Bree arrives first. The woman is striking. I’m always shocked by her beauty. Her long blond hair hangs like a golden sheet down her back, almost touching her bottom. Her eyes are a cerulean blue that instantly reminds me of Chase’s ocean eyes. Like that of any true Californian girl, her skin is sun-kissed and glowing. Bree’s wearing yoga pants and a knit tank top. Even in her work attire, she’s all tight muscles and lean curves. At five-foot-two, she’s the smallest of all of us, but her strength makes up for her tiny frame. Her pouty lips turn into a wide smile, and I grab her into a hug.

“Gigi, you had me so worried,” she whispers against my ear. The smell of rich incense permeates her hair.

“I’m okay, I promise.”

She nods and continues to hug me. Her hands encircle my waist. “You look like shit,” she says, lightening the heavy moment. I turn and lead her in. “And your ass is getting big. You haven’t come to class in a whole week. You owe me three days this week.”

Bree is committed to keeping us all fit and flexible. She believes that toning the body and mind is the cure-all for any ailment. She’s our resident New Ager from the tips of her pink painted toes to the top of her golden locks.

“I haven’t gained a pound, so shut up!” I warn jokingly.

“Suit yourself,” she says in mock horror, “if you want Chase to see your sagging ass.”

“You bitch!” I scold and we both get lost in a fit of laughter. The doorbell rings again, and I run to open it.

Kathleen is a vision. Her curly blond hair is a halo around her face, reaching just past her shoulders. She slides her hand through it to remove it from her eyes. She’s wearing a long, flowing skirt in summery orange hues. Several necklaces in varying lengths hang from a long swanlike neck. Her caramel-brown eyes gleam as she takes me in. Dozens of bangle bracelets tinkle as she pulls me into her arms.

“Oh, Gigi, you gave us one heck of a scare,” she says.

“I know, but Kat, I’m okay. Really.”

She kisses the side of my hairline and grabs my hand to squeeze it.

We enter the kitchen hand in hand. Bree is already sneaking bites of the salad I prepared. She plops a cherry tomato in her mouth. “What? I haven’t eaten all day. And unlike you flabby bitches, I work out all day long!”

We all laugh. “Actually, Kat has been killing it in the studio,” Bree says. “I saw you almost every day last week. I’m proud, girlie.”

Kat beams. “Unlike Gigi, I have to work hard to keep my girlish figure. The long nights in the theatre hunched over a sewing machine are killing my back.” She brings her hand to her slim hips and stretches her back. “The yoga is almost a requirement. And it’s not like I have a man to go home to.” She sighs.

Kat and Bree have been going through a dry spell with men and complain about it often. I giggle, and they both look at me, waiting.

I tell them what they want to know about Chase and the happenings in Chicago. By the time Hurricane Maria crashes into the kitchen, they are fully up to date and on their second glass of wine. I left out some of the ultra-embarrassing parts, like him getting me off in the middle of a restaurant. Some things are sacred and these girls would never let me live it down if they knew the finer details.

We sit at our quaint kitchen table in mismatched chairs. Maria and I couldn’t agree on a table so we refurbished a table we found at a yard sale and scouted out individual unique chairs to go with it. The four of us always sit in the chair we’ve designated “our” chair. I’m sitting with one knee up on my wooden teal chair. It has cutouts and grooves in the wood where mustard-yellow tones peek through the grain. It has rounded swirling arms that I can rest my palms on perfectly. It’s just my size and fits me like a glove.

Maria sits on her deep blue wooden chair with little red flowers indented into every surface. Kat is sitting crossed legged in the oak chair with rich browns and purple lines cutting through the wood in natural swirls. Bree is sitting in lotus position in the lone dark red wooden chair. It has incredibly cool dark brown knots in the wood from the original tree it was cut from. All unique, just like my girls.

They each laugh and talk over one another. I watch them in complete contentment. I am so blessed to have them in my life. I don’t know where I would be without them. After losing my mother, the only family I had, and the hell I survived with Justin, their constant presence in my life is a true gift.

“Gigi, what are you thinking about?” Kat asks and eats a forkful of lasagna.

“Just how lucky I am to have you guys,” I say genuinely.

She nods and pats my hand.

“I don’t know about these bitches, but you’re lucky to have me,” says Bree, making us all howl. “Seriously though, Gigi. Tell us more about Chase. What’s he like?”

“He’s…intense. A man used to getting his way in all things.” I bring my hand up to my lips and pinch them, lost in thought.

“I don’t know about you two, but I like a man who takes charge,” Maria adds.

“Yes, but he can be very controlling. With my past history, it makes me nervous,” I admit.

Kat jumps in. “I’m sure you’re feeling gun-shy after Daniel, and of course, Justin. That’s perfectly natural, honey.” She takes a sip of her white wine.

“Has anyone seen this man yet?” Bree asks. “Is he hot? You said he was hot, but I don’t know if I believe you.” She smiles that evil little smile of hers.

“Mouth-wateringly so, Bree. He’s tall, at least six two or three. Built.” I widen my arms out. “His hair is the color of coffee beans, and his eyes, oh Lord, his eyes will be the death of me. They’re not just blue, like the sky. No, they look like the ocean water you see on an advertisement for Cancun!” I gaze off dreamily. My mind flits back to his hand inching down my panties, his lips enslaving my nipple, the tender way he bit down on the sensitive flesh. Goose bumps run over my skin at the memory, and I shiver.

“Um, hello. Earth to Gigi?” Maria says. “I’ve got him on my cell phone right here. Holy mierda! Gigi, talk about caliente! He’s so hot he’s on fire!”

I’m brought back to the here and now, and Maria is passing her smart phone to Bree.

“Oh, my. Girl, you weren’t kidding. He’s magnificent!” she exclaims and passes the phone to Kat.

I try to grapple for it, missing it completely.

“Whoa, Gigi. And you haven’t hit that yet? What the hell? I’d hit it for you!” Kat exclaims.

They all laugh, annoying the bejesus out of me.

Finally, I clasp the phone, pull it away, and look at the screen. It’s a headshot of Chase from our foundation’s website. Again, I feel so stupid not having known he was the chairman of the board. I sigh and stare at the image of his gorgeous face for much too long before Maria steals it back.

“You should see him naked. He’s glorious.”

All three of their mouths drop. I guess I forgot to share that little tidbit. I snicker and pat myself on the back subconsciously. Point for Gigi!

“You’ve seen him desnudo! Complete bare-ass naked and you didn’t tell us?” Maria says, a slight edge in her tone.

“You’re holding out on your best friends?” Bree mocks indignation.

“We have so little to hold onto, Gigi, and you’re getting frisky with a hot male supermodel of a man and you throw us no bones?” Kat laughs.

I take a huge gulp of my wine. Three sets of eyes watch patiently. “Well, it happened so fast. Okay, so he was getting out of the shower in a towel, we had a small argument over Phillip, and then he dropped the towel.” I hide my embarrassment in another sip of wine. At this rate, I’m going to end up drunk.

“And how was it?” Bree gestures between her own legs.

I can’t believe she’s asking about his manhood.

“I’ll just bet it was grande,” Maria counters.

“Probably not. Sometimes those rich pricks have pencil dicks,” Kat quips while wiggling her pinky finger.

They’re carrying on a conversation with each other, back and forth, barbs flying freely.

“Cut it!” I yell.

All three quiet immediately and all eyes are on me.

“He’s huge. Biggest penis I’ve ever had the pleasure seeing. And it was so pink and pretty and ready. Gawwwdddd.” I throw my hands over my heated face.

They bust out in raucous laughter. It’s infectious, and we’re all laughing so hard we’re wiping tears from our eyes.

“So when do you think you’ll take it to the next level?” Kat asks sweetly.

“I hope this weekend. Depends on his schedule, I guess. I get my stitches out Friday, and he said he wouldn’t touch me until I was better.”

“That’s actually really sweet,” Bree says and stuffs her face full of lasagna. For a tiny woman, the girl can eat. Then again, when you’re teaching four yoga classes or more a day, you probably need to carb up.

“So what was your argument over Phillip?” Kat questions.

Taking my time, I explain the uncomfortable conversation we had prior to the towel incident and then again at the airport.

“I can understand why Chase would feel jealous about Phillip. He’s hot, Gigi. And he adores you,” Bree says.

She thinks Phillip’s hot? She never mentioned that. I agree that he’s good-looking, but I’ve never considered him hot. Maybe because I’ve known him most my life and loved his wife so much.

“Phillip and I do not have that kind of relationship, and all of you know that,” I say.

“But technically, you did lose your virginity to him. When are you going share that bit of information with Chase?” Kat throws in.

Never. I cringe and sip my wine. Do I owe Chase an explanation on that part of my past? We were in high school. It was two friends exploring one another and being each other’s first. At least I didn’t lose my virginity to some asshole in the back of a car on prom night. My time with Phillip was sweet. Phillip was gentle with me, treating me like a porcelain doll. Our exploration lasted all of ten minutes.

“I wasn’t planning on sharing that information with him,” I say.

Bree shakes her head. “You always say honesty is the best policy. So if it doesn’t suit you, you’re not going to be honest?”

Damn her for using my own morals against me. She definitely knows how to hit home.

“If it doesn’t come up, I don’t need to bring it up. It was a lifetime ago.” I finish my wine.

Maria leans over and fills my glass once more. She winks at me. “Okay, okay, enough. Let’s toast.”

Every dinner we share a toast. It’s tradition. We each raise our glasses.

Maria leads. “Here’s to you, here’s to me, if we disagree, fuck you, fuck me, we’re family!”

We howl with laughter and each take a sip. Maria always knows the right thing to say to get things back to normal. We discuss Maria’s newest show and the costumes involved. Kat is working on those. Then when Bree is nice and toasty from three glasses of wine, the three of us attack with talk about the fact that Bree is actually interested in Phillip.

I’m surprised by the information but excited. I can’t wait to match them up. She’d be a perfect stepmother for Anabelle, and the little girl adores her. Phillip hasn’t been with anyone seriously since Angela. We all agree Phillip needs to get laid more than the four of us combined. It would definitely keep him from hounding me about Chase. I start devising a plan to get them in the same space. I decide to work with Maria on the finer details. If there ever was a schemer, it is she, and she’s damn good at it.

After we clean up, all of the girls leave, and Maria retires to her room. I look at the clock and realize it’s almost midnight. Shit! Chase asked me to call him. I head to my room, put on my pajamas, and crawl into bed with my cell phone.

There’s a missed call from Chase and a text message waiting.

To: Gillian Callahan

From: Chase Davis

Haven’t heard from you. Call me, no matter the time.

The message he left doesn’t sound exactly chipper. I dial his number, and he answers on the first ring.

“Gillian,” he says in greeting, but there’s a slight edge to his voice.

“Hi. I just got done with dinner and cleaning up.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t call you earlier.”

“I was worried.” He sounds different. Standoffish, but I can’t quite tell. This is our first real phone conversation.

“I’m sorry.” I wait.

He sighs loudly into the phone. I pull on my hair and twirl the strands around my finger nervously.

“Were you with Phillip?” His tone is bored, monotone.

“What? No,” I respond, not sure why he’d think that. “Phillip dropped me off and left with Anabelle.”

“Where’s his wife?”

The question surprises me and the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Is he seriously jealous of Phil?

“In San Francisco National Cemetery,” I say.

“He’s a widower? What happened?”

I still don’t like his tone. It hints on accusing, and I’ve got nothing to say to him if that’s the case.

“Drunk driver hit her on her way home from work two years ago. She was killed instantly.” I swallow the lump in my throat, thinking of the beautiful blonde who was filled with life and taken away from all of us, especially Anabelle and Phillip, far too soon.

“I’m sorry.” Another long pause. He sighs deeply and shocks me with his next question. “You’re not in love with him?” His voice is a whisper and more telling than I expected from him.

I smile into the phone. “No, Chase. But he is a part of my life. He’s my best friend, and his daughter is important to me.”

“I see.” His tone is lifeless, flat.

That’s it. He sees? What does that even mean? God, he’s such an enigma.

“When is your appointment to have your stitches removed?”

That was a peculiar transition from Phillip to my doctor’s appointment. “Friday morning.” I feel a tingle of anticipation. I pray he wants to see me this weekend.

“I’ll be there to pick you up at seven.” Again he responds with very little emotion, leaving me floundering to understand where his head is at.

It takes a moment for it to hit but finally it dawns on me what he said. “What? No, you don’t have to go to my doctor’s appointment. I’m not afraid,” I assure him.

“I didn’t say you were. I will pick you up Friday. Then after, do you have to go to work?” he asks.

“Yes.” He wants to take me to my doctor’s appointment. Butterflies start in my stomach and I lean back into my pillows and smile nervously.

“I’ll have Jack pick you up from work and bring you to my office here. I have a late meeting on Friday.”

He doesn’t ask to see me and if I weren’t so downright needy for him, I’d likely tell him off. But I can’t. I want him too much.

“Okay,” I agree without question.

Chase sighs deeply into the phone. “Baby, I look forward to being with you,” he says seductively.

Finally! A reaction I can get behind. It’s like the flame lighting on a gas stove. Chase can turn me on with a few breathy words.

“Me, too.” I barely get the words out. His tone, the sound of his frustrated sigh, do wicked things to my lady parts.

“I can’t wait to kiss you, run my tongue along your skin,” he adds. “I can almost taste you from the other night.”

With effort, I bite back a moan. “Jesus, Chase.”

“I can’t wait to make you mine, Gillian.”

What does that mean to a man like him? Mine for the night? For the weekend? Forever? A chill runs through me at all the possibilities.

“And baby?” he says in a deep gravelly voice.

I shudder, and heat fires down my chest to settle heavily between my thighs. An ache for him starts deep in my core, and I squeeze my thighs together and start to tickle the bare skin above my panties.

“Yes?” I hang on his every word, slipping my hand under the lace fabric.

“Don’t masturbate.”

What the hell? I pull my hand out of my underwear as if it has been zapped by lightning.

“I want to be the one to make you come from now on.” His voice is thick, sexy, and dominant.

Chills run up my spine and goose bumps break out across my skin. “Oh, God. You’re killing me, Chase.” The man has had me on a slow scalding burn since the moment we exchanged glances at the bar a few days ago.

“Friday,” he finishes in a husky timber. “Sweet dreams.” He hangs up without saying goodbye.

Maybe he never waits for people to say goodbye. So strange. Smart, sexy as hell, and devastatingly hard to ignore.

He asked me not to masturbate. After a conversation like that, the only thing I can think about is rubbing one off quickly to relieve the intense pressure he’s built up in me. I’m strung so tight, one strum of my clit, and I’ll be humming in orgasm.

Sleep. It’s the only defense I have against the raging desire for him. After these stitches are removed, I am not leaving his side until he puts me out of my misery. I don’t care if I have to strip naked and beg.

* * *

Monday comes fast, and I’m back in the real world. Fundraising, donor testimonials, and event planning are on the docket this week, and I jump in with a flourish. Taye and I meet for lunch. We discuss what happened in Chicago in detail. I confide in him that I’m seeing Chase this weekend. To put it lightly, he is not impressed. He’s worried about me and my career.

It’s not as though he’s telling me anything I don’t know. I’ve already been over the pros and cons a million times. Really, though, when it comes down to it, it is none of his business.

Chase and I share a few texts throughout the week, and he calls me Tuesday evening to tell me he’ll be out of town the rest of week, returning late on Thursday. I welcome the time to truly collect my thoughts, knowing he’s not just a short drive away. I know the situation with Chase is ill-advised. All the warning signs are going off, but the silk of his voice over the phone and the memory of his hands on my body crush those blaring signals, leaving nothing but anticipation in their wake.

Friday morning at seven, someone knocks on the door. Maria springs off the couch like an Olympic runner. She opens the door before I can set down my coffee cup. I snicker at her exuberance. She’s on a mission to meet this man, and nothing is going to get in her way. I figured she’ll have to wait. Chase typically sends his linebacker.

I’m surprised when Maria and Chase enter the living area arm in arm, speaking in Spanish. Chase is wearing a pristine black suit and pinstriped blue dress shirt with a crisp white collar. His French cuffs peek out of his suit coat, and the light from the kitchen bounces off his silver cuff links, blinding me.

“Cuándo aprendiste a hablar español?” Maria asks.

“Yo aprendí en la universidad, pasó un período en el extranjero,” Chase responds.

Maria’s clearly impressed. Her smile is huge, and she’s using her hands animatedly as she speaks. That’s a clear signal she’s been sucked into Air Davis where there are no stops and everyone collects two hundred dollars.

“Hello? Remember me? I speak English,” I chastise them.

“She asked me when I learned to speak Spanish, and I told her in college. That I spent a term abroad.” He makes his way to me and leans down to kiss me. His hand snakes into my hair and tilts my head to the side to gain deeper access.

I open for him, enjoying the taste of his peppermint tongue. A long wolf whistle from behind us makes me pull away. Chase grins, his eyes bright with merriment.

“Damn, you didn’t greet me like that,” Maria complains with a pout.

Chase puts his arm around my waist and pulls me against him. I curl into his side.

“Sorry. I’m a one woman kind of man,” he says, and then dips down for another scorching kiss.

Damn he’s pretty, and distracting. I push him off me. He chases my lips and settles for a quick nip on the bottom one before bringing his attention back to our admirer.

Maria winks as a wicked grin slides into place. “Gigi, call me later. Let me know whether or not you’ll be coming home this evening.” She’s about to head to her room to change for rehearsal.

“She won’t be coming home,” Chase says, a hand at my nape, swooping circles drawn into my skin.

Shivers to race along my spine.

We both turn, and he shrugs nonchalantly. Maria grins at me and waggles her eyebrows.

“Shall we go, kitten?” Chase caresses my elbow.

Kitten? I’m going to ensure that nickname doesn’t stick. I hug Maria good bye.

Chase holds out his hand to her. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss De La Torre.”

Maria laughs and pulls him into a hug. She whispers something in his ear before patting him on the back.

Chase coughs. “Understood,” he says with a nod.

He leads me out of the apartment and into the waiting car. I give Jack directions to the doctor’s office and then lean back into the seat next to Chase. He puts his hand on my stocking-covered knee and slides it down my inner thigh until he reaches the edge of my thigh-high.

“Good girl,” he whispers. He traces the edge of the stocking.

I open my legs wider. He doesn’t take the bait, which makes me pout.

“All in good time,” he says against my ear before nipping the flesh there.

Groaning, I clamp my legs together. “What did Maria say to you?” I ask, trying to tame the wild harlot inside of me.

“She threatened me,” he says flatly.

I blink a few times while the words have trouble forming on my tongue. “She didn’t!”

He grins and nods. “She said if I hurt you she’d fucking kill me. Her words, not mine.” He chuckles.

She’s a dead woman. Wait until I get my claws into her. Revenge is a mean bitch, and I intend to invoke mine at the most inopportune time. I shake my head in frustration. So damned protective, my girl. I can’t wait to get her back.

“I like her. She’s very”—he pauses—“real.”

Just then, my phone pings. I pull the phone from my new Louis Vuitton and check the screen.

“God, she’s incorrigible!” I laugh and try to stuff the phone back into my purse. Before I can, Chase swipes the phone and holds it out while I try to grab it. His arms are too damn long!

“What’s so funny?” he says. Jeez, the man has no concern for one’s privacy. He reads the message and hands the phone back to me with a smirk. It burns a hole through my palm as I wait for his response.

Time has stopped, and I lean my head back and close my eyes, not wanting to know what he thinks. He slides his hand higher up my leg, almost tickling the edge of my panties. His nose brushes my neck, and the small hairs there stand on end. He trails his tongue up the side of my neck and swirls the edge of my ear. The breath I was holding escapes in a whoosh.

His voice is more like a growl than a whisper against my ear. “I plan to lick you everywhere, every inch, especially here.” He punctuates his statement by cupping my sex roughly.

I bite my lip and thrust my hips forward on a moan. I feel his lips curl into a sultry smile against my cheek.

“I love how responsive you are. How wet you become for me.” He slides one finger up and down my cleft.

His breath against my skin sets my nerve endings on fire.

The car stops, and Jack gets out. I curse when Chase removes his hand and adjusts his suit coat over his straining erection. At least I know he’s as affected as I am. The outside world will never have a clue he just fondled a woman in his car. He is stellar at keeping his composure.

We get out of the car and walk into the doctor’s office. I take deep breaths and hold his hand. It’s like an anchor in an oncoming storm.