It was too easy to stick my foot in my mouth around her, too easy to feel awkward.

And on the flip-side, it was too easy to feel…easy. Not like sleazy, but there was no other way to describe how it was. Then, while I sat there feeling like a piece of shit for my behavior, Allie gave me a look and shook her head slightly, like she’d caught me doing something I shouldn't have.

“You look the same way my little brother did when I caught him peeking over the fence at our next door neighbor.”

I wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that comparison.

Allie continued, “She likes to sunbathe in the nude, but then she freaks if she thinks somebody is peeking at her, although that’s exactly why she does it.”

I was shocked enough by her statement that I couldn't stop myself from asking the most inane question that came into my head. “Why do you think she does it just to get peeked at?”

She grinned at me. “Because she also answers the door and walks outside with her robe hanging open, and then acts all frazzled if somebody looks.” Allie lifted a shoulder. “I personally don’t care if she wants to let her tits hang out, but if she’s going to let them hang out, she needs to be aware that guys – especially twelve-year-old boys – will look. Trust me, guys look even if they aren't hanging out.”

She gestured absently toward her chest, and I couldn’t stop myself.

I kept it to a quick glance, my blood heating as I imagined cupping those ripe curves in my hands, taking her nipples into my mouth, teasing them with my fingers. Did she like it light? Hard? Teeth or no teeth?

The thoughts continued to rush through my head even after I slid my gaze back to hers. I doubted she even noticed.

“So you think she intentionally wanders around half-dressed, wanting people to look, but then complaining when they do?” I asked, keeping my tone dry through sheer will alone. I'd never had such a blunt conversation with a woman. Hell, I didn't think I'd had this sort of conversation with a man before.

“Well, yes.” Leaning forward, she said in a low voice, “See, Trudy just got divorced from her husband about two years ago. She caught him cheating with her best friend. Bad timing for him, because Trudy’s mother had just died and Trudy came out of it very, very well. Trudy used to be a bit…” Allie wiggled her head from side to side, weighing her words. “Voluptuous. Pretty, absolutely, but she’d put on some weight over the last year of their marriage, and she always complained that it went to her butt and hips, but never to her boobs. Her best friend was rail thin, but had a decent rack.”

She carried on blithely, and I tried to imagine any of the women I'd ever known talking like this. The women I'd dated. The one I was going to propose to. My mother. I almost choked on my coffee at that image.

No way in hell.

And the best thing about this conversation was that Allie wasn't trying to use it to turn me on, to hit on me. She was just telling a story.

“So Trudy files for divorce, wins, and her now ex-husband knows nothing about the fortune coming her way because it’s all still in probate. Trudy knew, but she kept it all quiet, carrying on as always, running like a beast and losing weight while her former BFF marries her former ex. Then the BFF ends up pregnant and plump. The BFF came to see her, planning to break it to her gently...the same day Trudy’s inheritance was made free and clear. She ended up getting almost half a million, and for a woman living where I do, that’s a decent amount of cash,” she pointed out as if I thought it was nickels.

I didn’t need somebody to tell me that five hundred thousand was a fair amount of money for most people, but I didn’t say anything. Her storytelling was fascinating me.

“She’d already had the first consultation for the boob job – she was getting double D’s. Apparently, her ex had always wanted them, and now she wanted them…just to spite him.” Allie lifted a shoulder and reached for her water. “So she tells her former BFF not to worry her little ol’ head – Trudy’s from Georgia. I was standing out there talking to my mother, and I heard it all and almost died trying not to laugh. Oh, honey, I’m just fine.”

Here, she started to mimic a Georgian accent, getting all into it. Batting her eyelashes, her hand pressed to her chest. Her voice took on a breathy, dulcet tone that brought to mind some attention-seeking southern debutante. I’d met more than a few – slept with several of them too.

She kept going. “You heard about my mama, right? Well, it turns out that she was sitting on some money left to her by her daddy, and now it’s all mine, and I don’t have to worry about sharing it with Jeff! I’m going to pay off the house and get me a car and a boob job, and I’ve already turned in my notice at work, and I’m starting college in the fall!”

I was laughing by the time she finished, my sides hurting.

She grinned at me. “I kid you not. That’s how it went.” Her face darkened. “Sorry. Sometimes when I start telling a story, it just all comes out.”

I shook my head. “Don't apologize. I love a good story. Especially one told so well.”

“I had to recite it for my mom, then her friends.” She pursed her lips again then added softly, “It’s not quite as much fun when you can’t do the accent.”

“Why didn't you do the accent for them?”

“Oh.” She lifted a shoulder, looking away. “I could. But it wouldn’t matter. My mom’s deaf. Brother and step-dad too.”

“Oh. Did…” Frowning and feeling awkward again, I smoothed my hands down the front of my slacks, as if there were imaginary wrinkles. “Inherited?”

“It can be.” She looked over at me. She started to rise, looking around. “I should probably get going.”

“Are you that eager to get back?” I didn't know where the question came from.

Actually, I did, but I didn't know why I’d let myself ask it. It was obvious that she wasn’t thrilled to be spending time with me. I thought she'd enjoyed herself, but I doubted she'd ever want to see me again.

This was a woman with complications written all over her. Not that it mattered. Even if I had the time and the inclination, I wasn’t free.

You always make the time…and you are inclined.

Dammit. That sly little voice in my head was going to get me in trouble.

Except I was counting on Allie to shoot me down.

She still hadn't answered my question though. And she hadn't walked away.

I seized the opportunity.

“Come on. Take a walk with me. I’ll make sure you get back to Philadelphia today.”

We headed down the sidewalk in silence for several minutes before she broke it. “So…you’re about to get engaged.”

“Brilliant deduction, my dear Watson.” I glanced over at her as we slowly made our way around the Central Park Castle, one of my favorite parts of the city. She was staring at everything with a faint smile on her face and part of me wished I could show her everything. But we didn’t have time for everything. Barely had time for this. I just had to make the most of it.

“What’s she like?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, uncertain how to describe my...relationship. I liked Paisley. I supposed I did anyway. I was physically attracted to her. But now I wasn't entirely sure I could describe her.

“She’s…” I floundered, searching for the right word and the only one that came to mind was… “suitable.”

“Wow.” It was delivered in a dry tone and the smile on Allie’s face was so full of sardonic, sharp-edged humor, it practically cut. “Suitable. I’ll tell you what, Mr. Lindstrom. That’s probably the most insulting description of a woman I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Hey…”

She stopped and turned, facing me. Hands tucked into the pockets of her puffy down jacket, she shrugged. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who said it. Suitable. Like a…I don’t know. A suit. A suit is suitable. For like a wedding. A funeral. A job interview. Not that you’ve probably had to attend many of those. But the woman you’re going to spend the rest of your life with? Suitable?”

The words hit a mark, but the bad thing was, Paisley was suitable. Nothing else fit. We had no burning, torrid passion, but the sex was fine. We had similar interests in life, and many of the things that appealed to her appealed to me. We knew the same people and our families were friends.

We suited.

And proposing to her meant getting my mom off my ass about settling down.

“And what are you looking for in a marriage?” I asked, feeling defensive without understanding why.

“I’m not,” Allie replied easily. “But if I ever were to be looking to hook up with a guy on a permanent basis, and he described me as suitable, I'd kick his ass. I don’t want a guy because I suit him. I want a guy to want me, to need me…and I’d want to feel the same way about him. Anything else…we’d be short-changing each other.”

She turned and started to walk.

“I guess your parents are the kind who took one look and fell madly in love, so you believe in all that fairy tale kind of thing.”

She shot me a look. “I don't believe in love. Not the kind that sticks around forever anyway. My parents said they were in love, but my dad broke her heart. My step-dad and mom...them, I can maybe believe have what could be called love.” She looked away. “But I don't ever want to be the person someone settled on because I suited them.”

When she'd first started talking, I'd regretted my word choice. Now, I didn't. I could see her a bit more clearly now.

My fingers wrapped around the ring box in my pocket. “Sometimes you don't have a choice between something you want and something you don't. Sometimes, the only choice you have is between two things that are both unappealing, and you have to pick the one you can live with.”

She gave me a look that said maybe I'd just revealed a little too much about myself.

* * *

Later that night, as I sipped from a glass of bourbon in my room, I stared out the window, thinking about how the day had gone.

Allie had been fun.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d walked around the city and just talked with anyone, let alone Paisley.

Paisley.

My soon to be wife.

When I was with her, we did talk. Or rather, she talked and I pretended to listen. Kind of like I did with my mother...

Those words had just drifted through my mind when the phone rang.

Glancing down, I saw Paisley’s name flash across the screen. I ignored the desire to not answer and picked it up.

“Hello, Paisley.”

“Jal…” Her voice was a warm purr, and I closed my eyes, tried to focus on her. “How are you?”

“Well. And you?”

“Missing you, baby. What are you doing right now?”

I swirled the twenty-five years scotch in my glass. “Having a drink before I turn in.”

“Why don’t you lay down on the bed? I’m in mine…we could maybe chat.”

I doubted chatting was what she had in mind, but I went to the bed and laid down anyway. I'd enjoyed today, but there was some tension that had only increased being around Allie. A familiar, heavy tension that I knew would have only one release.

As she talked about how she’d like to wrap her mouth around my cock, I closed my eyes and put the scotch down. I palmed myself through my pants, then opened them, let my mind drift. But it wasn’t Paisley who came to mind when I wrapped my hand around my cock. I heard her talking, let the responses automatically fall from my lips, but I was thinking about another set of lips sucking me off, another pair of strong fingers cupping my balls, stroking me.

And it was another name I had to bite back when I came.