Chapter Three

“So?” Jade demanded, appearing suddenly on the other side of the shelf in front of Amy. “What did you think?”

“I liked this one,” Amy said, stalling for time. She waved the dark erotic romance.

“I knew you would. What about the other one? The new one?”

“Really?” Amy didn’t want to disappoint her best advisor.

“Really. Hit me with your honest assessment.” Jade leaned over the bookshelves and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Come on. I can take it.”

“I didn’t think it was hot enough.”

“Really?” Jade squeaked. “How could it have been better?”

“Well, what if he’d fulfilled her fantasy instead of exploring his own?” When Jade came around the shelves, Amy lowered her voice and outlined how she thought the book should have ended. To her surprise, the other woman barely took a breath as she described a different plotline, but her hand gripped Amy’s arm tighter and tighter.

“Oh. My. God. You’re right. That would have been awesome,” Jade agreed. “It would have been so much better. You’re so right.”

“Thanks.”

“Why don’t you write a book?”

“Me?” Amy was startled.

“Sure. All sorts of people are publishing their books digitally and some of them make a lot of money. I think you’d be good at it. You know the market, after all.” Jade grinned. “And I want to read the book you just described. Write it!”

Amy frowned as Jade continued to enthuse. As much as she liked the idea of making extra money—who didn’t?—she was sure that these authors must have experience in doing what they wrote about.

While she, um, didn’t.

Wouldn’t it show in the writing? They did say that you should write what you know. What Amy knew about erotic exploration based on personal experience would fit in a thimble. She’d just read about a lot of it, and that couldn’t be considered the same.

She made her excuses to Jade and actually forgot to buy another book because she was so busy thinking. It was an idea that didn’t leave her alone.

Could she write a book?

Could she write a hot, steamy romance that made women like Jade part with their money to read it?

She used to write in high school, and she’d loved her English composition classes. Her dad had let her read whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, including a lot of old-school erotica in his collection. It wasn’t an accident that she could quote Anaïs Nin to Ty. She’d planned to take English Lit at college, well, before everything changed.

What if she could write a book?

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

Thank you, Anaïs Nin.

Amy would try.

* * *

Any possibility of losing her nerve died a quick death when Amy arrived home to find the roof leaking.

Again.

Fitzwilliam was complaining mightily about the empty state of his food bowl, even though he twined around her ankles with an enthusiasm at her return that couldn’t just be about tuna. She hung up her coat in the bathroom and put her wet loafers on the radiator, then fed him. Then she climbed the stairs with some more buckets and pails, pausing to knock on her tenants’ door on the second floor so that Mrs. Petrovsky didn’t think the house was being invaded.

“Just me, Mrs. P,” she called. “Checking the attic.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, even though she heard the rustle of Mrs. P. looking through the peephole. Her daughter, Lisa, must not be home yet. Amy and Lisa had gone to high school together. Lisa and her mom had moved into the second-floor apartment Amy created in the house after the death of Amy’s dad.

There was one finished room in the attic, at the front of the house, then the back lower part of the attic was unfinished. Amy checked the plastic sheets draped over everything in the finished room, confirming that all her mother’s clothes were protected. The leaking, so far, had been in the unfinished part, which was a relief. She walked on the rafters with practiced ease to put buckets and tubs in strategic locations.

One bucket that had already been in place was full, which was a bad sign. That leak was getting worse. Amy switched out the bucket for another one, then lugged the full one down to the kitchen. She opened the back door and dumped it out, then made a note to check that bucket again before she went to bed.

With a sigh, she dug through the contractor’s repair estimates that she kept carefully filed in one drawer of the kitchen. The house was due for a lot of maintenance. Nothing much had been done in recent years, what with her parents being sick. Money had been tight and attention had been elsewhere. Now Amy wished she’d been a little more on top of things. It was sobering to go through the estimates and realize just how much it would cost to set everything to rights in her little corner of paradise.

The roofer’s estimate made her wince.

And it was two years old.

Amy couldn’t move, though. She couldn’t ever leave this house. It was too filled with memories and love. It was her sanctuary. But it appeared that she couldn’t forgo basic repairs for much longer. Her job wasn’t great, but she didn’t have the credentials for anything much better.

It wasn’t in Amy’s nature to sulk about things she couldn’t change. She solved things. She had to find a solution to this. Selling the house was out of the question.

Maybe Jade’s suggestion had been a timely one.

While she took care of a thousand details, Amy was thinking about the kind of story she’d most like to read.

It should be a story that only she could write.

One that no one else had written yet.

The strange thing was that Amy knew exactly what the story would be. It would be a dark fairy tale, one featuring a scarred prince with dark desires, many secrets and complete authority over his subjects.

He’d pick one to be his sex slave, thinking she’d just be his pet. But in the end, she’d be the one brave enough to challenge him, then win his heart and heal him forever.

And if the prince in question looked like Ty McKay—albeit with a scar—that would be her little secret.

After dinner, Amy took a fresh pad of paper. She made a fresh pot of coffee and found her favorite pen, then sat down at the kitchen table under Fitzwilliam’s watchful eye.

Her Dark Prince, she wrote, tapped the pen, then wrote some more.

I first saw the crown prince two days before Midsummer.

We knew he had come to the palace, of course, and that he was the king’s nephew and chosen heir. No one had seen him since he had ridden through the castle gates at Midwinter and those who had glimpsed the lone rider on his approach had long been embellishing their brief observations beyond all recognition. He was rumored to be solitary, fierce, and harsh. I could not blame him, not if he had been so disfigured in war as he was whispered to be.

I dreamed of him, even knowing nothing of him. I was curious beyond all. No one came to Euphoria. No one left Euphoria. It was my greatest dream to abandon the monotony of the only life I had ever known. I was prepared to pay any price to see beyond Euphoria’s borders, to be more than the sole daughter of a peasant said to be a witch. I created tales about him and spun dreams of a shared future and yearned so fiercely to just see him once that I halfway thought I’d summoned him to me.

Like one of those old tales that I have never believed.

Maybe if I had believed them, I would have attributed his appearance to sorcery instead of coincidence. Or boredom.

It mattered little. I saw him and my life changed.

* * *

Ty knew it wouldn’t be long before his phone rang again and he was right.

He came up from his evening workout to discover that he’d missed two calls by leaving his cell phone in his apartment. It rang again when he was checking that all the calls had come from the same number.

His mom.

Who was calling again.

He figured he might as well get it over with. “Hi, Mom.” He stood at the window and looked down on the traffic in the city streets below. It was raining and the lights were reflected in the puddles. He hoped Amy was safely home, wherever she lived.

“Tyler McKay, I have one question to ask you and one question only.”

“Don’t be shy, Mom,” Ty said. “You know how that confuses me.”

His mother exhaled. “Amy.”

“Amy?”

“Amy,” his mother repeated. “You were meeting her for lunch and I want to know all about her.”

“You’ll meet her on Sunday.”

“I should hope so, but I need to be prepared. Who is she? Where is her family? How serious is your relationship? What does she do for a living? Where did you first meet?” His mom took a deep breath. “Why haven’t you mentioned her before? And what happened to Giselle?”

Ty grimaced and strolled into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He leaned against the counter and tried to tell his mother as little as possible.

That way she’d have less to use against him.

“It didn’t work out with Giselle. I was optimistic, but we broke up.”

“When?”

“A while ago,” Ty said. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I know you liked her.”

“Thank you, dear,” his mom said. “But really, if she didn’t see your merit, she wasn’t worth your time.”

Ty smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”

“And Amy?”

“She’s cute and very sweet. Smart.” It was true. Every time Ty talked to Amy, he found more to like and admire. He was going to have another late night, re-examining his assumptions, but it would be worth it to have another conversation with her. Lunch was quickly becoming the highlight of his day.

“How long have you been seeing her?”

Ty chucked Kyle’s advice and went with the truth. It was easier. Less complicated. “Not that long, Mom. I wasn’t sure whether it was too soon to bring her to a wedding…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ty. We’re so welcoming and friendly. Why, we’ll be planning your wedding before Katelyn heads for her honeymoon.” His mother laughed, but Ty shook his head.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Nonsense. You’re always too protective of women, Ty.”

“You taught me that, Mom.”

“I know, dear, but we’re a little tougher than you imagine.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s ready to be engulfed by a huge noisy family like ours.”

“I bet she’ll love it.”

“Provided you don’t all terrorize her.”

“Ty!”

“Or smother her.”

“There you go, being protective again. In this case, dear, I think it’s a very good sign.”

“Mom…”

“Stop worrying. You bring Amy and we’ll make her feel welcome.” There was a sound on the line to indicate another call coming in for his mom and Ty realized he’d been saved by the click. “Oh, look, there’s the florist. What could possibly be wrong now? I’ll see you both on Sunday, Tyler. Two o’clock at Aunt Teresa’s.”

“I know.”

“Well, don’t forget. And don’t be late.”

“I’m never late,” Ty protested, but his mom was gone.

The fake date was a go.

For better or for worse.

* * *

Amy stayed up half the night, her imagination on fire and her hand racing across the page. Fitzwilliam gave up on her at midnight and went to sleep on her pillow. When the flow of words finally stopped, she looked up digital publishing online and researched the possibilities. It was only when she had been reading for over an hour that she realized she was just as convinced as Ty that preparation was the key to success in any endeavor.

She awakened to Fitzwilliam batting her cheek in a playful demand for breakfast, the alarm clock buzzing, and the realization of one big stumbling block. There was another thing she had to research. She’d thought of it the day before, but in the morning, it seemed an insurmountable barrier. No one had ever tied Amy up and spanked her, and she had a pretty good sense that Ty wouldn’t be up for it, even as a joke.

Or a fake seduction.

It wouldn’t be hot if he treated it as a joke, anyway.

She did agree with him in a way, though. Doing that with a complete stranger would require that Amy be a lot dumber than she was. She thought about it all the way to work, knowing there had to be a solution. She got off the train at an earlier stop so she could walk past the Museum of Sex and there it was, taped to the window.

A notice that could have been just for her.

Pain and Pleasure 101.

They were teaching BDSM classes at F5—no sex, just sensation. Forty dollars a session, come in yoga clothes and prepare to learn something new.

What could go wrong in a gym full of curious people?

Amy marched to work, thinking furiously.

Did she dare?

Why shouldn’t she dare?

When she saw a second similar notice in the window of the bookstore where Jade worked, she pulled out her phone and scanned the QR code before she chickened out. In about fifteen seconds, thanks to Paypal, she was registered for the Saturday afternoon class.

Amy was unable to believe what she’d just done, yet thrilled to bits about the possibilities. Her heart was racing as if she’d run a marathon.

One thing was for sure: she’d never ever tell Ty about it. He’d probably go ballistic.

On the other hand, it might be worth telling him just to see his composure slip.

* * *

Something was different. Ty recognized as much immediately.

Amy came into the common area at lunch with a verve that was unusual for her. Her eyes were sparkling and she almost bounced as she walked. Ty dared to hope that it was because she was coming to sit with him, and certainly, his pulse leaped at the sight of her.

She was dressed the same and the loafers were still spoiling the view. It was her attitude that was different.

And that smile. It was radiant.

She was radiant.

The sight of her melted Ty and heated him at the same time.

“Hi!” she said, sitting down in a rush. She dropped her tote bag, the one that apparently never left her sight, on one seat. “Sorry, I’m late.” She dug in that bag for her lunch and he wondered if she was like Mary Poppins, carrying around the solution to everything in one enormous bag.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Nope. True.”

She blushed then and looked down at her lunch. The way she blushed was disconcerting. It made her look vulnerable and soft, completely at odds with the bright-eyed woman who fearlessly argued with him. Ty pretended to be fascinated with his ham and cheese sandwich, but it was Amy who intrigued him. He had the book on the table beside him, the one that Jade had gotten from the back for Amy. Had she liked it?

“Something good happen at work?” he asked.

She laughed. “As if.”

“You don’t like your job?”

“I like that I have a job, such as it is, but the job itself?” Amy shook her head. “No, I don’t think much of it.”

“Get another?” Ty suggested, not wanting to think about her disappearing from his sight completely. He was acutely aware that he had no way to find her other than meeting in the food court at lunch, and needed to figure out a way to fix that.

Amy pursed her lips, then put down her sandwich without unwrapping it. “The thing is that I have crappy credentials. I only finished high school, so in the job market, I take what I can get. My neighbor helped me get this job. She knows the owner.”

Ty was surprised. Amy was so clever and articulate. “You didn’t want to go to college?”

“I wanted desperately to go to college, but I only lasted two weeks.”

“That’s pretty early to chuck it in,” he said gently. He knew college wasn’t for everyone, but he was surprised that Amy had abandoned it so quickly. “Maybe you should have given it more of a chance.”

“Oh, that wasn’t it. I loved it. But my mom got sick, and my dad couldn’t take care of her, so I came home to help.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. Cancer sucks.”

Ty nodded silent agreement.

Amy frowned and unwrapped her sandwich with care. “And by the time she died three years later, my dad had been diagnosed with cancer, so I stayed home to help him.” She met his gaze, her own so clear and level that Ty knew she wasn’t looking for sympathy. “And by the time he died, I learned that there was just about no money, so I got a job.” She took a bite out of her sandwich and looked philosophical. “I’m lucky to have it, really, even though I’m just a receptionist. It’s allowed me to keep the house.” She shrugged. “Well, sort of.”

Ty didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t imagine being without his parents, even his mother’s relentless interference. He hoped Amy had sisters and brothers, but guessed from her manner that she didn’t. He didn’t want to rub salt in the wound so he didn’t ask.

He also couldn’t explain how much he wanted to help her.

Well, money was one thing he understood. “Sort of?” he echoed, trying to sound casual. “You have a big mortgage?”

“No. I’m lucky that my parents paid it off.” Her smile flashed. “Although I would never have imagined when I was a kid that one day I’d be glad they lived on such a tight budget.”

“Taxes and utilities, then?” If the house was anywhere near Manhattan, that could still be a considerable monthly bill.

Amy nodded. “The thing is that it was built in 1899 and needs some work.”

An old house. Interesting. Ty was mentally mapping the region around Manhattan for potential locations of Amy’s house. “That’s understandable. Maintenance wouldn’t have been first on anyone’s list when your parents were sick.”

“Exactly.” She smiled quickly and he felt rewarded for understanding, but that smile faded too quickly. “But things need to be done, and no one is going to give me more credit. Not with this job.” She met his gaze and smiled sadly. “And we’re back to job prospects again.”

Ty didn’t know what to say for the second time in rapid succession. He wasn’t used to that. He realized how accustomed he was to the affluence of his family. Even before he’d built his own investments, he’d always been able to ask his parents for a loan. His life would have been pretty different if that option hadn’t been available.

He admired that Amy didn’t complain about her situation, but made the best of it. He wished he could fix things for her.

All the same, he sensed that she would be surprised and maybe insulted if he offered to do so. People thought sex was the big taboo topic of conversation, but Ty was pretty sure it was money.

He decided to take a chance.

“Are you sure no one will give you a loan?” he asked gently. He pulled out his phone before she could argue. “I don’t want to pry, but I have a buddy from college who works in personal finance.” He named a big bank as he flipped through his address book. “He consolidates debt to make the burden more manageable, or to free up capital.” He showed her the contact info for Red. “He does free consultations, I know.”

Amy put down her sandwich and blinked at him. “Really?”

“A lot of people think they can’t borrow what they need. Red says people seldom realize how many assets they have or their worth. You have a house, so maybe there are more possibilities than you realize. He prides himself on finding solutions.”

She considered him for a minute. “Free consultations?”

Ty nodded. “Can’t hurt to ask.”

Amy tapped Red’s information into her phone, then smiled at him. “No, it can’t.” She looked at the number as if she didn’t dare to hope. Her expression made everything clench within Ty—then doubled his determination to help her. “Thank you.”

“Money is what I do. I hope Red has some suggestions.”

“Me, too.” As if to prove that she regretted confessing as much as she had, Amy pointed to his book and changed the subject. “Anyway, we were going to talk about that today.”

“Right. Have you finished it yet?”

“Of course.” Her eyes twinkled. “The big question is whether you finished it or not.”

Ty shook his head. “I was thinking that castration would be too good for this guy,” he admitted, just to make her laugh.

She did and he smiled back. “You’re just kidding me.”

“I am,” he agreed easily. “But you’re smiling again.”

She blushed as their gazes locked, then suddenly leaned closer, eyes alight. “But it was hot. Didn’t you think so?”

“Yes,” Ty admitted, wishing he didn’t have to.

Amy was delighted, though. “And he was redeemed, don’t you think?”

Ty wiggled his hand. “Maybe. I wish he’d done something for her, instead of insisting upon his own fantasy to the exclusion of all others…”

“That’s exactly what I said to Jade!” Amy declared. She looked around them, then leaned closer again. Her intensity was compelling, and Ty found that he couldn’t look away from her. He wanted to reach across the table and take off those glasses, then loosen her hair… “I said to Jade that it would have been so much better if he had thought of her needs instead of just his own…”

Ty listened, as entranced by Amy’s enthusiasm as the revision she suggested to the story. He guessed that her version was a lot more naughty than the book had been even though she skimmed over details, blushing. Mostly she talked about story and structure and character arcs. Ty was fascinated.

He wanted to do more than speculate on the ideas she didn’t express aloud. He wanted her to tell him all of them, and he wanted to keep talking to her, long after their lunch breaks were over. He should have started a conversation with her ages ago, and regretted all the boring lunches he’d endured alone when she was just a dozen feet away.

Ty was starting to think that dinner was going to be very interesting, when a woman shouted Amy’s name.

Amy paled and sat up straight, falling silent as she looked back toward the elevators. Her manner changed right before Ty’s eyes, and she was transformed back into the quiet Librarian who had nothing to say to anyone.

He wanted his Amy back.

“I have to go,” she almost whispered, hurriedly jamming her things back into her bag.

“Why?” Ty turned around and saw the caller, waving frantically at Amy. Ty had seen her on the elevator before, an older woman with what seemed to be a permanent frown between her brows.

“It’s my boss, Mrs. Murphy,” Amy said and slid to her feet.

“It’s the copier again!” Mrs. Murphy shouted, then furiously summoned Amy again.

Ty reached out to put his hand on Amy’s arm. “You get to have lunch,” he said, annoyed on her behalf.

“Not when the copier’s broken,” she said with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And she was gone, striding across the food court as the other woman visibly harangued her. The pair hurried toward the elevator, Mrs. Murphy gesticulating and Amy walking in silence.

Without a backward glance.

She really did have a shit job.

Ty spent the rest of his lunch wondering what he could do about that.

* * *

“Hey, your plan worked!” Kyle offered Ty a high five when he walked into the F5 building on Thursday night. Kyle was in the foyer, apparently just leaving for the day, but stopped when he saw Ty.

“What do you mean?” Ty returned the salute even though he didn’t know what it was for. He was still trying to think of how he could help Amy find a better job. They didn’t need anyone at Fleming Financial, and he knew she couldn’t afford to quit work and go back to school. He wasn’t even sure she wanted to do that. A bit late, he realized that he—like the guy in the story—hadn’t asked what Amy wanted.

It frustrated him that he couldn’t fix that until lunch the next day.

“We got a hit from the bookstore by your office,” Kyle said cheerfully.

“How do you know?” Ty’s gut clenched.

She hadn’t…

“Seriously? Cassie’s all about market research. She did these bookmarks advertising the intro course Pain and Pleasure 101 and put a code on each one to indicate the store where it was placed.”

“Of course, she did,” Ty acknowledged, amazed as always by the nuts and bolts of Cassie’s marketing.

“To the victor go the spoils,” Damon said as he joined them. “You should come help teach the class.”

“Get lucky. I hear it happens at F5,” Kyle said.

“All the time,” Damon agreed.

“I’d have to know something about mixing pain and pleasure to do that,” Ty said mildly. “I doubt it’s about enduring my mom’s phone calls. Or wedding plans.”

“How hard can it be to learn?” Damon teased.

“Oh, I sense resistance to erotic games,” Kyle said. “Don’t you think you should try it out, before you decide it’s not for you?”

“Just once,” Damon cajoled. “You might find out what you’re missing.”

Tyler spared an exasperated glance at all the gear for sale in the adjacent shop. “It’s so complicated.”

“He’ll always be our vanilla boy,” Kyle teased.

“Nothing wrong with that if it’s done right,” Cassie said in a sultry voice. Ty realized she’d been leaning in the doorway to the shop, listening to their conversation. She’d really gone with the dominatrix look on this day. She wore a pale blue latex dress that left nothing to the imagination and had her long blond hair pulled up into a sleek ponytail. “My demure look,” she said, with a curtsey. “You like?”

Tyler knew she wanted him to take a longer and better look, but he just shook his head. “Complicated.”

His imagination provided an image of Amy in similar gear, which was considerably more interesting.

“You might like the one who registered from the bookstore ad,” Kyle teased. “She looks as uptight as you. Probably will be doing research through Saturday to study up.”

“You’ve seen her?”

“She came in to ask for more information,” Cassie said. “And to confirm her registration.”

“Double-checking her online registration, like you two were twins separated at birth,” Kyle added.

“Checks and balances,” Damon said. “Double entry accounting.”

“What does she look like?” Ty asked, seeing his opening.

“Kind of cute, in a bookworm kind of way. Glasses.”

Ice slid down Ty’s back.

No.

“Maybe you’d have chemistry,” Damon added. “Great minds thinking alike and all that.”

“We should dare him,” Kyle whispered.

Cassie came to Tyler’s side, showing him the registration in question on her tablet. He ignored the way she put her hand on his arm, never mind the way she almost leaned against him. He could have ignored pretty much anything, once he saw the name on the form.

Amy Thornton.

His Librarian had registered for the Saturday BDSM Intro class.

One of his partners was going to tie her up and spank her, at her own request.

“You look stunned,” Kyle said. “Know her?”

“I just can’t believe the promotion worked that quickly,” Tyler lied. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Amy had really signed up for this.

Fiction was different than real life.

Wasn’t it?

And real life was stranger than fiction.

All of his protective urges came to the fore.

Would she tell him about it Friday night?

Should he ask her about it?

If she told him, he’d certainly try to talk her out of it.

Did Amy have a bigger secret than he’d realized? Did she have a secret life, one that was echoed in her reading taste? No. She wouldn’t have been taking the introductory course, if that was the case.

Ty wasn’t exactly relieved.

He felt a very primal and possessive urge to be the one who touched Amy, one that was completely at odds with his own view of women making their own choices.

But she’d made her choice.

And it would kill him if Kyle touched her.

“Maybe I will join the class,” Ty said, trying to sound casual. “Tell me more about what you do.”

“So, you can do your research?” Kyle teased, since Ty’s fondness for preparation was well known, and a usual target for jokes. “We’ll learn some basic knots. We’ll try out some blindfolds and gags, just so people can find out how it feels. The whole exercise is planned to build confidence and trust.”

“And sales from the gift shop,” Cassie added.

Kyle handed him a pamphlet called Ties That Bind. “She signed up for the class at one on Saturday. We can go over the material in the morning, if you want to be sure you’ve got it.”

“Good. Thanks.” Ty glanced up at a sudden thought. “What do you wear?” He had workout gear, of course, but it wouldn’t offer much of a disguise. Amy would recognize him, and that would look like too much of a coincidence.

Like he was stalking her.

On the other hand, maybe she’d like that. He pushed a hand through his hair, feeling that this was all way too convoluted.

“Oh no,” Cassie purred. “Not for the teacher. You need to look like a dangerous dom.”

“I’m not going to teach…”

“Sure you are,” Kyle insisted. “It’s more fun. Be my apprentice.”

“What if someone from work recognizes me?”

“Be his henchman,” Damon said with a laugh. “Go in disguise. That’s what I’m going to do. I’ll have a secret identity.” He lifted his brows.

“No,” Ty said, though he was intrigued by the idea.

“I’ve got just the hood for you,” Cassie said. “You can pump up beforehand and we’ll give you a big dangerous tattoo.”

“I’m not getting a tattoo.”

“Temporary, my friend, temporary,” Cassie said soothingly. “We don’t want to mess with perfection.”

“But you’d better book in tonight for a wax,” Kyle advised.

Ty held up a finger. “Never again.”

“You big wuss,” Kyle charged. “The girls like us smooth as velvet.”

“Says the blond,” said Damon. He made a circle with his finger and thumb. “Who has this much body hair to remove.”

Kyle looked insulted. “I’ll have you know that I have twice that much, and it’s around my nipples. Very tender place and I’m a fragile flower.”

The other partners snorted at that.

“There’s nothing wrong with a little body hair,” Ty protested. “It’s natural.”

Kyle did a chimpanzee howl that echoed loudly in the lobby. “We’ll call you Conan,” he suggested.

“Tarzan,” Damon suggested.

“George, George, George of the jungle,” Kyle chanted, then did the yell from that cartoon’s introduction.

“Ty’s perfect just the way he is,” Cassie said. “No hair on his back.”

“I didn’t realize you’d checked,” Damon mused.

Ty was well aware that it wasn’t an accident how often Cassie met him on his way back to the change rooms from the weight room or the pool. She’d never been so forthright before, though.

He was surprised when she planted her fingertip on his chest and traced the length of his tie. “A perfect dark arrow, pointing down…” She halted at his belt buckle, eyes gleaming, but Ty lifted her hand away.

It was time to have a private talk with Cassie.

“I’ll shave tonight,” he said. “And I need a review of the course plan on Saturday morning.”

“You’re on,” Kyle said. “You could let Cassie paint your tattoo.”

“We’ve got these temporary ones in the shop,” she said. “Trust me. I’ll make it good.”

“Thanks,” Ty said, knowing that might provide the perfect opportunity for that overdue discussion.

* * *

Mrs. Murphy couldn’t have done a better job of giving Amy the motivation to write. She harassed Amy all day long about the stupid copier—which broke often because it needed to be replaced—and found her a zillion petty jobs to do. If Amy had disliked her job when she met Ty for lunch, by five, she despised it with every fiber of her being.

She charged home, fed Fitzwilliam, and wrote like a fiend. Sleep was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

Someone was smiling on her because for the first time in a month, Brittany didn’t call about a wedding crisis.

The only upside of Friday was that it was payday. Otherwise, the day was hell from start to finish. Amy only managed to take ten minutes at lunch and she used it to go down and talk to Ty.

He was sitting at what had become their table, and it gave her a huge rush of pleasure that he was obviously waiting for her. He read his Grisham book, but his lunch was unpacked on the table.

“Hi,” Amy said, stopping beside him.

He looked up, smiled, then evidently noticed that she didn’t have her lunch. His brows drew together in a frown as he stood up. “You don’t get lunch at all today?” he asked, his disapproval of that more than clear.

“Eating at my desk as I savor the joys of filing.”

“Always a time-sensitive job.”

“You’d think it was in our office.”

“What about your coffee?”

Amy was startled. “My coffee?”

“You always get one on Fridays,” he said with conviction and she was astonished that he’d noticed. He started to stand up. “Let me get you one. How do you like it?”

“Hot, but I don’t have time. Thank you, though.”

He gave her one of those sizzling looks. “You can take a coffee back to your desk.”

“But it won’t be hot by the time I can drink it. I love it hot, and one day, when the stars align, I’m going to buy myself one of those single serving coffee makers.”

“You can dream bigger than that.”

Amy smiled. “It’s a good dream.”

Ty cleared his throat as if he was going to say something but Amy lifted her hand.

“You’re right. My job sucks. I need to find something better. But today, I need to keep her happy so that I get my check. It’s a crap job but it’s the one I have, and your friend Red won’t find me a solution if I don’t have a job at all.”

“True enough,” Ty acknowledged. “And tonight?” he asked as if he expected her to cancel.

Maybe he wanted to cancel. The possibility made Amy’s heart skip, and she realized in that moment just how much she was looking forward to even a fake date. “Are you changing your mind?”

“Nope.” Ty smiled and at the sight of that dimple, all was right in Amy’s world again. “Remember it was my idea. I’m behind it a hundred per cent.” He eyed her warily. “Are you backing out?”

“No. We have a deal. I just can’t stay for lunch today.”

Ty frowned. “We’re going to talk about job prospects tonight.”

“We’re going to talk about family and background tonight,” Amy corrected. “And get our meet-cute story straight.”

“Meet-cute?” He looked puzzled.

She laughed. “The story of how we met. If this is a romantic comedy, it has to be a cute story.”

He got that beleaguered look that made her smile. “I was afraid of that.”

“It’s good you’ve seen so many chick flicks. We’ll come up with something good.”

“Parking lot?” he suggested.

“I don’t have a car. Subway platform?”

“They know I seldom take public transit.” He arched a brow. “Elevator? We could have talked to each other that day, so it could be true.”

He had noticed her. Amy felt warm all over. “Oh. Yes. It’s better to base things on the truth.”

“Absolutely. Less chance of forgetting the details.” Ty smiled at her. “Do you usually forget to push your floor?”

“It was a bad day.”

“No,” Ty countered, his voice dropping low. “It was a good day.”

His gaze clung to hers as he smiled and Amy felt a little dizzy.

Then she reminded herself that it was all a fake date. “Because it was our meet-cute.”

Ty didn’t argue. “So, since you don’t want me to pick you up, how about we meet here?” he suggested and Amy liked that he found a solution to accommodate her request. “We can walk to a place I like, if an early dinner is fine with you.”

“Yes, it is. That way I can take the train home before it gets too late.”

Ty looked as if he’d like to argue that plan with her.

Amy tapped her watch. “I’ve got to go.”

He nodded, resolved but unhappy about it. “Six?” He gave her a serious look, one that launched a tingle through Amy.

“Six,” she agreed a little breathlessly. “Right here.”

Ty smiled slowly, a feast for the eyes that would keep her humming all afternoon. “Deal. I’ll make a reservation.” He pulled out his phone, then hesitated. “Amy?” he said as she was turning away and her heart leaped at the sound of him saying her name. She looked back to find his expression serious. “Dietary restrictions or preferences?”

“None,” Amy said with a smile.

“Steak?”

How long had it been? Amy’s mouth was watering already. “Sounds good.”

At his nod, she hurried back to the elevator, anticipation bubbling inside her. It was an arrangement, but still.

She was having dinner with Ty. Fake date or not, she would have to have been dead not to feel a thrill about that.