The Laughing Gull Café was a million miles away from the type of place I was used to. Actually, it’s only like 3000 miles, but 3000 miles can be another world entirely if you travel in the right direction. It was exactly the type of place I needed: quiet, earnest and almost entirely cut off from my well-intentioned but overwhelming friends and family. The Laughing Gull Café doesn’t have WiFi, hell they don’t even have a website. The person I was two months ago would have called it inconvenient. Perspectives change.

When I’d first heard of Camponesset Island I’d thought it sounded like the most romantic place on earth, I’d imagined private picnics and long walks on rocky beaches. I’d imagined the perfect Cape Cod honeymoon with my perfect Cape Cod fiancée.

I had fairytale-daydreams about being welcomed into his family and hearing all about his endearing childhood antics. I pictured myself wearing adorable Capri-length pants and learning how to dig for clams, complete with slow-motion splashing and tickle fights. It was supposed to be the start of my perfect happily-ever-after life.

It’s not really that I’m prone to daydreams, or maybe I am a bit, but thinking up romantic stories is my thing. I work at it. Being able to think of all the details that make a sweet moment into a particularly memorable one is a required skill for people in my profession. I didn’t become Buffy Summers, the Princess of Love, without spending a lot of time thinking about happy ever after endings. I write about sassy girls who wear stylish clothes and are swept off their feet by darkly handsome men with a mysterious edge about them. It sounds cliché, I know, but I try to bring a unique twist to my stories. Still, it must be said that there is a reason that it has become a cliché: it works. There’s a comfort to the traditional pattern. It speaks to an awful lot of reader’s secret hopes and dreams.

I thought that at twenty-seven years of age, a tad old by romance novel standards but well within the norms set by my real-life friends and family, I’d finally found my own story. It was supposed to be a love story. It was supposed to be as good as any of the romantic novels I’d ever written, novels that had made their way up the best-sellers list and earned me enough money to attract a con-man clever enough and dedicated enough to get me to agree to marry him.

Parker was a pro. He even did accents. For me, he spoke like a Kennedy, all broad A’s and dropped R’s. Apparently the girl before me got a Texan named Lindsey. He got a free all-access pass to her credit card numbers. It helped him buy the props needed to play the part of a wealthy businessman falling for a young romance writer. He was so good he probably could have pulled it off without the props.

He probably read my books during his research phase. He certainly knew exactly how to charm himself into my bed. Fucking bastard charmed himself right into my heart with his soulful routine. He played it just right; he acted just wounded enough to make me feel like I needed to nurse his sweet little heart back to health. I can’t believe how easily I fell for it. I did though: hook, line and sinker. I’ll tell you something: a broken heart is nothing compared to the complete loss of self-respect.

I loved him. I wish I could pretend otherwise, but what’s the point; it was obvious. I fell. Head over heels. I chose this place for him. Our perfect honeymoon was going to be a surprise trip home for him. He’d told me dozens of stories about growing up here that always ended with this wistful expression and a casual comment about how long it had been since he’d been home. Now I realize that he was covering his bases. If I found out that he’d screwed up some facts, he’d be able to blame it on how long it had been since he’d been home. I told you, he was good. I’d made all the arrangements as a surprise, imagining all the time how delighted he’d be to spend some time at home.

Imagine his surprise when I went to tell him. Actually, I have to imagine that surprise, too. When I showed up at his company to treat him to lunch and the packet from the travel agency, he wasn’t there. He really had no reason to be there since he didn’t work there. He’d never worked there. In fact, aside from the no doubt high pressure business of ruining women’s lives, the man I knew as Parker had never worked a day in his life. Of course, he never lived on Camponesset Island either.

I learned a lot of things that week. Parker’s real name is Riley, he’s from Iowa and he never loved me. I also learned that apparently, I’m a celebrity. Make that: I’m a celebrity in the midst of a scandal. The tabloids loved it. The princess of romance fails at the court of love; that’s my favorite headline. It makes it sound like I screwed it all up, like I wasn’t completely heads-over-heels in love. I was. I thought he was my best friend.

The FBI filled me in on a few things pretty quickly. He’d done a few cons before, but had never actually gotten engaged to any of the others. I was the big job. Lucky me. He was really going to marry me. The thought still makes me shake with anger. They figured that he spotted me during a book signing and saw money signs dancing about my head. It must have been an unusually successful book signing. He’d have been disappointed if he’d ever actually gotten hold of my financial information. I do well, but not well enough to justify a pretend marriage.

I have nightmares where I don’t find out. I dream that I’m married and happy, but that it’s all a lie. I imagine him laughing at me when I leave the room.

The first couple weeks were a blur of phone calls and humiliation. I’ve always thought that people get numb after the first few days. You don’t. Every time I had to tell the story, it hurt. I rotated between phones calls with the police and calls to the wedding venders. Interesting fact: you don’t get your down payment back from the bakery when you cancel because your groom is being taken in for questioning by the FBI. Another interesting fact: my publisher isn’t sure that my readers are going to “trust” me as a romance writer anymore. Perfect.

I could have canceled this trip. I was going to cancel this trip. I had the packet out and was about to call when two little lines on the brochure caught my eye: Please remember that communication with people off-island can be challenging as storms often disrupt the phone lines and Camponesset Island is only accessible by ferry or small privately owned craft; please see the ferry service in Hyannis to make transportation plans.

No communication sounded perfect. In fact, everything about a month alone on Camponesset Island sounded perfect. See, there’s that perspective thing again.

Having all your dreams torn away and your humiliation and heartbreak splashed across the front page of the gossip magazines really shifts your priorities. Hell, it shifts everything. I’m not the same person. Buffy Summers, the Princess of Love, was social and light-hearted. She laughed easily and didn’t have to remind herself to smile at people. I do.

Smiling stopped coming naturally when I found out that it was one of my “friends” that had tipped off the papers.

I signed the receipt for my cottage, Elizabeth. It’s not an alias, Elizabeth is my name. My mother selected it for the birth certificate, but I’ve always been Buffy. I remember when I started school that the teachers tried to tell me that my “real name” was Elizabeth. I laughed; Elizabeth sounded like a different person, a serious and dour one.

I’d come in to The Laughing Gull just between the lunch rush and the dinner rush. That, and the fact that most of the island’s tourists had already headed home for the year, meant that I had almost an entire section to myself. I noted one table near me was occupied by a guy drinking what looked like a cup of coffee and reading a book. He was taking notes, so I suspected that he was a student. The only other people I could see from my table were a family grabbing what appeared to be a late lunch. They were obviously tourists with their Whale Watch T-shirts, camera bags and sunburns. I smiled as I took in the dimly lit room, the dark wood, the vinyl-covered booths and the requisite seaside-themed decorations. It looked comfy -- a little tacky by my taste and a tad bit run-down -- but inviting in a way that the large chain restaurants try but fail to achieve with faux fireplaces and carefully created “conversation nooks.”

It wasn’t really the kind of place where people settled in with their laptops. I decided to anyway. I needed to get some food, I hadn’t actually stocked the kitchen at my cottage yet, and I wanted to try getting some work done. I hadn’t completed a single page since I found out about Parker. My readers not trusting me as a love authority really wasn’t an issue. My figuring out that they were right to doubt me -- that was a problem.

It wasn’t just Parker.

Looking back, I had realized that every relationship I’ve ever had has this epic-fail feel to it. I mean sure, Parker takes the cake. None of the others are likely to serve jail time. They all stole something from me though, my innocence, my time, my Coldplay CD. There should be a court for crimes against the slightly more than half of humanity with breasts. Womanity? I need a better word. It’s got to be catchy.

I’d placed my order with one of the two waitresses manning the café and was thinking about this court, imagining all the justice a group of wise ageless women in gauzy timeless dresses could mete out. I would have to testify, of course, I would have to spell out all the misdeeds of the selfish, conceited and now trembling with fear men that I’d made the mistake of dating. I was imagining some particularly delicious sentences when he stopped in front of my table. I saw male. I hated him instantly. I looked at the guy and saw every wrong doing of every man I’d ever dated.

“Miss? You seem to—”

“No.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but—”

“Then why are you? No, don’t answer. You’re sure you’ve met me before, right? You just couldn’t help but notice that I’m using the same type of laptop as you?” He looked shocked. I think I noticed shock on his face, but mostly I saw red. Everything that I’d been through, all the anger that I’d been controlling without even thinking about it, just erupted. I launched it all towards the guy I saw standing in front of me. The guy who was clearly about to hit on me. “Save it. Save whatever ridiculous bullshit you plan to spew. I’ve heard it. I’ve no doubt heard it from someone better at it than you. Whatever you think that you’re going to get from me -- forget it.”

He looked pained. “Miss, I just—”

I was causing a scene. Everyone in the small restaurant had stopped and stared at us, the cook was even peeking out from the kitchen. It only fed my temper. My humiliation had been far more public than this.

“You just can’t give up. What is it with all of you? Men! You just have to be assholes. Do you really think we need you that badly? That we have to put up with it? Newsflash: we can buy a toy for twenty bucks that gets the job done faster and better than whatever you think you’re packing in those khakis.” The freedom was exhilarating.

He wasn’t even looking at me when I finished. He just stared at the floor, red-faced, until I ran out of steam.

Finally, when I was panting and shaking with self-righteous indignation and feeling more than a little proud of myself he looked back up.

“I am--sorry to have bothered you. I only wanted to point out that your glass appears to be leaking.” He tipped his head towards my table.

I stared at the spot he had indicated for a moment before the meaning of his words cleared the fog of rage in my mind. Leaking? Yup. There was absolutely a puddle making its way across my table. Another moment and it would have hit my laptop; it had already ruined the small notebook I use to organize my ideas. Shit! I sprang into action, grabbing a stack of cheap paper napkins and attempting to sop up the iced tea that was still spreading across the table. It didn’t take long for the waitress to come and help; after all she’d been watching my tirade along with everyone else in the café. She pulled a cloth out of her apron and whisked away the chipped glass of tea.

“Oh dear. I’m so sorry. I’ll get this cleaned right up and bring you a fresh glass in a tick.”

“It’s okay. It didn’t even get my laptop -- no harm done, really.” And that’s when it hit me. Yeah, I can be a little slow. It took me that long to realize that the guy I had just chewed out, the guy I had assumed was trying to hit on me or rip me off, had only wanted to help. He had helped. He had stuck around through my entire rant against men in order to warn me before my laptop got wet. “Oh God! He—” I looked up and quickly scanned the restaurant for him in hopes of apologizing. He’d left. I couldn’t blame him. I was a bitch.

My face burned and I knew I’d turned a bright red. I blush frequently; actually I don’t seem to have any ability to hide any of my emotions. It’s a good thing I never wanted to be an actress.

The waitress was a pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman whose nametag said Joyce. She had a warm motherly air about her and the practiced, efficient motions of someone who’d been waiting tables for ages and was completely comfortable in the role. She returned quickly with my new tea. I looked up at her hopelessly. “He was trying to help.”

She nodded. “Yes. He was.”

“I was a bitch.”

She frowned and I blushed even deeper.

“Sorry -- my language. I’m…I’m really not having a very good…year.”

She smiled at that and her lips twitched like she was holding back a laugh. “That’s all right, dear. And I’m sure Mr. Pratt won’t hold a grudge. He seems like a very sweet man.”

Mr. who? I frowned at her. Was she talking about the same guy? It seemed awfully formal. The guy couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. “The boy who I was—that tried to—” I wanted to hide under the table. “That’s who you’re—”

“Boy?” She laughed softly, but her expression made it clear that she wasn’t all that impressed with me so far. I decided that she was definitely a mom; she had that innate ability to triple my guilt with a single well-arched eyebrow. “Perhaps you didn’t take a close look?”

She had me there. I had a vague memory of glasses and curly hair and khakis. Loose khakis on a slender frame.“I guess not.” I swallowed hard. I’d been on the island less than a day and I was already alienating people. Great.

In my defense, it happens all the time. That is, I get approached by guys who are way too young for me all the time. It’s because I look young myself. I’m not bragging; I’m just small. Petite is the word writer’s use. In stories the word describes women with a delicate and feminine air about them. In reality it means that you have to scour the junior’s section in hopes of finding a pair of jeans that fit and don’t have butterfly appliqués on them. When I first got out of college I tried substitute teaching at the local high school, I got reprimanded by teachers who thought I was a student without a hall pass four times in the first week. I had to find another job. I should know better than to make rush judgments about other people’s ages. “Is he…is he a local? I mean—I’d like to apologize. Is there any way that you could—”

“Well that’s a lovely idea.” She smiled her approval at me. “I know just the thing: Ms. Flora’s cupcakes.”

Cupcakes? I shook my head. “I don’t think—”

“Fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and your Mr. Pratt has a sweet-tooth -- comes in every day for tea and cake.”

My Mr. Pratt? His heart? Whoa. I lifted up my hands. “I think you have the wrong idea. I just wanted to apologize for the…the misunderstanding. I mean — —if he’s a local then maybe you could just pass on a message for me.”

She looked disappointed again. “Surely you don’t mean to ask someone else to deliver your apology?”

“No. Of course not, that would—” That would let me start trying to forget the whole fiasco. It was clearly too much to hope for. “You don’t by any chance know where Mr. Pratt lives, do you?” I couldn’t believe I was asking.

“Of course. He’s your neighbor, dear.”

I stared at her in surprise. How the hell did she know where I was staying?”

“You are the young woman renting the third cottage on Weldon Street, aren’t you?” She looked confused for a moment and moderately horrified by the idea that she might have been mistaken.

I nodded slowly and she gave me a wide grin.

“I knew it. That’s my sister, Iris’s place you’re renting. She rents out the one next door, too. Mr. Pratt has been there for a few weeks now.” She turned away suddenly and glanced toward the kitchen. “Let me just go see what the hold-up is with your sandwich and then I’ll wrap up those cupcakes for you.”

She returned a few minutes later with what I have to tell you was one of the best tuna salad sandwiches I’ve ever eaten and again shortly later with a box of cupcakes. It was a regular white bakery box, but she’d tied a bright pink ribbon around it. I doubted that was standard.

I took the bakery box and tried to return her smile. I couldn’t really believe that I’d let her talk me into this. I blushed in anticipation of my upcoming embarrassment. Still, if the guy lived next door to me it would be pretty difficult to avoid him, so an apology was definitely needed. I hoped that he wouldn’t be home so that I could leave a note.

“Now don’t you worry; I’m sure that you and Mr. Pratt are going to get along just fine. He’s a writer, too, you know.”

I looked up at her in shock. She knew who I was. My hopes for anonymity were shot. There would probably be some lowlife photographer camped out in front of my cottage by morning. She must have seen the despair on my face.

“Oh dear! Is it a secret? Of course; you wanted some privacy on your vacation and here I am blabbering. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay. I just didn’t think—”

“I can keep a secret.” She gave me a wink and leaned closer. “But maybe you could stop by and sign one of your books for me. I’ve read them all. Twice.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it; the mischief dancing in her eyes charmed me. “I will,” I promised before giving the woman an impulsive hug. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you need a new friend until you make one.

Ten minutes later I was standing outside the door of his cottage. I really wanted him to be out. If he wasn’t home then I could leave a note. Notes are good. I’m good at notes. Notes equal all of the apology with none of the awkward seeing each other part. I prayed to my newly invented Goddesses of Womenly Justice that he was out running errands.


He answered after my first light knock. My very own deities were already failing me. “Good D….” He stopped speaking mid-word and stared at me wide eyed. He actually looked scared. Not just tense or annoyed, the man looked genuinely frightened. I wondered what he thought I was there to do. The idea of a woman following a man home to continue telling him off popped into my head and I had to hold off a giggle. I get a little giggly when I’m nervous. It’s not a trait that I’m proud of.


I took a deep breath, held up my sugar-filled peace offering and gave him a big smile. Looking up at him, I realized that he was taller than I’d thought. He was certainly several inches taller than me and not as thin as I’d thought either. He was clearly a man, not a boy like I’d assumed. His clothes were too big; I hadn’t been wrong about that. The baggy fabric made him look smaller than he was though and I wondered why no one had ever explained that to him. I imagined that he was a spy and a martial arts expert and that this was all a cover to make him look less threatening. Then, because it’s what I do, I tried to decide what kind of girl I’d pair him up with. She would have to be pretty independent to handle all his disappearances. He’d show up at her place in the middle of the night with a mysterious injury and she’d nurse him back to health.


“Can I help you?” I was imagining him leaving her for a hot Russian spy when his voice broke my revelry and I caught a hint of an accent. Spy.


“I--I just wanted to apologize for--for--um…” I could feel my cheeks heating up. “And thank you for the laptop rescue. Joyce, the waitress, she said that you liked cupcakes, so I—”


He laughed.


The startlingly deep sound tugged on my stomach and I suddenly felt ridiculous. I shook my head. “And you don’t even like cupcakes and wouldn’t want these anyway because I just screamed at you like a banshee and this was—a really bad idea, I—” I started to turn away but he reached out to stop me. I looked down at his hand on my arm in surprise. I was just noticing how long his fingers were when he pulled it away. He probably thought I was about to bite it off. I couldn’t blame him for being a bit on edge given our earlier encounter, but his reaction was starting to irritate me.


“Joyce has decided that I am too thin.” His accent was British, I realized. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t noticed that in the café. I shook off the thought and tried to focus on his words as he continued. “She has been plying me with cakes and breads for nearly three weeks. Bit of a mother hen, that one, though she means well I’m sure. Now, it seems…” He laughed again and I decided that it was a gorgeous sound.


I grinned as understanding dawned bright and clear. “Now she is sending strange women bearing cupcakes to your doorstep. I’m sorry. I—I’m actually renting the place next door and I really did just want to apologize for—for earlier.” I shook my head and looked down at the pastry box. I still couldn’t believe that she’d talked me into this.


“I do though.”


What? I looked up at him in confusion.


“Like cake,” he clarified. “Who doesn’t like cake, right?” He gave me a little smile and ducked his head.


I realized then that he was going to accept cupcakes from the crazy girl just so that she wouldn’t feel as embarrassed. I was a snake. I had apparently just chewed out the nicest guy on the planet. He was almost too nice. I’d have been suspicious if Joyce hadn’t told me that he’d been in town for weeks. The paparazzi couldn’t have gotten here before I’d even decided to come. Nope, I couldn’t deny the obvious; I was a big old jerk and he was a sweetheart. I could just imagine a legion of grandmas chasing me down and beating me with their handbags all while they swooned and comforted the unbelievable Mr Pratt with bowls of homemade chicken soup. Clearly it would be best, I decided, if I finished this quickly and avoided any further contact.


“Not…not that you should feel—that is you certainly don’t need to—I” He exhaled quickly and dropped his gaze to the floor. A wave of dusty blond curls slid down to cover his eyes, but his hair wasn’t long enough to hide the fact that he was blushing. He spoke again without looking up. “I’d be glad to accept your apology without the cupcakes, that is—I’m certain you had good reason to be upset. If I gave the wrong impression, I’m—”


“Whoa!” I pushed the box into his hands. “Please! Don’t apologize!”


He looked up, clearly startled by my reaction. His brow furrowed and I noticed that his glasses were helping to hide his remarkably pale blue eyes, eyes that were currently looking at me with concern.


I held up both hands in the universal “stop” signal. “You were trying to be helpful and I was a mega-bitch, if you apologize I will probably die of guilt.”


He chuckled again and again I was startled by the sensuality of the sound. I’d never really thought about a laugh being sexy. His was. Not that I was looking for a man to have a sexy anything. Seriously, I had learned my lesson; no more men for Buffy. Besides he was clearly nice, but really not my type. I’ve always been more into the classic tall, dark and handsome kind of guy. Show me some broad shoulders and a touch of cocky arrogance and I’ll show you a weak-kneed Buffy.


“Can’t have that, can we?” He gave me a tentative smile and I beamed.


“Thank you.” I almost let out a sigh of relief. Apology done, all I had to do was wrap this up and walk the few yards to my door without any further humiliation and I’d be free to snuggle up with one of the cozy quilts provided by the landlady and have a lovely evening of self-wallowing.


He lifted the pastry box slightly. “Thank you.” He nodded.


“I’m Buffy, by the way.” I was lifting my hand to offer a hand shake when I heard the sound of an annoyed cat.


Mrow.


Sure enough, a small black cat was winding its way around Mr Pratt’s legs. It looked up at me and mrowed again. I was obviously not welcome. I grinned. “You have a cat!” I’ve always had a weakness for cats, especially bitchy ones.


He shrugged. “Seems that she comes with the cottage, just showed up the first night and demanded her dinner.” He leaned down and gave her a rub behind her ears.


“Which you, of course, gave her.” I laughed. “Does she have a name?”


“I’ve been calling her Maggie.” He looked up to see if I got the joke.


“Tennessee Williams?”


He nodded. “Not that this Maggie ever appears desperate.” He gave me a wry grin and I suddenly realized that he was cute. I mean, really not my type, but still—cute. I found myself wondering what he’d look like without the glasses or with a better haircut. I quickly reeled myself in. It’s not what I was there for. “Anyway, I’m Buffy and I’ll be next door for a bit, so…” I looked eagerly at the cottage that would soon be my escape.


“Right. Sorry. William Pratt. It was lovely to meet you, Miss…Miss Buffy.”


I laughed at that. “Just Buffy is fine. I’ll let you get back to your day now, Mr Pratt.” I grinned; I’d been unable to help myself from teasing his formality. His responding blush tempted me to tease him some more. Bad Buffy. I gave a dorky little wave and left before I could cause any more damage.


I got back to the cottage and was not surprised to find a message from my agent. No pressure, she assured me, she just wanted to see how things were going. The thing about writer’s block, friendly check-ups never really help. At least they don’t help me. It’s not that I lack the discipline. Even with everything that has been going on, I sat down and tried to write almost every day. Tried, being the important word there.


I didn’t return her call. Instead, I put away my laptop and checked out the bicycle that came with the rental. Camponesset Island is really small; you can pretty much walk the whole place in an hour so there are not a lot of cars, most people walk or ride bikes to get around. Coming from L.A, I was shocked at how quiet it was without all the traffic that I’m used to.


I had spotted the island grocery shop while I was out earlier. It was a quick walk, but the baskets on the bike would make bringing groceries home easier. I wiped it down and couldn’t resist testing the little bell. It was perfect.


An hour and a half later I had an adequately stocked little kitchen and a can of clam chowder heating up on the stove. I opened a bottle of merlot and finally curled up with the cozy throws on the couch. It was really too early to be seriously considering putting on my pajamas and settling in with a nighttime read. I decided to do just that.

I woke up feeling better than I had in ages. The full night of sleep took the edge off I guess, it left me feeling more stable and almost optimistic. I pushed back the blankets and got up with a determined energy. I had a new idea for a story.



The heroine would be an FBI agent or maybe just a Private Investigator. Either way she would be strong and independent. She’d be the kind of girl who knew her way around a gun and could smell a lie from a mile away. I’d set her up with a man with a past. I was thinking witness protection. She’d know that he was hiding things and he’d want to tell her the truth, but couldn’t…at least not until he took the stand and put away the monster that had murdered his sister.



I thought about the details while I took a shower. I like to figure out who the characters are right away. My heroine would have a weakness for coffee, no lattes, she’d get ragged on by her male colleagues for that small sign of softness. I considered her hair color for several minutes but couldn’t decide. Red seemed too obvious, like I was shouting, “Check out this girl, she’s a firecracker”. But I wanted her to have an unexpected feminine edge; long blonde hair makes a girl stand out even when she tries not to. I decided to come back to it and moved on to my hero. He was British. I didn’t think about how I knew that, I just did. He was definitely British and very intelligent. Maybe she would think that he was a spy.



When I decided that my hero would have blue eyes, I realized where my inspiration had come from and laughed. It was hardly the first time I’d adapted quirks and characteristics from the people I met into my stories. One of my characters taught Spanish because the girl sitting next to me at Starbucks that day looked all too cute mouthing the words in her Spanish phrasebook to herself while awaiting her Spanish speaking date.



It didn’t mean anything. I’d met a man with a British accent so that was on my mind, that’s all.



My unusually high spirits led me to brave The Laughing Gull Café again despite the terror of the previous day’s visit. I walked in and greeted the now familiar waitress with only a faint heating of my cheeks, ordered a Greek Salad and set up my computer. I was jotting down the ideas that had come to me during the shower and during my walk over when a guy took the other seat at my table. I pushed down the immediate rush of anger. I mean, seriously, I have out my computer; I’m working. I tried to keep a civil tone. “Can I help you?”



He grinned. Most people look more attractive when they smile, this guy really didn’t. He looked greasy. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing eating lunch all by yourself?”



I laughed. “You’re really going to go with that line?”



Greasy guy looked confused for a moment before trying his slimy smile on me again. “Just thought you looked like you could use some company.”



“Thanks, but I’m fine, great actually, but busy, so…” I tried to give him a polite smile, but it hurt my face so I went with a nod.



“Definitely fine.” He laughed at his own weak pun. “Come on, everyone should take a lunch break. I’ll order us a couple of drinks and you can tell me all about your schoolwork. Maybe I can help with the hard stuff.”



Eww. He thought I was doing homework. The guy was forty-five if he was a day, balding, had a beer gut and was clearly far too impressed with his own charms. My grasp on my temper was getting thinner. I remembered my outburst from the day before and wished I could have shared it with the guy in front of me. “Look, I really am busy and I…I’m actually expecting someone any minute so if you could please…”



The guy looked unconvinced. “Why don’t I just keep you company until he gets here?” He smiled at what he thought was a clever response.



Polite wasn’t working. I was ready to give up on polite. I looked up as I took a deep breath and saw him, my neighbor, the heroic Mr Pratt was walking into the cafe. I had a plan. I could only hope his White Knight Syndrome was still going strong. I stood up and gave him a wave. “Hi Sweetie, I’m over here.” I saw him start to turn my way in surprise, but didn’t have time to really enjoy what I’m certain was a priceless look of bewilderment on his face. I shot Mr Slimy Smile a victorious grin. “See, my…boyfriend is here now, no need to worry about me.” I spoke unnecessarily loud in the hope that my could-be savior would catch on. He did. He walked over purposefully and gave me a grin. I saw the amusement in his eyes and felt a wave a relief. With any luck I was going to get out of the situation without making another ginormous scene.



Mr Slimy stood up slowly and watched us with a suspicious glare.



“Hello, Love. Sorry I’m late.” William’s mouth twitched. “Traffic.”



I had to bite my tongue to hold back my burst of laughter at his ridiculous excuse. He gave the creep a slight nod and slid into the seat across from mine. We watched as Mr Slimy slinked out of the café.



“Thank you.” I gave him what I hoped was a really grateful looking smile.



“Not at all. I’m glad I could be of service.” He nodded and I noticed the slight red hint in his cheeks deepen. I didn’t bother to deny finding it cute. Who knew blushing could make a guy seem so…adorable? He started to stand up and my hand flew across the table. I grasped his wrist and heard myself asking him to stay. “Please. Let me get you some lunch…it’s the least I can do now that you’ve rescued me twice.”

He looked torn. “That is not necessary…I was glad to help…there’s no need for you to feel obligated to—”



“William, I’d like to buy you lunch and I’d enjoy a little company if you are interested.” I decided that blunt was the best approach.



His eyes widened. “I rather thought the whole point of our little dinner theatre was to eliminate your potential company.”



I nodded. He had me there. I wasn’t even sure why I was being so insistent. I was supposed to be writing. I was supposed to be spending time alone. I gave him another smile. “The plan was to eliminate unwanted company.”



He smiled back, looking entirely too happy at my implied desire for his company and I wondered when exactly the man had last had a date. I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t leading him on, so I added. “You’re my new neighbor, so it’s…neighborly.”



I watched his lips twitch and knew he was holding back a laugh at my lack of subtlety. I seriously had to stop accusing the guy of wanting me. For all I knew I wasn’t even his type. For all I knew the guy played for the other team. He gave me a small smile. “A neighborly lunch sounds delightful.”



Joyce reappeared a moment later with a large grin. “See? I just knew that you two would hit it off.”



William nodded. “Indeed. You had best get your finest dress pressed as we have scheduled the wedding for this Thursday.”



I watched as Joyce’s jaw dropped and realized that for all his blushing and good manners, William had an intriguingly twisted sense of humor. I reached out, placed my hand over his and tried for an appropriately melodramatic soap actress type voice. “A love like ours just can’t be fought.” I turned back to the still gaping Joyce and went in for the big finale. “I do hope that you’ll be our guest of honor, after all if I hadn’t delivered those cupcakes yesterday….” I tried for a sorrowful look at the horrible idea.



I knew the moment she realized that she’d been had; I saw the relief slide across her face. “Oh! Well you two are just too bad.” She swatted William’s shoulder with the small notepad she used to keep track of orders and laughed. “Should I bring you your usual, William?”



“Please.” He gave her a warm smile and she headed back into the kitchen.



I stared at him a moment. Now what? He looked just as unsure. I watched as he settled his bag onto an empty seat and fiddled with the silverware.



“Traffic?” I asked skeptically.



He grinned quickly and then donned a solemn expression. “Dreadful.” I laughed and he leaned in. “Would you believe I saw a car on the walk here?”



I shook my head. “Something really must be done.”



He laughed and I joined him.



An hour and a half later we were still laughing. I’d barely been able to eat, every time I tried to place a forkful in my mouth, he would either make a truly unexpected and dryly delivered joke or he’d start blushing. He was just too fun to tease.



I handed my finally empty plate up to Joyce and admitted that I had planned to get some work done.



He looked startled. “Oh. I’m sorry, Please don’t let me keep you from…”



I laughed. “Yes. It was totally your fault that I made you join me for lunch and then got all chatty.”



His shoulders dropped in relief and he gave me the smile that I now knew proceeded his teasing. “It’s true. I could hardly resist your clearly irresistibly charms. I am only a man.”



“Understandable.”



He laughed again. “I had hoped to get a little work done this afternoon as well.” He said it almost grudgingly and I knew that he’d been having as much fun as I had been. It was a nice feeling, but dangerous. I reminded myself that I was here to be alone; I needed to take some time to get to know myself again or something like that. The occasional lunch or chat with my friendly neighbor was fine, but I wasn’t looking for anything more and I certainly didn’t want to lead him to believe that I might be.



He stood up and pushed in his chair. “Might I—that is, I’d like to take you to dinner.” He must have seen that I was about to say no, because he immediately added. “A neighborly dinner, of course.”



Who could resist that? Not me. I agreed to be ready at 8:00, opened my computer and started to pull out my notes.


I wrote happily until families started to file in for an early dinner and I decided that it was time to give up my table. I was almost home before I realized that William must have paid the bill when I wasn’t looking. I was both irritated, I had asked him to lunch so I should have paid, and impressed, the man was sneakier than I would have guessed.

I got back to the cottage at 6:00 and actually considered giving my agent a call. I didn’t do it, but I considered it and that seemed like a good sign. Instead I decided to go for a quick jog on the beach. I had plenty of time to get in a good workout and then a shower before I had to be ready for dinner with my neighbor. Dinner with my neighbor is a totally innocent evening activity. It’s wholesome even.

I pulled on the yoga style pants and tank top that I usually wear at the gym, grabbed my IPod, and tied my sneakers tightly. I have cute sneakers; they’re chocolate brown with bright blue edging and that adorable kangaroo on the side. They also have a pocket which I used to store my cottage key. I always knew that pocket would come in handy someday.

I headed down towards the water’s edge with a feeling of righteousness for finally using the shoe pocket and for deciding to work out while on vacation and started off with the pace I usually take on the treadmill. I realized two things right away. One, the treadmill really does not simulate the resistance of natural sand very well and two, my sneakers were being destroyed. Deciding that an excellently toned rear end was probably worth the loss of my sneakers, and considering which color I would get as their replacement, I turned up my tunes and went for the burn. I am not one of those people that like to work out in silence. It has nothing to do with not liking to be alone with my thoughts. Seriously, I can think loudly enough to hear myself over music. Besides I’m a writer, I am all too entertained by my own thoughts. Nope, I just like to have music to keep me pumped. I read somewhere that there have been studies that show that people who listen to fast music burn more calories than those who don’t. So, take that Miss “Oh, you listen to music? I just can’t imagine missing out on the sounds of nature while I run”.

Yeah, I’m working on some anger issues.

After about forty five minutes my legs felt like jelly and I had a lovely adrenaline buzz. My sneakers were nearly as bad as I had expected, so I left them on the porch and headed in for a shower.

I took the time to dry my hair and even added a few curls to the ends and then had to decide what to wear. This presented numerous problems. It wasn’t a date, but that was no excuse for me not to look nice. Also, I had no idea where we were going. For the briefest of moments I considered running next door to ask. I giggled at the image of a girl in a bathrobe knocking on her date’s door to find out where they were going. It was funny. I’d have to find a story to use it in. Not that my dinner with William was a date.

It was clear to me that dinner with William was about being a good neighbor, never mind that I usually can’t even remember the names of my closest neighbor back home.

I finally decided upon a simple, navy blue cotton, A-line style dress. The hem came to just below my knee and the scoop neckline showed lots of collarbone, but no cleavage. The result was cute, not sexy. Actually, that is usually the result when I get dressed. I’m just more of a cute girl than a sultry one, not that I can’t get that message across when I need to. Since that wasn’t the message I was trying to send and since William isn’t so very tall anyway, I slipped on a pair of red flats. I figured that they would also help keep the dress from looking too fancy in case we were going somewhere casual. I threw the essentials into my white clutch and grabbed a thin white cardigan in case it got cooler at nightfall. I looked in the mirror, realized that I looked like Fourth of July Barbie and headed back towards the closet to change.

I didn’t get a chance. William knocked on my door at exactly 8:00.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I opened the door. “Well, we can tell your mother that she has certainly raised a prompt young man.” I grinned as I took in his freshly ironed shirt and khakis. These were still a touch too large for him, but were definitely in better condition. He had clearly tried to dress for dinner, so I was glad that I had chosen a dress. “Hello, William.”

He laughed. “My mother does not share my dedication to timeliness. In fact, she has often remarked that it may be a sign that there was a horrid mix up at the hospital.”

“So you’re the rebel of the family?”

He looked surprised by the question for a moment and then smiled. “Yes.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Good to know. So, Mr. Black Sheep, where are we going?”

“I made a reservation at Antonio’s, if that is acceptable. They are…well they are the only place on the island open past 8:00 on a weekday.”

“Really?” I had known that the island was small and that there weren’t a lot of businesses, but having spent most of my life near L.A, it would never have occurred to me that the few places that were on the island would close so early.

William mistook my surprise for dismay or disapproval or something else bad and proceeded to stammer for a moment. “Oh but if you do not wish to…if you would rather…I—I”

“It sounds great, William. I was just surprised.” I laughed. “I guess this whole island life thing takes some getting used to. I’m from Los Angeles, where lots of places never seem to close for the night.”

I watched as he nodded twice. He’d used some sort of hair gel and tried to slick his hair back. It wasn’t really working. I smiled when his nodding helped a couple of the curls in the front escape. He must have noticed me looking because he immediately frowned and pushed them back. I was tempted to tell him not to bother, that the curls were kind of perfect, but it didn’t seem like an appropriate comment for a non-date. Instead I asked what time our reservation was for.

“Eight-thirty, if that’s—”

“Perfect. That should give us plenty of time to walk there.”

He smiled broadly. “That was just what I was going to suggest. Although, I do have a rental car here if you prefer.”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “Let’s do this island style. Let me grab my stuff.” I quickly walked back to the bedroom and picked up the sweater and clutch I had selected earlier. I reminded myself that it wasn’t a date and walked back to the front. “All right, I’m set. Let’s go.” I joined him on the porch and locked the front door. You can never be too careful.

William smiled and then frowned. “I…that is…”

“William?”

“Right. I am wondering if it is acceptable for me to mention that you look lovely.”

I studied him for a moment and realized that though he looked a little uneasy, he was teasing me. I grinned. “That does seem like the neighborly thing to do under the circumstances.”

His smile reached his eyes and those eyes were pretty enough to take my breath away. I took hold of the arm he offered with a grin. I mean, who still offers a girl their elbow? Adorable.

We walked for a few moments before he spoke again. He kept his gaze forward while he did it. “You look especially beautiful this evening, Buffy.” He said the words casually, but I could feel the tension in his body and knew that he was nervous.

“Thank you, William. You look very nice too.” I felt him relax a little after that and so I did as well. “It really does get a lot cooler in the evening here, doesn’t it?” I know; I made weather chat. I’m not really proud of it either.

“Are you too cold? I could go back for the car.”

“No, thank you. I’m good. I was just noticing is all. A couple hours ago it was too warm for sleeves and now it’s all brrr.”

He chuckled. “I believe tomorrow is expected to be much the same and that there is a good chance for a thunder storm tomorrow evening.”

The weather chat held us over until we reached the restaurant.

Antonio’s is vaguely Italian and seems to serve as a spot for tourists as well as locals celebrating birthdays and anniversaries. It’s nice: decent wine list, cloth napkins, quiet music, but still more comfortable than fancy. I liked it immediately.

Too many of the restaurants in L.A. are more focused on appearance than on the food. Don’t get me wrong, I like to go out somewhere worthy of a nice dress and heels every now and again, but any place that will serve a single olive drizzled with white chocolate sauce as an appetizer is probably too trendy for me. Yes, I’ve been to a place that served a single olive drizzled with chocolate sauce. The bill for two of us came to more than I would have made in a week at the office job I held right after college and I had to raid the fridge when I got home because I was starving. Lame.

A hostess sat us at a candlelit table and handed us menus.

“I don’t know, William. The candles don’t seem too neighborly.” I know; I was flirting. It just happened. I didn’t mean anything by it.

He shook his head in mock disappointment. “And I was certain to mention that I needed a neighborly table. I suppose we must complain to the management.”

I laughed. “Have you eaten here before?”

“No.” He blushed. “I really haven’t been on the island very long and I’m not—that is to say I do not generally—I don’t tend to be very—I try to be friendly, but I—I”

I had to put the man out of his misery. “You haven’t had any friendly neighbors yet?” I gave him my best I don’t bite smile and watched while his shoulders dropped. He had calmed down so much while we had been sharing lunch earlier that day that I had forgotten just how wound up and anxious he sometimes seemed. I tried to figure out why my question had sent him into a spiral of stuttering, but couldn’t think of anything that made sense. William was a bit of mystery.

He nodded and slowed his breathing before answering. “I haven’t. The cottage that you are now using has actually been empty for the past two weeks and the couple that was using it when I arrived…they seemed friendly enough I suppose, but rather more interested in each other than in, well, me. Not that I would expect them to be. I—” He shrugged and looked down at the table.

I had to chew on my lip to keep from giggling. I really didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I went for a distraction and opened my menu to take a look at the options. “Wow, so many things look good.” I looked up to give William an encouraging smile, but he was still watching the table. “Do you know what you want, William?”

His eyes widened and he looked up at me quickly. “Pardon?”

“To eat. Do you know what you would like to have for dinner?”

“Oh, I…” He finally opened his menu. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. Twice. “I have always liked Alfredo, perhaps that.” His voice still sounded a little strained, but he wasn’t stuttering so I figured we were back on the right track.

“Ooh, that does sound good. Maybe I’ll go with the Eggplant Parmesan.” I didn’t mention that I never ate either of those things regularly since I would then feel the need to do a double shift at the gym the next day to make up for it. I was on vacation. Vacation means I can eat carbs or cheese or whatever. Besides, all the ugliness with my ex had left me nauseas for weeks; I was about five pounds lighter than normal.

The waitress came over a moment later and I happily ordered a meal that included fried and breaded eggplant smothered in fresh mozzarella and a side of pasta. Yum. My stomach growled just thinking about it.

“Shall I get us a bottle of wine, or would you prefer something else?”

“Wine sounds nice.”

After only a little more discussion, William ordered us a bottle of the Australian Shiraz suggested by the waitress. She quickly headed towards the kitchen.

William adjusted the silverware on his napkin for a few seconds before looking up and smiling shyly. “What brings you to Camponesset Island?”

I laughed. “Bad topic.”

He paled. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t know.” I reached across the table and patted his hand. “Why don’t you tell me a little something about you? Joyce mentioned that you’re a writer.”

He nodded.

“What sort of stuff do you write? Anything I might have read?”

He laughed. “I doubt it.” He tilted his head to side and looked at me. “Have you ever gone into a little shop for tourists and seen one of those local histories for sale?”

I nodded. I couldn’t really remember ever picking one up, but I knew what he was talking about. “Sure.”

“I write those. Not all of them, obviously, but I write about the local histories of places like this.”

“And that’s why you’re here?”

“Yes. I generally live in the town while I am researching and writing. It’s somewhat more practical, since I often spend a great deal of time interviewing local persons and digging through archives and I like to get a feel for the place, it’s…intricacies.” He shook his head. “There really isn’t much of a market for them outside of tourist shops and local historical societies, but…”

“You enjoy it.”

“Oh yes.” He smiled and, I noted happily, lost the anxious tone and stutter. “There are stories everywhere. Every place that I go, I learn about people who lived extraordinary lives. Every place has soldiers who fought to protect their families and women who persevered despite all odds. There are always tales of true love and deep betrayal. There are all of these quiet places in the world where it seems as though the people live such simple and uneventful lives, but really there is no such thing. There is always a story.”

I couldn’t help but smile as he spoke. His face lit up and he began to gesture with his hands excitedly. William clearly loved his work. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder how he made a living at it. I had to assume that he was correct in his assertion that there wasn’t much of a market for local histories of small towns. Certainly a place like Camponesset Island would stock some in their gift shops and I was sure a handful of tourists would pick them up while gathering souvenirs, a few would probably even grab one to read while sitting on the beach, but still. “That sounds wonderful.”

He laughed. “You are being polite.”

“I try, but I’m serious. You’re right. Everyone has a story. I like to think of you out there gathering up all those untold tales.”

He looked surprised by my interest and I wondered what sort of response he usually got. Usually, when people hear I am a writer they are either excited to meet an almost celebrity or disappointed to hear that I “only” write romances. Romance is not the most respected genre, but it is one of the most popular. Don’t believe me? Take a look at the book selection at your local grocery store. I’ll bet half of them are romances. People like happy endings. It’s probably because life offers so few. He laughed. “Only my mother ever makes it sound as heroic as all that. Generally, I have to find a little spin to please the publisher.”

“Like secrets and scandals?” I wriggled my eyebrows at him and was rewarded with another taste of his delightfully sexy laugh. I wondered for a moment whether his laugh would be enough to seal the deal for me so to speak. The butterflies in my stomach told me that if I would just close my eyes and focus on the sound it would take me to a very Happy-Buffy place. I reminded my butterflies that they were not the boss of me and that I was not in the market for a man.

“Sometimes. I prefer to focus on local legends and myths. I spent some time in Vermont last year. There are hundreds of people who claim to have seen a creature in Lake Champlain.”

“A creature?” I didn’t hold back my skepticism. “You mean like the Loch Ness Monster?”

“Quite, although this story goes back even further. There are Abenaki legends dating back hundreds of years.”

The waitress brought a basket of bread to the table and I decided that one of the great things about not being on a date was that I didn’t have to pretend to have a delicate appetite. I selected a warm roll and buttered it.

“So you wrote a book about a lake…monster?”

He laughed. “No, not exactly, although that would sell a lot more copies; I just used it to frame the story of that town. It is one very powerful thing that brings them together. You cannot grow up there and not hear the stories. Whichever side you come down on, you live in the shadow of the tale.”

“Ooh, nice phrase. So are most of the locals believers?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “No, well, maybe, but they are too practical to admit that to strangers. I would say that they are mostly hopeful. There are no stories featuring a violent or dangerous creature. Even the nonbelievers look upon him with affection. If they have a lake monster, he appears to be…well, rather charmingly shy. I think they would all miss him should it ever be proven that he doesn’t exist.” He laughed. “Not that enough evidence could ever exist to dissuade the true believers.”

“And are you a believer?”

“I would have to say that I’m skeptical, but perhaps if you catch me in particularly honest moment I would admit that I’d rather like to be a believer.” His eyes widened slightly and I suspected that he had surprised himself by sharing that detail.

“It would be a great story.”

He seemed to relax at that. “Exactly.”

The waitress returned with our salads and I took several bites before asking “And what’s the story here?”

“Well, there are many stories of course. There was a short lived but dedicated campaign to outlaw rock and roll on the island back in sixties and a devastating ferry accident in 1987, but I think the best story is about a local girl named Abigail.”

I paused before plopping a cherry tomato in my mouth. “Will you give me a preview or do I have to wait and buy the book?” I noticed him watching my mouth and realized that I should have cut the tomato in half. I probably looked like a chipmunk. I tried to chew and swallow quickly.

He blinked a couple times and then looked away for a moment as though he was very interested in the painting hanging nearby. His voice was strained when he started speaking and I worried that I had grossed him out.

“Of course, I mean, yes. That is I would be happy to…”

I held back my giggle. “Abigail?”

“Oh, right. Miss Abigail Winthrop, the island’s witch.”

I grinned. “Of course. Did she eat children and have a candy house?”

“No. Not at all. In fact, all the records and stories I’ve found seem to indicate that Miss Abigail was very popular despite the rumors. It seems that Miss Abigail was both beautiful and kind hearted; there are dozens of stories about how she helped local woman deliver their babies, nursed injured animals back to health and even cured the town drunk. Her parents were wealthy and well respected and it seems as though everyone was plenty willing to pretend not to notice any of Miss Abigail’s quirks.”

The waitress returned for our salad plates and I handed mine up before leaning on to the table. “Such as?”

“Oh the stories there vary greatly. Some say that she was simply gifted with healing talents, others claim that she made all sorts of potions and danced naked in the light of the full moon. I have even come across a few claims that she could control the weather.” He’d stumbled slightly over the word naked and I had pretended not to notice.

“Nice. So she’s pretty, popular and powerful, what brings her down?”

He laughed. “How did you know?”

I shrugged. “It wouldn’t really be a story otherwise. Can I guess?”

He grinned. “Please do.”

“It was a man, right? Everything was going great and then a man got involved in the story.”

His eyes widened and then he frowned. “Will you lose all respect for me if I admit that your apparent hatred of all men frightens me just a touch?”

I laughed. “I’m scary?” I pouted. I may have twirled a lock of hair around my finger. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, but am I right?”

The waitress finally brought my yummy, melty cheese entrée and William used her arrival as an excuse to keep me in suspense for several more minutes.

Finally, he grinned and said, “You’re right. There was a man, but it might not be how you think.”

I twirled some pasta on to my fork.”You mean it isn’t a case of him loving her and then destroying her when she didn’t return his love or maybe some kind of twisted love triangle?”

“You are not entirely wrong.”

“I knew it.” I nodded and gave him an exaggerated smug look.

He laughed. “When Abigail was sixteen, she apparently met and fell in love with a young man who’s father did business on the island. He was reportedly quite dashing: handsome, wealthy…” William shrugged as though all of this was obvious. “He lived in Plymouth. I am still trying to get a feel for the extent of their relationship. Certainly they saw each other a number of times over the next few years, as he accompanied his father when he traveled here and then eventually took over that responsibility himself. There are reports that he escorted her to a dance or two. What I don’t know is whether any promises were ever made. I suppose it doesn’t really matter either way.”

I frowned and tried to figure out what happened next. “Because?”

“He married another, a girl from Plymouth and brought her here to celebrate their union. Abigail was, as you would expect, heartbroken. Here is where the tale becomes harder to document. Abigail apparently tried to call upon the power of a goddess to right the wrong she felt had been done to her. She was certain that the girl, his new bride, had somehow tricked or connived the young man into marrying her. She performed a spell to get him back, only the words she used were not suited to her purpose. Abigail demanded that her true love be given back to her. She threatened to curse the island. This angered the goddess, the very source of her powers. The goddess appeared before Abigail and cursed her for being so ungrateful of the gifts she had bestowed upon her. She also told her the truth; the man that Abigail was so determined to have back had never really loved her at all.”

I shook my head, scowled and thought about how much men suck.

William saw my expression and smiled. “But the story isn’t done yet.” He tilted his head to the side and watched me through narrowed eyes. “Did you want to try guessing again?”

I shook my head; I was way too into the story to interrupt it. “Tell me.”

“Abigail’s spell spoke of true love; she demanded that her true love be returned. The goddess called her a foolish girl and told her that she had always been well-loved, but that she had been too blind to see it.”

“Another man?”

He nodded. “Another man: less dashing perhaps, but always there. Abigail saw him as a friend. She never gave him the chance to be more. And for that blindness, the goddess cursed Abigail with the ability to see love, but only for others. Abigail would spend eternity on the island watching over and guiding the people here towards their true loves. She would only be seen when acting upon that task. She could have no life and no love of her own.”

I stared at him open-mouthed. “That’s so sad.”

He nodded solemnly and then smiled. “But there’s a final twist.”

I leaned in so much that I was lucky not to get red sauce on my dress.

“I said that her friend, the love that she didn’t see, was always there. That night was no different. Hearing about her heartbreak, he had come to offer comfort. He was there, unnoticed, when the goddess appeared and he heard the harsh punishment given his beloved. His grief and fury were so great, his bellowing so loud, that the goddess returned. He argued that surely Abigail’s many good acts outweighed her actions on that one night. He begged that she be given another chance, that he be given another chance, for surely he said it was his own fault as well for being too cowardly.”

“What happened?”

“The goddess took pity on him and granted a slight reprieve to the curse; she would give him one night to say goodbye. Abigail was returned. She finally saw the man for who he was and for the love that he had always offered. They made love and she wept, not for her own loss but for the pain she had brought him. In the morning, when the goddess returned, Abigail begged her to take care of the man, to give him another love and a chance at happiness. The goddess was moved by her pleas and decided that the girl deserved a chance to win back her love. Abigail was still cursed. But, it is said that if she helps one hundred souls find their love then she will be reunited with her own.”

I couldn’t even speak. I just stared at him in shock.

“Buffy?”

“Wow. That is quite a story.” My mind reeled as I imagined how I would tell it if it were my story.

He nodded.

“He’s just waiting.”

“That is the story.” William smiled at me again and I could tell that he was happy that I had enjoyed his storytelling.

“This is my honeymoon.” I don’t why or when exactly I decided to tell him. I watched his eyes widen and saw him glance down at my hands. “I mean it was going to be. I bought two plane tickets.”

He leaned in slightly but didn’t say anything. He just waited. I’d had to tell the story a lot of times to a lot of different people. William was the first one, the only one, who didn’t push for more information right away.

“I was supposed to get married a few days ago, but it was just a con. The whole thing was just…my fiancée, Parker, was a con man. He was never in love with me. It was all a trick, but it felt real. To me, it felt real. Then the FBI got involved and the whole thing started to feel more like a made for TV movie than my actual life.”

It was William’s turn to look stunned. He stared at me with a horrified expression.

“I mean I’m lucky that I found out before I married him.”

“I don’t imagine that to be of much comfort. I…I do not know what to say. I am so…repulsed by his behavior.”

He looked it. William’s face held equal measures of bewilderment and disgust. I smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

“Is there anything I can do?” His voice was deep and I could tell he was sincere. It actually made me feel like crying, but I blinked away the burning sensation and focused on the good. I was having a much better time at Camponesset Island than I had ever expected to.

“You already have; tonight is the most fun I’ve had since it all happened. I came here to be alone. I thought that I need that to,” I shrugged, “process everything. But I think maybe I really just needed a new friend.”

I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought that I might have seen a flicker of disappointment in his eyes at the word friend. Still, I figured it was for the best. I knew that I had probably sent a few mixed signals, but I was being clear about my intentions so that no one ended up hurt.

He gave that cute, shy smile of his. “I am glad to be of service. I hope…I hope that, as friends, we can repeat this evening at some point.”

“Me too.”

His head tilted slightly to side and he frowned. “May I ask you a question?”

I nodded and tried to squash the anxious feeling in my stomach.

“Why do you think he chose you?” He paled. “I simply mean that you are beautiful and clever. I would expect a con man to select a more obvious victim. You must have plenty of suitors. Why would he risk the competition?”

He surprised me. With all the blushing and the anxious stuttering, it was easy not to notice that William was also shrewd. “You mean the stereotypical middle-aged woman with a dozen cats that she dresses in doll clothes?”

“Something in that order.”

“I guess I was just more accessible, easier to research and such.” At his confused look, I realized that he had no idea what I did for a living. I grinned. “I’m a writer too. Romances. I’m no Nora Roberts, but in certain circles, I’m pretty recognizable. The FBI agent said he had probably spotted me at a signing.”

William gaped at me. “You have signings?”

“When my agent makes me.” I grinned at my own little joke.

“I…I did not, that is…I had no idea...I...”

“Relax, William. I don’t expect everyone to recognize me. You are hardly my key demographic anyway.”

His mouth twitched. “Romances?”

“Yup.” I smiled broadly. “What can I say? Bosoms heave and bodices were meant to be ripped.”

William still looked a little dazed, but he laughed. “Duly noted.”

I woke up feeling great again. I was sleeping much better than I had been, and I was dreaming. For me, that is always a good sign. I suppose, if my creative juices are really flowing, they don’t stop just because I’m asleep. Usually, crazy dreams mean I’m writing.

I set up my laptop and started making coffee without changing out of my pajamas. I had a few bits of dialogue I needed to get down before they floated away. I also had an idea for a seriously hot sex scene. I usually write chronologically. I like to experience the story along with my characters, so I am always in the same place they are. It just seems more intimate that way, and I think it keeps my stories a touch more realistic, but every once in awhile, I see a completely perfect scene before the characters are ready for it. Sometimes, I just go ahead and write it. It can be a great thing, really pushing me to get the rest of the story written, or it can be a disaster. Sometimes once I have that scene written, I just don’t feel any need to finish the rest. It’s a risk. I decided to go ahead and write it.

Two thousand words later, I heard a knock on my door. The sound startled me, and I scowled. Thinking it was just rude to knock on someone’s door so early, I glanced at the clock on the bottom right side of my screen. It was almost noon. Oh. Not so early.

I was still only wearing a tank top and a pair of sleep pants, but I decided I was decent enough. Besides, adding a robe to the mix wasn’t going to make it less obvious I was still in my jammies at noon. I answered the door and smiled.

“William, Good Morning.”

He took in my attire with wide eyes. “Oh dear, I’ve clearly disturbed you. Allow me to apologize, I…”

I laughed. “Nope. No disturbing. I was writing this morning, and I guess I just forgot about everything else. Now is a good time for a break,” I shrugged, “and maybe a shower.”

He still looked sort of flushed, but he smiled. “That is why I stopped by.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You stopped by because I need a shower?” I was teasing. It was fun.

“What! No. I…I meant the writing. I was...” He shook his head and sighed heavily. “I am going over to the mainland this afternoon to pick up some supplies. I ran out of ink for my printer, and there’s no place here that carries it. The market would order it for me, but I rather enjoy the trip, and I would like to have it this evening so I can do a bit of editing.”

I stopped him. “You edit on paper?”

He laughed. “I know, I’m terribly old fashioned, and it is far more efficient to make my changes directly on the bloody computer.” He said it all as though it had been said to him a dozen times then shrugged. “The point of this all is, I am making the trip and thought I should ask if you needed anything. I don’t mind making a few extra stops if you’d like me to bring something back for you.”

“Oh.” I stared at him for a moment thinking he was just too sweet for words. “Can I come?” The words were out of my mouth before I even thought about it.

William looked just as surprised. “You…you’d like to join me?”

It was my turn to blush. “I would. I mean, if you were hoping for a quiet day, then you should totally feel free to say so. I don’t want to impose, but yeah—I…”

“No! Or rather, yes. Of course, I would enjoy your company.” He was grinning broadly, so I knew that he wasn’t just being polite. I don’t have a lot of friends I have to worry about that with, but I knew that William would be one.

“Great. What time were you planning to leave?”

William narrowed his eyes and nodded towards my living room. “When did Maggie come over?”

I turned to follow his gaze. Sure enough, Maggie the Cat was making herself at home on the couch. Shaking my head, I laughed. “I don’t know. I haven’t opened the door since I got back last night. Maybe she slipped in then, and I’ve just not noticed.”

“No. I’m certain she was screeching at me for dinner near midnight last night.” He shrugged. “Sneaky little bit.” We both stared at the completely uninterested feline for a few seconds. “At any rate, there is a ferry at twenty after one. Will that give you enough time to prepare?”

“Plenty.” I was tempted to tease that his question suggested I was a high maintenance girl, or that it would take a great deal of work to make me presentable, but I resisted the urge. “This is going to be fun! I need to shower and stuff. Do you want to hang here, or should I just come over to your place when I’m ready?”

He looked down at me, then back at the cat. “I should—there are a few things I need to—take care of.” He was clenching his jaw.

I shrugged. “Okay. I will be over soon.”

I showered quickly and had already decided on an outfit before I got out. It was warm and sunny, and I was going on a boat. Sure it was just a ferry, but it is still a boat, and a boat ride calls for a special outfit. I pulled on my favorite tan capri pants, and a black cotton halter top I’m not too modest to tell you makes my breasts look great. I figured the low back would be good since I was trying to even out my tan a bit. Yes, tanning is bad. Please, don’t send letters. I smoothed some styling lotion into my hair and pulled it up for a high ponytail. A quick glance at the clock told me I was doing great time wise. I picked earrings, sandals and even slid on a few bracelets. My sunglasses went in a large brown shoulder bag along with a bottle of water, lip gloss, and a few other essentials. I was ready to go in twenty three minutes. I even had time to eat a yogurt; which was good since I’d forgotten to eat the toast I’d made for breakfast.

I considered trying to shoo Maggie out before I left, but she looked too comfortable to be bothered. I settled on putting out a bowl of water and just hoping that she could hold her business until I got back.

“Hi!” I called out excitedly as I knocked on William’s door. I grinned when he opened it. “See, I’m totally fast.” His lips twitched, and I realized my funny. “I meant I can get ready quickly.” He chuckled, and I swatted his arm. “William!” I pretended to be shocked, but he didn’t buy it.

He grabbed a backpack from the floor and slid one arm through its straps. It completed his shaggy haired grad student look to perfection. “Let’s go then. If we hurry, we can get some ice cream for the trip.”

What can I say? He had me at ice cream.

Thirty minutes later William was sitting on a bench on the ferry eating two scoops of vanilla with multi-colored sprinkles out of a cup. I was braver; I went with strawberry in a waffle cone. A few drips of melty ice cream were not going to keep me from the sheer perfection that is a still warm waffle cone. I ate it, bending slightly over the rail so all the drips hit the water instead of my pants, William didn’t bother to hide the fact he was laughing at me.

Finishing, just as the ferry left port, I walked over and joined William on the bench.

He grinned and pointed towards his mouth. “You have a little…”

I gave my lips a quick swipe with my tongue. “Better?”

“Um.” He frowned slightly, and reaching into his pocket, pulled out an honest-to-god cloth handkerchief. “May I?” He gestured towards my face, and I continued to stare in shock at the bright white square of fabric in his hand. Who still carries a handkerchief? “Buffy?”

“Oh! Please.” I pursed my lips, lifted my chin and tried not to laugh as he wiped at a spot on my cheek. I giggled when he stopped. “Better now?”

“Perfect.” He was looking at me with soft eyes and this shy little smile; I felt an urge to kiss him. I resisted, but I couldn’t really deny that my heart was racing. I wondered if it had been a bad idea to join him on his trip. I wondered if he was hoping for more than I was ready to give. I was sure that hurting him was the last thing I wanted to do. I was going to have to be more careful.

I tried for a casual smile. “Thanks, bud.” I know; subtlety is a lost art where I am concerned. I went back to stand at the rail and enjoy the scenery.

William came to stand beside me a moment later. “It is lovely isn’t it?”

I nodded without looking away from the vast blue of ocean. A few seconds later I gasped. “Look!” I pointed towards a bit of white water in the distance. “Is it a dolphin?”

He squinted in the direction I was pointing at. “Hmm…I don’t know. It’s possible.”

I laughed at the careful neutrality of his tone. “So, I’m guessing not, huh?”

“I don’t believe so.” He tilted his head and leaned closer to me. “We are probably too late today, but perhaps another day we might go on one of the many whale watching tours I have seen advertised.”

“That sounds fun.”

“How long are planning to stay at Camponassett?” William wanted to know if he was going to get more chances to see me, so he just asked. I’m not really used to that kind of straight forwardness from guys. Or maybe I’m just not used to someone wanting to spend time with me after I’ve made it clear sex won’t be in the picture. Either way, I liked it.

I shrugged. “I reserved the cottage for a month, but I hadn’t really decided if I would stay that long. I suppose I might stick around even longer if I can keep writing here; off season rates on the cottage are pretty reasonable.”

His smile grew, and I knew he was happy with my answer. I also knew the warm feeling in my stomach had nothing to do with sun.

We caught the last ferry back to the island and it was nearly dark by the time William helped me carry my purchases into the cottage. I’d found several cute shops and vacation mentality shopping had taken over. You know what I mean, somehow while on vacation it makes sense to buy a lamp with seashells glued to it, or a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it wearing a bathing suit and sunglasses.

I bought stuffed toy lobster.

I still don’t know why.

The following morning, that toy lobster was the first thing I noticed upon waking. I stared at it on the bedside table for several seconds then groaned. Coming down from the vacation shopping high is a bit like waking up with a hangover. My furry red bedside companion reminded me of my one and only one night stand. Both had seemed too adorable not to pick up the night before, and both were startlingly less appealing come morning. At least the toy lobster hadn’t scraped my neighbor’s car with his motorcycle. I wished one of my friends had a kid I could claim I’d gotten it for. Spending the afternoon browsing shops with William had been a lot of fun; I’d been relaxed and playful and clearly silly. I bought a stuffed toy lobster. Still, it obviously could have been worse. I turned and eyed the bags I hadn’t unpacked and tried to remember what they contained. I took a peek. I’d found some cute earrings I was going to send to my agent for her birthday and a couple of bracelets that I loved. There were also a few books; some lavender bath soap, and a red bikini, nothing too crazy.

I remembered William’s expression when I’d taken the bathing suit up to the register with a grin. I’d barely been able to resist asking him if he thought it would look bad. He was clearly a little attracted to me, but he understood I wasn’t looking for anything more than a friend. He hadn’t made any attempt to kiss me good-night before he left and I was (mostly) glad about it. It’s not that I didn’t think he was great; he was plainly a catch even if not my standard formula type. It just didn’t matter. I’d been engaged a mere month earlier. Dating was not an option I was ready to explore.

I took a shower and used a second mirror to take a peek at tan lines on my back. My color was coming along nicely. I figured, if the weather held, I might spend a little time sunning on the beach in the afternoon. After all, I did have a new suit.

But, first things first, I put myself to work polishing up the scene I’d written the day before. All right, technically, first I tried making scrambled eggs but, since they were completely inedible, we won’t be discussing that. I brewed a pot of coffee, ate some toast with strawberry jam and settled in for another morning writing session. I polished what I had and went back to work on the beginning. I decided to add a friend with a fun little b-plot. All the undercover stuff was pretty angst-ridden; I figured I could use something to help lighten things.

Shortly before 1:00 my stomach started growling. I pilfered around the kitchen for a few moments before deciding to head over to The Laughing Gull Café.

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when I found William there, but I was. He stood up when I walked in, so I went over to say hello.

“Great minds think alike, huh?”

He smiled. “It would appear so. I’ve only just arrived myself. Perhaps, you…” I plopped myself down in the seat across from him and he grinned before finishing, “might join me.”

Joyce appeared with a huge grin not two minutes later. “Well hello you two.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her obvious interest. I considered explaining that William and I had only run into each other, but she seemed so genuinely delighted by the idea of us together I decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. “Hi, Joyce how have you been?”

She seemed somewhat startled by the question. “Oh. Well, I suppose I’m just the same as always.”

I thought it was an odd response, but she was smiling so I did the same. “That’s good.”

She nodded. “How are you two? Is the island treating you well?”

“Quite.” William answered quickly before looking at me shyly to see if I agreed.

I nodded. “Yup.”

We ordered lunch, ate it leisurely, and William walked me home.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of your afternoon?” He asked.

I shrugged. “I was thinking about spending a little time on the beach. I had been thinking about lying out, but after that lunch I should probably consider a work-out instead. What are your plans?”

“I have some research to do. I found a new account on Abigail. This one claims she had the ability to adopt animal form.”

My eyes widened with interest. “Really? Like a werewolf or just any animal?”

“I’m not certain yet. I only just obtained it this morning.”

“Well, happy reading, you’ll have to tell me about it. Maybe we could meet for lunch again tomorrow?”

William grinned broadly. “I would like that.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you then.”

He started to turn away and then paused. “You might wish to locate your flashlight and candles; I heard earlier that we should expect a strong storm tonight. A power outage is not unlikely; there was one just a few days before you arrived.”

I frowned. “Yuck. Alright, thanks.”

He nodded once more and walked home.

I took his advice and cataloged the emergency supplies I had on hand. There was a flashlight and some candles in a kitchen drawer, a few gallons of water in the pantry and a stack of logs by the fireplace. I still had almost all the food I’d purchased from my trip to the market a few days earlier, since I’d eaten out nearly every meal. Everything seemed good, so I went ahead and took a short jog along the water. When I returned I found Maggie the cat on my bed and squealed in surprise. I was sure she hadn’t been there when I’d left. I started searching to figure out how she kept getting in and out on her own. The only thing I found was a window in the bedroom that wasn’t fully closed on top. It really didn’t seem like enough space for a cat to squeeze through, but it was something. Remembering the storm was coming; I pulled over a chair and tried to close it. After ten minutes struggling, it was still good and stuck. I decided to do something strong, independent woman everywhere hate to do; I was going to go ask a man for help.

I headed over to William’s to see if he was up to rescuing me, yet again. The screen door at his cottage was closed, but the heavy wooden door was open, I could see him rummaging through a stack of papers on a table almost exactly like the one my cottage had. He was singing along to a radio. “I think I did it again. I made you believe we're more than just friends. Oh, baby; it might seem like a crush, but it doesn't mean that I'm serious.” I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing as I knocked. His head turned towards the door at the sound, and he quickly reached over turning the radio off before walking over.

“Hello, Buffy.” He was blushing slightly.

I couldn’t help myself. “So, you’re a big Brittney fan, huh?”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “That is the only station that I seem to receive here. I was hoping to hear the forecast.”

I nodded. “That makes sense.” My shoulders shook slightly from the laughter I was trying to hold in. He had clearly known the words, all the words.

“Did you need something?” He sounded pained.

“I do. I can’t get one of my windows shut and you said there might be a storm; I was hoping you might be willing to give it a shot.”

“Oh.” He looked surprised, but pleasantly so. “Oh, certainly, I would be happy to.”

I gestured toward my house. “Do you have a minute now, or do you want to come by later?”

“Oh, no I mean, of course I’ll come over now.”

He followed me back to the cottage and only hesitated for a second before coming into my bedroom. I couldn’t decide if I found his apparent deference toward a woman’s bedroom charming or peculiar.

I pointed to the window in question. “See. It needs to be pushed up. I tried, but…” I shrugged.

It took him a few minutes and he had to switch his approach a couple of times, but William got the window shut tightly.

I smiled at him as he stepped down from the chair. He is taller than me, but he still had to climb on the chair to reach. “It’s official; you’re my hero.”

He laughed, but he still had that slightly puffed up look guys get when they are proud of themselves. “It was nothing. I’m glad that I could be of assistance.”

“Me too.” I gave him a hug, just a friendly thank you hug. “Thanks for getting the window shut and thank you for not making it look too easy.” He tensed when I touched him, so I let go after a quick squeeze.

He looked stunned. “It was nothing. I’m glad that I could be of assistance.”

“You already said that.”

“Oh, Right. Did you—did you need anything else? There is extra firewood in the back. I could bring some—”

I laughed and held up my hands. “Nope, I’m all set. I can carry my own wood. Thank you.”

He nodded and stared at me.

Okay, maybe the hug had been a bad idea. He was giving me an intense expectant look. I didn’t know what he was waiting for, but I felt my cheeks heat up as I considered the possibilities. “So, I know you have work. I don’t want to keep you.”

“Right.” He nodded again and then looked away. “I…if you need anything…”

“I will tell you. Thanks again.”
He left then, and I tried to ignore the way my heart pounded as I closed the door behind him. The hugging had probably been too flirty, but all I could think about just then was how nice he had smelled.

It poured that night. The quick drop in temperature had set off a fierce thunder storm and the sound of the wind knocking things about outside made me all the more glad I had gotten that tricky window closed. It took two of those guaranteed to work fire-starter logs, but I had finally managed to get a small fire going. It was nice. The dry heat and flickering light made the living room feel very cozy, so I settled on the couch with a throw, a book and a cup of hot cocoa. The rain pounded loudly on the roof and I hoped Maggie was inside.

I was two chapters in to a romantic mystery I had found during my shopping trip with William and completely caught up in the suspense of a well-told story when I heard a knock on my door. I jumped and shaking my head, laughed at my own startled gasp. I couldn’t imagine anyone had come for a visit in the middle of the storm and figured it was probably just a branch. I was just about to reopen my book when I heard another knock. Worried whoever it was would be getting drenched, I ran over and threw open the door.

“William!” He was soaked. Grabbing his arm, I pulled him in and pushed the door shut behind him. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Water dripped from his hair and from the tip of his nose. His eyes seemed bluer than normal. I stared at them for several seconds before realizing that he wasn't wearing his glasses. He stared at me with his jaw clenched. His breath came in quick, short bursts as if he’d been running or fighting.

“Are you…” I didn’t even know what to ask. He looked angry or hurt, but I didn’t see any injury. The water had plastered his black tee shirt against the muscles of his chest and stomach. My eyes found the sliver of bare skin between his shirt and pants and my mouth watered. I realized suddenly, William was not just cute. Those baggy clothes were hiding a whole lot of sexy. I tore my gaze away from the front of his pants, which was definitely a spot worth looking at and focused back on his face. The black shirt made him look more pale than usual or maybe, I thought, it was just that he was cold. My fingers itched to touch the side of his face, so I clenched my fists against my sides. “William?”

If anything, he was breathing even harder, his voice strained. “I need to know, Buffy.”

I felt my forehead wrinkle in confusion. “What do you—”

I didn’t get to finish my question. Fast as the lightning that flashed outside my window, he grabbed my upper arms and kissed me. Hard. I was stunned. My knees went weak, but his hold on my arms was so tight I couldn’t have fallen. His lips pressed against mine with an almost bruising force, and when his tongue swiped at my lips, he tasted like whiskey.

He pulled back just as swiftly. I blinked up at him dazedly as I took a step back to gain balance. “Wil—”

“Was that…acceptable?”

I might have laughed if he hadn’t been staring at me quite so intently. “You mean was it a good kiss, or was it okay that you kissed me?”

“Yes, both.” He sounded out of breath.

“Yes.” The time for resistance was over. I cupped his face in my hands and pulled him back to my mouth. He seemed startled at first, but he returned my kiss. I reveled in the taste of him and in the perfect shape of his lips. I realized this had been inevitable. It didn’t matter whether or not I was looking for it and even whether I was ready; William was irresistible. He was that perfect piece of Swiss chocolate even the most dedicated dieter accepted with a smile. Somehow, he had snuck in under my radar. I’d been sure I could keep him firmly planted in the friend zone. He shuddered against me and I knew I had never wanted anyone more.

The desire was almost painful. Every nerve ending in my body was on edge waiting for his touch, but he kept his hands at my shoulders. I reached down and grasped the cold wet hem of his shirt. I pulled it up past his stomach before he suddenly stepped away. His eyes darkened, they were ocean blue instead of their normal, sky on a sunny day hue. I almost yelled out; I just wanted to touch him.

“Buffy, I…”

“I wanted to touch you.” I thought it and said it, no filter.

His head fell back slightly as though my words had the same physical impact as a punch to the gut. “You—” His nostrils flared and he stared at me with wide eyes. I knew he wanted me; I had no idea why he had moved away, but I could see his desire. I took a step toward him but he backed up to maintain his distance. I groaned. He’d marched in like he was going to ravish me, now it seemed he wanted to play hard to get. His mouth opened twice before any words came out. Finally. “I’ve never…”

I was confused for a second. I shook my head, but the fog only thinned slightly. “You mean the whole on vacation thing?” I haven’t either, but it will be okay.” I reached for him again and he backed himself into my door.

“No.” He shook his head and looked up at my ceiling. “I’ve never.”

That is when I finally figured it out. “You’re a virgin?” Surprise dampened my arousal but not fast enough. I was still nowhere near clear thinking, and I hadn’t kept the incredulity from my tone. He’s a grown man; surprised doesn’t even cover it.

William didn’t look at me. “I should go.” His hand settled on the doorknob behind his hip.

I knew I’d hurt his feelings; I just needed a few minutes to process then I could have been all sensitive and stuff. I grabbed his arm. “Stay.”

He looked at my hand on his arm. “Why?” He spoke so quietly, I barely heard him over the noise of the storm.

I tried to think fast. I just didn’t want him to leave. “We can watch a movie or something, I…”

He gave a couple of harsh puffs of laughter. It sounded more like choking. “I’ll go.”

My head finally cleared enough to understand; he hadn’t stopped because he didn’t want me, he’d stopped because he didn’t think I would want him. I was a little surprised that I still did. I’d never been with a virgin. It had been years since I’d even considered the possibility of being with guy who was one. I looked at the way his hair curled behind his ears and at the tight muscles of his stomach and was awed. How the hell was he still a virgin? The baggy clothes weren’t that fine a cover. I tightened my grip on his arm. “Stay.”

William turned slowly to look at me. “Why?”

I took a quick gasp of breath and heart pounding, tried again. “I want you in my bed.”

His hold on the doorknob loosened and he looked at me with a bewildered expression. I wondered if he was going to ask me why again. He didn’t. He just stood there looking like he might turn and run at any moment. My nerves tempted me to talk, but I didn’t know what to say. I had already been bold, bolder than I had ever been before. I’d handed the ball to William; all he had to do was make the play. I’d even preapproved the play.

He brushed his hair back with a few jerky motions and exhaled loudly. “I can see your breasts through your shirt.”

Huh? I looked down at my tank top; it wasn’t see-through, but it was snug and I wasn’t wearing a bra. Given the full on alert state of my nipples, I supposed he was getting an eyeful but still…

“Before too, when I came by. I should have said something.”

He meant yesterday I assumed, when he had come by to see if I needed anything from off-island. “Because it…bothers you?”

His expression said that I was clearly insane.

I pulled his hand up and placed it on my breast. Keeping my hand over his, I looked up at him. “Do you want to touch me, William?” It was siren’s question, but my voice was shaky. I was used to being seduced. I had stepped uneasily into the leading role and felt like I was flailing.

“Oh god, yes.” He inched closer and brought his other hand up to touch my cheek. “But you’re so beautiful.” He shook his head and then leaned in to kiss me again. It was a gentle kiss, more like a taste than the feast he’d presented earlier. “I thought…”

“What?” I rubbed my lips against his cold chin.

“When it seemed like you were—interested—I thought I was losing my mind.”

The hand against my breast moved slightly, and I gasped at the feeling of his palm against my nipple. I laughed softly. “Are you trying to say that you’re crazy about me?”

He smiled and watched his hand cup my breast. “Yes.”

“Good. You are making me want to do all sorts of crazy stuff too. But first, we should really get you out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold.”

His thumb circled my nipple. “That’s just a myth.”

“Then can we take off your clothes because I want to see you naked?”

William’s head came up, and he looked at me with mixture of surprise and amusement on his face. He glanced back down at his hand one more time before stepping back and pulling his shirt off over his head.

Hot. It was my only coherent thought for at least ten seconds. I bit my lip and swept my gaze over the long lean muscles of his torso. “I could lick you all over.” Again, I had spoken without filtering. It was starting to become a problem. It’s not that I didn’t mean it. Cause seriously, William equals lickable. I was just worried that I might scare him away if I kept blurting out my every thought.

“Oh.” He grasped the back of my head and claimed my mouth for another devastatingly thorough kiss.

I slid my arms around his waist and rubbed my hands against his lower back. Stepping closer, my toes touched the shockingly cold tops of his shoes and I gasped. I pulled away and ignored his immediate look of panic. “Seriously William, take off those shoes, and come over by the fire before you turn into an ice cube.” I walked in to the living room, took a seat on the couch and watched as he bent to loosen his shoelaces before stepping out of his shoes. He pushed his socks off as well and stood before me a moment later barefoot and bare-chested. I grinned. “I ought to make you take your pants off too; you’re going to get the couch all wet.” Yeah, I know; I left myself all kinds of open to an array of dirty jokes there.

William didn’t take the bait. He just dropped down on the couch beside me and pulled me onto his lap. “Cheeky little girl.” He kissed my lips and nuzzled a spot behind my ear with his nose. “Always teasing, you’ll drive me out of my bloody mind.”

I giggled.

“Love that sound. It makes me wonder if you’re ticklish.” His fingers ghosted a tickle trail up my side and I flinched. He laughed. “Is that a yes, then?”

I stopped his query with a kiss. I could still taste the whiskey on his breath. “You were drinking.”

He chuckled and gave a sheepish shrug. “Three shots of liquid courage, though I probably stood outside long enough to process at least one of them.”

“So, I don’t need to worry about whether or not I’m taking advantage of you in an impaired state?”

He used his teeth to pull on my earlobe slightly. “Very funny, love.”

“You must have been saving it for something, William.” It had occurred to me that he might be religious, like training for the priesthood religious. I wanted him. Bad. I just didn’t want to be the one that tore him from his path, if he was on some kind of path.

He froze.

I felt his body tense and listened to his breath against my ear. “I don’t want to pry, William. I just don’t want you to regret—”

William kissed me again and well enough to make my toes tingle. “Never. You are gorgeous, perfect; I’ve never wanted to touch anyone so badly in my life.” His hands fiddled with the bottom of my tank top, but he looked to me for permission before pulling it up.

Lifting my arms, I nodded. “I want you, too.”

He peeled my shirt off and dropped a kiss on my forehead before looking. His hands dropped to my sides and he didn’t bother to disguise the hunger on his face. He just looked at me. After a few moments, I couldn’t help but raise my arms self-consciously. He grasped my wrists but didn’t try to move them. “Please don’t. I don’t mean to be rude. You are exquisite and I…I got a little lost in the sight of you.”

I tried to remember if anyone had ever said anything so beautiful to me before and came up empty. Shaking slightly, I let my arms fall back down and tried not to squirm while he looked his fill. He surprised me by leaning forward and covering my nipple with his lips. Gasping, I dug my fingers into his hair and pulled him closer. “Yes.” I felt him start sucking gently and the combination of that light pulling sensation and the warmth of his mouth nearly made me scream. Each tug was a string of ache that led directly to my core. “That’s so good. My god! So good.” William seemed encouraged by my reaction and began alternating sucking harder and lighter until I was whimpering. His hands gripped my sides tightly. I gasped when he moved away and nearly cried with relief when I realized he only meant to claim my other breast the same way. He started the whole process again; a light kiss, gentle sucking, the occasional more forceful pull. “Oh! Please, William.”

He flicked my nipple with the tip of his tongue. “Yes?” He turned his head to do the same on the other side and my whole body jerked up.

“Make me come.” I pried one of his hands from my side and started to guide it down between my thighs.

He stopped just short of touching me where I needed it most. “I want to see you.”

The thought of repeating the whole unveiling process of earlier made me shiver. “Later. Please, William. I need you to touch me.”

He rubbed me gently through my pants. “You feel so hot.” His tone held a touch of wonder. His knuckles brushed across my clit and I pressed up toward his hand. “Might need a little…direction here, pet.”

I shook my head. “You…really don’t. So good.”

He continued to stroke me with a feather light touch and began placing hot open-mouthed kisses along my shoulder and neck. When he brought his mouth back to my nipple, I saw stars. “William! Oh my god!” I collapsed against him and buried my face in the crook of his neck. “Fuck. William, that was…fuck.” I muttered breathlessly against his skin.

Chuckling softly, he rubbed a comforting hand slowly up and down my back. “That is a dirty little mouth you have, Buffy Summers.”

“Only when I lose the ability to think in words.”

“Yeah?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

Grinning, I pushed myself up so that I could see his face. “Oh yeah.” I gave him a quick, hard kiss before standing up completely. I held out my hand. “Come on; I’ll show what else I can do with my mouth.” I enjoyed the shocked look on his face and couldn’t resist the urge to lean closer and tease a little. “I suppose I should warn you; I might do something dirty.” I didn’t wait for his response. I pushed my pants down over my hips, let them drop to the floor and walked to the bedroom wearing only my panties. I know I was bold; I figure I was still high from the mind blowing orgasm that William had given me while barely trying. I nearly blacked out just thinking about what he’d be able to do once he got past the shyness. I scooted onto the middle of the bed and waited for William to join me. I didn’t have to wait long; he appeared in my doorway a second later and barely hesitated before sitting down beside me. He still had his pants on. I figured that I would have to do something about that soon, but first I just kissed his cheek. “What took you so long?”

I heard him laugh softly and say. “It’s dark in here.”

“I guess so.” I shrugged before reaching up to cup his chin and guide him to my mouth.

He kissed me sweetly before letting his forehead rest on mine. “May I turn on the lamp or is there a candle perhaps?”

It took me a minute. I laughed. “You really like looking at boobies. Don’t you, William?”

“Yours, yes, very much so.”

Still laughing, I kissed him again. “Go for it; I’m not the shy one.”

It took a moment of fumbling before he found the switch. The small lamp on the bedside table cast a warm orange glow over the room. He gave me a wry smile. “I’ll get over it.”

“That’s good, because one of us is still seriously over-dressed here.”

He nodded. “Indeed, your knickers seem completely unnecessary.”

I laughed. “Very funny, mister, now strip.”

The blush on his cheeks was clear in the low light of the room, but he stood up and unbuttoned his pants. I watched his Adam’s apple bob before he pushed off both his pants and his boxers.

I gulped. “Wow.” Apparently height has no correlation with the size of a man’s favorite organ whatsoever. I thought about what I’d previously considered well-endowed to mean and nearly laughed. Wow.

His gaze darted about the room. “I’m not certain what that…”

Swallowing hard, I held my hand out toward him. “You’re gorgeous, William. You’re gorgeous and you’re sweet and I want you right here.” I patted a spot on the bed with my other hand and waited for him to join me. “Lie down, handsome.”

He complied without a word and watched with a curious expression when I laid my hand on the middle of his chest. His body jerked when I made contact. “Oh!”

I grinned and, lying on my side, snuggled closer. “You’re kinda wound up, aren’t you?” I kissed his cheek.

“I’m sorry.” He exhaled a shaky breath.

I moved my hand slowly up the center of his chest. “Nothing to be sorry about.” I brushed my fingertips across his nipple. “It’s pretty hot.” Also hot were his pecs; all tensed, they felt as hard as rocks beneath my fingers.

William jerked again and scoffed. “Right.”

“I like thinking I make you all twitchy.” I moved my hand down onto his stomach and watched his cock bob eagerly. I curled my fingers around him gently and whispered. “This is for me, right?”

“Oh! Lord. Yes, Buffy. You’re all I can think about.”

Nice, right? I thought so too. My boldness level jumped a couple of steps. “Really?” I slid my hand very slowly up his length and enjoyed the deep timber of his moan. “Have you tried taking care of this on your own?”

His head had fallen back at some point and she squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes.” The word sounded half strangled.

Careful to slide my hand down just as slowly, I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “When?”

He groaned. “Buffy.”

“Was it today?”

He shook his head but kept his eyes closed tightly. “Yesterday.”

“Did you think about me?” I brought one finger up to swirl around his tip.

His hips arched up. “Yes. Bloody hell, pet. Yes.”

“Tell me what you were thinking, William. What was I doing?”

He whispered. “That shirt. I…I imagined that you were my girl and you wore that shirt for me. That you knew it drove me crazy.”

Whoa. I figured he would say I was sucking him off or something and I would be able to play out a little fantasy scenario for him. Who would have thought William’s naughty fantasy was to have a girlfriend who picked out her jammies with him in mind? So…sweet. I laid my leg over his and kissed him as my hand picked up speed. It only took a few seconds.

William came with a surprised shout, then “Oh lord.” He rose up on his elbows and looked at his stomach in dismay. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He kept his eyes down.

Sitting up, I giggled. “I did.”

“But?”

I leaned close and cupped his cheek. “When I get you inside me, I want you to be able to stay there for a few minutes.” I brushed his lips with my own. “You’ve looked about ready to pop since you walked in the door. I thought we should just get that first one out of the way.”

“Oh.”

He still looked a little dazed, but far less devastated. I kissed the tip of his nose as a wave of affection hit me. “Hold on a sec; I’ll go grab a towel.” I took a minute to wash my hands and brought back a hand towel. I handed it to him with a grin. “Is this why you carry a handkerchief?”

“No.” He wiped at his stomach and grimaced. “I typically use paper tissue for this sort of thing.”

I nodded. “Practical, but not exactly eco-friendly.” I tsked-tsked him with a grin.

He finished with the towel and started to stand up.

I placed my hand of his chest to stop him. “You can put it on the floor; I’m not done with you yet.”

“Is that so?” He looked amused.

“Totally so.” I climbed back on to the bed and kneeled by his side.

William shook his head. “You are…you seem remarkably informal about this whole situation.”

I laughed, but stopped when I saw his frown. Maybe I should have been acting more tender. “It’s not that I don’t think it is special, sex. It is. I just—well sex is fun.” I pressed my lips against his in a gentle kiss. “Once you relax a bit, I think you’ll find it fun too.”

I don’t know if he meant to agree with me or not. He pressed me down on my back and leaned over me. I gasped slightly in surprise and he plunged his tongue into my mouth. He had been sitting and talking almost calmly a moment earlier, but he kissed like a man on the edge. I could taste his need. Knowing he wanted me so badly made me almost dizzy. I felt powerful and sexy. I dug my fingers into his hair and tugged on the soft curls as I pulled his mouth against mine. He pulled back after a few moments and lightened the kiss as he slid his hand down to cup my breast. His fingertips teased my nipple until I groaned against his lips. “William.”

He pulled his mouth from mine and brought it to my breast instead. “You like this?” His lips brushed across me with an infuriating gentleness.

I groaned again as my back arched up to bring me closer to his hot, wet mouth. “Please, yes. More. Harder.” He pulled my nipple into his mouth and laved at it with his tongue. “Oh god! Yeah, that’s…William,” I cupped his face so he looked up at me, “I want to feel your teeth.” He looked startled, so I added. “Just a little.”

He may have been surprised but he was definitely eager. I felt his teeth graze me twice before he used them to tug. I gasped and he paused. “Too much?” He whispered but his voice still sounded strained.

I shook my head. “Just right. You’re doing everything just right.” I wasn’t just being nice. He‘d already gotten me off, and well I might add, but I was barely able to think past the ache he brought to my core. I was so turned on I felt brittle.

“I want—” William slid his hand down my stomach and trailed his fingers along the edge of my underwear. “I…”

I reached down and found that he was fully erect again already. “What? What do you want, William?” I rubbed my hand up and down his length.

Slowly, his fingers slid under the elastic band. “I want to touch you. I want to…be with you.”

His fingertips inched closer to my core and I heard myself whimper. “Yes.”

“I just want you. Love, I just want you so much it…”

“Hurts. I know. It’s okay, sweetheart. I want you too.”

He stilled. “Sweetheart?”

“Sorry, I just—d”

“No. I like it. I was…no one has ever called me that before.”

I pulled his lips to mine. “They should have. You are the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” I rubbed my thumb over the wet tip of his cock and grinned at his low moan. “Now, how do you feel about letting me be on top?”

His eyes widened. “Is that what you want?”

“I want you. Now. I’m not feeling picky about the details, William. I just thought it might be easier for you.”

He frowned. “I don’t need you to…I do know how. I just haven’t.” I worried for a second that I’d hurt his feelings, but the irritation seemed to spur him on. He settled on his knees and pulled my underwear down my legs. His expression softened. “You’re so beautiful.” He shook his head slowly from side to side and then finally brought his hand down between my legs. “I want to make you come again.”

His earnest tone and hot gaze nearly brought me over the edge. I swallowed hard and sat up. “Let’s do that together this time.” I pulled a couple of pillows over to rest against the headboard and pointed. “Here. Sit here.” William settled his back against the pillows and I kneeled across his thighs. I leaned in to kiss him again and, resisting the urge to ask him if he was sure, I lowered myself onto his cock. I was ready. Hell, I was more than ready, but he was too big to take in fast. My thighs felt like jelly by the time I had all of him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and brought my lips to his ear. “I like the feel of you inside me, William.”

“Oh god!” His hands gripped my hips tightly.

I bit his earlobe and then kissedHHI it. “I want to ride you hard.” I felt his body jerk at my words. “But, I’m gonna start nice and slow.” I started moving carefully up and down.

“Buffy, love.” The sound of my name in his voice was too nice. I kissed him to stop him from talking too much and making me lose control of my pacing. He pulled away after only a couple of moments. “I don’t want nice and slow. Fuck nice and slow, Buffy. Please.”

I trembled from the effort but I kept moving slowly. I couldn’t help but echo his earlier words back to him. “Such a dirty mouth you have, William.”

“I want to fuck you with my mouth. Want to taste you as you come against my tongue.”

I clenched involuntarily at his words. I mean, whoa, what the hell happened to blushing and stuttering? “What else?” I came down on him hard and heard him groan. “What else do you want to do with me?”

“This.”

“You like me riding you?” I sped up a little.

“Yes. Bloody hell, yes.”

“Anything else?”

“What?”

“Is there anything else you’d like?”

“I like you. I like the way you laugh, the way you eat and…and your bloody perfect tits.”

I came again, harder even than the first time. “Oh my god, William!”

He looked at me with wide eyes. “Already?”

I laughed breathlessly and climbed off his lap. “You wanna try taking the lead here?”

Smirking, he pressed me down against the mattress. “Yes.” He pushed into me with one firm thrust and quickly found a rhythm that had me panting.

“Oh! That’s good.” I knew that I would be sore in the morning, but couldn’t have cared less; my well-mannered, shy, virgin neighbor was pounding me into the mattress. I was in awe.

He came with a shout a few minutes later and collapsed with one arm and one leg still swung across me. “That was incredible.” He pushed up on one elbow to look at me. “Was it…Was I?”

I lifted my head up to give him a little kiss. “Amazing. You’re amazing.”

I woke up with my head on his chest, thinking it was a dream; I rubbed my cheek against his warm skin.

My movement must have woken him as well, because he tightened the hold of his arms around me and mumbled. “Where ya goin’?”

“You’re still here.” I looked at him in surprise.

He sat up slowly and looked at me. Hurt and confusion marred his handsome face. “Was I supposed to…did you wish for me to leave?”

I felt like an ass. “No. I just…a lot of times—some people like to sleep alone, and so guys go home after—I didn’t mean—” Even my con-man-former-fiancée had disappeared after sex ,and he’d been playing the role of a man in love. Sure, a couple of my exes had stuck around once or twice and tried to get me to make them breakfast, but in general they had made certain to mention an early appointment the next morning and left after a few minutes of post-coital snuggling.

“I did not wish to disturb your sleep. I apologize. I’ll—”

“Whoa.” I grabbed his wrists. I really needed to be more careful and start remembering William was not like the men I was used to seeing. “I only meant I was surprised. Good surprised. It’s sweet and…if you give me a minute to brush my teeth, I’d love to show you just how much I like finding you still in my bed.”

He gave me a small smile and I noticed a blush tinting his cheeks. “Are you certain?”

I nodded. “Definitely.” I leaned close and kissed his cheek. His smile grew as I pulled away and I took in the picture he made sitting on my bed with his curls all rumpled with a big, open smile on his face. He looked soft and pretty and young. None were words I would have previously used to describe an attractive man, but there he was. I walked to the bathroom and quickly took care of a girl’s morning needs. When I came out a few minutes later, my bladder was relieved; I had brushed my teeth and hair and I smelled minty fresh. I frowned when I saw that he’d put his pants on. “Why are you getting dressed?”

His grin told me that he understood my concern this time. He ducked his head. “I needed a visit to the toilet myself.”

“Oh.” I still didn’t really understand why he needed clothes and I felt strange standing there naked since he no longer was. I gestured toward the bathroom and slid on a robe. “There are extra toothbrushes in the basket under the sink if you’d like.” The lady who rented out the cottage had really thought of everything. I promised myself I would remember to write her a nice thank you card. I use my cell phone and my e-mail account far more often than I write letters these days, but I am still a big proponent of thank you cards.

William gave me a grateful smile and closed the door behind him.

Feeling suddenly awkward, I started straightening up the bedroom. I gathered the clothes I’d been wearing the night before, placed them in the laundry bin and made the bed. I was just finishing when William came out.

He walked over and picked up his t-shirt from the chair where I’d placed it.

For the second time that morning, I was struck by how young he looked. That time I realized I didn’t actually know his age. I walked over and took the shirt from him. “How old are you?”

His eyes widened and he shrugged. “Too old to have been a…virgin. If that is what you are wondering.”

“It’s not.” Okay, maybe it was a little. I put the t-shirt back down on the chair and placed my hands on his chest. “I was just thinking, you had a fantastic body for a guy your age then I realized I didn’t know what that age was.”

His eyebrow arched up as he looked at me. “Then you don’t know if it is a good body for my age.”

I laughed. “It is a great body no matter what age you are.”

“Twenty-four, as of last month.”

He looked anxious, and I wondered why he was worried. I brushed away my knee jerk reaction to learning he was younger than I was. Three years isn’t a big deal. I certainly wouldn’t have had any issues with sleeping with a man who was three years older than I was, so I figured I should feel the same way about sleeping with a younger man. I reminded myself I had suspected he was younger. “Yup.” I slid my hands down to rest on his belt. “Definitely a nice body for a twenty-four year old.”

He leaned down and kissed me right below my ear. “I far prefer yours, love. You are…you are a goddess.”

Taking his hand, I giggled and led him over to the bed. “Someone is really happy about having the sex.”

He frowned as he sat down beside me. “You can tease. I am…quite accustomed to that, but don’t think I’m false in my praise. If there is a reason we have such words as exquisite in the English language, it is you.”

My mouth opened and shut twice before my brain gave it words to speak. In the end, I only got out a couple. “William, you are—” I pulled his mouth to mine and kissed him gently before cupping his cheek in my palm. “I’ll try not to tease so much, I didn’t mean—”

He shook his head. “Truly, I don’t mind your teasing. I rather enjoy some of it. I only meant that I know how I seem, I am—”

“Perfect.” I kissed his lips again. “Just perfect.”

He lay down on the bed, pulled me up to lie beside him and traced the opening of my robe. Pushing the fabric to the side slightly, he leaned over and kissed the valley between my breasts. “Really never had a girlfriend before—I don’t want to make a mess of things.”

I was surprised for a moment by his use of the word girlfriend, though I shouldn’t have been. Of course, William would call me his girlfriend; he’d never slept with anyone else. The idea of a vacation fling was completely foreign to him. I knew that was what we were having, things would run their course, and I would probably never see him again after I left the island, but I saw no reason to discourage his gentlemanly and romantic manners. “You won’t.”

He slid a single finger down my chest and stomach until it reached my robe’s belt. He untied it slowly, as though he was half-expecting me to stop him and inhaled loudly as he opened my robe. “I love looking at you—could spend happy hours studying your shape.” His eyes had the same slightly awed look they’d gotten the night before.

“I like it better when you’re touching me.”

He grinned. “That is better.” He placed his hand flat on my stomach and spread his fingers. “You’re all golden. I look like a ghost next to you. Perhaps I’d do best if I gave up the sunscreen.”He laughed. “Of course, I’d probably just freckle. Curse of the British.”

I giggled at both his words and the fact that he was rambling. “You’d probably end up sunburned to a lovely lobster-red hue. Besides, I like you pale.”

“Well, you’re clearly a nutter, but since that appears to be working in my favor, I’m glad.” He brought his hand to my hip and tickled the indent of my waist.

Wiggling away, I gasped and swatted his hand. “If this is some kind of tickle fetish thing, I’m not game.”

He chuckled, grasped my wrists and pinned them down over my head. “Are you sure?”

His maneuver left me stunned and shockingly turned on. Still, tickling didn’t sound like what I was looking for. “Positive.”

Still holding my wrists in one hand, he bent down and kissed my nipple. “How about this?”

“Better. Definitely a better idea.”

He leaned lower, kissed my stomach and traced the outline of my bellybutton with his tongue. “Still acceptable?”

“God, yes.” My hips jerked, and I felt a flood of warm arousal between my thighs.

“This?”

I realized where he was heading as his lips grazed my inner thigh. I whimpered in anticipation.

He released my hands and brushed his fingertips through the curls above my clit. “May I?” His voice was quiet.

Somehow, his asking permission made the whole thing even hotter. I have, on occasion, brushed guys away when they’ve headed south. It’s not that I don’t like it, I mean even an unskilled and generally off path tongue feels pretty nice. I’m just not always sure the potential happy is worth the risk of the potentially mood killing awkwardness that occurs when I have to start giving directions, or tell a guy who is really making an effort, but failing it’s time to move on. I wasn’t without concerns, but I had to agree. He’d just asked too nicely to be denied. I shouldn’t have been worried. I’d already discovered William was some sort of undiscovered sexual prodigy. He is also the only man I’ve ever heard of that managed to place the tip of his tongue spot-on perfect on his first try. Quite honestly, I would have found his claim of inexperience suspicious if he hadn’t looked so stunned when I came a few moments later.

I gave him a sheepish smile and kissed the scratches I’d just made on his shoulders. “Sorry, you’re unusually good at that-I’m not normally so…”

“Bloodthirsty?” He gave me a smug-looking grin.

I figured he’d earned the right to feel plenty impressed with himself, but I kissed away that grin anyway. “Very funny mister, get your pants off and I’ll return the favor.”

His eyes darkened, and I felt him shudder under my fingers. “I have a better idea.”

His idea—more sex, more really fantastic, hot-sweaty-sweet sex. I made a note to myself he had excellent ideas.

It was early afternoon when we finally left the bedroom.

William dressed with an amused grin on his face. “I’m starving.” He laughed, as though he had made a joke.

I walked over, kissed his chest and rested my hands on his hips. “I’d offer to feed you, but I like you way too much to poison you with my cooking.”

He shrugged. “I’ll cook.”

Startled, I followed him into my kitchen and watched as he began to survey the contents of my refrigerator and pantry. “You cook?” I shook my head and giggled. “Of course you do.” I leaned against the counter and watched him pull things out of the fridge. “I can just see you as a little boy hanging out in the kitchen watching your mom bake cookies.”

He looked up at me with a mysterious little smile. “My mother doesn’t bake.” He placed a carton of eggs on the counter. “I have some cheese and a green pepper. How do you feel about omelets?”

“Yummy.”

“Brilliant. I’ll just go…”

“How about you get started and I’ll go grab the cheese and pepper?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Nope.” I grinned. “I can totally handle retrieval. Where are your keys?”

“The door is unlocked.” I must have looked surprised, because he gave me a sheepish grin and continued. “I certainly didn’t expect to be spending the night here.”

I rolled my eyes and slid on the flip-flops I’d left near my front door. The rain had stopped, but it was still gloomy outside. I heard waves crashing and looked down to see a startlingly tumultuous ocean. I stepped tentatively around puddles and the occasional fallen branch, reminders of last night’s main event. I tried to shake the unease that always remained in the air after a truly big storm. My stomach growled; I hurried up William’s steps and into his kitchen.

I opened his refrigerator and laughed out loud. He might as well have labeled the shelves. Every item was carefully wrapped and placed in its proper location. It made me wonder if he thought my fridge was a mess, with my meager supply of groceries shoved carelessly on a single shelf. It also made me curious about the rest of his space. I scanned the kitchen and found it spotless. The man didn’t have a single cup in the sink. He’d been drunk when he’d shown up at my place the night before, but it appeared he’d taken the time to wash his glass before heading out into the rain.

I couldn’t help myself; I stalked over to his bedroom and took a peek at his closet. It was tidy all right, and also the most depressing wardrobe I’ve ever seen. Four pairs of apparently, identical khaki pants hung beside several white and pale blue button-down shirts and a tired looking brown moleskin jacket. Next to those was a garment bag, which held a charcoal grey suit, and a blue silk tie. That was it. Shock spurred me to become an official stalker. I poked through his drawers to find a single pair of dark blue swimming trunks, a stack of mostly white t-shirts, two very worn looking sweat suits, several pair of grey boxer briefs, tan and white socks and one pair of jeans. One pair of jeans! Who lives like this?

I collected the cheese and pepper in a daze and headed back to my cottage.

William laughed as I opened the door. “There you are. I was about to alert a search party. Did you have trouble finding the pepper? I should have mentioned that it was in the drawer at the bottom.”

“I snooped in your closet.” That’s right, I told him. I might be a stalker, but I’m an honest one.

He laughed. “Why?”

Handing him the pepper, I shrugged. “I wanted to see if it was as neat as your fridge.”

“And was it?”

I nodded. “Tell me those aren’t all your clothes.”

He frowned. His eyebrows came together and bottom lip jutted just slightly more than a grown man’s should. He’s adorable. “I keep some items in the dresser.”

“I mean, are you like a travel light kind of guy, but you have a full closet at home or is that really it?”

His shoulders slumped, and I knew I had upset him. He sighed. “I told you, I live wherever I am writing. I really don’t have a more permanent address. My mother keeps a room for me our family home, and if necessary I have things sent there, but I…”

“Travel, okay, that’s cool.” I was feeling guilty so I responded quickly. “I guess I would try to keep things simple too if I was always traveling, but…a little color maybe?”

He looked down at the counter. “If my clothing bothers you, I can purchase something else.”

I felt like a heel. “It doesn’t bother me. I’m sorry, don’t—”

“Clearly it does. I know that I’m not—I am overly thin, I have dreadfully curly hair, and I wear glasses. Changing my clothes will not change those things. It will not make me taller or broader. I am what I am, Buffy. I’m past the age of trying to pretend otherwise.”

Whoa. I had managed to stumble upon a load of insecurity. I could almost see him putting up walls between us. Stepping closer, I placed my hands on his arm. “First off, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

He turned slightly to look at me. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have been poking about my closet.”

I felt my cheeks heat up. William’s stern voice made me feel like a naughty eight-year-old. It had to be the accent. I swallowed hard. “There’s that too, but that’s not the important part.”

“It’s not.”

“Nope.”

His lips twitched like he was hiding a smile. “And what, pray tell is the important part?”

“I don’t want you to be taller or wider or anything else different than you are. I already told you, you’re gorgeous. Weren’t you listening?”

He smiled, but shook his head. “You’re being kind, it is not—”

“I’m not. Seriously, I don’t know why this is such news to you. You are a good-looking guy. Period. And there’s nothing really wrong with your clothes except they’re kind of…boring and all the same. Also, most of it seems too big for you.”

He shrugged as though it were hopeless. “As I said, I am quite thin.”

“This means you need to buy smaller clothes or they won’t fit.”

William looked horrified.

I gave a small laugh. “If your clothes fit better, you wouldn’t look like you were swimming in them. Clothes that are too big actually make a guy look scrawnier. ”I saw disbelief and hurt wash across his face; I hurried to continue. “You’re just thin, not too thin; you look great naked, so you should look almost as hot in clothes…if the clothes are right for you.”

He was still frowning, but looked less likely to run away. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I read Cosmo when I’m on the treadmill and I TiVo episodes of What Not to Wear so I can watch them when I get writer’s block.”

“Oh.” He clearly had no idea what I was talking about.

“I like clothes.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, if you ever want help finding a pair of pants that do justice to that super cute ass of yours, I’m your girl. If you don’t, that’s cool too.” I gave him a big smile. “In the meantime, I am really hoping you will still make breakfast.”

He gave me a little smile and a nod. “Coming right up.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Toast?”

I laughed at the question in his tone. “Probably.”

Ten minutes later, we were sitting at the little table enjoying delicious omelets with toast that was only slightly burnt. I scooped a piece of warm cheese covered egg into my mouth and moaned in delight.

“Shall I assume that means you like it?”

“Like it? This is perfection. I could hire you as my own personal chef.” I grinned. “How do you feel about wearing an apron?”

“I don’t normally, but—”

“I mean just an apron?”

He laughed. “Are you on again about my clothes?”

“Nope. I’m on again about your cute butt.”

William tilted his head to the side and pretended to consider the idea. “If I am wearing nothing but an apron, what would you be wearing?”

“Ooh-I don’t know. What does a woman wear to boss around a pretty naked chef? Heels— definitely—maybe a suit. You know, very powerful business woman.”

“Perhaps that swimming costume you purchased the other day.”

I giggled. “Oh-cause I’m like a lady of leisure in this scenario. I spend my days lounging at the pool drinking vodka tonics and ordering elaborate culinary treats from my scantily clad kitchen boy. Would you double as the pool boy?”

He leaned closer and dropped a quick kiss on my mouth. “You have a fantastic and creative mind.”

“You sound like my grade school teachers.” I adopted my perky third grade teacher voice and recited, “Buffy is a bright girl with a big imagination. She could easily get all A’s if she focused more on her class work and less on chatting with her neighbor.”

“So you make it a habit to chat up your neighbors then?”

“She meant the girl or boy whose desk was next to mine; I talked to whoever she sat me next to. Once I got in trouble for talking to Fred the turtle, our class pet. I’ll bet you were an angel in class.” I shook my head in mock disgust.

“I was rather studious.”

I pictured him as a shy little boy and nearly awed out loud. “I’ll bet.” The urge to simply walk over and straddle him then and there was only narrowly beat out by my stomach’s plan to finish the yummy omelet. “Did you have any plans for today, or more accurately what’s left of today?”

He shook his head. “Nothing important, I was thinking we might want to do a bit of beach combing. After the storm last night, I’d expect the shore is quite littered with shells and the like.”

I tried to hide my surprise. He wanted to hang out more. He wanted to take a romantic walk on the beach.

He must have misunderstood my pause. “Unless, you already have plans, do you?”

I shook my head. “Nope-I want to go collect shells.”

William smiled. “Brilliant.”

“Yup.”

Two full days passed before William went home for any longer than it took to collect clean clothes, or the odd food supply.



We collected shells on the beach and he tried to use a guidebook to identify them. He probably could have done it too, but he just looked way too cute squinting back and forth at the shells and the book. I jumped him and later made up false-but Latin-sounding names for our specimens. Feeling delightfully silly, we glued the shells to a piece of cardboard, and William wrote the fake names in artistic script under them. We hung our display in the living room. It looked like a last minute science project put together by a third grader, but I loved it.





The third morning, I made him go home. It’s not that I was tired of his company it’s that I wasn’t. Or maybe it had more to do with him. He didn’t seem at all interested in leaving. He was too comfortable and too perfect. Maybe I didn’t really know why I was making him go home. It doesn’t really matter. I did. I reminded him we both had work to do. After giving him a thorough good morning kiss and a promise to join him for dinner, I sent his slightly pouty self on his way.



Over the next few days we settled into a new pattern. We ate dinner together and he shared updates on his research into Abigail and the Island’s history before I dragged his hot little bod into my bedroom for the night, and when we finally woke up we would head over to the diner for a very late breakfast. After breakfast we’d split up for the afternoon, so we could get some work done.



I was getting work done. My new story was coming along well. I had even returned my agent’s call and reassured her I was alive and not on drugs. One of her other writers must have spiraled downward into a drug induced mania. Because she seemed far too concerned that I was headed there myself. I sent her a rough sample chapter and she seemed to be at least temporarily assured that I was not having acid-induced chats with the tea pot. If I hadn’t already felt so bad for taking off without letting her know and then not returning her calls for two weeks I would probably have given in to one of my more wicked urges and messed with her a bit. I mean, seriously, how fun would it have been to start mentioning names of people who didn’t exist as though she and I both knew them or to tell her that I needed a lawyer to help convince some store owners that I was only shoplifting for research purposes?



It was just past three in the afternoon and a week after the big storm when I heard him pound on my door. I looked up from my computer in surprise and checked the time. It was way too early for dinner. Still, I knew it was William; he has a distinctive knock. I shook my head and smiled at Maggie, who was stretched out on the table next to me. I took two steps towards the door, barely pulling it open, when he pushed in. He didn’t say a word. His hands clutched my shoulders tightly and his mouth slammed down, hot and hard, against mine. My knees quaked instantly.



I gasped slightly in surprise and gave a soft laugh. “William, we’re supposed to be working.”



Ignoring my words, he ran his hands down my back, gripped my hips and pulled me close. I was only a little startled to feel him already fully erect and pressing against my stomach. He kissed me again, all possessive and growly, and pressed me against the wall. When he started to tug up my skirt, I pushed my hands flat against his chest hard enough to make him pause. “William?” The whole super urgent and demanding thing was hot, really hot, but was not a side of him that I’d seen before. I was torn between desire and concern.



His hand clenched around my thigh. “Need this…you. Fuck, I need you, Buffy.”



The hoarse, hungry sound of his voice made me whimper. I clutched at his shirt to keep myself from falling in a puddle of wanton goo at his feet and nodded dazedly.



A second later, he ripped a perfectly good pair of thong underpants in his hurry to pull them off, and I was too turned on to even argue.



I would have argued. I know undergarments get ripped in romance novels all the time. Hell, I’ve even written a couple of torn away panties scenes myself. It sounds great, all rough and eager. But the reality is, good underwear is expensive, and I don’t really find it arousing to have my favorite French lace panties destroyed.



There are apparently, exceptions to every rule. William’s strange caveman mood melted me.



Without another word, he lifted me up so I had to wrap my legs around his waist and hold on. The physics of the thing are still a bit of a mystery to me. I don’t know how he did it. I swear I don’t remember him even unbuckling his belt, but a moment later he was buried to the hilt and moving at a pace that should have been too much too soon, but wasn’t. We both came hard and fast.



We also apparently collapsed to the floor. Again with the blurry. I laughed breathlessly. “Whoa. Not to sound ungrateful or anything, ‘cause…whoa, but what brought that on?”



William didn’t raise his head from the crook of my neck. His hot breath came in quick pants. “My brother…”



Huh? Not the answer I was expecting. I pulled away slightly and cupped his chin so I could see his face. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to give me a little more there.”



He sighed heavily. “They’re here or almost here. Have to see them tomorrow for lunch so they can tell me all the ways I am failing in life…for my own good of course.”



I’d never really heard William sound bitter. He had a dry sense of humor, there was definitely a touch of sarcasm here and there, but I’d never seen him approach dark before that moment. I stared at him wide-eyed and more than a little confused. “Who’s coming?”



“Angel and Drusilla. My father’s children from his first marriage and thus my half-siblings. It would seem they have found me and—”



“Wait. Found you? Are you hiding?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice.



He looked pained. “Not exactly. I am simply…staying out of their way. I call my mother weekly and visit for the holidays, but otherwise I have made an effort to maintain my distance.”



“So you don’t get along then?” I grinned at what I assumed was an understatement.



William frowned. “They mean well, I believe, however; I am never going to become the man they wish me to be, and their attempts to assist me—my career is obviously—but that isn’t the only—” He groaned and fisted his hands. “He just makes me feel so….”



“Frustrated.”



Jaw clenched tightly, he nodded.



I was starting to see the picture. “So you just spoke with your brother, and he got you all pissed off because you have to listen to his shit, so you came over and worked off some of your frustration.”



He looked up at me quickly. His face looked pale. “Oh! Oh Buffy, please I didn’t intend to. If I have insulted you or, or hurt you—” William looked particularly horrified at the idea of hurting me.



I leaned over and gave him a hard kiss. “I’m not complaining, Sweetie. You feel free to work out your frustrations by giving me surprise orgasms as much as you need to.”



“I didn’t hurt you? You’re certain?”



I shrugged while I tried to choose my words. “It was a little rough, but that’s okay sometimes.” I saw his brow furrowing and knew he was focusing too much on the first half of that sentence. “In this case, it was seriously hot.”



“You are certain?”



“Did you miss the part where I was screaming your name? I’m fairly sure that our neighbors heard me.”



“The next closest cottage is nearly half a kilometer from here.”



I nodded and grinned. “You’re right. I probably wasn’t loud enough for them to hear me. We should try again.”

I did not want to join William for lunch with his brother and sister. We’d only known each other for a couple of weeks. Yes, the sex was amazing, but that didn’t mean we were at the family introduction stage. Added to that, was the fact that they clearly had some family drama going on, and I worried that my presence would prevent them from discussing it and lead to a generally awkward experience for all. I tried to explain this all in a gentle but firm tone. I failed. He looked at me with those ridiculously blue eyes of his and this sad puppy being kicked to the side expression, and I heard myself promising to go.

I tried to convince myself it wasn’t a bad decision. Whatever future we had or didn’t have I cared about him and he needed the moral support of my company. Besides, I thought, it’s just lunch. I figured we’d all enjoy some iced tea and salads while they regaled me with amusing anecdotes from William’s childhood and chided him for not coming home often enough.

By the time we headed over to the café, I had almost convinced myself it was going to be fun. I should have known better. William had barely spoken all morning. He walked stiffly by my side looking more like a man headed to an execution than one with lunch plans. When I slipped my hand into his and gave it a quick squeeze he gave me a grateful smile.

He looked ahead toward the café before speaking. “They will no doubt love you aside from your questionable taste.”

I turned a surprised, angry face to him. “I have great taste.”

“I meant me, love. They won’t understand why you would be with me.”

I sighed. “Because I have great taste.” I rose up on my toes and kissed his cheek. “It’s going to be fine. It’s just lunch. They’re your family.”

We arrived at the café first, chose the most isolated table for four and ordered a couple of iced teas for the wait. It was a surprisingly long wait. William’s siblings were nearly forty minutes late.

I was asking William if he thought we should call them to see if they wanted to reschedule when they arrived with a fuss of noise and irritation.

They’d barely walked through the door before Drusilla called out angrily. “Well, is no one going to help us then?” She glanced around the café without hiding a small frown of displeasure.

William sighed heavily before standing up. “Drusilla, dear, I told you this was a casual establishment. You are expected to walk yourself to the table.”

She smiled broadly, and I realized that she was gorgeous. They both were. William’s siblings were tall, dark, and stylish. “There you are, you naughty boy. We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

I watched this whole interaction, I’m sure, with my mouth open wide. Angel and Drusilla, the names should have been the first clue. William had told me that Angel was actually a nickname, but was more commonly used than his brother’s real name. You would think a guy wouldn’t want such a feminine moniker. Angel was apparently unconcerned. They were like no one I’d ever seen outside of a movie. First off, they reeked of money. Yes, that’s right: reeked, like fish left on the pier after the market’s closed. I like to dress well, I’ll admit it, but I try for a classic style. I splurge on well-made standards. These two looked like they’d never bought an off-the-rack item in their lives. They moved with an odd sort of grace, almost animalistic, and they did it in unison, her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow. They looked more like a couple than brother and sister. Icky, I know.

Angel reached for William first and pulled him into a brief hug. “Willie!” He smacked him on the back a few times, and I have to admit I worried that he might break him.

William attempted to respond with dignity. “Liam.” He nodded towards the giant who bore him no resemblance at all before accepting the hand Drusilla had thrust in his direction. He bowed down to kiss her knuckles as though he’d done it a hundred times. “Drusilla.” I’m sure I was gawking, everyone in the café was, and no one else was coming to the rapid realization that they were sleeping with a character from a penny dreadful. Who were these people?

“You have a lot of apologizing to do, my little brother.”

“Please, have a seat and lower your voice. We are causing a scene.”

She laughed at that, but did, once Angel pulled a chair out for her to sit down.

Angel sat down as well and turned toward me with a flirty grin. It was the kind of look that would normally get my engines going. Hell, I’ll say it straight out. William’s brother is exactly the type I usually go for. He is solidly six foot of muscles, tanned skin, and thick dark hair. He walked with a confidence that bordered on pure arrogance and looked at me like he knew every sinful secret thought or fantasy I’d ever had. Without turning away, he asked, “And who have we here, Willie boy? You’ve been holding out on me.” He waggled his eyebrows at me.

“Yes,” Drusilla added with a pout. “Why did you bring your secretary? This was supposed to be a family reunion.”

William looked like he wanted to die. He glared at his sister. “Drusilla!” He whispered harshly. “Have you no manners at all? This is my friend, my…my girlfriend, Buffy Summers. She is a writer.”

Drusilla finally turned to look at me. “Oh, is that what you told him? Well, aren’t you clever? I’ll bet William just ate that up. He does like to play at this gypsy, writer nonsense. No matter though. You won’t be getting his money.” She giggled as my face turned red with anger and embarrassment.

“Dru! Buffy, I’m so sorry, love. Drusilla, what the bloody hell are you thinking?”
“You’ve had your fun, William. Now it’s time for you to come home. You can’t expect your poor fiancée to keep waiting while you frolic with tramps.” She turned back to me with a self-satisfied grin. “He did mention that he’s to be married soon, didn’t he?”

I left. What else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t even look at William. It suddenly all made sense. William had seemed too good to be true, because he was. I’d been conned, again. I stood up and ran. William called my name as I went through the door, but I ignored him. My stomach churned, and I barely made it back to my cabin before I started crying. I couldn’t believe it! William was the one who had called me his girlfriend. He’d been the one to push for a relationship. He was engaged? It’s not that I thought he and I were going to be a permanent thing. I knew we were having a fling. I just didn’t think it was cheap and meaningless. I was the other woman. There was a woman out there who had no idea her fiancée was sleeping with someone else. I grabbed Maggie and curled up on my bed. The blankets were still a mess from our morning activities. Thinking about it only made me feel worse.

William came in without knocking, about twenty minutes later. “Buffy, love? I’m sorry about Drusilla. She’s…god, she’s a bitch sometimes. There’s no excuse for her behavior.”

I looked up at him in shock. “Her behavior?” Anger made me tremble. “You have a fiancée. You slept with me. You bastard!” I grabbed a book from my bedside table and threw it at him. I know it wasn’t very mature, but at least I didn’t smack his cheek like a southern belle in an old time movie. “Get the hell out.”

William froze. His voice was deep and quiet. “You weren’t even going to ask me if it was true. You’re that ready to believe the worst.”

“Are you saying that she was lying?”

“Not exactly, but there is more to the story. I—”

“I don’t want to hear it, William.”

“Yeah, well I have no want to tell it. We shall both have to suffer through it.”

“I want you to leave.”

“I met Cecily Adams when I was seventeen. She is the younger sister of one of Drusilla’s friends and she was in need of an escort for a cotillion. The entire encounter was arranged by Dru and her friend. I was mortified. I tried to beg off a dozen times.”

I stood up and walked out to the living room, determined to show that I had no desire to hear his story. He followed me.

“In the end, I had no choice. To leave her without an escort would be churlish and unbefitting. I doubted that she would feel better off once she discovered that her date was me, but I went. I was every bit as awkward as you can imagine and yet, Cecily seemed to enjoy my company. She flirted with me all evening, and when I took her home she said she hoped I would call on her sometime.”

I wasn’t sure which was more disturbing, that the man I’d been sleeping with was so insistent upon sharing the story of how he’d met the woman he intended to marry, or that he sounded like a character from a Jane Austin novel while telling it. Who uses the word churlish? While we’re on the subject, who goes to cotillions? It was slowly occurring to me that William didn’t just come from big money, he came from an entirely different world. William came from a world where women hoped to be called on and taken to cotillions. I sat down on the couch, but I continued to look everywhere but at William.

He gave a bark of harsh laughter. “She said that she couldn’t have asked for a more charming escort and joked that the only real problem was that she would now be forced to thank her sister for making the introduction. I was…shocked. Cecily was all the things I was not: attractive, popular, outgoing. I could not believe my luck. I was almost certain that she was merely being kind, but she persisted. She pursued me. Over the next couple of years, we formed an association. I escorted her to balls, benefits, and family gatherings whenever she asked. She’d send me a note telling me when and where she’d like to go, and I’d buy the tickets and often her dress.”

He paused for a minute and I looked at him. He nodded, looking miserable, before continuing. “I suppose you see what’s coming. I didn’t. I was smitten and I was an idiot. I barely saw her, really, but that made sense at the time. She was younger and still in boarding school that first year. She told me that she wasn’t allowed to have male visitors. Then she went to university a good distance away. She said that she was busy with her studies, and I was determined to be an understanding boyfriend. Once a month or so, I took to her an event and in the time between I sent cards and gifts and daydreamed about the girl who I thought actually liked me. When she turned eighteen, I was twenty and nearly finished with university, I gave her a ring and she accepted. Our families were thrilled. I hoped that our engagement would bring us closer together. I craved the sort of easy going affection that…at any rate Cecily told me she wanted to wait until our wedding night before we were…intimate. I thought she was a romantic. I was happy to wait and give her the perfect wedding night. A few months after our engagement, I walked in on her talking with some friends. They were all giggling, and she was holding court in the middle. They didn’t see me, and I was too intimidated to interrupt, so I stood off to side and waited. She was telling them all about her boyfriend and their sexual escapades. One of the girls asked if she’d slept with me yet. Cecily laughed and said, and I’m quoting here: God no, who would ever want to do that? William’s simply the dullest man alive. She later went on to explain that she hoped not to have to marry me and that I was just her back up plan. She used me for three years to get into parties and meet wealthy men. I thought she was this paragon of virtue. Turns out she was sleeping with other men the entire time. Cecily Adams is a viper. She is a vicious, manipulative creature, and though I’ll admit I was too humiliated to ask for the ring back, we are most certainly not still engaged.”

I didn’t even know what to say. I stared at him in shock. It was a horrible story.

“Now, do you understand,” he started quietly, “why I didn’t want to share the story of my ill-fated engagement?”

“Of course. Oh William. I’m—”

“What I cannot understand is how you couldn’t even ask to hear it. You were so ready to believe the worst of me. I thought we…I believe that I have misunderstood the nature of our relationship.”

William turned and walked stiffly out of my cabin, leaving me to feel like the world’s biggest jack-ass.

I followed him, of course. I waited a few moments and then walked over to his cabin like a puppy with its tail between its legs. I opened the door quietly and saw him sitting at the table with his face buried in his hands.

“William?”

He didn’t look up. “I would like to be alone right now.”

“I can understand that, but I owe you an apology.”

“Buffy, I would very much rather—” He lifted his face a little, but was turned away so I couldn’t see him. I suspected that he’d been crying, and it broke my heart a little.

“You made me hear you out. I’m going to do the same. I’ll leave when I finish, and you won’t have to see me again, if you don’t want to. I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. You’ve given me no reason not to trust you.” I sighed. “This isn’t an excuse. I’m not saying it makes it right or okay, but this, it all happened so fast. I wasn’t looking to get involved with someone. I wasn’t ready. I came here broken. I thought it would be a good place to hide and heal, then you were irresistible. I jumped into this, but I was still broken. And you are the nicest person I’ve ever met, you’re too good, too sweet, and I think I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And I know that none of that makes it okay, but there it is. Mostly, I’m just sorry.”

I turned around and walked back out the door. I was nearly back at my cabin before I realized that I wasn’t done. I stalked back over.

“There’s something else. You didn’t trust me either. If you had you would have told me that story before. You would have seen if anyone would know what you’ve gone through, it would be me. It is the same thing that happened to me.”

He stood up then and glared at me angrily. “But it’s not, love. It is not the same thing at all. What he did to you is unforgivable, but you aren’t me. You were fooled by a professional. You’re family and friends were shocked. A professional who researched and was, I’m sure, more than willing to share your bed and had you for a few months. I was taken in by a sixteen year old trollop. She led me around like a fool for three and a half years, and everyone knew it but me. Every party I attended, every time I thought people were laughing at me, they were. I was poor pathetic William, so blind that he didn’t even notice when his date disappeared for a shag in the middle of the dance. I’m still a bloody joke. It’s been years, but they’ve still heard nothing funnier. Cecily Adams will sleep with anyone, except William, of course.”

“Oh, William.”

“Do not look at me like that. I don’t want your pity. I’ve spent years building a new life. I don’t want to be…I’m not that person anymore.”

“Cecily Adams was an idiot. She’s also clearly a bitch, but mostly I just think she had to have been the stupidest girl to ever live.”

“I don’t want to—”

“You weren’t a fool, William. You were honest and trustworthy, and you expected the same from others. You were good, and she must have been blind not to see you.”

He laughed softly. “No, I expect she saw me, scrawny and awkward.”

“You are fantastic in bed. I mean it, William, you are mind blowingly good.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but that’s not actually relevant.”

“Yes it is. You said that you were still a joke. I say, fuck that. The jokes on them, because you’re incredible!”

He walked over to the couch and sat down. I followed and sat across from him on the trunk that was set up as a coffee table. I couldn’t help but notice that he moved his legs so that our knees wouldn’t touch.

“Cecily still wears the ring. Apparently the current joke is that I ran away because I was so nervous about the wedding night. Dru wants me to go home, because it’s becoming an embarrassment for the family.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “That bitch!”

“My sister?”

“I meant Cecily, but…yeah, your sister is kind of a bitch too.”

William laughed and shrugged. “My brother liked you.”

I frowned. “I didn’t even speak.”

He grinned. “Conversation skills are not high on Angel’s list of priorities. In truth, they probably aren’t on the list at all.”

“Nice.”

William shrugged. “He’s handsome.” He looked at me curiously. “You found him attractive, didn’t you?”

Fuck. That’s what went through my head. Fuck. I actually have an excellent vocabulary, but sometimes that is the only word that fits. What was I supposed to say? “Sure, he’s a good looking guy.” I tried to maintain a casual tone.

“You wouldn’t believe that we’re brothers, right. We look nothing alike.” And just like that he dropped the bomb.

I couldn’t take the distance anymore. I stood up, pushed his shoulders back and sat with my knees on either side of his hips. He was glaring when I cupped his face in my hands. “That does not mean that you’re not attractive too. You look different, not worse.”

“Buffy, please.” He turned his head to pull away, but I held strong.

“I have never been as attracted to anyone as I am to you. I can’t keep my hands off you.”

The look in his eyes was heartbreaking. I watched him try to work through his feelings, saw the tiny leaping light of hope trying to break through all the misery that held him back. Then I couldn’t watch anymore. I leaned in and kissed him. I meant to keep it tender, I thought he needed me to be gentle, but he pushed for more immediately. He gripped my upper arms tightly and pushed his tongue into my mouth. He kissed me like he thought he might never kiss again. By the time he finished, my lips were swollen and my entire body trembled with want.

“Is that true, Buffy? I wish it could be. I want... so badly. I want you to be mine.”

“You’ve got me, sweetheart.” It wasn’t enough. I saw it on his face. He needed more. He needed parts of me that I’d never given anyone before. His need terrified me. “It’s scary, how much you have me. I…ache for you.” They were words I’d never said before. I felt vulnerable in a whole new and desperate way.

He rested his forehead against my chest and wrapped his arms around me. I kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back.

“You have to stop her, William.”

“It’s best if I just stay away. It doesn’t bother me so much.”

“She’s still hurting you. She’s just a bully. You can’t keep letting her have all the power.”

He wouldn’t look up at me. “Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I’m not ashamed of myself? I cannot confront her. I would just fumble and make an even greater fool of myself.”

“So let me help.” I didn’t even consider not offering. The bitch needed to be taken down. I was furious for him.

He looked up at me finally and gave me a sad-looking little smile. “That is a kind offer, love, but I don’t see how you can.”

I grinned. “Oh, but it’s easy. The joke only works if you’re miserable. You go back. You show them that she doesn’t bother you at all, that she isn’t even on your radar because you’re happy and successful. That’s it, sweetie, it’s done because you’re not playing the part she gave you anymore.”

His brow furrowed as he considered what I’d said. I tried to keep a supportive expression on my face.

“How? Exactly how?”

“You go to the next party.” I saw terror start to creep into his eyes. “With me. I gaze at you adoringly all night and we sneak off to not so hidden locations to make out.”

“Buffy, you don’t know how ugly they can be. I cannot drag you it this.”

“First off, I volunteered. Second, I can hold my own.”

He laughed softly. “Oh, love. I don’t doubt that. You are incredible.”

“So, you’re in?”

He watched me for moment before answering. “You said before that you could help, with the way I look, could you? Truly?”

“You don’t need to change. You’re perfect.”

“Pet?”

“If you…if you really want me to. I can absolutely pick out some clothes that will…better display your many finer attributes.” I sighed. “I can find you some jeans that show off your ass, and if you’re up for it, we could get you some contacts. But I don’t want you to think that I need you to do that for me. You already drive me crazy. If we make you any hotter I might never get any work done again.”

William arched his eyebrow in disbelief, but he also smiled a little. “Are you certain that we could?”

“Take the bitch down?”

He nodded.
“Oh yeah.”

I’m afraid of heights. Once, when I was really small, my father dragged me on a double Ferris Wheel at the state fair. I was nervous before we even got on, but the technical difficulties that left us stopped for several minutes while our little basket swayed in a terrifying manner at the very top have given me nightmares for decades.
I’m just saying I understand that everyone has quirks and phobias. But seriously…shopping? Who has nightmares about shopping? One word answer: William. William has nightmares about shopping. I’m not saying that he doesn’t like shopping. I’m saying that he woke me up in the middle of the night because he was mumbling in his sleep about shoes, drowning in footwear. In the morning I told him that having a vast over-abundance of footwear was kind of a dream of mine and he stared at me with this horrified expression before explaining that the dream shoes had teeth and they bit him whenever he tried wearing them with the wrong pair of pants.
That was before we even started our trip.
I suppose I should stop here and tell you that I’m well aware that my spontaneous promise to travel to England and tell off the bitch that William had dated when he was in college was crazy. It’s not the kind of thing I do. Ever. I might have changed my mind if William hadn’t carried me into his bedroom ten seconds after I said it and then proceeded to drug me with pleasure. When I came out of the haze he had already started putting the plan in action. He’d made a couple of calls and gotten tickets to a benefit ball taking place only a few days later that he was certain Cecily and the rest of his old crowd would be attending. He’d also booked tickets for a flight out of Boston that would get us to London about nine hours before the ball. I couldn’t back out then. The tickets were first class. You can’t back out from first class tickets to London. You can’t.
We’d packed and caught the first ferry off the island the next morning and were checked into a hotel in Boston by lunch time. The plan only gave us two days to get to Boston and then get William a new look. It was apparently my asking him if he had any ideas about that new look that led to the nightmare about shoes.
The actual shopping was worse. I couldn’t even talk him into coming out of the dressing room at the first store. At the third store I held up a very nice turtleneck sweater and he just shook his head. “Don’t think so, pet.”
That was when I realized I was going about things the wrong way and took him to the hair salon. I glanced around the place when we walked in and chose the edgiest looking stylist in the place. Her name tag, which hung from a series of safety pins attached to an unused belt loop on her very low, very tight jeans, said Faith and she had blue streaks in her hair, a tattoo and a pair of handcuffs hanging from the styling chair. I hoped they wouldn’t be needed. William shook his head again. But I held firm.
“That girl doesn’t take shit from anyone. Look at her. You can just tell that she doesn’t let anyone put her down. She will know exactly how to make you look the same.”
“How?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. The point is—it’s just hair. If you don’t like it we can have it changed again later or you can shave it off and it will grow back. Come on.” I tugged him over to her chair and pushed him into it. I gave her a big smile. “Hi. This is William. He needs to look more…” I struggled to find the word.
“Badass?” She suggested.
I grinned. “Exactly.”
She looked surprised for a moment before nodding and giving William a slow perusal. “Cool. So when you say badass…”
“Hot. Maybe dangerous even.”
William shook his head. “That’s not going to happen, ladies.”
Faith ignored him completely. “I got ya. I can do it, but you’re gonna have to trust me.” She grinned at me.
I nodded. “Do it.”
“Buffy, don’t you think I should—”
I stepped in front of him, leaned in for a quick kiss and pulled off his glasses. “Trust me. She is totally the right girl for the job.”
“I thought the goal was to make me look better.”
I shook my head. “Nope. The goal is to make you look different and feel different.”
“I—”
Faith laughed. “No worries, handsome. I’m great at this.” She quickly wrapped a black cape around his neck. She turned back to me and gestured towards another chair. “Tommy’s out today. You can hang in his chair and watch if you want.”
“Thanks.” I sat down.
“So what’s the story here?” She asked William as she started playing with his hair. “You trying to toughen up your image ‘cause you’re a musician or something?”
William laughed. “Not even close.”
She started combing his hair away from his face. She narrowed her eyes for a moment and grinned. “Oh yeah. This is gonna be…” She nodded. “So it’s just a basic make a girl see what’s she’s missing thing, then? Or a guy?”
He frowned. “Girl. Or not exactly…there’s an event…”
I laughed and filled her in a little. “We are going to a big party with a bunch of people that haven’t seen William in a long time. He needs to make an entrance.”
She pulled out her scissors and began clipping off his pretty curls. “The kind of entrance where everyone stops talking and all the girls need new panties?”
“Yeah.” I nodded and tried not to look too sad about those disappearing curls.
Faith chopped away for a few minutes and then stepped back. “Okay. Yeah.”
A petite Asian girl rocking the ever popular rebel schoolgirl look walked up and wrapped her arm around Faith’s waist. “Can I help?”
Faith nodded but didn’t turn to look at her. “Yeah, you wanna go mix some bleach for me.”
The other girl nodded. “Fun. How light are we going?”
William’s eyes widened. “Wait. What?”
Faith turned to the other girl. “Light. Platinum.”
William shook his head. “No.”
I was nearly as surprised. “Really?”
Faith sent the other girl to get busy in the back and smirked. “And here is the trust part we were talking about.”
I was tempted to argue or make her reassure me, but I didn’t. Instead, I just nodded. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m always sure.”
William was not. He continued to shake his head and send me shocked, pleading glances. “No. I agreed to a haircut, not…not chemical processing. I’ll look like a freak.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. There is a double standard, isn’t there? I mean, I’ve been bleaching my hair since my early teens and before that I used lemon juice and no one has ever given me a hard time about it. For the record my hair was blonde when I was really small and then darkened to a lightish medium sort of brown so my bleaching only brings it back to its original color. It’s basically natural. The thing is, the only men I knew who colored their hair were gay. Still, Faith wasn’t pushing to the give him highlights, she was planning to turn my shy book guy into a sexy punk guy. That’s different, right? I mean there is nothing girly about that. I couldn’t picture it, but I had a good feeling about it. It was so much more extreme than anything I would have done on my own and that was a great thing. William needed something extreme.
Faith had pulled a pair of handcuffs out of a drawer while I wasn’t paying attention. She dangled them in front of William.
His eyes widened like a cartoon character showing surprise.
“Here’s the deal, handsome. We can use these now or you can be a good boy and let me finish your hair…and then I’ll let you take ‘em home. I’ll bet you two can come with lots of fun uses.”
I watched William swallow a few times and laughed. I wondered how many pairs of handcuffs the girl had at work and was truly glad that I’d had my own hair retouched before the trip. I’m more used to the kind of salon where they give you a glass of wine and a gay man catches you up on the celebrity gossip of the month while making you look as much like a holiday edition Barbie as possible. “I think it is going to look great.” I could barely look at him while saying it. I suck at lying. I was just as worried as he was.
Faith took my fidgeting to mean something else entirely. She grinned. “Look at you getting’ all ansty.” She turned back to William. “Bet she won’t even wait ‘till you get back to your place, Willy. She’s got fuck me in the cab written all over her face.”
I should have been insulted. I probably would have said something, but William beat me to the punch.
His eyes glared coldly. “Don’t call me Willy.”
“There it is.” Faith practically bounced. “I knew he was in there somewhere. Fuck! I’m getting goosebumps! Now, let me get to work wipin’ away the Willy.”

Two hours later I was staring at William’s reflection in the mirror and trying to remember how to stand up. My knees had gone all Jello. “Black.” I took one look at his new hairstyle and realized that we only needed one color in his new wardrobe.
He turned his head and looked at me with a furrowed brow. “You know that was not a sentence, right love?” He looked stunned. I already assured him it looked great, but I knew he was unconvinced.
“We need to dress you in black. All black.”
He frowned, but Faith agreed. “It’s classic for a reason, handsome.” She was still fussing with his hair and I was starting to get irritated. I mean, his hair was done—at that point she was just touching my William.
Oh, have we not discussed the fact that I was suddenly thinking of William as mine? Yeah. I know.
“If we’re all done.” I said quickly and while looking directly at Faith’s fingers on William’s neck.
She grinned far too broadly. “Yeah…we’re five by five.” She gave William one last look in the mirror before turning to me. “Get him some leather: a jacket or some pants…a leash.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop myself from laughing.
Faith freed William from the cape and chair and he followed her over to the cash register to pay. He tipped well despite having hated every moment of his time in the salon and I thanked Faith quite sincerely. I’d hated her touching him, but I couldn’t deny the results. My shy and rumpled William looked like a rock star. We were just about out the door when Faith yelled and ran over to us. She grinned and then clipped the handcuffs she’d used to threaten William on to his belt loop. She dangled a small chain with the key near his face and said, “Go easy on her the first couple of times.” She put the key in the pocket of his button down and gave it a pat. “Have fun, kiddos.”
I could feel my face growing hot as we walked outside. William turned to me. “We are done for today.”
I wanted to argue that we still had too much to do and that leaving it all for one day was a bad idea, but…William had finally put his foot down.
He barely spoke a word on the trip back to the hotel and when he got our room he walked directly to the first mirror and stared at his reflection. “I could shave it off. That’s the only sensible—”
I shook my head emphatically. “No. It looks really good.”
He turned and glared at me. “I’m not this person. You want me to be somebody that I can’t be.”
I lifted my hands and cupped his face. “No. I want you, just you, as you are.” I ran my hand over his gelled in place white spikes. “It’s just hair, sweetie. It doesn’t make you a different person.”
“I can’t pull this off.”
I pulled his glasses off. “You are pulling it off. Look again.” I pushed him to turn back to the mirror. “You look like Billy Idol. You want to know how many girls can resist Billy Idol? None. No girls can resist Billy Idol.”
“I’m nothing like him.”
I laughed. “No. He’s a maniac and you’re a sweetheart.” I handed him back his glasses. “If you can’t live with it, we can go find another salon—a gentler salon—and have them put some color on it. But it works…it really works for you.”
He looked at the mirror again quizzically. “You like it? Honestly?”
I nodded. “I do.” And I did, despite already missing the curls.
He sighed and bit his lip before turning to me and holding up the handcuffs. “Enough to let me try these out?”
I laughed and ignored the sudden throbbing between my legs. “I’m not really a playing with handcuffs kind of girl.”
“I’m not the type to wear this hair. But I’ll trust you…if you’ll trust me.” He gave the cuffs a little shake and pierced with me his eyes. “Do you trust me?”