It’s time to show Jessa the real me. I need to show her who I really am, and what I can give to her and Lucy. We can make a real life together, something good and exciting. I picture the three of us together and I can’t believe my life has suddenly turned out this way.

“What did Avery say?” I ask Jessa over the phone.

“She said she’d watch her for the night,” Jessa says. One good thing about that Avery—she’s always willing to look after Lucy—at a moment’s notice, even overnight. “Where are you taking me, anyway?”

“It’s a surprise,” I tell her.

“But I don’t know what to bring!” she cries.

“Bring a dress, a swimsuit, and nothing else,” I tell her.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’ll send a car to pick you up,” I tell her.

“Cole! What are you up to?”

I refuse to give anything away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

The next day, I’m waiting for Jessa out at Barrett Anderson’s airfield. I'm as nervous as if I’m taking the prettiest girl in school to the prom—which I didn’t get to go to, thanks to the work I had to do while old man slept off the residue of a three-day bender.

When the limousine pulls up and Jessa gets out, I swear my heart skips a beat. She’s fucking stunning.

“Jesus, you look gorgeous,” I tell her, kissing her cheek like a gentleman, when really I just want to ravage her. Her dress hugs her delicious curves and she’s wearing heels, and it’s sexy as hell.

“Thanks,” she says, tugging on the hem of her dress. “It’s Avery’s. It’s a little tight.”

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect,” I say, and I mean it. It hugs her every curve so perfectly it’s like it was made for her.

“It’s been—well, three years since I put on a dress and went out for the night,” she says. “I feel a little out of practice.”

“You’ll be perfect,” I say. I rub my hand over her back, taking in her rich blue dress that plunges at the neck, showing of her tits which, I have to admit now, I need to pay far more attention to. They look so fucking good. I will definitely rectify that tonight. In fact, I intend to pay rapturous attention to every single inch of this body of hers.

“What is all this?” she asks, looking around at the open field. “Are we camping?” And then her eyes land on the small plane parked nearby. “We’re not getting in that, are we?”

I pull myself back to the moment, tearing my eyes and hands off her body.

“We are,” I say. I take her hand and guide her toward the plane.

“I’ve never flown before.”

“Good thing I hired a pilot, then,” I say.

She slaps my arm. “I mean I’ve never flown in a plane before! Cole!”

I can’t tell if she’s nervous or excited—maybe both.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be a smooth easy ride into the city.”

“That’s where we’re going?”

“Yep,” I tell her. “I’ve seen your home, and you know what my old home looks like. I figured it’s about time you see where I live now. We could have hired a driver—”

“Or you could have driven yourself,” she teases.

“But isn’t this more fun? And we’ll be there in less than forty-five minutes. Watch your step,” I say, holding her hand as she stops up on the stairs leading up into the plane.

“All this for us?” she says, looking around once we’re inside. It’s small but brand new and perfectly decked out with every modern convenience you could want for an overseas flight, much less one just across the state.

“Pick any seat you like,” I say. “It’s all first class.”

Jessa sits down and primly folds her hands in her lap. I sit next to her.

“We’ll get some champagne to help you relax,” I tell her.

“I’m not nervous,” she says.

I kiss her lips. “You’re cute when you’re lying.”

“Stop,” she says, but she lets out a breath.

“It’s such a short flight that if you blink it’ll be over.” I take her hand as the doors are closed and we begin moving. She looks out the window.

“I didn’t even know this was out here,” she says.

“Barrett uses it for takeoff in his crop duster. It’s the only place around that I could land my plane.”

“This isn’t your plane,” she says, looking at me.

I concede. “One of my planes.”

Jessa shakes her head slowly. “Well, Mr. Frost. Little did I know…”

I kiss her hand. “Honey, you’ve still got a lot to learn about me.”

* * *

When we arrive in the city, a limousine is there on the tarmac to pick us up, and once we’re inside and the car is taking off, Jessa says, “Wait!”

“What is it?” I ask, my heart pumping, thinking she remembered something about Lucy.

“My suitcase! I never even put it on the plane.”

I chuckle at her cute nerves. “It’s okay. Someone took care of it. It’ll be at my apartment later tonight.”

She sits back. “Oh, okay. Guess I’m not used to all this.”

“Get comfortable,” I say. “There’s a lot more to come.”

“Are we going to your apartment?” she asks. “I’ve always wondered what it looked like.”

“Always wondered? Does that mean you’ve been thinking about me all these years?”

I was trying to tease her, but she says, “Yes, of course I have. I’ve thought of you every day.”

I swallow hard, feeling guilty. I’ve thought of her too, in every move and decision I made. She still has no idea that it’s all been for her. Bringing her here, to my new home turf is, in a way, so that I can finally show her that I have been thinking of her this entire time.

She never left my mind.

And the way she’s looking at me now shows me that she needs some reassurance. I stroke her cheek and gently kiss her, my tongue grazing hers so softly. Kissing Jessa, being so close to her, feels like all the home I need. She leans more into me and wraps her arms around my neck. I run my hand over the curve of her hip and around to her ass, tugging her in a little closer. Just as I’m getting going, the car stops.

“Shit,” I mutter. “I guess we’re here.”

“You totally messed up my makeup,” Jessa says.

I kiss her again. “You look perfect.”

I help her out of the car. I’ve made reservations at The Carlisle Palace, a classic restaurant in a gorgeously restored building right in the middle of the city. It’s three floors of the world’s best wine, steak, seafood and service.

“God, I’ve heard of this place,” Jessa says, her eyes darting around her as a doorman opens the door for us. “I think the chef guy was on a cooking show I saw once.”

“Michael Mirto is a friend,” I say.

“That’s his name! Wait, you know him?”

“I hired him to do a couple of formal dinners at my place—corporate stuff, for investors. We became friends. A bunch of us went skiing in Aspen last winter.”

“No kidding,” she says.

“Good evening, Mr. Frost,” the maître d’ says.

“Hi, Connor. Good to see you.”

“Indeed,” he says with a little bow of his head. “We have your table ready for you.”

We follow him through the restaurant, which is dim with heavy oak fixtures and thick velvet curtains. A band plays old crooner music near the bar, and some couples dance slowly. Connor leads us to the old-fashioned elevator, which is open on all sides with a view into the lounge and bar.

“After you,” he says to Jessa, and I follow her in.

“Russell will take you up. Enjoy your meal.”

The chain door is slid shut by Russell, and up we go, views on all sides like we’re in a birdcage. Jessa’s face is bright a kid’s as she watches through the grates as we ascend to the third floor.

When we get to our table, I do the honors of pulling out her chair as she sits down. The music from the band drifts up through the shoot of the open floors.

“This place is amazing,” Jessa says, staring around wide-eyed. “God, I guess I didn’t realize how long it’s been since I’ve really gotten out.”

“Better than Rusty’s, right?”

She shoots me a look. “I love Rusty’s. Stop knocking it.”

The sommelier comes by for our wine order, and Jessa defers to me. Truthfully, I’m showing off a little with Clement, the sommelier, who has also been to my apartment here in the city.

“It’s not like the oh-seven Bordeaux is it?” I ask him. “That was a little woodsy for me.”

“I know what you mean,” Clement says. “No, this one has a lighter touch. It has some fresh berry notes with a hint of snap pea. It’s very nice.”

“Wonderful. We’ll try it,” I say, handing the wine menu back.

After Clement leaves Jessa says, “Okay, I have no idea what that was about but I think you just ordered a bottle of red wine?”

I laugh. “It’s mostly bullshit talk, but yeah, I ordered a red. And if you don’t like it, please tell me. We don’t have to drink it.”

“Like I know the difference between good wine and boxed wine.”

“Hey, boxed wine has come a long way,” I say, which makes her smile. She settles back into her seat, a satisfied smile on her face. I want her to look this happy all the time. I’m sure I can do it for her—keep her happy, content, well cared for.

“There’s another place not far from here,” I tell her, “that serves the best dumplings. I’ll take you and Lucy there next time.”

“Next time, huh?” she says. “I like the sound of that.”

“Jessa,” I tell her. “This is just the beginning.”

Clement brings the wine. I taste and approve of it. When he serves us both and leaves I hold up my glass to Jessa.

“To the beginning,” I say.

“To the beginning,” she says, and we clink glasses.