I’m a Manhattan-ite all the way. Born and bred in the heart of the city, I attended the Trinity School on the Upper West Side from kindergarten through high school. College was NYU. Other going skiing in the Rockies or Switzerland or heading down to the Caribbean for vacation, I don’t ever cross out of the city, I’m one of those people who thinks there’s no sense in leaving the island. In fact, I never do it, unless it’s an emergency.

And yet, for some reason, I couldn’t wait to get out of the city tonight.

Her neighborhood was definitely old and broken-down, the homes built on top of one another, like dominos. There were overflowing dumpsters in the parking lot and even the sad, small patches of grass on the lawn outside were mostly weeds.

I might have minded it, but I was oblivious to it all. I wanted to see her.

No, more than that. I wanted to be with her.

I know what I’d vowed, that I had to keep this professional. That was my plan. Plan A.

But a small part of me wanted to stray far past that line. Plan B was always in the back of my mind, fighting its way out.

My cock wanted Plan B, and kept jockeying for it whenever it could. And it wasn’t just wanting. I’d put painstaking effort into developing that plan, planning exactly what I’d say and do to get her to capitulate. I never usually had to make such overtures with women; sex just happened. But as the limo drove me over the George Washington bridge, I’d imagined Lily Brogan tucking her small charge into bed, and being her usual coy self. Then, when we were alone, and the little one was asleep, I would work my magic.

When she opened the door, I wanted that more than ever. She was standing there, in tight, ratty, hole-up jeans, and a body-clinging t-shirt. No bra. Fuck, it was gorgeous, the way the thin pink fabric outlined the points of her nipples. She was nothing like the woman people would picture on my arm, as my fiancé, and I. Didn’t. Care.

Right then, decorum went straight to hell.

My cock sprung into command, and Plan B was put into motion: I’d coax her out of her clothes, and into my lap.

But that all went out the window the second I saw that she had not just one small charge, but an entire zoo of them. She wasn’t just babysitting. These were her siblings.

And she was far from being in a frisky mood. She was tired, frazzled, running around like a lunatic, like I didn’t even exist, and the last thing she needed was a man trying to be amorous with her.

And it turned me on unlike anything else.

God, she was sexy. It wasn’t just the way her tits swayed against her shirt, jiggling loose against that t-shirt every time she chased after her brothers, or that when she’d reached up to pull the Candy Land from the shelf in the closet, she bared the tightest waist and. .. what was that, a belly ring? It was the way she moved cheerfully about, smiling through her exhaustion, making little self-deprecating jokes as she catered to her siblings’ whims. She was clearly in her element, confident, in control, and . . . gorgeous.

I stood there, speechless and mesmerized as I watched her. Occasionally I tried to help, but she didn’t need me. The longer I watched, the more one thing became clear: If my cock didn’t get what it came over the bridge for, it was going to make me sorry.

Eventually, when she got the kids in bed, and calmed down enough to relax a little. By then, I’d played five games of Candy Land with an adorable, ringlet-covered platinum blonde who has Lily’s sad brown eyes. A moment later, her sister came home, and we made the decision to go out for a late dinner to “talk”.

At that moment, I decided that Plan B might not be dead in the water, yet.

Now, as we walk to the limo in the cool summer air, I want to put my arm around her. I want to pull her to me and lift her shirt and see if that really was a belly ring.

She’s going on about how Cara is usually so good and comes home right away, but she’s also very studious and wants to get into a good college. There’s something about a project, and the library, and I’m not sure what else because I can’t believe that Lily, who seems so intelligent, can be this naïve and oblivious. I stop her mid-sentence to say:

“You realize your sister was with a boy, right?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Because no, from Lily’s baffled expression, she did not realize that in the least.

Earl opens the door to let us into the limo, and once I slide in beside her, she shakes her head. “Oh. No, she had a project to do.”

I laugh at her and point to my neck. “Fresh hickeys. And it was like she was bathing in cheap men’s cologne. I smelled it on her when we passed her.”

She shakes her head, thinking. “No, you’re wrong. That must be . . .”

She stops before I can tell her that I couldn’t be more certain. One doesn’t have to be Sherlock to notice the way her sister had practically been drowning in guilt.

“Wait.” She must be putting the pieces together in her head because her jaw drops. “What? I didn’t notice . . . and . . . how did you?“

“I was a teenager once. And obviously, from the way you’re looking at me, you weren’t.” I shrug at her deer-in-headlights expression, then look out the window. We’re pulling out of her street, which is choked with cars. “You may want to prepare yourself for the fact that she could be sexually active.”

That was an even worse thing to say. The shock grows. She covers her mouth with her hand.

I have to appease her, or Plan B will be dead and she might just decide to go home and lock her sister in her bedroom for the rest of her life.

“Though, not likely. The hickeys suggest that her partner’s good with kissing and heavy petting, and they haven’t moved on to . . .” I wiggle my eyebrows. “the show.”

The shock melts into misery. Now both hands are covering her mouth. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

I try to give her a calming smile. “Relax. It’s not the end of the world. How old is she?”

“Only sixteen!” she shouts, like it’s the end of the world.

“It’s okay. It’s natural.”

That doesn’t calm her any. I suppose virginity is always a big deal, until you lose it. For her, it’s a mountain she’s yet to climb, and nothing about it is natural. “Natural? When did you lose your virginity?”

I think back, a thousand years ago. I’d been left home alone a lot, just me and the servants. One of the maids was new, and didn’t speak English, so we’d communicated in the universal language. “Thirteen.”

“Thirteen?” She’s staring at me in the darkness like I’m a freak of nature.

I realize that the notion of her climbing onto my cock and taking a ride is about light-years away, at this point. It only makes me more rabid for it. Her breathing is tense and rabbit-quick. She’s hyperventilating. I’m worried she’s going to have an asthma attack in my limo, so I reach for her hand, but she pushes it away.

“I can’t believe it. That little snot. She lied to me. She never used to . . .” She’s gone right past the denial stage, and now she’s in the anger stage.

“You seem to have her believing that I’m a doctor?” I point out.

She whips her head to me. “That’s different! I very well can’t explain how we met!” She crosses her arms over her body and slumps far into the leather seat. “What a snot! Why didn’t she just tell me if she had a boyfriend?”

“She’s probably embarrassed.”

“God! I can’t do this. I really wish I had my parents,” she says miserably.

It’s hard to think about sex when she’s like this. I actually have an inexplicable need to make her feel better. And that’s totally not like me.

“Hey,” I say, finally succeeding in taking her hand. I do the calming circles on it. “It’s all right.”

But she’s babbling, more to herself. “She’s on the pill for her periods, like I am. She’s safe that way. But . . . this was a thing I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tackle for like, another decade.”

The limo pulls up in a near-empty parking lot next to the Sunrise Diner, a place that’s just as broken-down as the rest of the neighborhood. Earl lets us out and she’s shaking visibly, so I put an arm around her, pulling her trembling body against mine. I feel the swell of her braless tit against my chest, and my cock jumps.

We walk inside, and the hostess raises her eyebrow. Talk about two people who don’t belong. I’m in my custom suit, and she’s in a messy ponytail, no make-up, and flip-flops. “Table for two?” she asks while smacking her gum, lifting two menus from a pile at the hostess stand.

I nod.

The hostess shows us to a booth, and by the time we slide in across from each other, she seems to have calmed a bit. She says, “You said you wanted a dozen kids. I never wanted them.”

I find it hard to believe that she doesn’t want kids, as good as she was with her siblings. I tell her not to worry, again and again, but she doesn’t seem to hear me. “You have a lot of responsibility on you, for someone so young.”

She picks up the menu and looks through it. “Well, the alternative was splitting us all up into different foster homes. And with Joey in the hospital, the last thing he needs is seeing us all scattered like that.”

“Joey? Another brother?”

“Yeah. He’s eight. He has acute lymphocytic leukemia.” She says this matter-of-factly, without expecting sympathy.

I find myself clenching my teeth. When I was her age, I was finishing college, and the most responsibility I had was making sure I made it to class somewhat sober. “Hell.”

“Thus the Suitors Club,” she says softly, looking around nervously so no one might hear. “He needs these outrageously expensive treatments. Believe me, your money is going to good use.”

I blink. So that was why she was there? “That was your first time there?”

She nods. “Yours?”

“Same.” I open the menu, which is dotted with old grease and crusty ketchup stains. I think of telling her that Seth had recommended me the place to help me solve my predicament, but suddenly, my predicament seems so goddamn small and unimportant. So selfish. “I’m glad my money could go toward something useful.”

She closes her menu and shoves her hands at her sides, sitting on them. The waitress comes by, and we place our order—cokes and burgers. When the waitress leaves, she gives me an astonished look. “You eat burgers?”

I stare at her. “And?”

“Well, I just didn’t think you were one for grease. Your perfect woman only ate the best of everything.”

I shrug. “It’s a diner. I was afraid anything fresh might be laced with salmonella. A burger seemed the safer choice.”

She’s smiling at me, as baffled expression on her face.

“What?”

She shrugs. “I just think it’s so odd that you have absolutely no interest in ever having a fiancé, and yet you know exactly what your fiancé would be like. Seems like for something you don’t want, you spent a long time thinking about her.”

“Well. It just makes sense. Certain people just go together.”

“And we don’t, in case you didn’t notice,” she says.

“Well. I’m sure if you asked anyone who they’d see me with, they’d have an idea. Just like I look at you, and I know exactly who your type would be.”

“Oh, really? This I’ve got to hear.”

“You want a man who is tall, handsome. Who is good with children. And who will be patient with you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Every woman wants that.”

I nod. “And every man wants the woman I described to you.”

She leans forward. “A snooty bitch?”

I burst out laughing. “That’s not what she is.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I suppose then that I will stay single for the rest of my life, too. Because in case you didn’t notice, I’m nothing like her.”

I smile at her. “You’re not that bad.”

“Oh, gee. Thanks,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Although it is kind of alarming that my sixteen year old sister has rounded more bases than I have.”

I could tell her I’m happy to help her play catch-up, but I restrain myself. “Why?”

She blushes. “Why what? Other than the fact that I’m not the ideal woman? I don’t know. I just haven’t ran into any man that made me want to play the game, I guess.”

I find myself studying her, wondering what would get her to play the game. I would certainly like to move her to home and help her start heading for first.

“And,” she adds with exasperation, “Considering I’m so repellant to men, I suppose I will never find a man who wants to play with me.”

I smirk at her. “You could get lucky.”

“Funny,” She says without much humor. “What about opposites attracting?”

I nod. Because goddamn, she’s my opposite, but the pull I’m feeling toward her is magnetic. “They may attract. But they don’t stick.”

“Is that right?” She narrows her eyes at me. “And tell me, how long was your longest relationship?”

I think for a moment, as the waitress brings our food. Big plates heaped with French fries and the most heart-attack inducing greasy burgers I’ve ever seen. She jumps on the ketchup and starts to drizzle it all over her fries. We are opposites; I prefer to make a puddle on the side for dipping. I say, “Three weeks.”

She looks up from the ketchup and freezes. Then she starts laughing at me again. When I give her a questioning look, she says, “Three weeks? Seriously?”

“Dead serious.”

She laughs even harder.

“I fail to see the punch line. You said you’ve never even dated.”

“Yes, but . . . I own that I know nothing about men. I’m just surprised that you profess to know so much about relationships, and yet you’ve never been in a serious one.”

“Contrary to you, I know quite a bit about women,” I correct, crossing my arms. “It would be different if I wanted a relationship, but as previously stated, I do not care to have one.”

“Right. And why don’t you want one?”

“Because no one has ever held my interest for longer than three weeks.” I bite into my burger and say, “In fact, I doubt even my Perfect Woman would be that interesting to me, for that long. My tastes are fickle. I may want a woman who skis in Vail now, but tomorrow I could want something else. I could even want someone like . . . you.”

“The horror.” She drops her jaw in mock terror.

But she’s leaning into me, a glint in her eyes. She licks the ketchup off her lips, then proceeds to lick the salt from her fingers. And those nipples, popping out from her t-shirt? Hard as little pebbles.

My cock does a victory dance in my pants. I’ve got her.

I swallow my burger and nod. “Frightening, I know.”

We finish our dinners shortly after eleven PM. I take her out to the parking lot, where Earl is waiting. When we are inside, I put up the partition, so that we can be alone.

Then I turn to her and say, “So you think you know what needs to be done?”

Even though we’ve barely talked about it. Honestly, I don’t care about her being my fake fiancé. All I want is her real body, against mine.

She nods. “I know what you want.”

Oh, she has no idea what I want. I doubt such things could possibly occur to her little virgin mind.

“What I don’t know is how you expect to end things?”

I stare at her, confused.

“I mean, after your father passes away, Dan is going to expect you to get married, right? And if you don’t?”

I nod. “Well, we just have a falling out, is all. I’ll tell him we had a big fight, and ended things. Simple as that.”

“Simple,” she repeats thoughtfully. “A fight about what?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I cheated on you. He’ll believe that. I never could keep it in my pants, anyway.”

She studies me. “Is that true?”

I nod. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“Well, you haven’t made any untoward advances to me, all night. IT has been kept in your pants very well,” she says, her eyes flitting down to my middle, but for only a second.

“The night is still young,” I tease her. When she blushes, and before an awkward silence can bloom, I say, “So we’re good?”

She nods.

“Shake on it?”

She nods again.

As we touch, though, sparks light between us. Her fingers are warm and delicate, but strong. I can almost see her heart pounding, and I hope it’s out of anticipation over what I might do next. I can tell by the way she licks her lips that she wants something to happen.

She leans closer, so close now that I can’t mistake her intention. Her nipples are hard and her t-shirt gapes in front, giving me a clear shot down her cleavage. I pause there, giving her a second to say no, to pull away.

But no woman has ever gotten this close and pulled away.

She wants this.

So I close the distance, and then I’m kissing her.

I’m finally kissing her.

Her lips are soft but this kiss, from the start, is anything but. Tangling her hair in my hands, I tip her head back further and ravish her mouth, melding my tongue with hers. She gasps against me, but I steal the gasp as her body trembles against mine.

I pull her into my lap, so she’s straddling me, and she groans low in her throat. She runs her hands greedily down my chest, and I retaliate by thrusting my tongue, hard, inside her waiting mouth. She presses her chest against mine and I feel those hard nipples through the layers of fabric.

I’m about to tell her that we can—no, we need to continue this, somehow, when the car comes to an abrupt halt.

She is the one to break the kiss. We stare at each other for a few moments, though, breathing hard. Her pupils are dilated. I’m breathing like I’ve run a marathon.

“We’re here,” the driver says as he taps on the partition.

“We’re here,” she repeats.

Goddamn it, we’re here. As I stare into those deep, muddy brown eyes, an unfamiliar feeling floods in, pricking my neck, making me feel like I’m walking a tightrope without a net. “This is a mistake,” I murmur.

She nods slightly, agreeing. I wish she wouldn’t be so agreeable. Because how can a mistake feel that right?

“That . . . wasn’t supposed to happen.” I nudge myself away from her, straightening. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I wanted you for.”

Hell. It may not be what I wanted her for, a week ago. But it’s what I want now. Burningly so. And maybe that’s what’s wrong. I’ve always been in control. But right now, with her?

Any more of this, and I’m going to run right off the tracks.

She’s staring at me wide-eyed, tugging her t-shirt into place over her tits. “Right.”

My cock is screaming to continue. I shuffle uncomfortably in my seat to get it to calm down. I take a long sip of my scotch as Earl opens the door for her. “I think we should meet again.”

She looks back at me. “You do?”

I nod, crunching on ice again. I stare straight ahead, not making eye contact, because I know if I do, I’ll want to pull her into my lap again and caress those perfect, round tits. “Strictly professionally, though. I have much to educate you on if you’re to pass as my fiancé in front of my father.”

“All right,” she says breezily.

And the door slams.

I adjust my rock hard cock and wonder what the hell I’m going to do. I might say it, but this has gone past professional. It’s heading in a dangerous direction, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.