Liz's first thought when she woke the next morning was that her eyes were open but she was still dreaming, because Mark's arms were wrapped around her and she was snuggled right next to him, her back pressed against his chest and her backside pressed against...other things.

Last night came back to her in bits and pieces. Slipping out of the last of their clothes. Endlessly kissing and touching. Mark easing her to her back and rising above her, his dark eyes fixed on hers. Finally joining together so perfectly it couldn't possibly have been real.

Wanting him so much her heart overflowed with it.

As she lay there, still half asleep, her mind flashed to the possibility of a future together. She saw herself waking up beside him not just on this morning, but on many mornings to come. She'd always been a woman with her head in the clouds who needed to come back to earth now and again, and a strong, kind, sensible, dependable man like Mark would give her life the balance it needed. He would be yang to her yin and make her feel warm and safe and protected forever.

He stirred beside her. When she rolled over and he pulled her up next to him, she had the most amazing feeling that heaven wasn't in the clouds at all, but in this bed with the man she loved.

Loved?

No. Too soon. Too soon.

She couldn't think about that now. She'd think about it tomorrow, when her mind wasn't lost in the feel of Mark's body against hers, when she had her head on straight and she could be absolutely certain that the "L" word really was love and not just lust.

---

Half an hour later, Liz and Mark rose from bed. He was happy that Sherri and Kevin were nowhere to be seen, which meant he and Liz finally had the apartment to themselves.

He offered to help her make breakfast, but she sat him down at the kitchen table, gave him a mug of coffee, and told him to stay put. She wanted him to save his energy, she said with a wink and a quick kiss, then buzzed around the kitchen like a bee around a hive. She moved pots and utensils and various food items around in a way that seemed haphazard, but somehow eggs were cooking, along with bacon and biscuits and gravy, and he was basking once again in the joy of being with a woman who actually liked to eat, who didn't toss a dried-up bagel on a plate and call it breakfast.

Actually, he was basking in the joy of a lot of things right then. Just watching her move around the kitchen with that wild auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders and those gorgeous long legs of hers flowing out from beneath that short little robe she wore made him want her all over again.

After they finished breakfast, the management at Mark's condo complex finally returned his call and agreed to meet him in an hour to give him another key.

"How about this?" Mark said as he hung up. "We'll go to my condo, get the new key, and I'll put on some clothes that didn't spend the night on the bathroom floor.”

“Put on clothes?” she said with a sparkling smile. “Why bother?”

Mark loved the sound of that.

“Assuming we stop by a drugstore first,” Liz said.

"Don't worry. That's at the top of my to-do list."

Liz went to her bedroom to get dressed. While she was gone, Mark sat at the kitchen table, finishing the rest of his coffee, loving the feeling of having a whole day ahead that, for once, he wouldn't be spending alone. It wasn't until Liz came out of the bedroom, dressed as only Liz could dress, that he felt a twinge of foreboding, suddenly reminded of the reason he'd resisted falling for her in the first place.

She wore a minuscule pair of faded denim shorts with frayed cuffs and a pair of shoes with heels so stratospheric that she stood a good four inches taller than usual. She'd pulled her bright auburn hair up into a scrambled ponytail, with curly strands already trickling down around her face. She'd replaced one set of star earrings with a pair of silver dolphins dangling from her earlobes, and her T-shirt read, "I Don't Need Your Attitude. I've Got One of My Own."

He let his gaze travel down those incredible legs of hers and back up again, cruising along her hips, her waist, her breasts. She smiled at him, that broad, beautiful smile that lit up a room, and any concern he felt about the consequences of her unusual dress and behavior flew right out the window.

After a quick stop at a drugstore, Liz drove Mark to his condo complex, where the manager met him with a new key. Once inside, he headed straight to his bedroom to shower, leaving Liz relaxing on his sofa, her feet tucked up beside her, flipping through Facebook.

Twenty minutes later he was clean and dry, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He he came back out to his living room, already thinking that his sofa might be a dandy place to take Liz's outrageous clothes right off her again. Then he saw what she was holding, and a wave of apprehension swept through him.

"You're having a company party!" Liz said, holding up the invitation to his company dinner dance he'd left on his kitchen counter.

"Uh...yeah."

"It says here you're supposed to bring a guest. Can we go?"

We?

His own attendance was not just requested, it was required. But—oh, God—could he take Liz with him?

He remembered the dress she'd worn to Rosario's the other night, that hot little number that had made him sweat just to look at it. If she showed up looking like that...

But it wasn't just the way she dressed. What if she brushed lint off Edwin's lapels? What if she took out her phone and caught the last few innings of the Mariners game? What if there was an unfamiliar piece of silverware at dinner and she asked the waiter for a supplementary lesson in table etiquette? What would happen then?

He'd be ostracized by his superiors for his questionable taste in women. With him and Sloan neck-and-neck for the promotion, that's all it would take to tip the scales in Sloan's favor. Then he could kiss the partnership goodbye.

"You wouldn't like it," he said, trying to keep his voice light and offhanded. "Believe me."

"Are you kidding? I love parties!"

He sat down beside her. "This isn't a party. It's more like business. It's a group of stuffy, boring people who spend all their time talking about accounting. And I know how you hate stuffy, boring people."

"But it says here that it's at a country club. I've never been inside one of those. I bet it's really something."

"No. These things are so dull. Everybody dresses up like they're going to a ball at Buckingham Palace. You'd hate it."

"Now, you know me better than that," Liz said with a wave of her hand. "I can have a good time wherever I go. It'll be fun."

It'll be fun. Why did those three words coming out of Liz's mouth strike fear in his heart?

Because trying to keep her personality under wraps would be like trying to douse a forest fire with a squirt gun.

He shook his head. "It's really just a business thing, Liz. Dull as dirt. So I don't think—"

"I'll get to meet the people you work with. And they'll be dinner, probably a lot like the one we had at Rosario's, and since we both like to dance, it'll be--"

"Liz!"

He spoke sharper than he intended. He softened his voice, but he wasn't sure he softened the message.

"I think it'd be best if I went to this one by myself."

Liz stared at Mark a long time, trying to understand his reluctance. It was just a party, after all, and she was a party expert. Then, for some reason, Gwen popped into her mind, and slowly the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

She's the woman I need, she remembered Mark saying after he made a date with Gwen. I know this makes no sense to you, but I have to make this work, and I have to do it now.

Gwen was exactly the kind of woman Mark could bring to a company function and impress the conservative management who was making the decision about his partnership.

Everybody dresses like they're going to a ball at Buckingham Palace. You'd hate it.

That's what Mark had told her. But that wasn't what he meant.

The men dress in tuxedos and the women dress in formal gowns. You'd never fit in.

That was what he'd been trying to tell her.

As reality of the situation hit Liz full force, she thought she was going to be sick. It wasn't that she'd hate them.

It was that they'd hate her.

Her heart sank so low it practically tumbled onto the ground. For the first time in her life, she wished she were somebody else. Mark needed a woman who could glide through a room with social competence, radiating sophistication and grace, a woman who would be a positive reflection of his own professional image. Instead, he was getting an unsophisticated nobody who worked as a bartender, whose only claim to fame was that she made the best margaritas in town.

She turned on the sofa to face him. "Mark, I want you to tell me the truth. You're uptight the very thought of taking me to a company party, aren't you?"

He froze. "Uptight? Why would I be uptight?"

"Because I'm not like Gwen."

"And I'm very thankful for that."

"Still, she'd fit in really well at Buckingham Palace, don't you think? I'd fit in better in the servants quarters."

Mark looked at her a long time, and the silence between them seemed to stretch on forever. Finally he shook his head. "It's just these people I work with, Liz. And the big bosses. They think the only reason you have a relationship is to gain money, prestige or power. If they knew I was dating--"

He stopped short, then let out a harsh breath, leaving the sentence dangling.

"If they knew you were dating a woman like me," Liz said, "and a bartender at that, your career would come to a screeching halt."

She waited through a long, miserable silence, wanting desperately for Mark to deny it. Instead, he said nothing. Her chest tightened with disappointment.

"Okay," she murmured. "At least I know where I stand."

"It's not me, Liz! I don't care what you do for a living!"

"But you have to care. Because they care. Right?"

Mark closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw tight. "I'm up for a partnership. It's something I've wanted since I started working for that company. I'm in competition with another guy, and right now it could go either way. I can't afford to..."

His voice trailed off, but Liz got the picture. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes because he wanted this so badly. And showing up with the wrong woman might be just the mistake that would make him lose out.

"Do you regret what you did last night? Leaving Gwen to be with me?"

"No! She's not the one I want!"

"But she's the one you need, right?"

"Don't you understand? She's the one they think I need!"

"So where does that leave me?"

Mark opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. He stared at her a long time, and her heart beat frantically as she imagined the words he was getting ready to say. Well, it was fun while it lasted, but it's time to get real. We don't belong together.

Instead, to her surprise, he reached out and lay his hand over hers, caressing it gently.

"It leaves you with me, I hope."

Liz blinked with disbelief. He smoothed the hair away from her forehead with his fingertips, then following them with a kiss.

"I'm sorry, Liz. I don't know what I was thinking. Of course I want you to come with me."

She felt a rush of relief. "You do?"

"Yes. Of course I do. It's just this partnership thing. It's made me a little crazy." He shrugged. "It's just one party. It really isn't all that important."

In spite his offhanded manner, Liz saw the little worry lines around his eyes and heard the hesitancy in his voice, and she knew he was lying. This party was clearly very important. Still, he cared enough about her to ask her to come in spite of the consequences he thought he might face, and she loved him for that.

Yes. She loved him. She hadn't meant for it to happen, but it had happened just the same. She was falling in love with Mark. But she still had that tangled up feeling in her stomach wouldn't go away, the one that reminded her that she just didn't measure up to the kind of woman he was expected to associate with. No matter how he felt right now, how long would he want her if he thought she was going to be a detriment to his career?

Not long. And that was why she was determined not to let him down.

"I can do this," she said. "As long as you help me."

"Help you?"

"I'll get Eddie to dress me, and I swear I'll study up on Emily Post and Miss Manners. But you need to tell me about all the people you work with so I'll know whose you-know-whats I'm supposed to kiss."

He smiled. "No problem. I'll point out all the proper posteriors. I promise."

Liz grinned. "How many 'Ps' were in that sentence, anyway?"

"I have an affinity for alliteration."

She rolled her eyes. Mark pulled her back toward him and kissed her again. The second his lips met hers, she knew she was doing the right thing, even if it involved being somebody she wasn't.

Two weeks. That was all she had to make herself into the kind of woman he needed, or they had no future at all.

---

The next two weeks were both heaven and hell for Mark. He and Liz spent every moment they could together, which made him deliriously happy and wildly uptight all at the same time. How had this happened? How could he be falling in love with a woman he was crazy about at the same time she could be a wrecking ball to his career?

The night of his company's dinner dance, Mark climbed the stairs to Liz's apartment, moving up them slower than he ever had before. He'd never sweated anything the way he'd sweated the past several days, because he had no idea what was going to happen tonight. Liz said she could handle this, but could she really? He didn't know. All he knew was that when he'd seen that look of hurt on her face when he'd suggested that she might not fit in with the crowd at his company, he'd have done anything to erase it—including inviting her along.

He took a deep breath and knocked on her door. A moment later she opened it, and he was so stunned he couldn't move. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never have imagined seeing Liz dressed like this.

She wore a long black gown that exposed her skin only from her wrists down and her neck up, with a satiny skirt that fell in soft folds all the way to her feet. The top part of the dress was form fitting, but subtly so, the high neckline dipping only slightly toward her breasts, enhancing her figure without drawing undue attention to it. She wore a necklace that looked like a simple strand of diamonds. Matching diamond earrings occupied only one set of her many ear piercings, the ones that were actually on her ear lobes. Her hair was swept up in a style so sleek and proper that it was hard to remember just how wild and curly hair her hair really was. She held a simple black satin handbag against her waist and smiled up at him with an aura of calm composure.

"Hello, Mark."

Her whisper-soft voice drifted across her threshold, mesmerizing him. It was Liz, but it wasn't. It was as if the body snatchers had landed, taken the real Liz and put a polished, sophisticated, ultraconservative version in her place.

She stepped aside, and he entered her apartment. He heard the soft swish of her skirt, then caught the scent of a dainty floral perfume that was totally different than the quirky scent she usually wore. She placed a hand against his shoulder and gave him a gentle kiss of greeting on his left cheek.

Okay. Now it was definite. This was not Liz. Liz would have dragged him through the door by his shirt collar and given him a kiss so hot he'd feel all the way to his toes. It was time to call out the National Guard. Earth had definitely been invaded and the body snatchers were taking over.

Every bit of his apprehension about how she would present herself in a social situation suddenly vanished. He'd worried for nothing. Her manner was subdued, which wasn't like the Liz he knew at all, and her dress was a little boring compared to what she usually wore, but both were absolutely correct for the occasion, and he found himself thinking, She makes Tiffany Sloan look like a cheap hooker.

A smile inched across his face. "You look absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you. Shall we go?"

Mark breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe tonight was going to work out after all. They headed for the door, and Liz turned and tossed him a wink and a smile over her shoulder.

I'm still Liz, that gesture told him. But I'm going to play this part just for you. And I'm going to do a bang-up job of it.

Mark didn't know whether to love her for that or cringe in fear. She may have looked like a socialite, but the real Liz still lurked beneath the surface. What if she popped out at an inopportune time?

As they drove to the country club, he gave Liz a primer on the people she'd be meeting that night.

"Edwin Nichols," he said. "Managing partner. Pompous and self-important. Thinks appearances are everything and lives to work. His wife's name is Margaret. She's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she's friendly and talks up a storm. You won't have any problem with her."

"The big boss and his wife."

"Right."

Liz nodded, as if absorbing the information.

He went on to tell her about the other partners and their wives, then filled her in on Jared and Tiffany Sloan.

"Basically, Sloan's a jerk, and Tiffany's nose is so far in the air that if an indoor thunderstorm blows through, she'll drown. They're both insufferable."

"And this guy's your competition?"

"He talks a hell of a good game. You'd be surprised how far you can get in the business world on a good line of bull."

"Anybody else?"

"Yes. Steven Millstone."

"The Steven Millstone?"

"Yeah. Boy wonder of the computer world. They'll be a few other prospective clients there tonight, but Millstone is the biggie. If you're looking to kiss a you-know-what, you might consider his."

Liz nodded studiously, as if committing everything he said to memory. He had to stop worrying. She looked great. All she had to do was stand there looking classy and smile a lot, and the evening would be a success.

Briarwood Country Club sat in the heart of Coral Gables, the clubhouse surrounded by acre upon acre of groomed landscape, and beyond that the rolling hills of the golf course stretched as far as the eye could see. Mark drove through the iron gates, then crept along the road leading to the clubhouse. The evening sun cascaded over the coconut palms, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn.

Mark pulled up in front of the clubhouse and brought the car to a halt. A valet took his car, and he escorted Liz toward the clubhouse, stopping short when he saw the man himself standing at the door greeting guests.

"That's Edwin Nichols," he whispered to Liz.

Liz blinked with surprise. "The guy with the bad toupee?"

"Uh--yeah. But we don't talk about that."

"It looks like--"

"I know. A piece of shag carpet stuck to his head."

"All that money, and yet--"

"Yet he still looks like a electroshocked Pekingese. I know. Just try to focus on his face instead of his scalp."

They walked up the short flight of brick steps to the door of the country club. "Hello, Edwin," Mark said. He shook the man's hand, then turned to Liz. "I'd like to you to meet--"

"Elizabeth Prescott," Liz said, extending her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Elizabeth?

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too," Edwin said. He introduced his wife, Margaret, to Liz, then turned to Mark. "I had no idea you were seeing such a lovely young woman."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Nichols," Liz said. "What a nice compliment."

"Please. Call me Edwin."

Liz nodded her assent, and Edwin's cheek-to-cheek grin, so different from his usual sourpuss expression, told Mark that she'd sailed over the initial hurdle and made a smashing first impression.

Maybe he'd worried for nothing.

Edwin turned to greet another couple, and Margaret caught Liz's eye.

"So tell me, dear," she said, with that vacuous smile that said she'd lost her brain somewhere along the line and didn't even miss it. "What is it that you do?"

Liz blinked. "What do I do?"

"Yes. What is your profession?"