Mark saw three women and two men gathered in Liz's living room. One of the women was Sherri. The man next to her was about Sherri’s age, blond and buff, looking as if he'd just climbed down off a lifeguard stand. The other two women were seventy if they were a day. And the other guy was maybe forty, wearing a short-sleeved plaid shirt and a sweater vest. They all had open books in front of them. And not just any books.

Bibles?

Liz lunged for her T-shirt and scrambled back into it. One of the older ladies leaned toward the other, her eyes never leaving Mark and Liz. "Are they going to fornicate?" she whispered.

Fornicate? Mark hadn't heard that word spoken out loud since he was nine years old and Brother Askew of the First Baptist Church of Waldon Springs, Tennessee had shared the word of the Lord on that particular subject.

"Liz!" Sherri said, her brows pulled together with phony condemnation. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Liz yanked the tail of her T-shirt over her hips. "Get real, Sherri. I'm pretty darned sure I don't have to explain sex to you."

The old ladies shared a look that said, Oh, my. They are going to fornicate!

"Don't worry," Sherri said. "They were just leaving."

"Sherri…" Liz said, dragging out her name with a warning tone at the same time she flicked her eyes at Mark. "We have plans."

"Liz…" Sherri said with the same warning tone, flicking her eyes toward the blond guy. "We're worshipping the Lord."

"Oh, come on, Sherri! This is silly. Don't you think it's about time to tell him—"

"No!" Sherri shoved her chair back and leaped to her feet. "Leviticus...uh, whatever," she said to the group. "Read and discuss." She hurried over to Liz. "What are you doing here?" she whispered. "I told you I was hosting Bible study tonight! You said it was okay!"

She’d forgotten all about that. How could she have forgotten?

”I shouldn't have said it was okay,” Liz whispered back. "I should have told you again to stop acting like you're somebody you're not!"

"But I'm making progress. Kevin likes me!"

"He likes Saint Sherri. What's he going to do when Sinner Sherri comes out to play?"

"With luck I'll uncover a little lust in his heart."

"I have a little lust in my own heart right now," Liz said. "We'll just go to my bedroom and—"

"No!" Sherri whispered. "We can't have a Bible study with you messing around in the next room. You have to go!"

Mark didn't get any of this. He only knew that they could add his name to the list of people in the room whose lust was overflowing their heart.

"Oh, all right," Liz said. She turned to Mark. "We'll go to your place. Is that okay?"

"Uh…sure."

Sherri smiled, pointing back and forth between them. "So…are you guys finally seeing each other?"

"We're trying to," Liz said snapped. "But these damned clothes are getting in the way."

"Get naked at Mark's. I have work to do."

"We'll talk tomorrow," Liz said, flicking her gaze to the blond guy again. "And you know what I mean by that."

"Sure," Sherri said, making a shooing gesture with her hands. "'Bye, now."

Liz picked her keys up off the floor and stuck them in her purse. Mark picked up the sack he'd dropped, and they left the apartment. Sherri shut the door behind them.

"Not sure I followed all that," Mark said.

"Sorry," Liz said sheepishly. "I'll explain it in the car."

They went down the stairs and opened the door to leave the building. Just then a flash of lightning zigzagged across the sky, followed by a roaring clap of thunder. Liz stopped short. "Uh oh. Do you think God's trying to tell us something?"

"What I think is that we'd better get in the car before this rain hits."

Mark flicked the door locks on his car. They jumped inside and closed the doors behind them.

And then the rain came.

From one moment to the next, it went from a sprinkle or two here and there to buckets full. Blinding sheets of it. It was a rainstorm of Biblical proportions that even the ark couldn't have withstood.

"I stand corrected," Mark said. "God's talking loud and clear."

He started the car and left the parking lot, making a right onto Porter Avenue. He flipped the wipers to high, but he was still having a hard time seeing through the windshield.

"So tell me what's going on with Sherri," he said.

"Oh, yeah. Sherri. The whole church thing. It's just desperation."

"What do you mean?"

"A month or so ago she found out her boyfriend was seeing another woman. She drank a whole bottle of Chardonnay and Googled, How do I meet men who aren't lying, cheating scumbags? There was an article at DatingTips.com about meeting men at church. She thought it sounded like a good idea."

"Because godly men don't cheat?"

"Exactly."

"Does she like going to church?"

"Only if there are eligible men there."

"Men she wants to have sex with."

"Yes."

"Premarital sex."

"Uh huh."

"And she expects to meet them at church."

"Believe it or not."

"I'm looking for the logic in that. Not finding it."

"Finally. Somebody who sees the Catch 22 besides me." She reached over the console and rested her hand on Mark's thigh. "Wish your condo was closer."

She had no idea how much he wished that, too. He tried to play it cool, as if beautiful women touched him all day long, but when the heat of her palm soaked through his slacks right to his skin, he didn't know how much more nonchalance he had in him.

Then she wasn't just resting her hand on him. She was moving it. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. He gritted his teeth and tried to concentrate on driving, but it was a damned hard thing to do when every nerve in his body felt like a bowstring ready to snap. Then his vision went wonky for a moment, as if blood wasn't getting to his head. He veered into the lane beside him and almost sideswiped a FedEx truck. He yanked the steering wheel back at the last second, letting out a breath of relief.

"Oops," Liz said. "Bad idea. Guess I'd better keep my hands to myself. What's the point of having all those condoms if we end up in a fiery crash?"

"Wise woman."

"How about I talk dirty instead?"

It was official. They were going to die.

For the next several minutes, Liz explained—in exquisite detail—exactly what she wanted to do to him the moment they went inside his condo and shut the door. Lightning sizzled across the sky. Thunder crashed. Rain pummeled the car. It was as if her sex talk had its own movie soundtrack. He'd never met a woman so open and spontaneous and uninhibited, who didn't waste a moment's thought on what the rest of the world thought of her. He couldn't even imagine what that might feel like, but he had the feeling that if he let some of her personality rub off on him, his life would be better in a hundred different ways.

Finally Mark rounded the corner and pulled into a parking space at his condo complex. "We'll have to make a run for it to the door. I have an umbrella, but we're still liable to get drenched."

"That's okay," she said cheerfully. "Maybe I'll shrink."

"Wait there and I'll come around to let you out."

As Liz grabbed the Dildeaux sack, Mark reached behind the seat for the umbrella. Keys in hand, he paused, gathering his resolve, then flung open the driver's door, whooshed the umbrella open, and stepped out. He slammed the door behind him and started around the car, his shoes swishing through a sheet of water. He didn't know why he was even holding the umbrella. Rain seemed to be coming at him from all sides, drenching his clothes. He trotted to the passenger door, only to realize he'd parked beside a storm drain.

Crap.

Rainwater was sweeping through the parking lot and gushing into the drain. He tried to put his keys into his pocket, but his pants were wet, which made it pretty much impossible. So he swapped his keys to the same hand he held the umbrella with and opened Liz's door. He leaned in and reached for her hand.

"Be careful stepping over the drain," he shouted over the storm.

Liz nodded. She swung her legs out, and Mark took her hand. She stepped over the drain and onto the sidewalk. In that moment, a gust of wind nearly tore the umbrella out of his hand. Tightening his grip, he held onto the umbrella.

And dropped his keys.

"Uh oh," he said.

"What's the matter?" Liz shouted.

"I dropped my keys. Hold this." He handed Liz the umbrella, and she held it over both of them as he crouched down. He looked under the car and all around the storm drain.

They were nowhere to be seen.

But that made no sense. They had to be somewhere. There was a grate over the drain, which should have stopped his keys from falling into it.

Unless, of course, they landed exactly the wrong way.

With a creeping sense of foreboding, he kept looking, trying to postpone admitting the truth, until finally he couldn't any longer.

They'd washed down the storm drain.

He stood up and took the umbrella from Liz. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he guided her to door leading to the lobby of his building and went inside. When he made no move to go up the stairs, she looked up at him questioningly.

"My keys went down the storm drain," he said.

Liz looked at him dumbly. "What?"

"I dropped them when I was helping you out of the car."

"But there's a grate over the drain."

"I know," Mark said, cursing his luck. "I don't get it either. They must have landed just right."

“Or wrong. Can't we fish them out?"

"As fast as the water is moving, they're already halfway to the Atlantic by now."

"I'm assuming you're not one of those guys who keeps a key under his welcome mat," Liz said. "Any old criminal knows that ruse, right?"

"Right."

“Okay. Just so I have this straight, are you saying that unless one of us knows how to pick a lock, we can't get into your condo?”

"That's right."

"So what do we do now?"

He didn't know. He only knew he was standing with Liz on one side of a locked door with his king-sized bed and nirvana on the other. Was there any way for this night to get any worse? Any way at all?

He grabbed his phone. "There's no management on site after hours, but I can call the emergency number. With luck there'll be somebody who can let us in."

They sat on a nearby bench and Mark dialed the number. As expected, his call flipped to voice mail and he left a message. When five minutes passed and nobody returned the call, he called again. Got voice mail again.

He let out a sigh of dejection. "I wonder why they even call that an emergency number if nobody's going to get back to you."

"It's okay," Liz said. "Really. We can just wait a while and then go back to my apartment."

"And what should we drive to get there?"

"What do you mean? We can just—" She slumped with dismay. "Oh."

"House key, car key—same ring. I do have a spare, though. Guess where it is?"

"Inside your apartment?"

He dropped his head to his hands. "God, what a mess."

"Hey, don't sweat it. This is no big deal."

"No big deal?" he said, looking up again. "I wanted this night to be perfect, and look what happened."

"Nah. Perfection is boring. This is worth the story."

"Huh?"

"Whenever something like this happens, you have to live through it, but then you also have a great story you can tell for the rest of your life. The crazier the event, the better the story."

That was a nice sentiment, but the only story Mark wanted either of them telling about tonight was how wonderful their "first date" had been, but it looked as if it was going to be more Three Stooges than Love Story.

"No," he said suddenly. "I'm not taking this lying down."

"What?"

"I promise you, Liz. This night is not lost."

Mark slapped his palms against his soggy thighs and stood up, grabbed his phone and started Googling.

---

For the next few minutes, Mark did so much poking around on his phone that Liz was sure his fingertips were rubbed raw. She thought she was a pro with a phone keyboard, but he left her in the dust. After several minutes, he returned to sit next to her, telling her an Uber car was on the way. By the time it arrived a few minutes later, the pounding rain had subsided to a heavy drizzle.

After they climbed into the backseat, Liz took out her phone. "Let me text Sherri to see if Bible study is over yet."

"Not necessary."

"Oh, yeah it is. I'm not walking in on that again."

"We won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because," Mark said, "we're not going back to your apartment."

He leaned over the seat and gave the driver instructions so quietly Liz couldn't hear what he said, then sat back with a smug expression.

"So are you going to tell me where we're going?" she asked him.

"Nope. It's a surprise."

A few minutes later, the driver got on I-95. When they passed by Coconut Grove, she said, "We're heading toward downtown."

"It appears so."

"So is that where we're going? Downtown?"

"Looks that way, doesn't it?"

"Are we or aren't we going downtown?"

"Yes."

"Yes we are, or yes we're not?"

"One of the two."

Liz's mouth twisted with irritation. "Thanks for clarifying that for me."

"Are you always this nosy?"

"Uh…have you met me?"

Mark just smiled.

"Oh! I know what's going on here! You're an evil genius and you're kidnapping me and taking me to your lair." She leaned in and kissed his neck. "Mmm. Just imagine all the terrible things you're going to have to do to me to make me talk."

"I don't have to do terrible things to make you talk. That comes naturally."

She jerked away from him. "Mark! You're driving me crazy!"

"You're already crazy."

"Oh, no. That's just routine crazy. You haven't seen anything yet." Liz looked at the driver. "Hey! Where are we going?"

"Sorry, ma'am," he said, looking in the rearview mirror. "I've been instructed not to tell you that."

Liz flashed him one of her trademark sunny smiles. "There's a big tip waiting for you if you do."

"There's a bigger tip waiting for you if you don't," Mark said.

Liz sat back in her seat and glared at him. "Oh, never mind. You're impossible."

"Patience is a virtue."

"Screw patience. I'm more of an instant gratification kind of girl."

Mark smiled again but wouldn't budge.

It wasn't long before they'd passed most of the way through downtown, and the car still wasn't stopping. Then the driver exited 95 and got onto 395, and Liz came to attention. A few minutes later they were on the MacArthur Causeway. And at the end of that causeway…

"South Beach? We're going to South Beach?"

She felt a buzzy excitement in her stomach, which multiplied a few minutes later when the driver exited the causeway and turned onto Ocean Drive. On one side of the road was a row of South Beach shops and hotels, and on the other was the Atlantic Ocean. Night had fallen, and the bright neon lights of the Art Deco District shone in the distance.

But what were they doing there?

Her question was answered a few seconds later when the driver turned onto a brick drive outside a beautifully restored hotel, and Liz sucked in a breath of pure rapture.

The Cavanaugh Hotel?

Rich people stayed at the Cavanaugh. Filthy rich people. And celebrities. And people who were famous just for being famous, who were the most famous people of all. She was pretty sure even presidents had stayed there. It combined a South Beach vibe with old world charm, and Liz thought it was quite possibly the most beautiful place she'd ever seen.

"The Cavanaugh?" she said. "I love this hotel!"

"You've stayed here?"

"No way. I’d never be able to afford a place like this. Sherri and I were walking along Ocean Drive one day and ducked in there to use the bathroom. Did you know the ladies' room has cloth towels and bidets?"

"I got us a room for the night. What do you think?"

She wound her arms around Mark's neck. "I think you're amazing," she said, and gave him a kiss that said so. "It has to be expensive, though. Really expensive."

"Don't care."

"Are you sure?"

"Too many things have gone wrong tonight," Mark said. "From this moment on, everything's going to be perfect."

After he paid the driver, the doorman opened their door. They stepped out, and he started to shut it behind them.

"Wait!" Mark said.

He opened the door again, climbed into the backseat, and grabbed the sack from Dildeaux.

"Whew," Liz said. "That was close."

Mark handed it to her. "Hold onto it while I check in. Do not let go of it."

She smiled. "Not a chance."

Ten minutes later, they'd checked in and were heading to their room. When Mark opened the door, Liz nearly fainted. Room? This wasn't just a room.

It was a one-bedroom suite.

Quirky art deco furniture and accessories filled the living room and dining room, which were framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the Atlantic. They walked through shuttered doors into a bedroom, where the king-size bed was piled with gorgeous linens that probably cost more than she made in a month. And the bathroom had a rain shower and a Jacuzzi tub for two. On the back of the door, two big, fluffy terrycloth robes hung on vintage brass hooks.

"I don't believe it," she said. "It's…it's…"

"Do you like it?"

"Like it? I love it!" She turned a slow circle. "Okay, this is the place where they charge you to breathe the air."

"Breathe all you want to. Tonight's on me."

"You freaked out at Sunrise Square, and now you bring me here?"

"Funny how things change, isn't it?"

She looked up at him with a sly smile. "Why, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me into bed."

"That's what I like about you, Liz. You're a smart woman."

Mark leaned in to kiss her, when all the sudden she caught sight of herself in the dresser mirror.

"Aaargh!"

Mark's backed away, his eyes flying open wide. "What?"

"Look at me! I look like I crawled out of a swamp!"

Mark let out a breath. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"No. I looked in the mirror and scared the hell out of me."

Her hair hung in skinny strings along her face, and she had mascara raccoon rings under her eyes. Her clothes were only half dry, so they were sticking to various parts of her body like wadded-up crepe paper.

"Stop worrying," Mark said. "You look beautiful."

"I know you think you're supposed to say that, but…" She waved her hand toward the mirror. "Really, Mark? Really?"

He took her by the shoulders. "Let me explain something. I'm usually a very patient man. Always have been. I pride myself on it. But right about now, I'm pretty much at the end of my rope. I want you naked. Now."

Naked. That meant she had to stand in front of him and wiggle out of these wet jeans that were stuck to her legs like Saran wrap. She wasn't the most graceful person on her best day, so how was she supposed to look sexy and alluring doing that?

Mark leaned in again for a kiss. Liz held up a finger. "Hold that thought."

"What?"

She eased out of his grip and backed away. "I need to freshen up a little."

"No, you don't."

"Oh, but I do. Five minutes."

"Liz—"

"Okay, maybe ten minutes, but that's all. I promise."

Then she disappeared into the bathroom.

---

Mark flopped on the sofa, feeling as if he'd been on a roller coaster tonight, going up toward the height of ecstasy, then down to the depths of frustration.

When he booked the room on the Cavanaugh Hotel website, he scrolled down past the Silver rooms with king beds, past the Gold rooms with an additional sitting area, and headed straight for the Diamond Suite. When he saw how much it cost for the privilege of staying in it, he nearly choked. But then he remembered how Liz told him it was time he acted like a successful man, to spend his money on things that were important to him. And nothing was more important than turning this mess of an evening into a romantic getaway that put a smile on her face. This was the most elegant hotel within fifty miles, so this was where he wanted to take her.

He heard a noise coming from the bathroom. A blow dryer? Why didn't she understand that he didn't care if her hair was wet or dry? Hell, right about then she could go bald and he wouldn't give a damn. Then he heard water running, and his frustration ran wild all over again. The Jacuzzi tub? She was taking a bath? Good Lord—how long was that going to take?

Four long minutes later, she turned the water off. He heard a little splashing. With a sigh of irritation, he picked up a magazine off the coffee table, only to toss it down a few seconds later.

Then he heard his text tone. He grabbed his phone. Liz?

Why are you sitting out there?

He replied, I’m waiting for you.

A few seconds later came her reply. The wait is over. Come here.

Mark's heart turned a somersault. He swallowed hard and stood up, composed himself, and walked to the bathroom door. He turned the knob and slowly pushed it open. And what he saw made every nerve in his body hum with anticipation.

The only illumination the room came from a pair of sconces that gave off a warm, golden light and cast an ethereal glow around the room. The Jacuzzi tub was full of bubbles. And in the midst of them, like an earthbound angel, sat Liz.

She stared up at him, her hair swept into a loose knot at the crown of her head, with slender red tendrils spiraling down her cheeks that shimmered in the candlelight. Bubbles clung to her chest like a sparkling white evening gown, dipping low into the tantalizing hollow between her breasts. She met his gaze with a sweet smile that was more enticing to him than any come-hither stare could possibly have been. Jut the sight of her in that tub made his heart beat so wildly he seriously wondered if her body could withstand the assault.

"Bubbles?" Mark said.

"You wouldn't believe what's in that cabinet over there." She swished her hands through the water. "There's room in here for two."

Yes.

With his eyes never leaving hers, he unbuttoned his cuffs, then the length of his shirt. When he pulled it off and tossed it aside, a slow, sexy smile spread across her face.

"Very nice," she murmured. "Keep going."

He loved the sound of her voice, tempting, taunting, and full of desire. He unbuttoned his slacks, then paused. "Don't laugh."

Her smile dimmed. "Uh—Mark? Those are not words a woman wants to hear when a man is removing his pants."

"Just apologizing in advance."

When he finally took them off, it was a good thing he'd warned her not to laugh, because he could tell she was on the verge of it. Why had he worn these damned purple boxers? It looked as if Barney the Dinosaur had crawled into his pants.

Liz grinned. "Eddie talked you into those, didn't he?"

"Yes," Mark said with disgust. "He said bold colors, even if they're hidden, give a man confidence. I think he needs to stick to the outer man."

"I like them," Liz said. "Can I see how they look on the bathroom floor?"

Oh, yeah. No problem there. He'd throw them out the sixth story window if that was what it took to get in that bathtub with Liz. It had been a hell of an evening, but if it could end like this, every single second had been worth it.

Then he saw something he hadn't noticed before. Liz had hung up her jeans to dry on the silver fire sprinkler head near the door.

"Hold on," he said. "That's not a good idea."

"What?"

"Hanging those up there. I read once about a bride who hung her wedding dress on one of those and set it off. Made a huge mess." He laughed a little. "That's the last thing we need tonight."

He reached for the jeans. Pulled them down.

And set off the sprinkler.

He threw up his arm to ward off the spray, only to realize that was like getting hit by Niagara Falls and expecting not to get wet. In a shockingly short period of time, it drenched the floor, the walls, the sinks, the towels, the bathrobes. Everything in the room, including the two of them, was soaked.

"Mark!" Liz shouted. "Oh, my God! Do something!"

He was doing something. He was trying like hell not to drown.

Then the fire alarm went off, and all hell broke loose.