Sterling slipped inside his vehicle and thunked his head on the wheel. Jesus, he’d turned into a reprobate.

Last night he’d lied to his good friend’s daughter about a sex-hungry ex he didn’t have, then fingered said good friend’s daughter so ineptly that she’d faked coming to make him leave. Then he’d put on a tawdry show for her in the bathroom after stealing her girly fruit shampoo.

Today he’d lied to that good friend and pretended he hadn’t seen Ang in a while. He’d drunk cognac with him at the club and smoked a cigar while discussing upcoming deals and family and a million other everyday subjects. Then they’d teed off like they had a million times before. All the while, Sterling had been imagining his fingers pumping away inside Marcus’s damn-near-jailbait daughter.

People-phobic? Absolutely not. Actually, he’d probably be doing mankind a service if he limited his contact with the public for the foreseeable future.

He grabbed his personal tape recorder, intending to listen to the notes he’d recorded aloud on a private investigation case, then ditched it for his phone and sucked in a steadying breath. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t simply slip into studying mode without addressing the pressing issues that had developed in his life.

Somehow the world had tipped off its axis, and he needed to right it again by any means necessary. Which was why he was about to do something he’d sworn he never would.

Ask Jax for advice.

Drastic times, drastic measures and all that. Besides, things had spiraled downward since last night, and he hadn’t guessed that was possible.

The lying and the fingering were only half the story. His old buddy Marcus McFee had sprung a request on him that he hadn’t managed to deflect. Would Sterling mind paying a visit to Ang at her off-campus apartment to see if she was okay? Marcus had called his daughter there numerous times and her roommate always said she was out. He feared she was avoiding his calls. Maybe Sterling could help, possibly intercede on his behalf?

If Marcus wanted the situation to get even worse, Sterling could certainly wade into the fray. Otherwise, not so much.

He’d been friends with Marcus for over a decade, since he’d worked as his caddy at the club. Sterling had taken the summer job for extra money—not that he’d needed it—while in college, and they’d struck up a friendship. Soon the years between them had melted away.

Now the number of years seemed especially prominent, except in this case, the ones that stuck in his craw were those between him and Marcus’s daughter. Their age difference wasn’t huge but he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it.

Good grief, he still wanted her. Actually, no, that was wrong. He wanted her more after their exchange in his kitchen that morning, and he could lay the blame squarely at the feet of her damn ripped denim cutoffs.

He’d never known her legs were so long and smooth. So curvy in all the right places. Now all he could think about was kissing her slim ankles, her supple thighs, even behind her sexy kneecaps. Who had sexy kneecaps? It wasn’t right.

Clearly, he needed help. Immediately. And who better to assist than the former player extraordinaire, Jax Wilder? He’d tell him to get his head out of his ass and go find another babe to bang. In probably those exact words.

For once, that advice didn’t sound half bad.

“Yo,” Jax said by way of greeting after Sterling placed the call. “If this is about work, go read the phrase day of rest in the Bible and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Yes, because you always follow the Scripture so closely. I must’ve missed that in all your debauchery.”

“Hey, I don’t debauch anymore. I’m a happily engaged man who shows his respect on the Lord’s day as a man should. As does my girl. Cass, didn’t you just scream ‘Oh my God’ when I did that thing with my tongue—” A screech sounded in the background and Jax laughed. “Never mind. Anyway, what do you want?”

“Nice to talk to you too.”

“Okay, I’ll put on my Miss Manners cap. Hello, Sterling Seward. How may I assist you on this fine day?”

Sterling had to laugh. “If you tell anyone that my name is Sterling Seward, I’ll reroute half the contents of your bank account to Hugh Hefner’s legacy fund.”

“He has a legacy fund? What the hell is that?”

“No clue, but it sounded good.”

Jax sighed. “Dude, spill. Time’s wasting, and you know I’d rather get an enema than talk on the fucking phone.”

Charming, that was Jax. But he’d managed to lighten the mood, so Sterling couldn’t really fault the guy’s methods. “What I’m about to ask you can never be spoken aloud again.”

“So I can only tell Cass? Gotcha.”

“I’m assuming that’s nonnegotiable.”

“Right on, pal. So what’s up?”

Sterling took another deep breath. They weren’t helping much with the elephant planted squarely on his chest. Here goes. “How can you tell a woman is faking an orgasm?” Huh, so he hadn’t been planning on asking that. At least not first thing.

Dead silence filled the line.

“Jax.”

“I heard you. I’m just trying to figure out if you’re shitting me.”

“Not shitting you. I can’t even believe I asked.”

“Me either. How’d you even get a woman to fake with you? Last time I saw you, you were squealing about bingo winnings and looking like your shorts were too tight.”

“There was no squealing. And I’m not completely certain she faked, just reasonably…concerned.” There. That didn’t sound quite so lame, even if his certainty level registered at about 99.9 percent. Still, it would be a sunny day in Hades before he freely admitted that to Jax.

“A girl pretended you twerked her love button right and you’re just concerned? I’d be pissed.”

Cass mumbled something in the background, probably about that ridiculous love button term, but Sterling tried to ignore her. He also attempted to stop clenching the steering wheel for all he was worth. “It’s not a love button. It’s a clitoris.”

“Thanks for the anatomy lesson. Call it a clit and we’ll split the difference.”

There was no mistaking Cass’s shocked “Jax!” in the background that time.

Sterling didn’t reply. Instead he pinched the bridge of his nose and worked on that whole useless deep breathing thing.

“All right, all right. I’ll try to help you out. Though I gotta tell you, man, I’m swimming with the sharks on this one.”

“I thought everything sexual was your territory.”

“When it comes to pleasing a woman, yes. When it comes to striking out, no.” Jax continued before Sterling had a chance to tell him to go to hell. “I’ve heard some stuff from other guys that might be helpful. There are some signs to look for so you can tell if she’s giving you the ol’ skeeve-ho.”

“Don’t you mean heave-ho?”

“Nah. It’s pretty skeevy to lie during sex. Just say it’s not working for you. Easy enough.”

To be fair, he couldn’t entirely blame Ang for last night. His idea of foreplay had been to throw her over a mattress. He hadn’t even kissed her before he’d pulled down her pants. That wasn’t his usual MO, but he’d been trying to speed up the process.

No wonder she’d faked with him. He’d pulled a grade-A bastard move.

“Sometimes a woman has reasons,” he said quietly.

Jax grunted. “Two things I’ve heard are almost fail-safe are to check their toes and their nipples. Granted, nothing is fail-safe with a woman. They’re all like backward Rubik’s Cubes, but you gotta go with odds. Usually during orgasm, toes curl. And their nipples get hard. Obviously you can have both without climaxing.”

“That doesn’t sound fail-safe to me.”

“What the hell do I look like to you, Dr. Drew? That’s as good as it gets, wise guy. You don’t hear my woman complaining.”

Cass put up a fuss in the background and Sterling had to grin. “Yes, I do.”

“She’s weighing in on this issue. Says ‘ooh’ is another clue. If they start ‘oohing’ a lot, it’s probably a total fake. Drawn-out like, not your garden variety ‘oh’. Apparently only porn chicks say ‘ooh’ with any regularity. Who knew?”

Sterling pressed his fist to his forehead. He hadn’t been sure on the toes or nipples thing. The ‘ooh’, however, had nailed him good. “Thanks. I appreciate the tips.”

“So who faked on you?”

“No one. Absolutely no one at all.”

“Liar, liar,” Jax said in a singsong voice. “You hooked up last night. I gotta say, about fucking time. Sorry it didn’t work out better. Next time, I recommend oral first. The guy that goes down gets plowed. It’s almost a no-brainer.”

“Down and plowed don’t rhyme, FYI. And I hear Cass beating you. I hope she doesn’t stop until you’re concussed.”

“Dream on.” Jax turned quiet. “So, ah, it wasn’t the pregnant one, was it?”

“Who said she was pregnant?”

“After that day in the bingo hall, it was easy enough to guess. She kept cupping her stomach.”

Guilt reared up inside Sterling’s chest. Reared up again, since it had basically never stopped since last night. “Why does it matter if it was her?”

“God, man, did you really need to go there? She’s already knocked up. Don’t mess with her head.”

“How can you claim to know anything about her situation? I barely do and I’ve known her since she was a kid.”

“That’s just it. She looks like a kid. You’re not. And look, I understand you’ve been going through a dry spell, but you know better. If you’re not in the place to commit, a hit and run with a woman in the family way spells trouble.”

That was it exactly. He was in the place to commit. If one of his exes had turned up pregnant, he probably would’ve thrown a ticker-tape parade. He wanted children. Wanted a wife. Didn’t want to sleep alone for the rest of his damn life.

More than anything, he wanted simple. Someone he could love and be loved by. No games, no drama, no meddlesome ex-boyfriends who’d fathered babies they had no right to and didn’t deserve because they rated beneath the cigarette butt stuck to his shoe.

And that was a serious problem, because Ang’s baby wasn’t his concern. She was his friend. He cared about her and, by extension, her child. But a smart man wouldn’t get involved.

Too bad he already was.

“You’re assuming an awful lot.”

“I am. Now tell me I’m wrong about any of it.” After a minute, Jax inhaled loudly. “Listen, I don’t mean to be a jerk. If you went out and picked someone up, I’d be as happy as a clam. Though how anyone knows clams are happy, I don’t know. But that’s not you. You’re a straight arrow. No one-night stands for you.”

That again. Sterling barely smothered a growl. “How is it that everyone presumes to know what I would and wouldn’t do?”

“Open book, man. It’s not a bad thing. With you, people know what they see is what they’ll get. Which is why I have to speak up when you’re taking an unplanned detour that won’t work out well for anyone, especially you. Free advice.”

Exactly what he’d wanted from Jax—advice on how to handle the situation with Ang. Not judgment, no matter how well-meaning. It just went to show that coupling up did funny things to a man’s personality, because a few months ago, Jax probably would’ve been telling him to hit it and quit it or something equally inane.

“She’s pregnant,” Jax reminded him, as if Sterling had forgotten for even a second. “So that means all bets are off. You’re not dealing with just one person now.”

“I know that. Despite the fact that you’ve decided what went down, we didn’t have sex.”

“So you’re…boning up in case she decides to fake one? Right.”

“Believe what you will.” This conversation had enlightened him in some ways, and only increased the darkness that had taken up residence inside him in others. He had enough opinions in his head. Adding in Jax’s was unwelcome and unnecessary.

So much for seeking counsel. As usual, he’d have to go it alone.

Good thing you have another hand to switch off with when your right gets tired.

“Dude, that fancy-ass car’s still in your driveway. You forget I’m used to seeing who comes and goes at your place. And that’s usually no one.”

“I have guests on occasion.”

“Rarely. Today Cass and I came over to Ma’s for Sunday brunch and there’s a BMW in your driveway, even after you left. Suspicious.”

Sterling didn’t know whether to get pissed or to laugh. Since he’d been pissed enough for one day—mostly at himself—he chose to laugh. “Christ, are you spying on me?”

“You wish. Being a good neighbor requires keeping an eye on things. By the way, your recycling bin is sitting in the street again. I think the Percy’s dog got a hold of it.”

Yes, laughing was his only recourse. “Why did I move on your street again?”

“It’s not my street anymore. Now I’m happy out in the boonies.”

“Yeah, because Yardley’s such a bustling metropolis,” Sterling said drily.

Jax continued as if Sterling hadn’t even spoken. “I’m pretty sure what swung you was the fruit basket my ma sent to convince you to move here. You’re the one who insisted on talking to the neighbors before making a decision.”

“That probably had something to do with it. I had no idea she had such an annoying son.”

“Ha. You love me. I’m irrepressible.” Jax covered the phone for a moment. “Listen, I have to go. Got stuff.”

“Your eloquence is truly stunning. Well, thanks.”

“Did I help?”

Not at all. “Heaps. And stop peeking in my windows, you perv.”

Sterling ended the call before Jax could toss back a response and glanced at the time. Another hour until he’d arrive home. He needed to get a coffee and clear his head. Maybe he’d go for a run when he got back.

He’d started running when he’d moved in across from Mrs. Wilder’s house, and somehow he and Jax had struck up a friendship. There was no rhyme or reason to it, since they were polar opposites in most ways. Jax had come over to welcome him to the neighborhood one day when he’d been home on a break from baseball. The next thing Sterling knew, he and Jax were running together and exchanging insults via text. He’d been surprised as hell when Jax had posed the idea of him joining the bodyguard agency, using the possibility of an even three-way stake with Chase as a carrot, though that had yet to occur. In his past, he’d dabbled in security and private investigation, but heading up a fledgling bodyguard agency counted as a whole new challenge.

He liked challenges, particularly when they weren’t female related.

By the time he pulled in to his driveway, he was no closer to a solution for how to deal with Ang, and he was high on caffeine to boot. Good thing he could burn off the excess energy with a long run through Connors Park a few blocks away.

Maybe he’d just keep running until it was dark, then go to bed. Then in the morning, do it all over again. Staying out of the house and avoiding Ang seemed like the only surefire remedy to his dilemma.

What dilemma is that? That you’re impossibly aroused by a much younger, pregnant woman? Surely that isn’t a problem.

Sterling slammed his car door and skulked inside, trying to keep watch for Ang without looking like he was doing so. Luckily the living room and kitchen were empty, but he heard music coming from the guest room. He took the reprieve for what it was and aimed for his own room.

He changed into sweats and a T-shirt, then sat down at his computer to check e-mail. Before long, he’d logged on to Sole Mate, more out of habit than genuine curiosity. He didn’t spend long on the site daily, but he usually answered any messages he received and occasionally did a quick search of the new members. He hadn’t met anyone that had pushed him to take things to the next level, including DizzyDuck from the night before. Her real name was Donna, and she seemed nice enough, if a little more pushy than he’d expected. He hadn’t discouraged her enough last night either. Proof positive he needed to stay offline when under the sway of powerful urges.

His Sole Mate mailbox held two new messages. One from Donna and one from a new member named GothGeek. He opened Donna’s first and smiled over her apology for her “forwardness” the night before. He shot back a quick reply and opened GothGeek’s note with one eye on the clock. It was already mid-afternoon. He had to get going on his run so he could be back by six to heat up the casserole Hilda had left. With luck, he’d be able to leave a wrapped plate in front of Ang’s door without having to actually speak to her.

A long evening of paperwork and studying for his PI exam awaited him. There was comfort in routine.

He clicked on the note and read it with one eyebrow lifted.

Hi there. Your profile intrigued me, and to be honest, I haven’t been intrigued by anyone on this site yet. It’s all so fake, you know? I guess you would, since it says you’ve been a member for three months now. Does that mean you haven’t found anyone worthwhile? I’m new to New York and not really sure how to meet people. Besides, there’s only one person I want to meet. Someone special. Who gets me as I am and won’t want me to change. I suppose that’s a fantasy. But I like fantasies. My favorite author is Tolkien. Who’s yours?

Sterling frowned. GothGeek was getting surprisingly personal for a first correspondence. Most of the women—he hoped they were truly women—sent quick, chatty missives full of statistics and friendly commentary on his photo or his profile. He usually heard a woman’s cup size before he knew her favorite book, or if she even enjoyed reading. But here, within a few lines, he knew GothGeek was new in town, wanted to meet her soul mate for real and liked huge fantasy novels.

I also enjoy math and science and being out in nature as much as I can. I’m sitting by my bedroom window in my new place, and I can hear kids hollering as they ride their bikes. It’s a nice sound, not annoying at all.

So she was smart and liked kids too. All positive signs. Unfortunately she didn’t have a photo on her profile yet, probably because she was brand-new. He scanned ahead to see if she mentioned it and zeroed in on the explanation like a fisherman on his first real catch of the day.

Sorry I don’t have a pic up. I need my roommate to take a current one of me. I’m pretty average looking. Average height and weight, hair color subject to change depending on what’s on sale. Light eyes. Am I supposed to get more personal than this? It seems weird to be thinking of passing on measurements to a total stranger, but from what I’ve seen on here, some people head straight for the good stuff. Not really my lane though, so if it’s yours, sorry to disappoint.

He wasn’t disappointed. Far from it. Finally it seemed like he’d found someone who wasn’t just out for an online hookup or a real-life booty call. Maybe. It was probably too soon to tell.

If you want to know more, leave me a message. I’ll be waiting to hear. xo, Geeky

Xo. Hugs and kisses. Cute. Somehow he’d stumbled upon a cute—personality-wise at least—reader with intelligence, wit and potentially rainbow-colored hair.

Rainbow-colored hair made him think of Ang, but he forced out the thought almost as soon as it formed. He wasn’t going there again. He also wasn’t going to feel even more guilt for writing the note he was about to write, because what had happened between him and the woman singing down the hall had been a one-time thing. It was for the best.

Besides, responding to GothGeek felt natural. He absolutely refused to overthink for one damn time in his life.

Thanks for your note, Geeky. I’m guessing you saw that I work in security and finance, so you’ve probably figured me for something of a geek as well. My idea of a wild night is curling up with the stock pages and, when I’m feeling edgy, the latest Koontz or King.

Great. He’d already established himself as boring. Should he slide in something about enjoying various pleasures of the flesh? Maybe just a sly reference.

When those won’t suffice, I pursue fascinations of a prurient nature.

Perhaps that made him sound like a fetishist. However untrue, that was still much better than boring.

He continued on, detailing his hobbies and a brief overview of his family. That he was an only child, single, from good stock. The product of fine-quality breeding, as his father was wont to say. But he didn’t add that. Even he could tell that probably wouldn’t win friends and influence people.

By the time he signed off, he was certain he would never hear from GothGeek again. He didn’t look good on paper. He probably didn’t look all that good in actuality either, when rated against other prospective dates. His incessant work schedule and the old-fashioned manners he had trouble stripping away once things moved past the getting-to-know-you stage didn’t make the women go crazy.

At least they hadn’t made Christine, Rhonda and Tricia go crazy. He had no intention of delving further into his romantic past than that.

Shoving it aside, he rose to get ready for his run. He opened the door, prepared to jog downstairs without sparing Ang’s door a glance. Then he heard her singing along with a Madonna song and grinned.

He hoped she’d had lunch. She was eating for two now and shouldn’t be missing meals.

Perhaps he should pick up some Count Booberry or whatever it was while he was out. Something loaded with sugar and utterly lacking in nutrients. Maybe he could find a way to hide vitamins in her junk-food cereal just like he’d hidden meds in his mother’s cat’s food dish that one time.

Over an hour later, he headed back upstairs, muscles burning pleasantly from his workout. He’d made it halfway when Ang singing “Like A Virgin” carried down to him. Must be a Madonna fan. She even managed to sing her own backup. It was rather impressive.

He stopped in front of her door and lifted his hand to knock, then decided to leave her be. She sounded happy, and seeing him might affect her mood aversely. Wouldn’t be the first time. So he left his present outside the door and went to take a shower, telling himself he’d only do a super fast check of his e-mail on the way.

Instead he pulled up his Sole Mate e-mail and battled the irrational hope that GothGeek had replied to his stilted message. His grin returned as he saw she had. As Jax would say, score.

I didn’t expect you to respond so fast. Most people on this site claim to be looking for new friends, though I doubt that’s all they’re searching for. If you had another objective, say to find someone special too, that would make me edgy as well—in a good way. I don’t think I’m capable of producing the same level of edginess in you as Koontz or King, but I’ll do my best.

The rest of the note continued on in the same fun, semi-snarky voice as she regaled him with details about her own family. She, too, was a lonely only, and had an unspecified service job. She’d attended college, though she hadn’t attained a master’s degree as he had. Yet. In spite of her current “transitional period”, she knew she’d land on her feet, and that would most likely include more education. In the meantime, she was broadening her mind with episodes of reality TV and classics on the cartoon channel.

He couldn’t stop grinning. She was entertaining. Enough different from him to be interesting yet with surprising parallels.

She’d come from a background similar to his. Thanks to his current profession, he made a habit of reading between the lines, and he got the feeling she hadn’t had to struggle financially. Maybe that was why she had so much time for reality TV and cartoons. Not all trust-fund babies were like him, pushing to prove himself at all costs.

It must be nice to feel certain about one’s worth without constantly needing to reassert it. Confidence in a woman was damn sexy.

He knew he should probably wait to respond. Looking overeager was never good. Besides, he needed to shower—and only shower—and see about that casserole. He didn’t know what time Ang preferred to eat. She’d probably feel comfortable preparing a meal in his kitchen, but he suspected she might not bother. Already he could tell her self-care could use improvement. She’d had shadows under her eyes big enough to get lost in this morning, for God’s sake.

He’d be damned if he gave her any reason for them to multiply.

Just in case her nutrition was lacking, he’d bought a bottle of prenatal vitamins while at the corner store. So they weren’t exactly prenatal. More like for extreme fitness or some such. Mercer’s didn’t have the best selection. But vitamins were vitamins, right?

He should do some reading up on pregnancy topics. Just so he was informed.

First he would reply to GothGeek’s note. She’d signed it with the same xo, so she must not have found his last correspondence too off-putting. It helped him to relax a bit more than he had while writing the last one. He’d never had a problem wooing women in real life, but he didn’t delude himself that his last name wasn’t a factor. As were his looks, at least according to some members of the female persuasion. Their appreciation of his physical attributes certainly didn’t bother him. He had enough personality issues to combat when relating to the opposite sex that he gladly accepted any points in his favor. He’d gotten a few positive comments on his photo since he’d been on Sole Mate, and while he didn’t necessarily agree, he wasn’t one for hiding his light under a rock.

Or mixing any more metaphors than necessary before he’d cooled off from his run.

Deciding he had nothing to lose, he sent back a quick note about the long night of paperwork ahead of him and asked about her evening plans. Nothing heavy. He could be casual too.

When he emerged from his shower, he opened his bedroom door to find a folded note waiting on the floor. He picked it up and smiled at the big, looping handwriting he immediately recognized as Ang’s. She sent him Christmas cards every year, full of joy and fun. Even now, when things were so strained between them that they’d resorted to writing each other notes despite being a mere hallway apart, her joie de vivre came through her words. She managed to turn a few lines about heading out to work and grabbing a salad on the way—with extra cluckers—into something amusing.

As the message indicator from the dating site dinged on his laptop, he looked over his shoulder, then back at the note he held. Perhaps he’d found the perfect way to communicate with women.

Even he couldn’t screw up writing a letter.

The depths of her depravity continued to sink further by the day.

Ang blew out a breath and stared at her phone. She’d become addicted to reading the online musings of the man she lived with, yet rarely spoke to beyond “Please pass the napkins” and “Do you like green beans? I may make some to go with dinner.”

But their e-mails were different. She asked him questions, and he actually responded at length. She’d probably read yesterday’s text chat ten times already. Instead of preparing for today’s job interview as she should have—or at least fretting over proper interviewing clothes—she’d been consumed with words on a screen.

Despite having their most recent convo practically memorized, she read it once more before she checked the messages he’d sent while she’d been in her interview.

Want to know something I rarely tell people?

What’s that?

Though I got a MBA, I had an undergrad minor in Buddhism.

Really?

Really. I nearly got one in Spanish as well. I find other religions and cultures fascinating. Someday I want to travel more.

What are you waiting for?

I work far too much.

Why do I sense an ‘and’ there?

And I don’t like traveling alone.

At that point, her heart had gone into hyperdrive, as it did once again as she reread their exchange.

Ah. I see.

Most men embrace their bachelorhood. I have to admit, it’s always been uncomfortable to me. I prefer being part of a couple. The right couple. Being with the wrong partner is far worse than being on your own.

Have you had many of those?

A few. None that were terribly awful, just not for me. And you?

My fair share. Dating sucks.

It does. That’s why I turned to this method of finding someone. I’d hoped it would allow me to get to know the real person inside, rather than their shell. I have one too.

A shell? Like a turtle?

Exactly like a turtle. I have lots of soft things to protect.

She’d almost laughed out loud at that, until he’d continued.

And hard ones as well.

Instead of pursuing that very intriguing line of conversation, she’d changed the subject. Every time he veered toward overt sexual teasing, she tried to divert them to a safer path.

Not because she didn’t want to flirt or test his boundaries for online fun. But because she was a liar. A big, fat, shameful fibber. After almost two weeks of online correspondence with Sterling, she couldn’t seem to stop.

This situation wasn’t supposed to have progressed this far. When she’d done her detective work to find out his screen name, she hadn’t exactly had a plan in mind. Oh, she’d intended to talk to him through the site. But she’d still been so pissed about his finger-and-flee routine, then his might’ve-been-cybering sitch with DaffyDuck or whoever she was, that she’d been prepared to anonymously heckle him a bit too.

Yes, he’d done her a solid by giving her a place to stay. She appreciated it immensely. That didn’t mean she could forget how he’d turned what should have been a moment of intimacy into something…strange.

So much for the man of her dreams coming through on his charger and taking her to unknown heights. If she hadn’t been horny enough to possibly rub one out on her car’s headlight, she might’ve lost all interest in him for good after that little episode. The almost twenty years of friendship and good memories weighed in significantly too. Why should she care he’d wanted to get her off and out of his hair as fast as humanly possible? He’d gone to town with her shampoo later and that must mean something, right?

Yeah, that DopeyDuck pushed all the buttons you barely tapped.

Regardless, she’d discovered she liked being the object of Sterling’s almost-sexual-fascination. He could be a sly dog when it came to flirtation, she’d discovered.

He could also be awfully sweet, from stocking the kitchen with a box of Fruity Pebbles to buying her vitamins. He’d even had pregnancy books shipped to the house. She wasn’t ready to read any of them yet, but she stacked them on the guest bedroom nightstand and figured she’d have to bite the baby bullet soon enough. Denial would always be her favorite river.

Her denial river-rafting also applied to the situation with Pete. Her worry had dulled to a much more manageable level, mainly because she was making a concerted effort not to think about him. She didn’t stay up at night listening for odd noises anymore, in case her ex tried to convince her through force that she didn’t want to have her baby. With Sterling around, she felt secure. Not because he was some big Arnold Schwarzenegger type, but because he had a way of easing her concerns. Nothing bad would happen when he was nearby.

Hell, maybe she’d even exaggerated the possibility of Pete doing her harm. Perhaps he’d never intended to take things that far, and she’d let pregnancy hormones and her fears over her predicament blow everything out of proportion. And if so, she had even more reason to feel remorseful at drawing Sterling—and S-quared—into the quagmire that was her life.

God, S-quared. That was a whole other can of nuts. Literally.

Guilt swamped her at unexpected times, yet she didn’t stop returning to the S-quared well. She couldn’t. She’d come to crave the man on the other side of the screen. If she’d been more ballsy, she would’ve confessed her sins to him, then demanded they address that effed-up moment in his guest bedroom. But her ballsiness had apparently fled with her thirty-four-inch waistline.

Finally reading the message Sterling had sent an hour ago didn’t help either.

I know we skipped the measurements discussion early on, but we know each other better now. Since you still haven’t gotten a picture, perhaps you’d like to describe yourself again in more detail. Don’t leave anything out. I promise to return the favor.

“Oh, no, he didn’t.”

Ang stared at her cell and bit her lip. She could almost hear the da-da-dum music swelling in the background.

None of this seemed real. As strained as things were between her and Sterling in real life, they were butter smooth and easy in their e-mails. She still wanted his friendship. So much. Wanted him, if she dared be honest. But she’d told herself that the notes were just a means to an end, a way to feel closer to him while her world was in turmoil.

She still hadn’t come clean to her parents, and she’d been searching for a better-paying job than the bingo hall, with flexible hours and a bit of freedom. Today’s interview for a technical writing position that would allow her to work from home—once she got her own home—had gone really well. Things were starting to fall into place.

Once she had a better job, she’d tell her often overprotective parents about the baby, secure with the proof that she could provide for her child without being coddled by anyone. She wasn’t some wild child who rocked the books, but majorly failed at life. Not anymore.

Overall, life had mostly settled down. That didn’t mean she thought she was anyone’s relationship bargain or hot sex chippie. She could have a little fun though, right? Let the preggo chick have a freaking bone. At least metaphorically if not in reality.

She sent Sterling a quick reply, half certain she was wrong about his intentions. The man had chosen to masturbate rather than touch her beyond using his fingers. He couldn’t be soliciting cybersex…or edging down the road to cybering.

Could he?

Besides, it was the middle of the day. He must be at the bodyguard agency or at his father’s office in midtown, not sitting in private somewhere. In an environment conducive to hitting on women who were profoundly not the woman he’d bottom fondled in his guest room mere weeks ago.

But she wasn’t jealous of herself. Much. That would be weird.

The reply came back swiftly.

Ms. Geek, are you turning shy on me?

“Yes,” she said aloud, glancing in her rearview mirror as if she expected him to be staring into her window.

She couldn’t sit in the parking lot of Tech Edge magazine and have this conversation. She was wearing pinstripes, for God’s sake. She’d pinned back her little wings of hair and toned down her makeup and stuffed herself into a body slimmer that had probably accidentally neutered her burgeoning baby.

And that burgeoning baby only hammered home her sense of guilt all over again about pulling this crap on Sterling to begin with. Why had she ever devised this crazy idea? She’d gotten roped into Sole Mate’s monthly subscription to talk to the guy who lived in the same house. It was crazy. Wrong. But reading his messages and knowing he was reacting to her as who she truly was, not just Marcus McFee’s troubled daughter, had been…nice.

Nice. Still wrong, still heartburn-producing, but nice.

She flicked open the button at her waist—tight clothing was now her nemesis—and expelled a long breath while she debated how to handle her suddenly sexually aggressive roommate. That was probably a little harsh. Sterling could never be sexually aggressive—

Another message dinged in her inbox and she read it with wide eyes.

I’ll start if it makes you feel more at ease. I’ve been told I’m well-endowed.

“Dude, I could tell you that myself.” She rubbed her lower belly. She didn’t have to pee. It was just nerves. Lots and lots of ’em. Maybe a little excitement too.

How wrong would it be to have virtual sex with Sterling when he’d never consent to doing it with her in reality?

Very. Extremely. Oh God, she was already getting wet.

Ah, hell, he’d never know. Soon enough she’d have to end this online thingy with him, and GothGeek would take a graceful exit stage left. Perhaps an ex would come back and request her everlasting love or something equally schmaltzy.

She winced as Pete’s scowling countenance invaded her brain. No. No exes. GothGeek deserved better than that. She also deserved really big tits—non-pregnancy-related ones—and glistening eyes that weren’t the blah color of industrial fencing and a butt that never jiggled when she ran.

She also deserved a Sterling-provided orgasm, just once.

Even if it wasn’t fair. Even if she might end up hurting him a little by pulling her disappearing act in a few days. It wouldn’t be some big blow for him. She didn’t matter that much to him in either of her incarnations.

So what did it hurt for her to get a little pleasure out of the deal? She’d be doing all of the heavy lifting herself. No amount of penis pix or dirty commands would change that it would be her fingers on her flesh—again.

Before she could chicken out, she shot off a reply.

You’ve been told you’re well-endowed, hmm? I believe you. Really.

She almost expected him to deflect the bait. Surely he couldn’t intend to go through with this. A few moments later, she saw the error of her thoughts.

At least I have a picture of my face. I suppose I could provide some other proof if you’d like…assuming you’re willing to play ball as well.

Play ball like what?

You told me you have a tattoo. Show me a picture of it.

She exhaled, idly stroking the piercing above her lip. That wasn’t so bad. Sterling didn’t know what or where her tattoo was either, so it wasn’t like he’d be able to identify her from it.

Another message came through.

Without your clothes.

I’d have to lose part of them to take a picture of my tattoo, so no biggie.

Not part of them. All of them.

Oh boy. She’d told him her tattoo was in a place usually hidden by clothing, so he’d made sure she got the gist.

Unless you’d rather show your face, but I think this is a good compromise. It’s only fair.

Back to fair again. She was living in the man’s house rent-free—though she bought their groceries, as well as promised to pay him back at a rate equal to her college housing allowance once she got a better job—and conning him with a fake persona when he’d rejected her in the flesh that day in the guest bedroom. Fairness wasn’t present in this scenario.

Why shouldn’t she show him her tattoo? What difference did it make? She wasn’t parading around half-naked at his place, and he’d never get a chance to see it otherwise. Their weeks of strained conversation had rammed that point home. He deserved some honesty from her, even if it just meant her revealing an actual part of her soon to be stretch-marked body. It wasn’t much, but she’d give him that.

She replied before she chickened out.

Full nude?

The answer came back in a hurry.

Full nude.

She let out a shaky breath. At least her breasts still looked mostly perky. As things progressed, that would probably become a dubious proposition. Might as well document her posterior for posterity.

Only the side of the body with the tattoo, right?

It took longer for him to respond this time. While she waited, she chewed her leftover ice from that morning’s to-go orange juice and wondered if she could find some double-sided fashion tape somewhere to boost up her buns, in case she decided to reveal them in her picture.

Brandy. If anyone would know where to get such a thing, it would be her friend with a big heart, a lumpy sofa bed and a truly scary amount of knowledge about skimpy underthings, sex toys and the human body.

While she waited for Sterling’s e-mail, she called Brandy. “Hey, got a question for you.”

“Shoot. I’m just hanging up boulder holders.”

Ang grinned. Brandy worked in a lingerie store in a suburb outside the city and never stopped coming up with amusing ways to describe the merchandise. Considering Brandy had a statuesque body even Marilyn Monroe would’ve been jealous of, she clearly knew her product.

“So…if I wanted to get my hands on some double-sided tape, where would I?”

“We sell some here. Gotta keep the girls plumped and perky.”

“Does it work on asses?”

Brandy snorted. “Leave it to you. I don’t know. Suppose you could try it, but I know your ass is plenty stacked on its own. You kept flashing it when you slept on my couch. Speaking of that, how’s it going with Stick-Up-The-Butt?”

“Shh. Don’t call him that. He’s really very sweet, just a little—”

“Uptight? Anal? Asstastic?”

“Why are you fixating on that particular area? He’s a nice guy. Kind and thoughtful and a bit domineering, but only when he’s in hardcore protective mode.”

“Domineering often goes hand in hand with anal.”

Ang tried to glance at her phone screen out of the side of her eye. No Sterling yet. “You know what else goes hand in hand with anal? Being horny. Which I am. Hello, second trimester. So, you know, tread gently. Even things that I’d previously had little interest in sound appealing.”

“Like being plowed up the butt?” Brandy chuckled. “You’d be surprised how good it can be.”

Brandy had the kind of sex life most women dreamed of. From her tales, she practically could come when a hot guy looked at her right, and they did that often since she was a damn goddess. Somehow her man fu had gotten screwed up last year because she’d started dating a deadbeat who wasn’t nearly good enough—must be something in the water—though she’d finally shaken him loose a couple of months ago.

At least she didn’t have to deal with potentially being connected to the dude for the rest of her days.

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m sure you’re all too willing to tell me.” Ang pulled her cell back until she could see the new mail icon. “Hang on. Incoming.”

She opened up S-quared’s latest message, heart hammering.

Show what you like. I’m up for anything.

He was? Since when? She didn’t know if she could handle an up-for-anything Sterling Vance.

She blew out a breath and returned to Brandy. “I’ll stop by and pick up some tape in a bit.”

“Sure you want to venture out this way? Sleek’s over an hour from Yardley.”

“Yeah. I could use the drive to clear my head.” Besides, what else did she have to do that afternoon, other than sending dirty pictures to Sterling? She had the next two days off from the bingo hall. “Just gotta get some foodage first. Maybe Baby’s going on strike if I don’t send down munitions soon.”

“That kid’s gonna weigh twenty pounds by the time you eject him.”

“Her,” Ang reminded her friend, her forefinger already itching to reply to Sterling. “It’s a girl. Trust me. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

“Sure thing, honey bunch. I’ll round up the tape for you along with a couple of prezzies.”

“Prezzies like what?”

“You’ll see,” Brandy said in a singsong voice, which meant it was probably an edible thong, a polyurethane teddy or something even worse. She didn’t quite understand the whole concept of Ang not being at her peak body shape and, oh yeah, single and lacking a man to dress provocatively for in the first place.

Though, seriously, why did she have to wear sweats and old T-shirts just because she didn’t have a man in her life? She could dress sexy. Her boobs were kind of rocking at the moment.

She hooked a finger in her V-neck top to verify that her demi-cup bra was doing its job, and yep, her tits still had maximum velocity. All good. She should treat herself to at least one piece of ass-crack lace to celebrate her new figure. So what that she lived with Sterling? He didn’t hang out in her bedroom.

Dammit.

“Remember the belly. It’s getting bigger hourly.” She rarely suffered from morning sickness now, which had helped push up the needle on the scale even faster. Now that she could eat with fewer repercussions, she was taking full advantage. With her petite stature, she would be obviously pregnant any day now. If she wasn’t already.

Thank God for oversize clothing. Oversize lingerie, however, wouldn’t work as well.

“What I have in mind will look perfect. You’ll be so turned on at the sight of yourself in it, you’ll probably go to town right in the dressing room.”

Ang had to laugh. Talking to Brandy was good for the soul. She made it practically impossible to be depressed in her presence. “Thanks. I appreciate your help.”

“Help? You trying to nail some sexy guy I don’t know about?” When Ang’s silence extended, Brandy let out a cackle. “You go for it, sweet cheeks. Get back in that saddle and find someone to bone you brainless. I have just the thing. Ta ta.” The dial tone rang in her ear.

“Oh Lord.” Ang sighed and brought up her e-mail program.

Now she’d done it. Brandy had caught the scent, and she wouldn’t let Ang off the hook until that six-foot, two inch length of man meat had been bagged, tagged and the video uploaded to YouTube.

She couldn’t help but smile as she shot back a flirty note of her own to Sterling.

Getting you up for anything is my evil plan.