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  After I returned from the bathroom, Jus grabbed my hand and took me around, making our excuses and saying goodbye. We left the party earlier than anyone else and much earlier than I wanted to.

  I called him on it when we were out on the sidewalk, walking hand in hand to our car. We always held hands in public. It was part of the show.

  "You really are a party-pooping old man in a young guy's body! It's not even dark yet. Don't tell me you have to get home to work!" I couldn't help sounding exasperated.

  He arched one eyebrow, looking dryly amused and shocked at my naivety. "And here I thought you were the one with the social IQ. We had to leave so the rest of the staff could relax and actually have fun." He paused and hit the button at the corner for the walk light. "They can't let their hair down with the big boss in their midst."

  "Riggins is still there." Hah! I'd skewed Jus with his prized logic.

  "If you look behind us, you'll see him on his way to his car, too."

  I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, there was Riggins. He gave me a friendly wave and peeled off down another street.

  Jus gave me an "I told you so" look and grinned roguishly to soften it. "It's an unwritten rule. Riggins and I show up. Buy everyone a drink or two. Sing a few karaoke songs. Mingle a few more minutes and leave. One at a time so it's not obvious we know we're no longer wanted."

  "No!" I frowned at him.

  He sighed dramatically and comically. "It's lonely at the top isn't just a saying."

  "But they love you!"

  "They love to see me joke around and make a fool out of myself singing karaoke with Riggins and Wylie." His voice became suddenly hard. "They got an extra show tonight. But we showed that douchebag."

  I was taken aback at his anger over Eric crashing our party. "I was as surprised as you were. I had no idea Eric would show up. It was just dumb bad luck." I frowned back at Jus.

  Jus let it drop. We didn't speak about it again until we got home.

  In the penthouse, Jus set his keys on the counter, scooped Data up to cuddle, and turned to face me. "You were quiet in the car. Are you okay? I'm sorry if I upset you. I shouldn't have called Eric a douche, even if he is. He treated you like shit when you were together, Kay. Even you can't deny it."

  He stroked Data's chin and cooed to the puppy. "But you saw something in him, so there must be some good in him." He didn't sound convinced.

  "Running into him so soon after breaking up is pretty shitty." He smiled at the dog. "And what was up with that act about wanting you back? I thought he was with someone else? And you're married."

  "He was drunk and showing off. He doesn't want me. But he's used to me pining away for him, ready to take him back at a moment's notice after he's done straying. Now he's furious you've taken me, and that option, away. It's like not wanting anyone else to have a toy you don't want anymore. Pure selfishness and vanity." I had been holding it together pretty well, I thought. Until I glanced at Data in Justin's arms and realized I was jealous of a puppy. I wanted Justin's arms around me.

  Jus saw the look on my face and held one arm out at me. "Come here. Family hug!"

  I threw myself into him and let him cradle me with one arm. Data barked and squirmed to be let down. He set her on the floor and pulled me into a full hug, pressing me against his chest. He smelled good. His heart beat loudly, and reassuringly, beneath my ear. His arms were strong around me.

  "I can't believe Eric challenged you to a singing duel." A picture of Eric and Jus at thirty paces with antique dueling pistols jumped into my mind. Their backup singers as seconds. Maybe that was more romantic. Also, scarier. Two guys singing over me was suddenly funny.

  I grinned. "Eric usually doesn't pick a fight he can't win. He obviously had never heard you sing before. You were"—I searched for a word that adequately expressed what I felt—"amazing!"

  I sighed, way happier than I should have been at being wrapped in Justin's arms and the thought of Jus putting Eric in his place. And I got a tingle all the way to my toes as I remembered Justin's sexy, smooth singing and the look in his eyes as he'd held me onstage.

  "And neither had I." I snuggled into him. "I didn't know you could sing like that!"

  "Singing a cappella is just another nerdy thing I used to do." He stroked my hair. "Since starting Flash I haven't had much time for it. I've been reduced to belting out a few songs now and again at happy hour with Riggins and Wylie for the staff's entertainment."

  "You should sing more often." I meant it. "You handled Eric expertly tonight!" I couldn't keep the glee out of my voice. Eric deserved to have a hole punched in his ego, the loser. What had he been thinking? He hadn't, obviously. He'd probably just thought he could show off.

  "Buying the losers a drink was epic!" I laughed. "Not that he needed one. He was already hammered."

  "You're the one who handled things." Jus squeezed me and rested his chin on my head. "That song was perfect."

  I would have liked to take credit for it. But I couldn't. "That was Sarah's doing."

  He kissed the top of my head. "But you executed it perfectly. And you chose me." He sounded almost stupidly happy about that.

  I almost made a flip remark that I had no choice but to choose him over Eric if we wanted to make our marriage look real. I bit my tongue just in time. Why burst his bubble? Because I wasn't sure now that I wouldn't have chosen him anyway. Eric could be such a douche.

  "And I know how much you're embarrassed to sing in public," Jus said into my hair.

  I flashed back to college and a memory of him asking me to come sing with him at open mic night in the student lounge. I'd always refused, brushing him off by saying I didn't sing. Which was true. It was sweet of him to remember that now. But it made me nearly squirm with guilt. It had been an excuse not to go out with him as much as anything. I was a bad, superficial person.

  If I'd taken him up on it, I would have known what a gorgeous singing voice he had.

  "Kay, I—" His voice wavered.

  I pulled back so I could look him in the eye. He faltered, looking so adorably nervous. I recognized that expression. "You want sex again!"

  I laughed. "Savagely beat a girl's ex in a brutal singing duel, risking vocal cords and public humiliation, and you think she owes you, is that it? You're expecting some gratitude!"

  His timid smile froze, no longer reaching his eyes.

  What had I said?

  "Yeah." He looked sheepish. "I want sex. I always want sex." I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic. He cleared his throat. "But I was actually about to ask you to come with me on my usual visit to the children's hospital tomorrow."

  I answered quickly. "That's a bit of a non sequitur. But I'd love to."

  He nodded. "Good. I'll introduce you to some of the people you need to know."

  I saw past his subterfuge. That nervousness wasn't brought on by asking me to go to the hospital with him. "So you don't want sex?" I teased.

  "I didn't say that." His eyes became dark and wide. "Are you offering?"

  "Okay, big boy, don't play coy with me. I might be. Since you defended my honor with my big, bad ex. But you're going to have to sing to me. Something highly romantic and seductive."

  He started singing "Never Gonna Give You Up" again, looking deep into my eyes in that intense way he had.

  I reached up and stroked his beard, then took his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom.

  Chapter Two

  Justin

  Perched over Kay when she was naked beneath me was my favorite view of her. Although you could say when she was naked and riding me, her hair streaming over her bouncing breasts, was a close second. When we made love, and she was climbing toward climax, she got a dreamy, ecstatic expression. Her eyes half closed. Her lips gently parted. Her neck arched as she curved up to meet me.

  "Harder, Jus. Harder, harder, harder." Her words came on gusts of sweet breaths.

  The air conditioning kicked on, blowing her hair gently, teasing my nose with
the scent of her.

  We clenched hands, mine pressed down on hers, her arms at right angles showing off her sleek biceps. Her hair fanned out over the pillow. I couldn't stop looking at her, hoping I had this view at my disposal forever.

  She gasped. And moaned softly. I would have done anything to please her. At that moment, while I was hanging on and trying not to come too early—which was a Herculean feat, believe me—I could look at her and almost believe she loved me. At least she wanted me. That was a good first step.

  It was her mission to turn me into a skilled lover. So when I went on with my life without her, I would be a playboy billionaire? Someone more like Lazer? Damn, Lazer.

  I laughed at the thought of her teaching me the ways of lovemaking, resisting the urge to call her coach. And reveled in my victory when I made her forget she was supposed to be critiquing my moves.

  It was my mission to get her to fall in love with me using any means possible. As they say, all's fair in love and war. If I was doing my damnedest to make the sex between us unforgettable, who could blame me? If I secretly studied modern-day versions of the Kama Sutra and read online articles on men's health about how to find G-spots, maybe I could win her over.

  Now I just had to get up the nerve to ask her to let me slide my fingers into her and tease her until I found it. So I knew what I was aiming for when I went in with my dick. If she had one of the famed, elusive G-spots, I was damn well eventually going to find it.

  I fantasized about breaking away from Flash for a few weeks and sweeping her off to some romantic locale where all we had to do was screw.

  With every thrust, I attempted to drive all thoughts of Eric so far out of her head she'd barely remember she'd ever known him. If she ever thought about him later, his skills in bed would pale by comparison to mine, as weak as his voice was against the strength of mine. I wanted him to lose every duel with me.

  Damn, I tried hard. I tried hard to listen, to learn, to be as sensitive as I could to her needs. If Eric ran true to course, he was as selfish in bed as he was in the rest of the relationship.

  She wanted it harder, so I gave it to her, to the best of my ability. Trying to angle against the odds in this position and hit the right spot. I paid attention. Shit, I paid attention to every detail of her.

  I think she saw me like an eager puppy. But I was much more. I was the guy who loved her and everything about her, down to the imperfections that made her real.

  I was in love, totally blinded by it. To me, she was the most gorgeous woman on the planet. My private centerfold. Even her flaws were beautiful and perfect. She had a scar on her left knee. Silvery, fine stretch marks on her breasts from puberty. Those breasts must have come on quickly. I can't tell you how sorry I was I missed their development. Not that the skinny boy me would have ever had a shot at seeing them like I did now.

  Her figure was perfection, even if her hips were slightly out of proportion with the slenderness of the rest of her. I liked big-hipped women. Someday when we were old and gray together, she would be an old lady pear. And I would be an old guy apple. And I'd still think she was beautiful.

  I thrust deeper, feeling myself crashing toward the cliff of climax.

  Her breath caught. She moaned. She closed her eyes and gasped. She squeezed my hands until my rings dug into my flesh, then she arched up and cried out. Just an utterance. Not a word.

  Someday, I vowed silently, she will cry out my name.

  I let myself go. Let the waves crash and crash and crash until I shuddered and buried my face in her neck. And bit my tongue to keep from saying what was in my heart.

  When it was over for both of us, I collapsed next to her in the softest sheets my money could buy. Breathing hard. Sweaty with sex. Wishing like hell I was as athletic and macho as my brothers. As suave as Lazer. As experienced as she needed me to be.

  Waiting in the hum of the air conditioning for words she wasn't ready to speak. Desperate to break the silence and tell her how I felt. Watching her with a hunger that burned deep inside me, looking for a ghost of hope. Longing for the normalness of holding the woman I loved in my arms after being blown away with the force of making love to her and saying I love you to each other.

  I flopped my arm over my forehead and lay on my back, looking at the ceiling, letting the lights of the city wash over us as I caught my breath. Riding high on the pleasure. Hiding my disappointment at her silence.

  She turned toward me and smiled her slow, sated, sexy smile. Ran her fingers over my naked chest until I shivered with pleasure. Smiling because she liked teasing me with her touch. She wanted another literal rise out of me. And she was about to get it.

  I wanted more. Four simple words: I love you, Jus.

  I wanted to say, I love you, Kay. And not worry about recrimination. Or seeing her face fall. Or the panicked look while she frantically tried to let me down easy. Or say, Oh, Jus, with that pitying look in her eyes, like I was still that nerdy, hopeful guy, I'm sorry I gave you the wrong impression. This is just sex.

  I couldn't risk scaring her off. I needed her in too many ways. I wanted to keep making love to her. I couldn't stand the thought of her leaving. Or the strain of tiptoeing around each other.

  I'd almost blown it and blurted it out when we first got home. It was just a damn good thing she'd cut me off, thinking I was about to ask for sex. A damn good thing.

  Even so, I smiled. Because it was impossible not to. I was still that happy. "So, how was it, coach?" It slipped out. I couldn't help it. "How did I do?"

  "Coach?" She laughed.

  "Isn't that what you are?"

  She leaned up on one elbow, her head on her hand. "Maybe. But you know, it's gauche to ask."

  "Not when you're asking your coach. Coaches give advice on technique."

  "Do they?" She seemed amused.

  I nodded, probably too eagerly.

  "You really want to know?" She ran the back of her fingers over my beard.

  I nodded.

  "Solid B."

  My face fell. "B?" I was stunned. "Harsh. I put everything I had into it."

  She laughed again, still teasing me. But it was more like torment. "You get an A for effort, Jus. You always get an A for effort. And enthusiasm. But you're still a novice. We weren't fighting against each other like two cats in bag. But our rhythm isn't exactly smooth and in tune yet. Anyway, I can't give you an A so early in our year together. You'll get a big head and stop trying."

  "Ah." I nodded, trying to keep my bravado up. "You're one of those kind of graders. You don't give top scores until the end of the semester. So you can prove I've learned something at your hands."

  She cupped my face. "Oh, you've learned plenty already."

  "Out of curiosity, what does a guy have to do to get top marks?"

  "Be creative. You have to surprise me. Top students go above and beyond." She gave my face a playful tap and looked past me out the glass wall to the view of the city. "You have one thing going for you. It's totally hot making love with no curtains. Thrilling, like people could see us. But safe, because you know they can't."

  She slid out of bed and walked to the window, where she stood, silhouetted against the city. I sat up, about to join her when she turned and headed toward the bathroom.

  Someday, I would make love to her standing, pressed against that glass. And she would happily give me my A plus. I wasn't the kind of student who ever got anything less.

  * * *

  Kayla

  Justin's BMW was sleek and showy and drew attention when he parked it in the children's hospital's maze of a parking lot. He zipped into a tiny, regular spot, apparently unconcerned about door dings. I generally didn't care much about cars, other than that they were comfortable, clean, and ran without incident. I would just as soon have driven a middle-class vehicle. Status models made me nervous. The thought of someone putting a dent in its expensive body gave me horror shivers. I wasn't used to having so much money that I didn't care about my nice things ge
tting damaged, even superficially. It was a defect of mine that I liked to keep my nice things nice. I was almost OCD about it.

  Jus had brought a Flashionista backpack from work. He threw it over his shoulder and took my hand as we walked across the parking garage to the sky bridge in the early afternoon. On with the show! After less than two weeks, it was amazing how easily we fell into our public role of couple in love. How smoothly our hands interlocked now without fumbling. How well we fit together and walked in step.

  Jus beamed. He was so upbeat most of the time now it was hard not to smile with him. He amused me in so many ways. Like wanting to be graded on his lovemaking and calling me coach. He was insatiable and eager to please. It was adorable. Walking into the hospital, he had that same joyful look like after we made love. And an excited bounce in his step.

  During the drive over, he'd warned me how hard it was to see the sick and suffering children. He'd prepped me with stories that could break the most hardened heart. And yet he'd been genuinely eager to see the kids. He took a deep breath. "Ready?"

  He was so cute when he grinned like that, ready to save the world. Or at least as many sick children as he could.

  I smiled at him. "Lead the way."

  We met with the business development head, Brenda Cole. She was in charge of fundraising and charitable donations. And as far as I could tell, shepherding major donors around and treating them like VIPs. I put her at around forty. She was personable, in the way fundraisers are. A true politician. Pleasant. She and Jus seemed to know each other well.

  She gave us the tour of the facilities, though it was really for me. Jus knew his way around like an insider. She and Jus shared inside jokes and stories. It was apparent they were old friends. I hadn't been aware Jus had such a long history with the hospital. I mean, how long could it be? He was only twenty-one. But apparently he and Riggins had been donating to it from the very meager beginnings of Flash.

  Jus, as always, had a soft spot for children and underdogs. Especially children who were made fun of for being different. He stood up for anyone who was bullied. Which also explained why Jus and Flash supported the domestic violence shelters.