“Say that again?” I stared at Brock.

He was propped against a stack of pillows, stark naked, and grinning down at me where I was stretched out, recovering from our second round of vigorous sex. I tried to move, and felt the aching in my muscles. I was definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

“We're having a family dinner tomorrow evening to welcome back Reed and Britni. I want you to come with me.”

Part of me wanted to ask why two very wealthy people had only gone on a short honeymoon, but I refrained. It wasn't any of my business, and I really didn't want Brock getting the idea I was overly interested in his brother-in-law. So, I focused on the part of those two statements that concerned me.

“Why in the world would you want me to come to your family dinner?”

Brock moved so that he was laying on his stomach, his feet on the pillows and his head next to mine. His face was uncharacteristically serious. “I told you, Piper, I want to be with you. Part of that means I’ll want you to come to boring family functions and keep me company so I don't go insane.”

I gave him a skeptical look.

He reached over and took my hand. Raising it to his lips, he kissed my knuckles. “Piper, what's it going to take for you to believe I want us to be together?”

I didn't answer because I didn't know. All of this was happening so fast. It was supposed to be a simple weekend. Let Brock apologize for something I didn't remember, buy me some things, get some money, enjoy making Reed squirm and then go back to Vegas. Nothing was supposed to really change. And I certainly wasn't supposed to end up staying longer to hang out with Reed's brother-in-law.

Brock's fingers tightened around mine and for a moment, I had the crazy thought that he knew what I was thinking. I leaned forward and brushed my lips across his.

“Look, it's all just a lot to take in.” I moved closer so that the lengths of our bodies were touching. “You asked me to come out here as a date to apologize for...” I let my voice trail off for a moment. “I wasn't expecting this.”

“You weren't expecting me to like you?” Brock asked.

I shook my head. “I wasn't expecting me to like you.” I flushed. He was asking a lot of me and deserved to know at least this part of the truth. “I thought you were...”

“Like every other guy who hires strippers for bachelor parties?” he finished the sentence. “Or like the assholes who come to The Diamond Club?”

I hesitated. How was I supposed to tell him that's exactly what I'd thought?

“I was one of those assholes who went to The Diamond Club,” he admitted. “And when I asked you to be my date, I did it because I was sorry. Also because you're gorgeous and we'd look good together at the wedding.” He gave me a childish grin. “It didn't hurt that I knew it'd piss my sister off that I brought someone I met in Vegas. She keeps trying to set me up with Rebecca.” He made a face. “That's weird, right?”

I nodded. “Definitely.”

He grew somber again. “Then we hung out together and I realized I was enjoying spending time with you.” He brushed hair back from my face, letting his fingers linger on my cheek. “And our little encounter in the janitor's closet proved we have great sexual chemistry.”

“So that automatically means I should come to dinner at your parents' house?” Now I was getting nervous. When he said everything like that, his actions seemed completely logical and my brain wanted to know why I was arguing.

“No,” he said with a smile. “That means you should move back here so we can be together. You should come to dinner for two reasons. One, it'll annoy the hell out of my sister and Rebecca. Two, I told you I'd prove to you that I wanted to be with you. What better way to do that than for me to introduce you to my parents as my girlfriend.”

I was pretty sure I looked like a deer caught in headlights. How had we gone from wedding date slash apology to girlfriend? Okay, we'd fucked, but somehow Brock didn't strike me as the type who required someone to be his girlfriend before he'd have sex. According to Anastascia, he preferred not to have any strings attached.

“Or I could say we're dating and leave the label alone.” The look he gave me said he understood what I was thinking. “Either way, I want them to know that you aren't some one-date fling.”

I sighed. He was being very persistent and charming, a dangerous combination. I threw out my last protest, which, now that I thought about it, I probably should have used first since it was entirely practical.

“I don't have anything to wear.” I realized how whiney that sounded and clarified, “I brought a couple changes of casual clothes for the trip and the outfit I wore to the club. The only other thing I have to wear is the dress from the wedding.”

“Well then.” He grinned and sat up. “I guess that means we're going shopping.”

I didn't really believe he intended to take me shopping until we were walking into Macy's. I'd been there before, of course, but only to stare at the elaborate architecture and imagine what it must be like to be able to shop there. I'd heard the pipe organ play once and had never forgotten it, the sheer number of pipes surrounding the upper floor still astounded me.

“This way,” Brock sounded amused.

“I forgot how amazing this place was,” I said as we walked toward the section of the store that would have the appropriate clothes. Though I wasn't entirely sure what constituted appropriate for meeting – or re-meeting – the parents of the guy I was sleeping with but not exactly dating even though he wanted me to move back to Philadelphia so we could be together. The run-on sentence made my head hurt.

“How can we help you?”

A pair of women approached us as soon as we were within a few feet of the right section. The one who'd spoken was a tall blonde. The other was a shorter redhead, though her hair was more auburn than mine. Both of them were staring at Brock like he was something good to eat. It was on the tip of my tongue to confirm that he was, indeed, delicious, but something stopped me.

This was a chance, I thought. An opportunity to see if what Anastascia had said was true. If Brock was the kind of man my friend said he was, his behavior here would show it.

“My girlfriend needs something for our dinner tonight with my parents.” He pulled me closer and slid his arm around my waist. “We want it to be something special.”

The women both turned toward me, the expressions on their faces thinly disguised jealousy. It took me a moment to realize they were jealous of me, of the fact that Brock hadn't given either of them a second look. Something warm and pleasurable squirmed in my stomach. I'd never had anyone be jealous of me before, especially not over a guy.

“Let's get you some things to try on.” The blonde offered me a fake smile.

I nodded, then glanced up at Brock, a mischievous streak rising up. “Do you want me to model them for you?”

He gave me a roguish grin. “In that case, can we get some lingerie too?”

I playfully smacked his arm and followed the women to the dressing rooms.

What followed felt like something out of a movie montage, minus the bubbly pop song and quick intercuts.

The saleswomen gave me snazzy business suits that would've been great if I'd been trying for a job interview. Those were followed by dresses that screamed jail bait, and even a couple that would've been more suited to a cougar than someone in their twenties. Each of these poor choices was met by scoffing laughter from Brock and a demand that they try harder. I wasn't sure if I was the only one who thought they were deliberately trying to make me look frumpy in front of Brock, but what I did know was he didn't respond to any of the subtle or not-so-subtle flirting being sent his way.

When they finally started giving me good outfits, I noticed a minute change in their approach. They were no longer trying to make me look bad, but rather asked questions about Brock and me. How we'd met. How long we'd been dating. Was it serious? I could sense their frustration when I kept my answers intentionally vague. I'd spent too much time over-hearing the girls at school talk about how they would get friendly with a crush's girlfriend, using her to find out information they'd then use to steal the boyfriend away. If they were going to seduce Brock, they would do it without my help.

I came out of the dressing room in a cute little black dress, feeling like this was the one. When Brock's eyes lit up, I knew I was right. He stood and came over to me.

“I don't know, babe. I might not be able to make it through dinner without tearing that off of you.”

I smiled. “If that's the case, I might need to get some lingerie after all.”

“No modeling,” he said as he pulled me toward him, his hands on my waist. “Not here anyway. Let's save that for when we're alone.”

His gaze was fixed on me, lust and desire burning in his eyes. I didn't see a trace of deception on his face and he hadn't even looked twice at the saleswomen. Maybe, I thought, just maybe, this could work.