My stomach drops three inches when Jace says we need to talk.

“About what?”

“About us.”

It drops another two. “Oh?” Why am I suddenly afraid that he’s going to end this? We’re not even in a real relationship and I’m dreading the it’s not you, it’s me talk.

“Yes. We need to get our stories sorted. We should have done this before we even left New York, but I wasn’t thinking clearly, apparently.”

“Right.” I breathe a sigh of ridiculous relief as I stab a fried potato and pop it in my mouth.

“So … let’s see. Yesterday I told Trent we’d only been engaged two months. Does that work?”

I nod. “Yeah. I haven’t said anything that would contradict that.”

He nods too, sawing off a bite of sausage. “Good. And we’ve been seeing each other just over a year — that makes sense because the last time Luke was in the city was about a year ago, so I can say I didn’t mention you because things were still too new at the time.”

“That works.” I think back to what I was really doing a year ago, and realize that’s exactly when Martin and I had just started shopping for our condo. I can’t help but wonder what kind of life I would have now if, instead of settling down with Martin I’d been hooking up with Jace.

“And we met at the bar,” he adds. “Since that’s what you told them last night.”

“I hope that was okay.”

“Yeah. Might as well stick as close to the truth as possible, at least when we can.”

“Right. So where did you propose? In my apartment? It’s technically true.”

Jace looks horrified. “You can’t tell people I proposed to you in your apartment. That’s not romantic at all. How about … in Connecticut? At a bonfire with some of your old friends. Drinks flowing, Steve Miller playing on the stereo, and I was so overcome with how perfect you were that I just got down on one knee right there?”

I smile but it’s strained. Does Jace have any idea how perfect what he’s describing is? Martin had proposed to me at the office — hardly romantic. But that was Martin: all business.

Even in my haze of excitement I’d been put off by the way he did it, and by the fact that none of our friends were around to celebrate with us. Then again, Martin and I hardly liked any of the same people — he wasn’t a fan of my girlfriends, and I hated the stuffed shirts he spent his time with.

“What’s wrong?”

I shake my head and take a long swallow of coffee. “Nothing. Just thinking about my actual proposal.” I gesture at the ring I’m wearing.

Jace frowns. “Right. Maybe you should tell me what happened there. In case it comes up, I mean.”

I take a deep breath and stare down into the black abyss of my coffee cup. I shrug uncomfortably. “Not much to tell. I was engaged to a lawyer at our firm. We broke up because we had different interests.”

Jace is eyeing me with consideration. “That’s it?”

I nod. “That’s it. Lawyers are capable of amenable break-ups, you know.”

He smiles. “Sure. Okay. Well, if it comes up we’ll just say it happened a couple of years ago — before you and I ever met.”

“Right. And what about you? Any exes I need to know about?”

He shakes his head. “No. You’re it.”

“Really? I find that hard to believe.” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“What can I say, I’m a hard man to tie down.”

“Actually, I do believe that.” When you look like Jace and work in a bar, why would you want to saddle yourself with just one woman? You could have a different one every night of the week.

We’re quiet for a minute, picking at our food. The silence stretches longer and longer, until it starts to feel uncomfortable. Finally, Jace drops his fork.

“Okay — fun ones. Best trip you ever took? And trip you most want to take?”

I smile. “Best trip has to be France with my college French club. Trip I most want to take … hmm, lately I’ve been really wanting to go to Hawaii.”

Jace looks surprised. “You speak French?”

“Oui, bien sur.” I can’t help but laugh at the amazed expression on his face. “Don’t get too excited, I’m not exactly fluent. Other than the basics, I really only know how to order vin rouge and pain au chocolat.”

“Still, I’m impressed.”

My cheeks color a little. “Thanks. Okay, what about you? Best trip? Dream trip?”

“Best trip was Nashville.” When I raise my eyebrows again, he shrugs. “What can I say, I like country music. And I look good in cowboy boots.”

“I can see that, actually,” I say giggling. “Dream trip?”

“Maybe Australia. Vietnam. Hawaii sounds good too, actually.”

“Well, we can go there for our honeymoon.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying, but Jace just laughs.

“That’s great. We’ll definitely say we’re going to Hawaii. Okay — favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Me too.” He grins. “Birthday? Astrological sign?”

“September fifth. Virgo.”

“Oh, the Virgin?” He raises his eyebrows and grins.

“Shut-up. Clearly not. You?”

“Definitely not a virgin, no.”

I sputter out a laugh. “I meant birthday.”

“Ah. November eighth. Scorpio.”

“That makes so much sense.”

“Why? Are Scorpio’s known to be amazing lovers with wicked senses of humor and dashing good looks?”

I purse my lips, trying not to laugh. “Something like that.”

“Okay. Circling back … when did you lose your virginity?”

“That’s a personal question, wouldn’t you say?”

“For a stranger? Yes. For my fiancee? No.”

“Fair enough. I was eighteen. First year of college. He was a sophomore and we met at a frat party. You?”

He shrugs. “Same.”

“No, really,” I say, laughing.

“Okay. I was fifteen. It was under the bleachers after our spring formal dance.”

“Under the bleachers? That’s kind of cliche, don’t you think?”

He laughs. “Okay, Miss Frat Party. Let’s talk about cliche.”

We’re both laughing by then, and our plates are empty so we get up to get more eggs and bacon and a couple of mini pastries.

“Okay, now onto the really fun stuff,” Jace announces when we’re back at the table. “Favorite position?”

“Jace!” My face instantly reddens. “I hardly think that’s going to come up when we’re hanging out with your family.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. You’ve met my brothers, right?”

I giggle. “Fine. Doggy style.” I say it quietly so that the elderly couple at the next table over doesn’t hear me. “I like how dirty it feels.”

He nods, eyes glinting wickedly. “Noted.”

“What about you?” I expect him to come out with something like reverse cowgirl, but instead he surprises me.

“Honestly? Good old fashioned missionary.”

“Really?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice.

“Yeah.” Jace actually blushes a little. “I don’t know, there’s just something about being able to look into a woman’s eyes when she comes. About watching her face when her pussy starts squeezing my cock.”

I have to take a sip from the glass of ice water that’s been sitting beside me. Jace word’s are driving a lance of lust straight through my body, and I know he can tell just by looking at me. He’s grinning now.

“Okay — so on that note, what’s your fantasy? The thing you think about when you’re getting yourself off, but that you’ve never done with anyone in real life.”

My cheeks are still red, and I can’t help but glance at the couple next to us. They’ve paused their conversation and I swear the old man is edging his chair just a little bit closer to us.

I lean forward, closing the distance between Jace and I.

“Is this really appropriate breakfast conversation?” I try to keep my tone light, but my breath is already hitching. Why does this man have such an effect on me?

He grins. “I think it’s appropriate-for-anytime conversation. We’re talking about your fantasies, Celia.”

I rip off a piece of the mini danish I took from the bar, but the pastry tastes dry and flavorless in my mouth. “You go first,” I tell him, forcing myself to swallow.

“You’re going to think I’m a cliche.”

“Try me.”

“Fine. School girls. I mean, not actual school girls — I like my lovers to be age appropriate. But there’s just something about the uniform.”

I laugh. “Yes, you are a little cliche. But it’s cute.”

“Now you have to tell me yours.”

I bite my bottom lip. Jace is looking at me so intently that I forget all about the pastry in my hands and the old people sitting beside us and the restaurant and the hotel and the wedding. His eyes are hooded, his stubbled jaw relaxed, his muscles taught under the tight black t-shirt he’s wearing, the one that shows off the tattoos running down his arm.

“Being in public,” I mumble. Jace raises his eyebrows. “Just … somewhere we could get caught. I’d never actually do it,” I add hastily.

Jace’s smile pauses. “Why not?”

“Because …” I say, surprised. “It’s crazy.”

“It’s not that crazy.”

“Well, it’s too crazy for me. Yesterday at Luke’s … that was the closest I’ve ever come, and that was crazy enough.”

Jace shrugs. “Fine. What is it about the idea that you like?”

I shrug again. “I don’t know.”

“Celia. People like you don’t have a fantasy and not know why you like it. You’re a Virgo — overthinking is your specialty, isn’t it?”

“Fine. It’s … I don’t know. The thrill of getting caught. Plus the idea that we just can’t keep our hands off each other, that we have to do it wherever we can.” My skin is flushing like crazy now, burning all the way up into my hairline and down to my toes.

“See? Now was that so hard? There’s nothing wrong with talking about what you want. Or even with asking for it.” He looks down at his watch. “Shit. As much as I would like to continue this conversation … and maybe even help you act it out … we should really get going. I have that tux fitting with Trent and Luke, and you need to be at the spa with Hannah and her friends.”

Right. The spa day. Hannah had arranged to have me join her, her sister and another of her friends at the spa for manis and pedis. It was sweet of her to include me, but I was worried about keeping up with the girl talk. I was sure they would want to talk about Jace, at least a little bit — but I was hoping that I could keep the conversation steered towards Hannah and the wedding.

Jace waves the waitress over to get the bill, and after he’s paid, we walk out together. His hand rests on my lower back in a way that manages to feel both thrilling and also like the most natural thing in the world.

“You know, I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed spending this much time talking to a woman the morning after,” Jace comments, as we stroll through the lobby to the elevators.

“Yeah, me either.” It’s true … even Martin and I didn’t really talk in the mornings. He was always too busy staring at his tablet. He had to read the Wall Street Journal every day, he insisted. I had accepted it but today, sitting across from a man who actually looked into my eyes and held a conversation while we ate breakfast — well, it felt nice.

Jace slings an arm casually around my shoulder just as the elevator doors open.

“It must be because this is all pretend,” he muses as we step inside the mirrored lift.

My stomach clenches. Pretend.

That’s right, Celia, I chide myself. It is pretend. So stop letting your feelings get carried away. You’re having good sex with a guy who needs your help — that’s all this is.

“Totally,” I agree amicably, but my face in the mirrored wall of the elevator looks glum.