Friday evening arrived, and I continued to struggle with the release of Baby Girl III. One thing I quickly found out about being self-employed was that there were no weekends. Every day was the same. They were all opportunities for me to develop another bestselling novel, but only if I was making an effort to do so.

My phone beeped.

I swept my thumb across the screen. A message from Jess appeared.

My last client cancelled. Busy?

I typed my response.

Not so much.

Want to hang out? she asked.

If her last client cancelled, it meant she was across the street, at her salon. In the past, I hadn’t allowed women into my house unless I was in a relationship with them. Keeping women away from the place I lived eliminated any confusion as to what my intentions were.

The northern side of my loft was constructed of windows. From three feet off the floor to the top of the sixteen-foot high structure, the sixty-foot long wall was made of glass.

I peered through the window, and down at the busy street. I lived in Old Town, which was Wichita’s party district. The streets were lined with restaurants, bars, nightclubs, and a movie theatre.

My building was in the center of it all.

The city was crawling with the early night crowd that was hoping to get a seat at their favorite restaurant or club before it became so packed they couldn’t get in. I had no desire to manipulate my way through the crowd and meet her anywhere.

Nor did I have any desire to drive through the traffic. In a moment of weakness, I typed my response.

Come here

Where’s here? she asked.

I gave her my address, further explaining how to get past the security system. I then gave directions on where the elevator was. Then, I sat at my desk and watched out my third-floor window for her to arrive.

I smiled as she walked from the parking lot to the front door. She possessed a certain elegance in her gait, especially when she wore heels. Watching her walk was akin to watching a miracle unfold.

In a few moments, she knocked on the door.

I opened the door. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a white top that had a chevron pattern printed on it. The top fit her as if it were made for her. The jeans were cuffed perfectly, the bottoms hovering two inches over a pair of leopard print heels.

She looked adorable.

I waved toward the living area. “This is it.”

She peered past me, focusing on the wall of windows. “It’s huge.”

I moved to the side. “Come in.”

Gingerly she stepped through the door. Using the same delicate steps, she slipped between me and the corridor’s wall, making eye contact with me as she walked past.

The sweet smell of her perfume tickled my nostrils.

I reached for her shoulder, stopping her from going any further. Our eyes locked. Without warning, I pushed her against the wall and kissed her deeply. Her purse hit the floor with a thud. She wrapped her arms around me and returned the kiss, matching my passion completely.

For a period of time that I couldn’t accurately describe, we were tangled in that passionate kiss. Our hands fumbled to touch places we had held sacred from one another. We continued to kiss until my mind was aflutter, and then I broke the embrace.

She looked at me with wide eyes and a face washed with hope. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and then smiled.

“What was that about?” she asked, wearing an ear-to-ear grin.

“It was a test,” I replied.

“Did I pass?”

She certainly did. The kiss was everything I wanted it to be, and so much more. It was the kiss novels were written about. The kiss that caused men to become weak and women to fall in love. The kiss that said what no words were able.

The kiss that answered the question my mind was afraid to ask, but my heart yearned to know.

As I gazed at her with admiring eyes, I realized I had a decision to make.

One that could expose me to far more risk than battling the ATF in court. One that had the ability to either drive me to a lifetime of celibacy, or a lifetime of reward.

I simply needed to commit to take that risk.