“Don’t I have anything?” I asked my closet in despair.

The pile of clothes on the bed behind me seemed to be judging me. Of course I had things—nice things, even. But nice wasn’t really good enough for a fancy dinner with a millionaire, was it? I needed to be stunning. Mind-blowing.

“Just like he is,” I murmured through the hazy smile dancing around my lips. “Absolutely mind-blowing.”

Memories of the night before swept through my mind, making chills run over my body and turning my knees to jelly. I sat down among the clothes for a moment, staring into space as I replayed every touch and sensation from the night before. A deep ache built within me in response to the memory, a heat which would only be cooled with Miles’ talented body.

“It doesn’t matter too much what you wear,” I told my reflection in the mirror. “It’s only gonna be on long enough to get through dinner, anyway.”

At least, I hoped so. I would hate to think that he was less impressed with our chemistry than I was.

I stood and examined myself in the mirror in my bra and matching panties, turning this way and that under my critical eye. No, he’d been impressed. I took pride in my body; as a late bloomer, the womanly curves were still fairly new to me. Every time I saw myself naked or near it, I felt like I had just stepped out of the pages of a comic book.

“Can’t go wrong with a little black dress,” I decided.

I owned three of them, but only one of them was fancy enough for the evening. I shimmied into it, then began working on my makeup. Keep it simple, keep it clean. You know it’s just going to get smeared off on his face or his pillow. That thought sent another shiver of anticipation down my body.

“No appetizer, no dessert,” I decided. “Dinner, then round two.”

Butterflies stirred in my belly. Dinner was more intimidating than I had anticipated. If he was taking me somewhere fancy, it would be filled with the kinds of people I only dreamed of rubbing elbows with. Entertainers. Artists. The California elite. I swallowed hard as I realized that Miles was now one of those people.

“As if his movie-star looks weren’t intimidating enough,” I sighed to myself. “But then again, I’ve seen him naked. A person can only be so intimidating after you’ve seen them make an orgasm face. Right? Right.”

I blew out a breath, and the butterflies finally began to settle. They were immediately roused again as my phone went off with a text message from the man himself. I had to read the message three times before it made sense to my brain, and then, my veins turned to ice.

Gotta cancel, sorry.

“No reason? No nothing? Nice.” I swallowed my emotional reaction and replied.

That’s okay. Rain check for tomorrow?

Can’t, sorry. Taking the $$ to San Bravado to get startup going.

My hands began to shake and my belly seemed to turn to stone. He was leaving, probably forever.

After I’d taken a few steadying breaths, I realized that San Bravado wasn’t very far away at all. A half-hour drive outside of rush hour. That was nothing; we could totally make that work.

That sounds exciting! After you get settled we should celebrate?

He didn’t answer for a long time. Stress redoubled, clenching my chest. I swallowed against it, pacing my room, feeling foolish in my little black dress. My phone went off, nearly giving me a heart attack.

I don’t know yet. Maybe.

My breath caught in my chest as tears burned in my eyes.

“Well screw you too, Mr. Millionaire.”

The tremors in my hands moved to the rest of my body, leaving me feeling sick and miserable. How could he just toss me aside like that? I thought we’d had a fantastic time. I thought we were great together. More importantly, I thought we were friends. I re-read his texts again and again, and the more I did, the more obvious it was that he was distinctly and deliberately leaving me behind.

I tore the dress off and threw it to the floor in disgust. Hurt and angry, I turned my phone off. I didn’t expect him to write a long flowery apology, but if he did have anything else to say, I didn’t want to hear it. Let his money keep him warm at night.

I kicked my shoes into the closet with more force than necessary, then stormed to the bathroom to scrub the makeup off of my face.

“One night.” I pointed at myself in the bathroom mirror, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation. “You get one night to cry over this jackass. Exactly one, you understand me?”

My voice was already wavering, and the tears which burned in my eyes escaped down my cheeks. I turned the shower on and stripped out of the rest of my things. There, under the hot stream, I let the sobs crash out of my body. It could have ended with a crush, two ships passing unawares in the night, but I’d had to go and cross that line. Now, it wasn’t a what-if. It was a what was, and I almost couldn’t bear it.

Nobody had ever touched me the way he had. In and out of bed. I had never felt such an immediate connection, or experienced such soul-shaking sex. I could still feel him, and I hated it. His presence in my memory only underlined his absence in my reality.

I took full advantage of my one night. I mourned what was and what could have been until the sun began to wash its rays over the sky, then fell into a fitful sleep.