It’s like having our first “date”, all over again.

Only this time is different. Harlan’s different. Most of all, I’m different. I think I’ve spent too many years thinking that I was somehow unworthy, that I didn’t deserve a man’s attention, let alone his desire.

Harlan’s showing me how untrue that thought is.

How ridiculous it always was!

He makes me light up just by glancing at me, and I think I have the same effect on him! So, since he’s the most gorgeous, charming, witty, intelligent – and a million other superlatives besides – man that I’ve ever met, that’s one hell of a compliment!

“You’ve got to tell me,” I say, kicking Harlan’s shin underneath my apartment’s tiny dining room table.

Heck, it’s not a table at all, really. Though, having searched for a New York apartment once or twice before, I’m not surprised that some realtor decided it was. The tiny plank of wood probably added a hundred bucks to the rent!

“You know I can’t,” Harlan grins, his face lighting up with the deviousness of his secret. “Half the fun’s in the surprise…”

“Give me a clue at least! Don’t I deserve that?”

Harlan shakes his head, and growls at me, before falling silent. “You deserve a whole lot more. But,” he winks, “that still doesn’t mean I’m going to give it to you…”

Ever since we got back from California, my brain’s been alive with possibility. I know that whatever Harlan’s got planned for me – whatever he’s planning to do to me – it’s going to test every boundary I’ve ever held dear.

“But you’re not going to tell me, are you?” I ask, pushing my plate around the tiny ‘table’.

Harlan shakes his head.

“Hell no,” he chuckles.

“I want you thinking about it every waking minute, and dreaming about it from the moment you lay your head down on the pillow to the second you wake up. I want you tense. I want you nervous. I want you to be freaking out, because the more you do that, the less –”

“The less I’m in control,” I say, finishing Harlan’s sentence for him. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” I say, with the makings of a smile on my face, so he knows it’s not heartfelt.

“It’s been said,” Harlan shrugs, “from time to time. I prefer to say that I’m forward thinking, innovative, even.”

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table, and strokes my cheek. “And believe me, Skye – getting you to come is going to involve real blue sky thinking.”

I glance down, ducking away from Harlan’s gaze. Somehow I feel like the heat’s been turned up in here.

“Don’t I know it,” I mutter.

Harlan’s tone of voice, changes, becomes more serious. “What’s wrong?” He says.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” I say, so quietly it’s almost under my breath, voicing my newest, deepest fear.

“What if this plan of yours – whatever it is,” I say with a weak laugh, “is no better than any of the million things I have tried in the past. Heck, I’ve got a box of toys that’s practically bigger than this table, and none of them were worth a damn…”

Harlan’s eyes light up. “My, my, my; you’ve got more layers to you than you let on, don’t you?”

I frown. “Like an onion…”

Harlan shakes his head. “That couldn’t be further from the truth,” he says softly. “You shouldn’t put yourself down. Hell, you know what I do?”

It’s my turn to shake my head. My head dances left and right like sparks flying as a hammer strikes an anvil.

“I think big, Skye. I never put myself down. I shoot for the stars, because even if I end up miles off course, at least I’ll land on the moon.”

“Yeah – and that works for you,” I mutter, “Because you’re Harlan Wolfe! Who am I? Just some little girl with a fucked up family and –”

“Enough, Skye,” Harlan says, cutting across me harshly. My eyes spring open wide, and I notice a look of disappointment – maybe even hurt – on his face.

“Do you think I sprang out of the womb with twenty billion dollars in my back pocket?” Harlan asks gruffly.

I eye him sullenly. I know that Harlan – no matter how he might seem to the rest of the world – isn’t a boastful man. I don’t know why he’s bringing up his wealth, but I know he’s doing it to make a point.

But that doesn’t mean I want to hear it.

I bite my lip. “No,” I mutter, relenting.

“No,” Harlan says – more softly, now. “It was a fucking struggle, Skye. I left the military what, almost a decade ago?”

I nod.

“I played the markets a bit, when I was still in. More as a game, than anything. It helped to relieve to boredom and pass the time on base.” Harlan’s eyes flicker half-closed.

It’s as if he’s reliving a memory or, perhaps, something that’s been bugging him all day. I don’t know why, but that’s the sense that I get from looking at him. I feel like this speech has been rehearsed inside his head – whether consciously, or not…

“When I left the Navy, I threw all my savings…” his voice catches, but he pushes past it. “Ashley’s death benefits, everything into an account, and I tripled it inside a quarter. Other than giving Poppy the best life she could ever ask for, spending every hour that she was awake with her, I only thought about the markets. Hot stocks, commodities – you name it, I was all over it.”

I stay quiet. I feel like this isn’t just about resolving my issues. Harlan’s working through something as well.

“And when the guys in my old squad noticed how well I was doing, they gave me their savings to manage as well. Before long, I was trading half of SOCOM’s pension fund! That was how Wolfe Capital got started, you know?”

“SOCOM?”

“Oh – special operations command. Back then, after just a couple of years, we had almost a hundred million dollars in assets under management.”

I don’t know what to say, but I figure Harlan’s looking for some kind of response. “That’s a lot.”

That’s a lot? Jesus, Skye – could you be more vapid?

“It’s nothing. Little League shit. When you play down there, one bad day can ruin you. I knew I needed to get here,” Harlan gestures around the room, barely seeming to see me, “to Wall Street.”

“Well, you made it,” I smile, reaching out and stroking Harlan’s cheek. I don’t know why he’s so worked up, but it feels nice to help share the load.

“Yeah,” Harlan says, biting his lip anxiously. “I made it. But I had to make a deal with the devil to get here…”

I don’t know how to respond to that. I frown. “The devil –?” I ask.

Harlan cuts himself off, grimacing, as though he’s said too much. “It doesn’t matter. I got a phone call at work, that’s all. It was just a bit of bad news.”

I feel like it’s more than just “a bit of bad news,” yet I don’t want to pry. Whatever this thing is between Harlan and me, it’s new. New enough that one wrong move might risk it all.

And I couldn’t bear that.

“If you want to talk about it…” I say.

Harlan’s – now tense – face breaks into a sudden smile. “I know,” he sighs. “You’re here.”

I grin. “No, that’s not what I was going to say, not at all. I’m done playing at being your therapist, Harlan.”

He grins back. “But you never were, right? Not technically, anyway.”

“Right,” I say, kicking myself for the hundredth time. “We made a deal.”

I can’t believe I actually let myself get entangled with my boss. No matter what kind of disclaimer we put our names to, I’m old enough to know it is one hell of a conflict of interest and a real ethics bender.

I still can’t believe it worked out so well…

“I’m going to make good on it,” Harlan promises, “Tomorrow.”

My eyes widen. “Wait – you mean?”

Harlan nods, smiling mysteriously. “My lips are sealed, Skye. You know that.”

“If your lips were sealed,” I splutter, “you wouldn’t have told me anything at all!”

Harlan shrugs. “Blame the contract,” he says. “You never did get it looked at by a lawyer, did you?”

I shake my head. “Ass,” I mutter.

Harlan stands up. “Speaking of…” He says. “How about you give me a little twirl?”

“I’m not your Barbie doll,” I mutter, pulling a face at him.

“You aren’t?” Harlan replies, teasingly. “In that case, tomorrow’s going to go really badly for you…”

“You can’t do that!” I say, standing up indignantly. “You can’t just keep dropping hints and not tell me anything!”

The truth is I’m desperate to know what Harlan has planned. I’m nervous as all hell. Knowing him, it’s going to push me to the very edge of what I can take. And then over.

Harlan reaches out and takes my hand. He pulls me towards him, spinning me in the process – and I’m pretty sure I see his eyes drop to take a good long look at my ass.

“Hey!” I protest – weakly. “I was asking you something.”

Harlan shrugs. “What can I say, darling?”

I shiver at the sound of that nickname. No one’s ever given me one before. It feels so good to be wanted. Good enough that I know I would do pretty much anything for this man. Even – and I hate it – wait for his surprise.

“I’m a difficult man,” he continues. “And I guess if you want us to stay together, you’ll have to get used to it.”

Stay together!

My brain’s still reeling at the suggestion that Harlan and I might have a real future together. But I turn professional Skye on, and silence the storm of curiosity now raging in my mind.

“Or change you,” I threaten. “Because trust me, I could. Hell…” I press my body against his, form a fist, and rap my knuckles gently against his head. “This little black box ain’t nothing. I could hack into it over a long weekend.”

“We already had one of those,” Harlan grins, looping his arms around my body and holding me tight. “And you didn’t manage to.”

I hike my eyebrow up. “Didn’t I?”

Harlan’s eyes flare with understanding. He knows as well as I do that the time we spent together in his cabin changed everything. We went from being two people, pulled together by mutual need, to being something much, much more.

Friends, lovers even.

A couple?

Harlan’s only reply is a kiss. I think it says everything. His lips graze mine, and his arm – hooked around my lower back – pulls me in tight. I feel his cock start to grow, and I resist the urge to shake my head.

He’s insatiable!

Then again, that’s exactly what I want. I want a man who can’t help but want me. I need a man who can’t help but need me. And Harlan is exactly that.

“Down, cowboy,” I say, my eyes twinkling as I pull away from Harlan’s searching kiss. “We’re waiting for tomorrow, remember…”

“Are we?” Harlan replies with mock indignation. “I never said anything about that. I just said to be ready tomorrow…”

I hear a thump outside my apartment – on the landing, but I ignore it. I’m used to people coming and going at all hours. It’s part and parcel of living in an apartment block in the middle of New York City. Between the college kids partying on the ground floor, and the old couple, who live by the roof moving furniture up and down at all hours of the day, there’s always something.

“You hear that?” Harlan says, crinkling his eyes. “Sounded like –”

I tangle my fingers into Harlan’s shirt. “Leave it,” I say, biting my lip suggestively. “I’ve got something more interesting in mind…”

Harlan frowns a second longer, but then shrugs. “Okay. I guess tomorrow can wait.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman,” I wink.

THUD.

“Skye!” A hoarse, slurring voice calls out. “I need you, doll.”

No, no, no. Not tonight. Not tonight of all nights.

“Who’s that?” Harlan says, his head snapping towards the door. “Want me to sort it out?”

My head slumps forward, impacting against Harlan’s solid, muscular chest. Any other time, I would have rubbed my sore forehead, but right now I’ve got bigger problems.

“No,” I groan.

“Seriously, Skye – if you’ve got some asshole neighbor bothering you, I’ll deal with it.”

My cheeks start burning red with a surge of embarrassment. I know I’ve explained my past to Harlan, but it’s one thing to talk about it in the quiet comfort of his cabin in the mountains – quite another to have it come surging back to life when he’s right here by my side.

“It’s not my neighbor,” I mutter, mortified, “you can’t fix this problem.”

Harlan squints at me, not understanding. It’s my fault, I’m not making it clear. I don’t want to explain the situation.

“Then what is it?” He says.

I sag into his arms, holding onto him for the last couple of seconds, feeding off his strength. Tears are prickling at the corners of my eyes. I’m so tired of this –yet I’m still the man’s daughter. I don’t have any other choice. He’s all I’ve got left.

“It’s my dad,” I admit, my throat choking up, as if fit to burst into tears.

Harlan pushes back. “Oh, Skye…” He says with a crushing look of pity on his face that hurts more than any words of his could. “You told me, I just –”

“Didn’t understand,” I say briskly, straightening myself up and preparing for what’s about to come. “It’s not your fault. There’s no way you could have. But I need you to leave.”

Harlan blinks. I can’t tell if he’s hurt or relieved. “I can stay,” he says firmly. “Help out.”

I shake my head and step back, wringing my hands. “No – it’s better if you don’t. And…” I tail off.

Harlan frowns, “And…”

“When you leave, just pretend –, pretend –”

Harlan nods his understanding. “Just pretend this was nothing more than a friendly dinner,” he says.

I nod. “I’m sorry, Harlan,” I say. “This isn’t how I wanted tonight to end…”

Harlan hugs me and gets ready to leave, “me neither, darling. But I’m not going anywhere.” He grins, as if realizing the absurdity of what he just said. “In the long run, I mean.”

“I know,” I smile wanly. “I know.”

There’s another – “thud” – outside, and then my dad’s voice echoes in the hallway. “Skye…” he slurs, “Skye!”

“I’ll go,” Harlan says, grazing my cheek with his lips. “And about tomorrow… it can wait.”

“No!” I say, startling myself with the intensity of my reaction. Somehow it feels like if I let dad disrupt tomorrow, like he’s done the last ten years, then I lose. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“Okay then,” Harlan smiles. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And just like that, he turns to leave. I walk to the door without another word needing to be said. I kiss him once on the lips, close my eyes briefly, and then loosen the latch. I mouth, “thank you…” silently at him.

Then louder, I say. “Thanks for coming around, boss. And –”

I stop, my mind drawing a blank. I’m no good at this playacting thing.

Harlan takes my cue and runs with it.

“It really wasn’t a problem,” he says – while stepping over my father’s drunken body. I wince at the sight of the man’s matted ginger hair. “I’m just glad I got you the papers in time for you to sign.”

“Yes, yes,” I say, latching onto Harlan’s idea. “The papers. Thanks again.”

We share a smile at the absurdity of this role-playing. After all – of all the role-playing I thought I might do with a man like Harlan Wolfe, this is pretty tame! And then he walks toward the stairs.

I let my head drop forward for a second, then my eyes pass over my dad’s sprawled body.

“Skye…” He moans, holding his thumping head. “Who was that?”

“No one, dad,” I mutter. “Let’s get you inside.”