satisfying. Silly yet audacious. I can cross ‘try exotic fruit’ off of my List now.”

“You’re starting with the safe ones, I see.” P.J.’s expression became as quiet as her voice. “How long is that list now? Wouldn’t you like to shift some more items into the Done That column?”

The list was actually written in a bound journal her support group had given her after the lumpectomy. On the cover was a quote from Thoreau, ‘Go confidently in the direction of your dreams.’ Each woman in the group had received one; the idea being to create a Life List and believe those dreams could come true. Rei’s book was half filled already, but with almost no check marks beside the entries.

“So, how about it, Rei? You need to cross ‘dance like you don’t care if anybody is watching’ off the List. But not in that outfit.”

And just like that she realized it wasn’t only her clothes she needed to change, but also her attitude.

When she’d gotten sick, she had withdrawn into herself, organizing her life to the minutest detail. She’d thought if she could control her environment, that if she scheduled each day and always knew what she was doing, somehow she could control the rapidly dividing cells inside of her.

It was time for her to lose a little of that self-control. Over 365 days had passed since her diagnosis, six months since her doctor had declared her in remission. She deserved to celebrate. She’d earned it. Her hesitation vanished, quickly replaced by an eagerness that surprised her.

“Oh, what the hell. Let’s go out and get a little wild.”

With a victorious grin, P.J. grabbed her hand and pulled her off the couch. Together they went upstairs to the master bedroom and P.J. headed straight to the closet. “Take all of that off while I find something more like my outfit.”

Rei looked at P.J.’s hot pink bra, sheer black blouse and hip-level skirt that barely covered her butt. “There’s a fine line between ‘sexy’ and ‘slutty’ that I’d rather not cross.”

“No guts, no conquests, I say.”

“Hey, I just broke up with Derek yesterday.” Rei unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it.

“So? It’s the twenty-first century. We’re not only allowed to have sex with men, but also like men.”

“You mean without commitment or guilt? Do it then roll over and fall asleep?” She unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it into the laundry hamper.

P.J. turned to stare at her, obviously seeing through her sarcastic humor. “Are you telling me you’ve never had an orgasm?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

Rei climbed onto her bed, sitting cross-legged in her white lace bra and panties. “Okay, maybe sex hasn’t been that great for me. Sometimes it was nice, but in the end it always felt like there was something missing.”

“Yeah, a lover who made an effort to please you.” P.J. went back to rifling the clothes hanging in the closet. “You need to add ‘have amazingly fantastic sex with multiple screaming orgasms’ to the List.”

“It’s already on there.” Rei reached for the journal on the bedside table and opened it on her lap. Knowing that she’d be the only person to ever read the List, she felt free to express her secret desires.

P.J. shot her a mischievous look. “Really? In those exact words?”

“Um, no.” Multiple screaming orgasm sex probably required that both partners be fantastic lovers. She didn’t qualify. “Something more along the lines of ‘get swept into a passionate affair.’”

“So why don’t you make that the next dare?”

Rei shook her head before P.J. even finished. “I doubt that’s what the magazine article had in mind.”

“Oh, come on. What could be more of an adventure than acting out a sexual fantasy?”

With the men she’d dated, lawyers in a relatively small community where her father was an Associate Justice for the Appellate Court, a part of her had held back, unable to fully give or accept pleasure. The last thing she’d needed in her bid for Commissioner was any kind of locker room talk about how she acted in bed.

But with a sexy stranger who didn’t know her and therefore couldn’t judge her, maybe she’d be able to let go and lose some of her self-control. With her fantasy man, she could discover and explore her sensuality. She could be a bad girl indulging in decadent pleasures.

Just the thought made Rei’s pulse jump and her nerves tingle. She wanted to feel the sensual thrill of a man’s hands and tongue and body touching her, stroking her, pleasing her in exactly the way she desired. To finally experience the hot, primal excitement of wild, uninhibited sex. That would be the most daring adventure of all….

Rei set the List aside. “I don’t know if I could actually go through with an affair, but I’ll at least be open to the possibility.”

“Okay, that’s a good start.” With a surprised gasp, P.J. pulled a red and black outfit from the closet. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about this. This is what you should put on for tonight!”

“That was my costume three Halloweens ago, Peej.” She laughed uneasily. “Judge Shuford’s personal misconduct has the Ethics Committee on a witch hunt and it would be my luck to run into somebody from Court. I can’t wear that.”

“Sure you can. It counts as a risk for this week and, trust me, going out in this will be a lot more fun than buying fruit.”

Fifteen minutes and several halfhearted protests later, Rei had changed into the red and black satin corset. It gave her small breasts the illusion of cleavage and gently nipped in her waist to create an hourglass of her slender figure. The short black satin skirt with a split over the right thigh made her legs look longer while stiletto heels added three inches to her five foot five frame.

She’d let her hair down, literally, so that the dark strands fell past her shoulders. P.J. had done some kind of makeup magic, crafting smoky shadows around her eyes and enhancing her cheeks and lips. She had to admit that maybe she could do sexy. Right now she felt daring and most definitely like a woman who indulged her inner bad girl.

Tonight, just this once, she was going to follow her impulses and see where they might lead her.

LOUD, SENSUAL MUSIC with a Latin overtone and a hard-driving bass spilled out into the night as the bouncer opened the front door to the club. Rei followed P.J. inside to pay the cover charge and get a bright red kiss stamp on the back of her hand before pressing through the crowd toward the bar. She looked around while they waited for one of the bartenders to take their orders.

The boutique Hotel Liaison was located off of Union Square, in the heart of downtown San Francisco. The nightclub had originally been a small Victorian playhouse. The stage now served as an upper dance floor. Above it, the word Divas was spelled out in bright red neon with an upside-down tube of lipstick as an exclamation point.

The main dance floor occupied what had once been the orchestra pit. The balconies were used for VIP suites. Paintings of legends like Cher and Tina Turner decorated the red velvet upholstered walls and the theatre seats had been grouped around glass tables shaped like lips. Twirling spotlights and strobes illuminated the sheer yards of fabric draped from the frescoed ceiling. Even on a Thursday night, the club was packed.

“This place is awesome, isn’t it?” P.J. had to lean close to her ear to be heard as she handed over a shot glass of green liquid.

Rei eyed the drink suspiciously. “What’s that?”

“A melon ball shooter.” She raised her glass. “To you, my friend, and living to fight another day.”

“To survival.” Rei tilted her head back and swallowed the sweet cocktail. P.J. smacked her glass onto the bar and signaled for another round. “Wait a minute, you’re driving.”

“We’ll burn these off long before we leave, don’t worry.” P.J. indicated the gyrating bodies on the nearby dance floor.

Just then two men sidled up next to them at the bar and tried to strike up a conversation. While P.J. seemed interested, their tired pickup lines and alpha male arrogance turned Rei off. Sure, she entertained a fantasy about sex with a stranger, but in reality she didn’t want to be viewed as an easy score.

The next five or six men were no better and she got the distinct impression that this new nightclub was something of a meat market. To P.J.’s credit, she subtly accepted a couple phone numbers but stayed by her side. Finally the second round of shot glasses arrived. Rei accepted the drink, but decided it was already her last.

“What are we toasting this time?”

“To new adventures.” Her friend’s eyes covetously followed a hot guy walking past.

She touched her glass to P.J.’s then drained it. Almost immediately, she felt the alcohol’s fire spread through her, easing the tension in muscles she hadn’t realized were tight with stress. She felt light-headed, but in a good way, as if all the censuring voices in her mind had been momentarily silenced.

Rei closed her eyes, focusing on the music and chatter, the press of bodies, the faint odor of sweat and perfume. Her heart had taken on the rhythm of the music and, though the setting was incongruous for yoga, she allowed herself to be truly in the moment. Nothing mattered except being right here, right now.

“Let’s go dance!”

Laughing at the stunned expression on P.J.’s face—usually she had to be coaxed out to the floor—she began weaving her way toward the stage. Once she reached the orchestra pit, she created a space and made room for her friend. P.J. easily got into the groove, her curvy body wriggling to the up-tempo music. Rei wasn’t nearly as athletic, but quickly found her own shuffle-step-shimmy routine.

She became aware of men approaching from the sidelines and started to turn so that P.J. could shield her, then mentally shrugged. She didn’t know anyone here, would probably never be in this place again. Through the mega-watt sound system, Christina Aguilera invited her to get “Dirrty.” Rei gave herself over to the idea. The music was hot and so was she. Why not take a risk?

Why not let go and “dance like she didn’t care if anyone was watching”?

“I’M GLAD YOU CAME with me, man. I can’t handle all those babes by myself.” Grant Bronson shoved a hand over his hair, making the already chaotic strands arch into spikes.

As they walked across the hotel lobby from the parking garage, Chris reached over to subtly knock Grant’s hand down. “First off, don’t think of them as ‘babes.’ They’re people, just like us. With the same anxieties and hang-ups and goals. Come on. It’s a night out at a club, not the Inquisition.”

“I’m terrible at this stuff, though. I get all tongue-tied and say something stupid or make an ass of myself.” He tugged at the hem of his shirt.

“Relax. There’s no agenda for tonight.”

Grant flinched then covered it with a grin. “I thought we came here so I can pick up babes?”

Chris held back a sigh. He’d known Grant vaguely in college, but tonight he was a client. He was a good-looking guy but it was obvious why he had trouble with relationships. He wasn’t getting it that his attitude could make or break him.

“We came here to have a few drinks and meet some new people. The idea isn’t to have sex, ask for a date or even get a phone number. All we want to do this first time out is assess your technique and make any necessary adjustments.”

He tried to remember the last time he’d gone out for something other than work. Whether it was with a friend or a client, he seemed to spend more time giving advice than making use of it. Rachel had labeled him as only good for sex, but he hadn’t been with a woman in months.

Grant’s head swung around to ogle a young woman walking out of the elevator. “Wow, did you see her?”

“Yes and unfortunately she saw you, too. Put your tongue back in your face.” Chris pulled up short of the nightclub’s side entrance, dragging Grant over to a potted plant by the hotel concierge desk. “Listen to me. You’re blowing it before you’ve even begun.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know it’s hard to be yourself when you think ‘yourself’ isn’t good enough. But you only get one chance to make a first impression. It’s true in business and even more important in potential relationships. That is what you want, right? Because I’m not a pimp. If all you’re looking for is an easy lay, you’re on your own.”

Grant’s eyes had widened at the tersely delivered lecture, but now he looked at Chris with respect, as if he were somehow surprised. “Okay, you’re right. Okay. I’m just nervous, that’s all. I told you I always make an ass of myself by saying something stupid.”

“In that case, rule number one is don’t talk.”

“Huh?”

“Women appreciate being listened to. So introduce yourself, ask about her then shut up and listen. Okay? Let’s go.” Chris walked toward the side entrance to Divas.

Grant caught up to match his stride. “I think it’s cool that you’re doing this.”

“It’s part of the job. No big deal,” Chris offered.

“Do you give all your clients this kind of personal attention?”

“Of course. We make every effort to help people identify what makes them unique and—”

“No, I don’t mean the party line. I’m talking about tonight’s field trip and the clothes shopping last week. Does everybody get that or am I special somehow?”

From the minute he’d signed up for Lunch Meetings services, Grant had been full of questions, more so than most. It was starting to get on Chris’s nerves…and to make him suspicious. “I can’t discuss my other clients with you.”

“Okay, it’s cool. Let’s talk about you then. Where’s your other half tonight?”

Chris felt his jaw clench as he prepared to lie. “She had other plans.”

Grant looked him in the eye and smiled. “Too bad. I’d love to see what kind of woman dates a date doctor.”

So would a lot of other people. Chris was beginning to wonder if he should ask some good-looking friend to act as his girlfriend. Then he could stop hiding his single status and take advantage of the publicity that legitimate newspaper interviews would garner. Word of mouth would only take Lunch Meetings so far, and he really wanted to open those other locations.

They went inside and Chris led Grant to the bar where he ordered two bottles of domestic beer. The ice-cold brew was welcome, considering the heat generated by the lights and the press of bodies. He returned the smile of a woman who passed by, but made no effort to follow her. He was on the job.

Raising his voice to be heard, Chris asked Grant to point out a woman he found attractive and tell him why. Then he sent him off to try and engage her in conversation. Over the next half hour, he crashed, burned and recovered with Chris’s help. Finally Grant ended up with a hot looking blonde in a pink bra and black mini-skirt, leaving him alone at the bar.

With a sense of both pride and relief, Chris ordered another beer and turned his attention to the blonde’s friend. Now there was a man-eater if ever he’d seen one. The petite Asian woman was dressed to kill and her exotic appearance set her apart from the crowd, even in multi-cultural San Francisco.

Funny, though, she’d suddenly looked very lost when her friend went off with Grant….

Then the music changed, a slow seductive number that brought a delighted expression to her face. She began to move to the tempo, her hips rocking in time, while her eyes drifted shut and her lips parted to sing along. The way she danced was hypnotic and very, very arousing. She danced like she was making love.

Chris took a long pull from the beer bottle, trying to quench his sudden thirst. What he really wanted to taste was her—the golden skin, left bare by her outfit and begging to be licked. Her small but beautifully rounded breasts and that beauty mark near her mouth. Lord have mercy, just the thought of where he wanted those perfectly bowed lips left him aching.

As she dipped and turned, he admired her well-toned legs and sweet little butt. The back view was just as enticing as the front. She continued to dance, her curtain of dark hair swaying as her slim curves arched and retracted. The woman had a blatant sexuality that let him imagine how fluidly she’d move in bed. He set down his bottle and continued to watch her, not even aware he was in motion until he was halfway to the dance floor.

Unfortunately he wasn’t the only male in range of her with the same idea. A guy the size of a San Francisco 49ers linebacker got to her first and tried to press himself up against her. Her dark eyes flew open and Chris had just resigned himself to several broken bones when the guy backed off on his own. He was three times her size, but she’d squared her shoulders and given him a look of cold fury before grinding her heel into his instep.

Chris couldn’t hold back a smile. What a little spitfire. She tried to get back into the mood but, clearly thrown off stride by the interruption, her movements lost some of their grace. Although he remained at the edge of the dance floor, still admiring her, he made no attempt to get closer.

When another guy thought to try his chances, Chris simply thrust out an arm and shook his head. “Don’t waste your time, buddy.”

The other man tried to stare him down, the human equivalent of wolves preparing to fight for territory, then he shrugged and walked away. Chris allowed himself a smirk. Yeah, that’s right. I saw her first. Then he realized how out of character it was. What the hell was wrong with him? Tonight was about work, not picking anyone up. He didn’t consider himself a caveman type, so why was he staking claim to a woman who had yet to acknowledge his existence?

He looked back to find her watching him. Her full lips curved slightly and she nodded once before she closed her eyes again. When the song ended, replaced by a romantic ballad, she started off the dance floor. Chris figured she didn’t want to be adrift in a sea of couples. He was debating whether to offer her a drink when she came directly toward him.

She looked up at him, her gaze roaming over his face, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. He got the strangest feeling she was challenging him to be worthy of her attention. Her eyes weren’t as dark or as cold as he’d thought. Instead they were a warm chocolate brown fringed by long lashes and sparkling with unexpected invitation.

When she reached out to touch his forearm, his breath caught. He felt like he’d been hit by heat lightning, the kind that strikes without warning or sound. Their eyes met and sexual energy surged between them. The tingling warmth raced through his veins and straight to his groin. He stood there practically vibrating and feeling like a dork, but unwilling to break contact.

Then she slowly smiled at him, angling her head toward the dance floor. Forget what he’d told Grant about not trying to get laid. Chris returned the smile and took her hand—he would have followed her anywhere. Confidence was sexy. It was all about what you didn’t say and this gorgeous woman’s body language said it all. She wanted him and the feeling was oh so mutual.

3

REI DIDN’T NEED P.J.’s surreptitious thumbs up. She already felt pretty darn proud of herself.

She’d started to leave the floor when her friend walked off with a good-looking gym jockey, but the next song was one of her all-time favorites. So she’d danced by herself, letting the soft wail of the saxophone wash over her, moving her body to the beat of the percussion. She’d gotten lost in the sensuality of the music….

Only to be slammed back to reality when that arrogant Neanderthal tried to grab her. Rei used a maneuver from a self-defense class she once took then looked up to find some guy laughing at her. At least that’s what she’d thought until he kept another man from approaching her. After nodding her curious thanks, she tried to get back into the song.

Although she’d closed her eyes, she still saw his wide grin and admiring expression, the disarray of his sandy hair and the casually neat dark jeans and pressed shirt. Who was this man who’d elected himself her protector? He was attractive, but there were herds of hot guys here tonight. In fact he was almost average in height with a lean build and all-American looks, and yet there was something…

And just like that she was dancing for him. Her whole being came alive as she imagined him watching her. Her nipples hardened beneath the satin confines of the corset and a light sweat broke out on her skin. She positioned her body deliberately, blindly enticing him with provocative gestures and sexual motions.

When the music changed, she felt drawn to him, as if he were the only man there. Maybe it was the direct gaze of his light eyes or the self-assured way he carried his trim body. Mostly she liked the way he held back, letting the decision about first contact be hers. He kept his distance even though his expression made it clear he wanted to get close, very close.

A hot flush began on her cheeks and then raced down her body to the apex of her thighs. When she touched his arm, every nerve ending jumped at the sensation. He was the one. If ever she was going to take a chance and have some irresponsible fun it was right here, right now, with this man.

He settled her into his embrace for the slow, romantic ballad. She wrapped her arms around his waist. He was so much taller that her head only came to his shoulder. Their bodies fell into rhythm with the music and with each other. Neither of them had yet to speak but words seemed unnecessary.

When two people were this strongly attracted, what really needed to be said?

His left hand rested in the center of her back while his right hand slid beneath her hair. The gentle massage made her tremble. The nape of her neck had always been an oddly erogenous spot. In response, she pressed closer to the burgeoning erection straining his jeans and felt a groan rumble up from his chest.

This kind of behavior was so unlike her. But at the same time, she was enjoying his reaction, the power of knowing she turned him on. He was a good dancer, making her wonder if he could possibly be as incredible in bed as he was on the floor. She surprised herself with the thought. She’d never been the type to engage in one-night stands yet she couldn’t deny the immediacy of her desire.

Rei looked up at him then and his gaze penetrated her mind the way she wanted him to penetrate her body. A current of excitement arced between them but the next move was his. Her profession was all about being in control and taking charge. Personally, though, she wanted to be taken. She wanted to be swept off her feet and into a whirlwind of mindless passion.

Her breasts ached, the nipples tight and throbbing where they made contact with his flat belly. When she skimmed her hands down his sides toward his hips, he bent down to lower his head. She parted her lips, anxious for the taste of his mouth. But before they could kiss, the dj played a fast-tempo rap number, breaking the spell.

Her self-appointed bodyguard offered his hand again and led her from the floor. He singled out one of the bouncers, spoke quietly then guided her toward the back of the club. When she hesitated, he looked from her face to the level above the stage and back again. Several of the balconies were either dark or had the curtains drawn, offering seclusion and privacy.

So here it was, the pivotal moment. Should she take the next step, or politely decline and stay safely ensconced in reality? Looking into his pale green eyes, she saw the reflection of all her desire. She saw the answer to her question. Rei squeezed his hand in agreement and let him lead her upstairs.

His pace was unhurried as they strolled along the hallway, but the tension in his grip suggested the same urgency she felt. Eventually they found an open door and slipped inside. The balcony was decorated in the original Victorian style but Rei barely noticed before she was lifted off her feet and into his arms.

She folded her legs around his waist to keep her balance, but he easily held her so that they were face to face, revealing a strength that belied his lanky build. Below them, the music pounded from the speakers in a cacophony of sound. But up here an expectant quiet surrounded them. Even in the darkness, she could see the heat and need in his gaze and she heard it when he finally spoke.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here. I lost my mind the minute I saw you.” His voice was deep and slow, with the slightest hint of the South in his accent. “You are by far the sexiest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and I want you. It’s that simple.”

His words frightened her, thrilled her, challenged her to give in to what she was feeling. She caressed the flexed muscles of his biceps before sliding her arms over his broad shoulders. His words stimulated her as much as the feel of his hands on her naked thighs. The throbbing between her legs became a dull ache of need that she couldn’t satisfy, not yet.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Chris—”

She touched her fingers to his lips, stopping him before he could give his last name. She didn’t need to know, didn’t want to. Tonight she was living out the fantasy of seducing a handsome stranger and it needed to remain a fantasy.

“Kiss me, Chris.”

“Whatever the lady wants.” He grinned, a bright and boyish smile at odds with the very grown-up feeling of his hands on her ass, then leaned in close.

His breath mingled with hers and her eyes drifted shut. She waited eagerly for the first touch of his lips and yet enjoying the prolonged anticipation. He brushed his mouth slowly, so slowly, over her lips and the sweet thrill of his touch overwhelmed her. The tip of his tongue traced her upper lip, then the lower, before slipping inside.

She returned the kiss, deepened it, faintly tasting beer and peppermint when she explored his mouth. He tightened his grip and held her against the hard ridge of his penis. Her hips began to rock in an age-old motion as she rubbed against the placket of his jeans, seeking release.

Rei moaned in protest when Chris broke off the kiss, but her moans became ones of pleasure as he trailed his lips down her neck and over her chest. He looked behind him and located a chair, then claimed her lips again. Still holding her, he sat down and spread his legs, forcing hers apart as well.

He trailed kisses along her neck as his fingers worked the top eyehooks of the corset. Rei stiffened, suddenly worried about him seeing the scar, about ruining the atmosphere with the need to explain. But then she gasped and arched her back while he suckled her left nipple.

Oh, God, what was she doing? She knew what he was doing—coaxing her to the heights of ecstasy. This was crazy. It was insane. And it felt so incredibly good.

Chris pushed her hips back toward his knees without losing contact with her mouth. She tried to scoot forward until she felt him touch her inner thigh, his fingers probing the edge of her panties. The thick tip of his thumb delved between her damp curls before circling her clitoris in a way that made her groan aloud.

Hot flames danced through her and she tilted her hips to give him better access. When he slid his thumb into her wet heat, she clenched her vaginal muscles around it and thrust her tongue deeper into his mouth to encourage him. Not that he needed any persuading. Chris both stroked and soothed, masturbating her with expert finesse to draw out the pleasure without bringing her to climax.

She wiggled on his lap, silently begging him to make her come. He withdrew his thumb and quickly replaced it with two strong, rigid fingers that worked a seductive magic on her aching flesh. He increased the pressure and the pace until he brought her to a wild shuddering climax.

Dazed, Rei slowly became aware of her surroundings, the harsh sound of their breathing and the wanton disarray of her clothing. She shook her head, trying to clear it. She’d just had an orgasm with a stranger. And a hell of an orgasm it had been. If Chris was this good at manual manipulation, actual sex with him would be phenomenal.

He seemed to have the same idea as he cupped her hips and pulled her onto his erection. His voice was husky with desire. “That was just the appetizer. Would you like to go next door to the hotel and finish what we started?”

Yes, she did. No man had ever made her feel this sexy and daring and desirable. More than anything she wanted to feel the hard length of him inside her, to give him the same level of pleasure he’d just given her. But it wasn’t to be. Tonight had been an amazing experience, one to cross off the List. Tomorrow, though, she’d return to her reality.

She cradled his cheek in her hand with genuine regret. “I’ll bet you make an incredible meal, Chris. But I can’t.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not still hungry.” He glanced down at her hardened nipples peeking out of the corset. “I won’t believe you.”

Rei laughed softly and continued with the food analogy. “I’m tempted, really tempted, to order room service. I’m sure it would be delicious. But tonight was an anomaly. I don’t usually indulge my appetites like this. I’m sorry.”

Chris dropped his head with a groan, touching his forehead to hers. Then he sighed and didn’t try to stop her when she climbed off his lap. He watched her refasten the corset with an expression of lust and disappointment. “At least tell me your name so I’ll know who broke my heart.”

She smiled mischievously and glanced at the bulge in his pants. “I don’t think it’s your heart that’s giving you trouble right now.”

“Okay, then tell me so I’ll know who’s going to be starring in my erotic dreams and keeping me awake all night.”

She laughed again. This guy was smooth, definitely a player. And he wasn’t being difficult, making her feel cheap or demanding his own satisfaction as she’d expected. However, to maintain the fantasy, she chose to give him a fantasy name.

“I’m Jade.”

“It’s been a pleasure, Jade. Hopefully one of many.” He stood up and reached around for his wallet. “Here’s where you can contact me the next time you get hungry.”

She took the plain white card and squinted to read it in the dim light. ‘Chris London. 415-555-4681.’ Now she knew his last name and one of the illusions she wanted to keep vaporized. Real men with real names had real lives and reminded her that she did, too.

Rei tucked the card into her corset and arched her index finger toward the balcony door. “Are you coming?”

“Not tonight, apparently.” He grinned to show he was teasing then explained, “You go on. I need a minute to, uh, calm down.”

She nodded, not meeting his gaze. “Goodbye, Chris.”

His soft fingers lightly grazed her cheek, as if memorizing the contours. “See you, Jade. I really hope we meet again.”

She kissed him one last time, then turned and walked out, knowing they wouldn’t.

PajamaPartyGirl is now online

PajamaPartyGirl is instant messaging you

PajamaPartyGirl: I cannot believe you bailed on me.

JadeBlossom: I didn’t bail, P.J., I just left early.

PajamaPartyGirl: Well if you wanted to go, you didn’t have to cab it, Rei. I would have driven you home.

JadeBlossom: I know you would have, but I didn’t want you to have to leave just because I was.

PajamaPartyGirl: I’m sorry you didn’t have a good time. You can pick the place for our next Break Away Night.

JadeBlossom: I did have a good time, honest.

PajamaPartyGirl: Uh huh. Whenever people have to tell you they’re being honest, they aren’t. Did that hot blond you were dancing with do something to upset you? Is that why you left early?

REI GRINNED at the computer screen. Oh, the hot blond had done something, all right, but he hadn’t upset her.

If she possessed an ounce of sense, she’d be embarrassed and ashamed over making out with a stranger in a club. But the truth was, she’d enjoyed those moments of wild abandonment. Chris had joked about losing sleep but she’d been the one plagued by erotic dreams. Even after she awoke, her imagination had been running on overdrive, stirring up all kinds of sexual urges and wrecking her concentration.

JadeBlossom: No, I had a great time, the best. It just didn’t work out.

PajamaPartyGirl: Oh, too bad. That explains why you seem a little short today.

JadeBlossom: I’m tired this morning and I have quite a few adoptions to approve this afternoon.

PajamaPartyGirl: Um, I forgot to remind you last night.

JadeBlossom: Of what?

PajamaPartyGirl: You said you’d come with me to look at this company I want to invest in.

JadeBlossom: Oh yeah. When is that?

PajamaPartyGirl: Monday. I set it up for your lunch hour but this place has food and I promise to feed you. Since you and Derek are over, this might work out really well.

JadeBlossom: WHAT might work out? Where are we going?

PajamaPartyGirl: To check out a dating service.

JadeBlossom: Great, Peej. Thanks.

PajamaPartyGirl: Well, it might be great for both of us. Give it a chance.

JadeBlossom: You’re lucky we’re best friends.

CHRIS HADN’T REALLY expected Jade to call. But he’d hoped she would. He’d lain awake most of the night, waiting for the phone to ring like some teenaged boy with his first crush. What an idiot. Finally he’d dozed off, only to dream about her. Dreams so hot that he’d ended up taking matters into his own hand, so to speak.

He loved women. He had learned from his mom and his sisters to respect women’s intelligence, strength, endurance and ambition. He admired their optimism, willingness to share and their emotional depth. He had never been one to objectify women, and yet he couldn’t stop imagining Jade naked.

Her body would be a perfect combination of lean muscle and soft curves. She’d smile at him as she lay back onto his bed and held out her arms. Her golden skin would be like hot silk beneath his hands. She’d gasp with pleasure when he settled between her thighs. “Chris.” He could almost hear her whispering his name.

“Chris?”

He startled, realizing his next client was trying to get his attention. “Hey, Eric, sorry.”

Eric Antoine slouched into the office, the picture of dejection and he flopped onto the guest chair. “I got shot down again. Why do I even bother with this? I’m never going to meet a woman who wants to spend the rest of her life with me.”

“Come on, Eric. We’ve talked about this.” He rested one hip on the edge of his desk. “If you want positive things in your life, be it love, a better job, whatever, you have to have a—”

“Positive outlook, I know, Chris. But I kept thinking about how beautiful she was and how smart, and then I got nervous because I wanted to ask her to go out with me again but I knew that she wouldn’t.”

He sure knew that feeling. He was dying to see Jade again but knew he’d better resign himself to never hearing from her. She would end up being a fond memory of a phenomenal night and nothing more. Too bad, but it wasn’t like he was looking for a relationship anyway. On the other hand, though, his client was.

Eric was a tall, thin, African American man with big ears, a big heart and an even bigger smile when he bothered to use it. He was a nice guy with a good job but he had zero self-esteem. Chris studied his poor posture and downcast eyes.

“Is this how you talked to Michelle?”

Eric finally looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Women are verbal communicators, men are physical. Everything about your body language right now says, ‘I don’t want to be here.’ You can’t connect with a woman if you don’t make eye contact. You can’t let her know you’re open to a relationship if your attitude is closed. Come over here.”

He grabbed Eric by the shoulder and pushed him toward the triple mirror in the corner. “Look at us. What’s different?”

Eric’s dark-brown eyes showed a spark of humor as he took in Chris’s paler, blonder reflection. “You mean besides the obvious?”

“Yeah, besides that.” He smiled.

“You’re bigger than me, and better dressed.”

Chris shook his head. “I might look bigger, but I’m not. We’re about the same build. Now, stand up straight. Hold your head up and put your shoulders back. See?”

In the mirror, all three of Eric appeared larger and more self-assured. His expression revealed that he saw it, too.

“Now watch this, watch what I’m doing while I’m talking to you.” Chris hunched his shoulders and let his eyes shift from Eric’s mouth to his hair to a point beyond his shoulder. “My lack of focus tells you what? That I don’t care about you, about who you might be beneath the surface and that I’m looking to see if there’s someone better to talk to.”

“Ah, man. That’s probably what Michelle thought, when really I was just nervous. No wonder she blew me off.”

Chris clapped him on the shoulder. “Now that you know, be aware of it. If you don’t get anything else out of these sessions, get this—confidence is sexy. It’s all about knowing who you are inside and out. Nothing will impress a woman more.”

He worked with Eric for another forty-five minutes, mostly trying to convince him that eventually he would find the right woman. Four more individual sessions with male clients followed, effectively keeping him from thinking about Jade. Sort of. Several times, she crept into his thoughts and he had to remind himself to focus on the job. It was a lot of extra work when he could have just let the computer program handle the matchmaking. But Chris felt it was worth the time and effort.

Just because he’d never fallen in love didn’t mean he couldn’t make it happen for someone else.

Not long after he opened Lunch Meetings, Chris had realized that too many of his early applicants just wanted to get in, get off and get out. Even those men who wanted to fall in love were more likely to screw up a budding relationship than the female clients. Either they made mistakes at the beginning or they weren’t willing to put in the effort to keep it going and they walked out when things got too complicated.

Like his father.

So Chris began quietly offering courtship counseling to the men who seemed genuinely interested but totally clueless. Using his own experiences and education, he helped his clients reform their self-image and destructive behaviors. Sure, it was manipulative. But it worked and that’s what mattered.

At least it worked for other people. He’d seen it happen, helped make it happen, but in that hollow void inside him he didn’t believe it would happen for him. He was much better at fixing other people’s lives than finding lasting happiness in his own.

THE AFTERNOON DOCKET cleared quickly and the day ended on a high note, as Rei approved the adoption of a seventeen-year-old girl. A special hearing had been set so that Katie could be a legal member of the Kaufmans before she aged out of the system. After granting the petition, Rei had her picture taken with the tearfully happy Kaufman clan—Katie, two bighearted parents and their six other adopted children.

Rei was still smiling as she packed her belongings for the weekend. At least until she remembered that she was going home to an empty house. Something that usually didn’t bother her. But, focusing on the briefcase full of files and petitions, suddenly the old caution about all work and no play came to mind.

Rei walked out of the courthouse and down into the parking garage. The idea of playing naturally segued into thoughts of Chris. She hadn’t allowed thoughts of him to distract her on the bench, but he’d definitely been on her mind all day long.

And each time she recalled the image of his handsome face and roguish grin, her heart beat a little faster. Her nipples got a little harder. Her thighs got a little damper. Despite the explicitness of what they’d shared last night, she shouldn’t care who he spent time with. But she couldn’t help wondering what he was doing tonight.

And with whom…

As she slid into the driver’s seat of her Lexus, she heard a faint buzzing noise from her handbag. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her cell phone to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Rei. It’s Maggie Solís.”

Her heart clenched in her chest. Something about the oncologist’s compassionate tone of voice had her gripping the phone tighter, anxiety building inside her like layers of fog on the Bay. “Dr. Solís. What—? I mean everything was fine when I left your office.”

“I know, Rei, I’m sorry. You’ve been asymptomatic and I only ordered the blood work as part of your routine exam. But I got the results back from the lab today and… I’m sorry.”

Rei’s pulse fluttered erratically and her hands began to shake as she listened to the medical jargon about glycoprotein markers. Apprehension swirled in her gut, making her voice quaver when she was finally able to speak. “Are you sure?”

“No, not for certain. That’s why I’d like you to have a mammogram and MRI first thing Monday morning. Just call my secretary and let her know when you’re done so we can expedite the findings.”

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as Rei dully agreed and thanked Dr. Solís for her concern. But as the phone dropped from her numb fingers into her lap, raw grief assailed her. She lifted a trembling hand to her mouth, inhaling deeply through her nose, hoping not to throw up, fighting the urge to scream.

It couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be happening again.

The same sharp-edged fear she’d experienced last time came back with a vengeance. It wasn’t fair. Survivor was supposed to mean that the ordeal was finished, behind you, over. With the cancer in remission for over a year, she was supposed to be making plans and looking forward to the future….

4

“REI, HAVE YOU BEEN crying?” Candace Versa laid a hand on her arm and frowned in concern.

After leaving the courthouse, Rei had driven over to California Pacific Medical Center to meet her breast cancer support group. She didn’t know how she would have endured her last bout with the disease if not for P.J., Dr. Versa and these brave women.

She’d originally planned to come this evening to share her one-year triumph with the women who best understood. Instead, she would cast a specter of gloom over a group that tried their best to hold on to the light. If there were any people on the face of the earth she could share her situation with, it was the women in this hospital conference room.

The educated uncertainty made it worse this time, knowing as she did what was at stake and what would have to be done. Tears pierced the back of her eyes again. But Rei held back, not wanting to confront this new turn of events yet. She didn’t want to put her dread and fears into words and make them real.

So she forced a smile of reassurance onto her lips. “I’m fine, Candy. I just had a bad day at work.”

“Well, you know I’m here if you need to talk.”

“I know. Thanks. I’m okay, though.”

Dr. Versa patted her arm again before Rei slipped past her to take a seat among the others. There was a core unit, including Dr. Versa, a psychologist, as well as with other women who joined and left over time. Rei greeted her old friends and nodded a welcome at the new faces as everyone introduced themselves.

“Hi, Kerry Kensington, two years.” The petite redhead always brightened the meeting whenever she attended.

The quiet brunette next to her was new to the group. “I’m Heather Centrino, and um, it will be six months next week.”

“Alicia Rexam, I’m a three-year survivor.” Despite her silver white hair, she didn’t look old enough to have seven grandchildren.

“I’m Rei Davis and it’s been…one year.”

And so they went around the room. As they were finishing the introductions, the door opened behind her. Rei turned to see who had joined them and gasped softly at the sight of her friend Miriam.

“Sorry I’m late, ladies.” Miriam’s voice was breathy and she slowly made her way to the table.

Rei’s heart broke as she watched her friend gingerly lower herself into the chair. They had been born the same year, but now Miriam looked at least a decade older. There was a tightness around her mouth, as if she were in a great deal of pain, and her skin had a grayish pallor. Her brown eyes were dull and held a shadow of fear even as Miriam looked at her and winked.

Cold certainty crept over Rei. She may or may not be sick again, but there could be no doubt that Miriam was.

“It’s good to see you.” Dr. Versa smiled at her in welcome. “We were just about to share List accomplishments.”

Rei was frankly dreading this part of the meeting. She couldn’t tell them about her sexual encounter with a stranger in a nightclub. She’d have to settle for relaying her exotic fruit experiment, an accomplishment that sounded lame compared to Alicia finishing another quilt for her grandchildren or Kerry learning to ice skate.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.