I pull up to the gated entrance of Maggie’s apartment complex and punch in the four-digit code she gave me. The double gates slowly slide open and I drive my truck through. To the right is the entrance to a 15-story parking deck. I’m supposed to enter the code again and then park on the 10^th level.

I drive into the dark garage and start making my way up the levels. The lighting is dim and every corner is blind.

Just the kind of place I hate to be.

By the time I’ve rounded the corner for the third floor, my anxiety level begins to rise. It’s been happening too much lately. Ever since the shooting, I’ve been on edge.

I can’t imagine why Maggie would want to live in an apartment where it takes twenty minutes to get from her door to the ground outside. What an ordeal to go through every time you want to leave a place. I don’t like the parking deck. It doesn’t feel safe. Maggie works crazy hours, and the thought of her driving home alone every night makes me uneasy.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I finally reach the 10^th level and find a parking spot where my big truck will barely fit. When I walk up to the door of the building, there’s yet another code to be entered before it will open. I wander down the quiet carpeted hallway searching for 703 and hesitate in the hallway when I find it.

I straighten the jacket of my Marine uniform, take a deep breath, and knock lightly. At the last minute, I changed my mind and decided to wear my uniform instead of the blazer and black pants we’d decided on. Somehow it seemed more appropriate for the occasion, and it’s the only dress outfit I feel comfortable wearing.

Maggie opens the door and her mouth drops in surprise. “Oh my God!” she finally says, grabbing my hand and tugging me inside. “You look incredible.” She steps back to carefully study me over from head to toe and places a hand over her chest. “My heart stopped when I opened the door and saw you standing there in your uniform. Wow…just wow.” Her voice trails off and she stands there staring at me. “I can’t tear my eyes off you.”

“Is the uniform okay to wear tonight?” I ask. “I didn’t have a suit that fit.”

There’s no point in telling her about the wasted hour spent at Flint’s cabin putting on a fashion show for Sam.

“Believe me, the uniform is more than okay. It’s perfect.” She leans up to kiss me lightly on the lips. “I’m so happy you’re finally here. I can’t wait to show you my place. I hope you like it. If you do, I was thinking we could swap out weekends. You know, one weekend in the country with you, and the next weekend here in the city with me. That way we would have the best of both worlds.”

I glance around the beautifully decorated, spacious apartment. Everything is exactly as I imagined.

Which doesn’t bode well for me.

Every furnishing, from the expensive leather sofa to the modern art on the walls, has been carefully chosen and arranged. The white modern-style furniture is too fancy and clean to sit on, so I stand awkwardly just inside the front door. Maggie doesn’t seem to notice and keeps talking excitedly about all the fun things there are to do in Atlanta.

“There’s a wine-tasting next weekend at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens if you want to come back,” she says. “It would be fun, and I could introduce you to some of my friends from the TV station. They would love to meet you.”

I try to pay attention and appear interested in what she’s saying because I should be. I care about her happiness and this is Maggie’s home, where she lives and works.

Yet I have this unbearable urge to bolt out the door, hop in my truck, and burn rubber trying to drive back to the country as fast as I can.

I can’t see myself being comfortable enough to spend one night here, much less every other weekend. A car alarm blares out on the street below her window and I flinch.

“What the hell is that?” I ask.

She waves a dismissive hand at the window. “Atlanta traffic. There’s always car horns or sirens going off. You get used to it after a while.”

I don’t see how.

“So what do you think?” she asks, whirling around to show me her low-cut, slinky, black cocktail dress and three-inch-high ‘fuck-me’ shoes.

“I think you’re beautiful,” I say, already forgetting about the apartment and how uncomfortable I am.

Like every other time I’m with Maggie, my mind always immediately goes straight to sex. All she needs to do is look at me or lean against my arm and I go rock hard. I wonder sometimes if she has any idea of the intense effect she has on me.

Probably not.

She links her hands around the back of my neck. “Aren’t you the guy who doesn’t use the word beautiful?” she teases me. “I distinctly remember you saying the word is overused.”

“That’s why I reserve the right to use it only for you,” I say. My hands reach down to touch her silky hair and let the tendrils drift through my fingers. “Because you are. Unbelievably so. And sexy. Like now, with your tight little dress just begging me to do unspeakable things to you.”

I slide my hands down to cup her ass through the soft fabric and pull her against me. She laughs and presses her abdomen closer against my hard-on through my pants.

“What kind of bad things are we talking about?” she asks, her voice dropping lower. “Tell me.”