Ashley awoke to the sounds and smells of sizzling bacon. Her eyes opening slowly, she looked down at her body and saw that she had been covered with a thick, cozy blanket. Checking her phone nearby, she saw that it was a little past eight in the morning. Rising from where she lay, she stretched out her slender body, the wood floor cool against her bare feet. Looking out of the back window past the deck, she could see that it was another sunny, cloudless day in San Francisco.

Walking towards the smell of bacon as if being led by the hand, she entered the kitchen and saw that Scott and Olivia were there, Scott manning the stove, Olivia sitting at the kitchen island, an iPad in her hands and a tall glass of orange juice next to her.

"You're up!" shouted Olivia, her blue eyes wide and a smile on her face.

"Kind of," said Ashley, the last bits of sleep still heavy in her voice and body.

"Welcome to the waking world," said Scott, slipping his spatula under a few strips of sizzling bacon and flipping them over. "Sleep well?

Ashley's eyes slid down Scott's body. He was dressed in a well-fitting pair of sleeping pants and a sleeveless undershirt that showed off his thick, ropy arms and broad shoulders. Standing there making breakfast, his body looking just right, he struck Ashley as the picture of a sexy single dad.

"Yeah, I did," said Ashley, shaking these thoughts out of her head. "We had a movie night and I just we both just zonked out at the same time."

"No worries," said Scott. "You looked comfortable, so I figured I'd just let you sleep rather than wake you."

"Thanks," said Ashley, taking a seat at the island next to Olivia, "I was just out; I must've been asleep for ten hours."

"You probably needed it," said Scott, placing the bacon on a paper-towel covered plate. "We had a long couple of days, not to mention that meeting today."

"Oh, shoot," said Ashley her eyes on the match-three game that Olivia was busy with, "I forgot all about that. What time is it?"

"Not till two; we've got plenty of time. Go ahead and take a shower if you want; I'll finish breakfast."

"Thanks," said Ashley, "a shower sounds pretty nice."

She pushed herself away from the table and started out of the kitchen. Back in her room, she disrobed, shucking off the slept-in clothes and opening the window, letting the cool morning air breeze in and over her body. Ashley looked down at her figure, the comparison of herself to whatever model Scott went out with last night rushing into her thoughts.

Perfect hourglass, I bet, thought Ashley, turning on the shower and testing the temperature. Probably an undiscovered model that I'll be seeing all over the internet in the next few years.

She stepped into the shower, the realization of the nature of her thoughts striking her at the same time as the hot water.

Ashley lingered in the shower, letting the hot jets of water work out the tension knots in her shoulders. After a time, she stepped out, dried off, and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before putting her wet hair up in a simple ponytail.

"I think that might be a little too casual for our meeting," said Scott through a grin as Ashley returned to the kitchen.

Ashley playfully rolled her eyes and sat down next to Olivia, who was eagerly eating her scrambled eggs, heaping mounds of fluffy yellow onto her toast before taking a big bite.

"You guys have a meeting?" she asked, her mouth full. "On a Sunday? That's lame."

"No talking with your mouth full," said Scott. "But yes, it is pretty lame. But unless you want to pay for your own eggs it's what I gotta do."

"So," said Scott, turning to Ashley. "I'm thinking we can go over the presentation one last time and be out the door by one thirty. That sound doable?"

Ashley gave a thumbs-up as she bit into a slice of crispy bacon.

The morning passed quickly, the two of them running through the presentation, and getting dressed. When the time to leave came, met up in the living room and sent Olivia off to a friend's in the neighborhood. Ashley wore a black pencil skirt and a simple off-white blouse, a pair of black heels completing the look.

When Scott entered the room, she had to force her jaw not to drop a bit. His suit was perfect- stylish and tailored immaculately. It was a dark suit, worn with a crisp, white dress shirt, a gray tie, and a pair of gleaming dress shoes.

Damn, he cleans up nice, she thought, having grown accustomed to seeing him in his casual jeans-and-button-up look that he wore around the house.

"Shall we?" he asked.

"We shall."

The car arrived, and they were off.

"Nervous?" he asked as they rode.

"Why do people always ask if someone's nervous if they're in a situation where they might be nervous? If they are, it's only going to make it worse."

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

"One thing," said Scott. "The client we're meeting with is…a little old fashioned. So keep any sordid stories about debauchery during your Spring Break trip in Ibiza to yourself."

"Sure," said Ashley, "but just so you know, my sordid Spring Break was actually at South Padre Island."

Ashley flashed Scott a sly grin, to which he responded with a good-natured head shake.

They arrived in the financial district, the towers of the city looming over them. After a time, they were dropped off in front of one of the skyscrapers. They stepped into the large, open lobby of the building, and Ashley waited by the bubbling fountain in the middle of the space while Scott confirmed their appointment with the front desk. After a quick trip via elevator, they soon arrived at the top floor, the elevator doors opening to sleek, modern offices. Scott checked in with the receptionist, and after a brief wait, a silver-haired, middle-aged man with grave, blue eyes, a thick nose, and short, trimmed beard arrived to greet them. Scott rose and the two men enthusiastically shook hands.

"It's been too long, Scott," said the man, giving Scott a firm pat on the upper arm.

"Likewise, Mr. Rosenberg," said Scott, giving the man a pat of his own.

"Please, call me Michael; we've known each other for long enough."

The man then turned his eyes to Ashley.

"And who is this lovely young woman?" he asked, his voice warm.

Wow, a comment about my appearance right out of the gate, she thought. Scott wasn't kidding about this guy being old-fashioned.

"This is Ashley Wilson," said Scott. "My personal assistant."

"A pleasure to meet you," said Michael, gently shaking Ashley's hand.

Michael then clasped his hands together and spoke.

"Well, I'm eager to see what you have to show me, Scott," he said leading them down the hallway towards his office, young, well-dressed employees darting here and there, the din of telephones, light chatter, and other office ambiance filling the air.

They soon arrived at a pair of slate gray double doors. Michael pulled them open, revealing a spacious office appointed in the same, tasteful, modern style as the rest of the floor. A long black couch sat across from a pair of matching chairs, an antique globe was set in the corner, a smooth-surfaced, black desk with nothing on it but a neat stack of papers and an Apple computer loomed over the scene. The view was spectacular, looking out over the adjacent skyscrapers. Ashley got right away the message that the office was meant to send: Michael was a man of taste and power.

"Please, have a seat," said Michael, fetching three bottles of water from a clear-doored fridge and handing two of them to Ashley and Scott.

"Thanks," said Scott. "I'm eager to get into it."

"Well, then let's not waste any time," said Michael, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he took a seat.

They went through the presentation, just as rehearsed. Ashley handled the visuals, and Scott handled the information. After twenty minutes or so, the presentation was finished. Ashley sat back in her chair, her eyes on Michael's face, which wore an expression of thoughtfulness.

"I'm impressed, to say the least," said Michael, setting his water bottle down on the black coffee table between him and the pair.

"Do you have any questions?" asked Scott, his voice as clear and full as it had been during the presentation.

"I do have one," said Michael.

He narrowed his eyes and sat back.

"Are you still single?"

Ashley's eyes shot to Scott.

What? she thought to herself. What on earth does that have to do with anything?

"I shouldn't be surprised, but I always am," said Scott, a forced chuckle rising from his throat.

"Well, it's a serious question."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," said Ashley. "But why do you want to know that?"

Scott shot Ashley a quick, silencing glance. Michael's mouth formed into a half-smile as he raised his palm to Ashley.

"Just a little bit of ribbing between guys," said Michael. "In my opinion, single men aren't as reliable as married men. They're more erratic, wild, and prone to rash errors of judgment that come from the sort of risks that only unattached men make. I know that you're a father, Scott, and that goes a long way with me. But there's something to be said about a man who can't seem to keep his romantic life in order."

Scott opened his mouth to speak, but Michael started again before a word could come out.

"A man can't spend his entire life chasing models and every wannabe pop star to come down the road. This has all been very impressive, Scott, but you know my issues with going into business with a man who doesn't have the same priorities as those of us with families to look after."

"It's, uh, actually funny you should say that," said Scott.

Then, to Ashley's shock, Scott's hand moved to hers. He placed his palm on top on Ashley's hand and gave her a gentle, loving squeeze.

"Because Ashley and I are engaged."

What? thought Ashley, forcing her mouth into a polite smile in spite of the whirl of feelings rushing through her body. Engaged?

"Oh, really?" asked Michael, his eyes widening.

"Really," said Scott. "We didn't want to make a big production out of it; not very professional, you know. But Ashley and I have been together for a while now, and actually only decided to tie the knot a few weeks ago."

"Well," said Michael, rising to his feet and extending his hand to Scott, a broad, warm smile on his face. "I don't know what to say. Other than that it's about damn time."

Scott let out a chuckle, taking Michael's hand and shaking it with enthusiasm.

"Thanks. We're both extremely happy about it."

What the hell is he talking about? thought Ashley, holding back the urge to demand answers.

"No ring?" asked Michael, casting an eye down at Ashley's bare left ring finger.

"Well, there is, but it's an antique. We're getting it fitted now."

"Ah, excellent," said Michael, letting go of Scott's hand. "My Karen has an antique ring herself. They just don't make them like they used to, in my opinion.”

"Couldn't agree more," said Scott.

"This will be your first marriage, correct?" asked Michael. "If I recall correctly, little Olivia's mother, ah…"

"Yes," said Scott jumping in, "the first for us both."

"Well, my most sincere congratulations to you both."

"Thank you," said Ashley, through a tight, prim smile.

"Anyway, the deal," said Michael, remaining standing. "Everything looked great. If you and this lovely young woman work as well together as husband and wife as you do as business associates, I expect a long and fruitful marriage for you both."

"I feel the same way," said Scott, looking down at Ashley and giving her a warm smile.

"And hopefully Olivia will have some new brothers and sisters before too long."

Scott let out that same, forced chuckle. "One thing at a time."

"Of course," said Michael. "Everything at its proper time. Anyway, I'd love to get into this enterprise with you both. Please send my secretary the details, and we'll be in touch."

"Wonderful," said Scott.

The two men shook hands once more before Michael gave Ashley a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He led them both to the elevators and saw them on. The ride down was silent and grave; Ashley didn't know what to say.

But soon, they returned to the back of their car, and once the windows and driver partition were up, Ashley turned to Scott, her eyes flaming with anger and outrage.

"What the hell was that?"