"Uh…excuse me?” Kelsey said.

Brett tilted his head admiringly. "Take it off. Very, very slowly."

It actually took her a few seconds to get his meaning. “You want me to strip?”

“You have to get naked sooner or later."

"Hey, I put the stupid thing on. What more do you want?"

"To watch it come off."

She rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Kelsey. Where sex is concerned, have I ever wanted you to do anything that didn’t feel good?”

“Well…no.”

“Embarrassed you in any way?”

“Yes. About a million times.”

“Then there’s no problem. You have experience feeling awkward and self‑conscious.”

She put her fists on her hips. “I guess you're just like every other man on the planet.”

“How so?”

“You’re turned on by visual stimulation.”

“No argument there.” He looked her up and down with a gaze so hot it practically singed her. “So stimulate me.”

“So it's all about body parts?" she asked. "Are you seriously that shallow?”

“So there's nothing about my body you're fixated on?”

Was there anything about his body she wasn't fixated on? Whoever said women didn't get turned on by visual stimulation was a big, fat liar. She could look at him first thing in the morning when his hair was smooshed into a goofy Mohawk and he had pillow creases all over his face, and she still wanted to make love with him right then and there.

"I'm getting impatient," Brett said. "And impatience is not one of my finer qualities."

She tried to decide if he was just teasing her, but even at this distance, she could see his pupils, and they were huge. But she still had the feeling that somehow the joke would be on her. Suddenly she felt hot and squishy between her legs. What was it about this man that turned her on so damned much?

Okay, fine. She’d play the game. She reached up and flicked open the first button.

“That’s right,” he said, relaxing against the headboard. “You can do it. Just one button at a time.”

“Need some popcorn?” she asked.

“Nope. This isn't the kind of show you snack through. The last thing I want is to have my mouth full of something besides you.”

She flicked open another button. Then another. She wasn't really doing this, was she? Stripping? Weirdly enough, with every button she unfastened, she felt progressively stronger. More powerful. He was actually getting off on this.

She took a deep breath, pulled the bodice aside, and freed one breast, then the other. Brett tilted his head and touched his tongue to his bottom lip, as if she'd shown him a six pack of beer and a plate of wings and he was dying to dig in.

“Come here,” he said, in a deep, husky voice.

As she walked over to stand in front of him, he swung his feet around and sat up on the edge of the bed.

“Closer.”

She stood right next to his knees. He held out his hands. “Closer.”

She took his hands and he pulled her gently toward him, forcing her to put a knee on the bed next to his thigh to keep from toppling over. And there was only one place for her other knee to go. Beside his other thigh. All at once she was straddling his lap, her breasts inches from his face, feeling like a stripper in a sleazy nightclub.

“So what now?” she said, trying to act nonchalant. “Dollar bills?”

“Fresh out of dollar bills,” he said. “I’ll have to pay you another way.”

Brett put his hands on the outsides of her breasts and pressed them together gently. Then he leaned in and touched his tongue to one nipple, swirling it around. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, where she rested them as he licked and sucked her rock-hard nipples. She squeezed her eyes closed, her fingers digging into his shoulders, until she throbbed like a rain‑swollen river pounding against a dam. She felt wound so tightly she was afraid she was going to snap like a gigantic rubber band.

“Lap dance,” she said breathlessly. “You’re not supposed…to touch…the girls…"

“You’re my girl,” he said, his breath hot against her nipple. “I can touch you all I want to.”

My girl, my girl, my girl…

The words echoed over and over inside her head. Even though she truly believed he didn't care if she wore a gunny sack, the intensity of his gaze made her want to buy silk and satin and a fluffy pink feather boa and four-inch heels. Stupid girly stuff that would make her feel sexy even if all he really wanted was to see her naked.

A moment later, he eased her down on the bed, removed the thing, and made love to her slowly and completely, forcing her to experience every moment as if it was singular and special. And it was. Kelsey felt as if she was in a dream, as if she was seeing everything through a soft-focus lens. When he finally slid inside her, she gasped with pleasure, lifting her hips to take more of him, urging him to go faster, wanting to feel the same blinding speed they’d made love with so many times before. Instead, Brett stayed deep inside her for a moment, then eased out, then thrust inside again. Slowly. She groaned with frustration.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered.

She blinked, then opened her eyes to stare up at him. With every tantalizing, deep stroke, he watched her face. It felt so shockingly personal that she finally turned away, but he whispered her name and she turned back. An undulating pressure built up inside her, teasing, taunting, until a tidal wave of indescribable sensation washed over her. As she came, Brett picked up the pace, and seconds later, he let out a harsh groan of pleasure that reverberated between his body and hers.

Moments later, he fell to his side on the bed and pulled her against him, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead. She’d never felt anything like this. It was as if there was another person locked inside her, dying to get out, and Brett was the only one with the key. When she was with him, she felt free in a way she never had before. It took a while for her to finally breathe normally again.

“Remember when you threw my clothes out the window?” she said.

“How could I forget?”

She nodded toward the thing lying on the floor beside the bed. “I’m giving you permission to do it again.”

“No way. You’re wearing that every night.”

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “What have I done?”

“You’ve played to my baser instincts. There’s no going back now.”

Kelsey smiled to herself. Oddly enough, in spite of her protests, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back.

“I was talking to my brother last night," Brett said. “He and his wife want me to come over this weekend. They’re cooking out.”

“That’s nice.”

“They’ve invited you, too.”

Kelsey froze. “Me? Why?”

Brett sighed. “No offense, Kelsey, but for a smart woman, sometimes you ask the dumbest questions. Now, will you come or not?”

He was talking as if this was no big deal. But it was a big deal. A very, very big deal.

“Where do they live?” she asked, even though she knew.

“North White Plains. Only forty minutes by train."

“Are you sure you want me to come?”

“Of course. My brother told me to invite you.”

Kelsey froze. “You told your brother about me?”

“Is that so strange?”

She’d never considered that Brett might actually be talking about her to other people as if the two of them were a couple. And his family, no less. She’d seen them all on Facebook, and she had no doubt that being in the midst of Brett’s happy, rowdy family would be as foreign to her as being dropped on Mars.

She wanted to tell Brett she had other plans. Or that she got sick if she had to be on the train that long. Something. Anything. But he always seemed to know if she was lying or deluding herself, so why even try it?

She took a deep, silent breath. "Okay. I'll come. What day?"

"Sunday. I need to get back to Gianelli's before the evening crowd, but that will still give us three or four hours to visit.”

“Three or four hours?” She forced a smile. "Sounds great."

He smiled. "You're going to love my family."

She had no doubt about that. The question was, would they love her?

* * *

The next evening at Gianelli's, Kelsey sat at the bar with Angi, getting her first glimpse of Brett running the place. He maneuvered from the bar to the front door to the kitchen with apparent ease, and he had a smile for everyone. She remembered when she was a rookie cop, one of the old-timers told her that even if she was scared to death, she should never let anyone see her sweat. Brett didn't look as if he was sweating, so she took that as a good thing.

“Everything looks as if it’s running smoothly,” Kelsey told him, when he dropped by to say hi.

“It is,” Brett said, his chest rising and falling with a deep, calming breath. “But if feels different when it’s completely my responsibility.”

“Any problems so far?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Just then Paul swung by the bar to drop off an order. “Hello, ladies.”

‘Hi,” Angi said with a smile. “How late are you working this evening?”

“Ten o’clock,” he said, giving Brett a sidelong glance. “Unless my boss sees fit to let me go a few minutes early.”

Kelsey looked at Brett, whose congenial smile had fallen into a frown. “Let’s see how the crowd is as it gets closer to ten, okay?”

“Sure, boss,” Paul said offhandedly.

Brett glanced toward the door, then looked back at Paul. "So, Paul. Tell me how your ex-wife is doing."

"How would I know?" Paul said, grabbing a stack of cocktail napkins for his tray.

"So you're finally over her?"

He made a scoffing noise. "I never wasn't over her."

"Good. Because she just walked through the door."

Paul rolled his eyes. "Right. Like I'm going to fall for that again?"

"No, Paul," Angi said. "She's really here."

Kelsey turned to see a tall brunette woman standing at the entrance to the bar, her gaze slowly panning from one side of the room to the other. She wore a body-hugging dress that showcased every hill and valley and so much costume jewelry Kelsey was surprised she could still stand up. She zeroed in on Paul for a count of three, staring at him with the intensity of a missile locked onto its target, then turned away dismissively. Paul looked as if he was choking to death.

A nondescript guy in his late twenties stood beside her, looking a like a dog waiting for his mistress's command. She yanked his invisible leash and he followed her to a table by the wall. He pulled out her chair, then hustled around to sit beside her.

"So that's her?" Kelsey whispered to Angi.

"Yep," Angi whispered back. "That's Tamara. The melon baller."

"She sat in my section," Paul said, a hint of panic in his voice. "What do I do now?"

"You might try taking her drink order," Brett said.

Andrea swept by. “Don’t worry,” she told Paul. “I’ll take that table.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Unless you want it because you’re still hung up on her.”

“I’m not hung up on her!” he said in a loud stage whisper.

Andrea smiled and kept on walking. Paul's eyebrows drew together with irritation. "But I don’t get it. That's a guy with her."

"Congratulations,” Angi said. "You can tell one sex from another."

Tamara leaned toward her date, running her fingertip up and down his arm, acting as if she was giving him her undivided attention. But the sidelong glances she threw in Paul's direction told Kelsey her attention was directed elsewhere.

"Hey," Angi said to Paul.

He continued to stare.

"Hey," Angi said.

He didn't so much as flick an eyelash.

Angi slapped his arm with the back of her hand. "Hey!"

Paul whipped around. "What?"

"Why are you staring at her?"

"I'm not."

"Right. If you stare at her any harder, your eyeballs are going to explode. Why don't you just admit you still have a thing for her?"

"I do not! Why does everybody keep saying that?"

"Uh…because you can't seem to stuff your exploding eyeballs back into your head?"

"I just wonder who that guy is, that's all."

"She's just trying to make you jealous."

Paul's eyebrows lifted. "Yeah? You think?"

Angi frowned. "You might try not being happy about that."

"I'm not! I divorced her!"

"Technically, she divorced you."

"Well, okay. So why would she want to make me jealous?"

"I don't know." Then Angi looked at him speculatively. "Why don't you go over there and beat up the guy she’s with? I bet that would really piss her off."

At the mere mention of Tamara flying off the handle, Paul swallowed hard, looking flushed. Kelsey was starting to think Angi’s theory about sexual excitement stemming from fear might have some merit. Kelsey would bet ten bucks he had an erection, but the last thing she wanted to do was look down to see if she was right.

Then Paul snapped out of his trance. “I don’t want to beat anybody up,” he said angrily. “And I’m not still hung up on her. It’s you and me, babe. That's all I want."

With that, he grabbed Angi by the shoulders and gave her a deep, hot kiss that made most of the people in the bar turn and stare, Tamara included. “Now, the next time you tell me I have a thing for my ex-wife,” he said, “you think about that.” Then he stormed off to the kitchen.

Angi sat there, stunned. "Did he just kiss me?"

“Uh…yeah.”

"No. He didn’t just kiss me. He kissed me in public. We've talked about that. That means something.” She paused. “It does mean something, doesn’t it?”

Yes, that kiss had meant something. It meant Paul still had a tragically advanced case of the hots for his ex-wife and he wanted to play the jealousy game right along with her. But Kelsey could see Angi liked Paul just a little more than he really deserved.

“The other night,“ Angi said, “he told me he’d never felt as comfortable around a woman as he felt around me. That has to mean something too, right?”

Kelsey resisted the urge to groan. Yeah, that meant something, too. It meant he’d finally found a woman who didn’t mind if he sat around in his underwear, watching TV with a beer in his hand. Angi’s eyes had always been wide open where men were concerned. So why had she suddenly gone blind?

For the next half hour, the game continued. Tamara kissed her date, practically chewing his face off, while Paul pretended to give his total attention to Angi in between taking orders and delivering drinks. Brett buzzed around the bar, chatting with customers and keeping things moving, but he kept an eye on Paul the whole time. Kelsey could see she wasn’t the only one who thought this thing could blow up in a way that would go down in Gianelli’s history.

"Look at that," Kelsey said. "What's going on now?"

Angi whipped around just as Tamara, who'd risen from her table, was walking toward Paul. She stopped in front of him, leaned in, and said something in his ear. He backed away, his eyes wide with shock.

With a smug expression, Tamara strode down the hall and disappeared into the ladies' room.

"What do you think she said to him?" Kelsey asked.

"Probably had something to do with the damned melon baller," Angi grumbled. "I'm telling you, the woman's unhinged. What do men see in a woman like her?”

“Got me.”

“When they were getting divorced, they fought over who was going to get to keep their cat. She said if they couldn’t decide, then maybe they should split him down the middle. Paul said he wasn’t completely sure she was just overstating the issue to make a point, so he gave her the cat.”

Angi told Kelsey a few more stories about just how pathologically twisted Tamara was. Even if Paul wasn’t as twisted, did Angi really want to get involved with a guy who had that kind of baggage?

Kelsey looked around. “I haven’t seen Paul for a while. Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. Smoke break?”

“Probably.”

Then they heard a woman scream.

Angi whipped around. “What was that?”

“It came from the bathroom,” Kelsey said. They jumped off their barstools and ran down the hall. Just as they reached the door to the ladies' room, a woman burst out. Then she turned around and shouted back inside.

"You're not supposed to be in there, you pervert!" She turned around to Kelsey and Angi. "Don't go in. There's a man in there. With a woman. And they're…oh, God. Right there in the bathroom stall!"

As the woman hurried away, Kelsey and Angi ran inside to find Paul leaning against the wall, his face orgasm-red. Half his shirt tail was untucked, and his pants were unzipped. Tamara was leaning across the sink, her skirt hiked up almost to her ass, nonchalantly touching up her lipstick in the bathroom mirror.

Brett burst through the door. "What the hell is going on in here?"

"Nothing," Paul said, still breathing hard.

"Nothing? Really?”

Tamara sashayed out the door, tossing Angi an evil victory smile. Paul’s gaze followed every slutty shift of her hips as she went.

"Hey!" Brett said.

Paul whipped around.

"My office," Brett snapped. "Now!"

He turned to leave, and Paul followed after him. Brett turned back. "Will you zip it?"

"Hey, I didn't say a word!"

"Your pants, Paul!"

"Oh." Paul followed Brett out of the bathroom, zipping his jeans as he went. And he didn't so much as toss a single glance at Angi on his way out.

Angi stood in the middle of the bathroom, staring after him, an expression of shock on her face. “Did they just do what I think they did?”

“Looks that way,” Kelsey said.

Angi went to the sink and washed her hands for no apparent reason, except that she clearly needed something to do with them that didn't involve wrapping them around Paul's neck. But as the seconds passed, Kelsey could see her homicidal urges taking a backseat to another emotion entirely.

"Are you okay?" Kelsey asked.

Angi grabbed a paper towel. "I'm fine," she said, a little too cheerfully. "I mean, it wasn't as if I didn't know he was still hung up on his crazy-ass ex-wife, right? It was only a matter of time before they both ended up back in Dysfunction Junction."

"He's not worth getting upset over," Kelsey said.

"I know. He's scum." Angi rubbed her hands with a paper towel. She tossed that one, then yanked out another one and went at it again. "That seems perfectly obvious now. So why did I get involved with him in the first place?"

"Sex?"

Angi shrugged weakly. "That wasn't even all that great. So what was the point?" She tossed the second paper towel in the trash and leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh. “Just how big an idiot am I, anyway?”

“You’re not. Paul’s the idiot.”

Angi flicked her gaze toward the door. "What do you suppose Brett is saying to him?"

“With luck, he won’t say anything. He’ll just take him out back and shoot him.”

“I’ll help him hide the body.”

“And I’ll be your alibi. Together I think the three of us can pull it off.”

A tiny smile flickered on Angi’s lips. Then her gaze softened, and she tilted her head. “Brett's a good guy, you know? Better than I thought.”

Oh, yeah. Kelsey knew exactly what Angi was talking about. How many times had she made assumptions about Brett that had turned out to be dead wrong?

"Yeah. He is."

“You two are seeing a lot of each other."

“Uh-huh.”

“So is it serious?”

Just the word sent shivers of hope right down Kelsey's spine. Just as quickly, she slapped herself for it. The moment she started thinking good things were going to happen, the universe conspired against her and turned everything upside down. It had happened all her life. Why would this time be any different?

“What do you mean by ‘serious’?” she asked Angi.

“You know. Are you exclusive? Are you allowed to see other people?”

Kelsey pondered that for a moment. “I don’t know. We’ve never talked about it.” She paused. "He wants me to meet his family.”

Angi's mouth fell open. “Holy crap. It is serious!”

“Maybe he just wants company on the train to White Plains,” Kelsey said.

“That's only a forty‑minute ride. I imagine he can entertain himself that long.”

“Maybe it's one of those things where his grandmother is dying and she always wanted him to settle down, so he wants to make her think he's seeing somebody, when really--”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Kelsey sighed. “I don't know. It's all just so weird.”

“You think he can't like you that much. That he's just out for a good time. That there must be a punch line somewhere. It's coming soon, and when it does…bam!”

That was it exactly. That was how she'd felt about this whole thing from the very beginning. She shrugged weakly. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Well, knock it off. You're one of the best people I know. Brett's lucky you even give him the time of day.”

“You're my friend. You're supposed to say that.”

“I mean it. He may be hot, but you have substance.”

“Right. Next you're going to say I have a good personality.”

“Uh…no. I love you like a sister, but good personality is pushing it.” Angi let out a sigh. “I think I’m envious.”

"Of what?"

"You and Brett."

“Why? I thought you weren't really looking for Mr. Right."

Angi shrugged weakly. "I'm keeping one eye open."

"Why the change of heart?"

"I don’t know. You're just acting all different these days. Makes me think I’m missing something. Maybe that’s why I tried to make Paul into something he wasn’t.”

“I’m not acting different.”

“Oh, yes, you are,” Angi said. “If we were in junior high, you’d be doodling Brett’s name on all your notebooks. It’s because you’re happy. I’ve never seen you happy before.”

“That’s crap.”

“No, it isn’t. You’re one of those people who always seems kinda…I don’t know. Glum?”

Kelsey thought about that, and she could see how Angi had a point. But in the past few weeks, she hadn’t felt that way at all. In fact, she’d felt the opposite of glum. If that was happy, that was how she felt. And it was because of Brett.

But what if she’d been right in the first place? What if this wasn’t the real thing? This could just be his modus operandi with every woman he dated. And when he got bored, he moved on. If that happened, how would she ever deal with it?

"I think I'm going home now," Angi said.

"Want me to come along? Keep you company?"

"Nah. I’ll pick up a quart of triple chocolate fudge ice cream. Once I'm in a sugar coma, everything will be just fine again."

Kelsey wasn't remotely a touchy feely kind of person, but she found herself stepping forward to give Angi a hug.

"Paul's an ass,” she said. “You're too good for him."

"Damn right I am." Then she looked at Kelsey with disbelief. "Did you just hug me?"

"Yeah."

"I don't get you anymore."

"I know. I don't get me, either. Is that a bad thing?"

"No," Angi said with a smile. "It's a good thing. Really good."

They walked out of the ladies' room. Angi left the bar, and Kelsey sat back down again. From what she could see, the melon baller had evidently decided she'd caused enough havoc for one night, so she'd left. Her date had cleared out with her. The bartenders and the rest of the staff were whispering among themselves, undoubtedly voicing their opinions about the advisability of sex in the workplace.

As for Paul and Brett, they were nowhere to be seen. Kelsey only hoped Brett had the nerve to make Paul’s punishment fit his crime.

* * *

Paul slouched on the tattered sofa in Brett's office, one leg hiked over the arm, still flushed from his encounter with Tamara. Brett sat on the edge of his desk with his arms folded, trying to get a grip on his anger.

"Paul? Were you actually having sex with your ex-wife in the ladies' room?"

Paul gave him an innocent look. "Now, what in the world makes you say that?"

"I need an answer."

Paul rolled his eyes. "Yes, boss. I was having sex in the ladies' room. And it was fucking amazing, if you'll pardon the pun. Whew. Tell me again why I divorced that woman?"

"Are you completely out of your mind?"

"Yeah. Why I agreed to that divorce, I'll never know."

"I'm talking about having sex in the ladies' room!"

Paul frowned. "Hey, I seem to remember your story about the time you joined the Mile High Club. Evidently I'm not the only one who likes to do it in bathrooms."

"I was nineteen years old," Brett said, trying to keep a lid on his anger. "And I didn't work for the airline."

"Small difference if you ask me."

"Are you kidding? The woman who walked in on you is already telling everyone that the ladies’ room at Gianelli's isn't safe to enter unless you like live sex shows!”

“Oh, come on, Brett," Paul snapped. "Who doesn't like sex shows?”

Brett couldn’t believe this. "Angi saw you in that bathroom. How do you feel about that?"

Paul shrugged offhandedly. "We weren't exclusive."

"So you don't think it bothered her at all to walk in on you doing your ex-wife in a bathroom stall?"

"Like I said, I'm a free agent."

"Good God, what's the matter with you?"

"I can't believe you're making a big deal out of this."

Brett hated confrontation more than just about anything on earth, but something had to be done about this. Paul had been screwing off for a long time now, thinking nobody would do anything about it. Well, maybe Jerry wouldn't, but he wasn't there, and Brett had to manage this place however he saw fit. He didn't care what the repercussions were with the rest of the staff. He'd deal with that later. But for now, enough was enough.

"You're right, Paul," he said. "You are a free agent, and in more ways than one."

"Huh?"

"You're fired.”