Chapter Three

"Hey Coop," Summer cheered out as she strolled leisurely into Marissa's office without knocking or even checking to make sure she wasn't with a client. "Oh, muffins! How did you know that I totally skipped breakfast this morning?" Picking up the baked good Marissa had been planning to eat herself, she proceeded to bite into it, talking with her mouth full. "This is low-cal, low-fat, and organic, right?"

"Not quite," Marissa revealed smirking at her friend's horrified expression. "Do you know those ready to make packages you can buy in the store?" Summer nodded her head slowly, afraid to take the conversation further. "Well, I used one of those and baked a whole batch this morning. I guess that's what you get for barging into my office unannounced," she proceeded to mock when Summer immediately spit the partially chewed food out into a napkin and threw it away.

"Please, like it wasn't obvious you didn't have a client. There wasn't a car out front."

"They could have walked here," Marissa suggested.

"Yeah, because we both know that walking is so in vogue in Newport Beach. The only way any of your clients would ever be caught dead walking anywhere," Summer pointed out, "is if it was on a state of the art treadmill with their young, eye-candy of a personal trainer encouraging them in a falsely chipper voice."

"Speaking from personal experience," Marissa teased her, smiling at the brunette's nonchalant, undaunted shrug of her shoulders. "By the way," she added, standing up and rounding her desk to grab the cream envelope Summer was twirling distractingly in her hands, "they could have had their personal driver drop them off. What's this," she asked, sitting down and moving to open the letter. "Did you get my mail for me?"

"God no," Summer huffed indignity, "I don't even get my own mail. This is a special invitation to a certain fundraiser I got duped into organizing, personally delivered by yours truly at the bequest of a rather cute do-gooder who has the disadvantage of being poor, judgmental, and boring."

"First of all," Marissa corrected her, pulling out her blackberry, "you weren't duped; you lost. Secondly, it sounds like someone else is getting a little judgmental themselves, and, finally, as for being boring, let me assure you Ryan is anything but."

"Maybe not in the sack," the snickering brunette replied, "but in the board room, he'd even put someone with insomnia to sleep." Marissa heard her friend respond and knew it was probably something mocking and witty that she would expect her to laugh at, but she was deep in thought, organizing her commitments and scheduling a few more in her calendar. Suddenly, Marissa noticed a change in Summer's tone. "What are you doing?"

"I was attempting to work until someone, and they shall remain nameless, interrupted me, so now I'm killing time by emailing the salon to make an appointment for the fundraiser."

"Oh," Summer exclaimed excitedly, leaning forward in her seat, "you are going?"

"Yes, I'm going. It would be rude of me not to, not only because I am a business owner who needs to support worthy charities, but also because I was the person who gave Ryan the idea for this benefit in the first place. Besides," Marissa added trying to sound uninterested, "it'll be a good tax write off."

Disappointed, her friend returned, "well, in that case, tell me what time your appointment is for, and I'll make mine for then, too. We can go together."

"Not for this type of an appointment. It's personal."

"Getting your hair done is not personal," Summer countered, missing Marissa's point. "We've gotten our hair done together lots of time….nails, too."

"I know," she agreed with the confused brunette, "but that's not what kind of appointment I'm talking about."

"What else could you have done at a salon that you wouldn't want me there for?" Marissa didn't answer, leaving Summer to ponder the answer to her question to herself. "They offer massages, but I doubt you'd be getting one of those, and, even if you were, we could do that together. If you want, they'll do your makeup for you, but you always do your own…." Her voice trailed off as she was lost in thought. Finally, realization set in. "Oh my god."

"Exactly," Marissa teased. By the tone of her friend's voice alone, she could tell her appointment plans had been discovered. "A girl never can be too prepared," she continued, explaining. "Not that I'm expecting anything, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"You make it sound like you're stocking your basement with canned goods and bottled water in case there's an earthquake or as if you just ordered AAA for your car; having a bikini wax does not constitute an emergency precaution!" Smirking to herself, Marissa went back to working and avoided Summer's intense scrutiny. "You like him," her friend eventually blurted out, making Marissa's head snap up in attention, "and I don't mean in a he's a respectable man who's an acquaintance or even a he's a close friend way, I mean you REALLY like him. We're talking first date jitters, practicing your signature with his name, baby fantasies LIKE him."

"That's ridiculous," Marissa dismissed easily. "Yes, Ryan is a nice guy….I think….well, at least, as far as I know. We actually haven't done that much talking, but that's beside the point. I see him as a professional colleague….a business associate."

"Your words are saying one thing, but those dazzling baby blues which, let me add, are quite expressive are saying another. They're speaking the language of love."

Feigning innocence, Marissa sarcastically replied, "my eyes don't know French."

"Ugh," Summer groaned exasperated with her friend, "you sound just like Cohen, glib and cynical about everything! Can you not, just once, give me a straight answer?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Marissa stopped her, taking control of the conversation and turning the tables on her friend. "What's this? You're now referring to Seth as just Cohen. What happened to referring to him as 'The Cohen Freak?'

"It's more expedient and economic for me to shorten his name when I have to yell at him," Summer explained easily as if her answer was rehearsed. "I guess it's become a habit." Mumbling under her breath, she added, "because I definitely have to do it enough."

"You see, I would interpret it a different way," Marissa argued. "You call me Coop which is an abbreviation for my name as a term of endearment. One could only presume that using the same technique for Seth is your way of showing him you care."

"What….NO," Summer denied emphatically, quickly springing up from her chair. "That's crazy….absurd. He drives me crazy, Marissa! He's always whining and complaining or attempting to talk to me about his comic books. Like I really care about anything he has to say! And that hair….EW! It's curly…..and thick…..and when it's humid out, it frizzes. And then there are always those chicken arms, do not get me started on them! Did I tell you that he dropped an entire crate of crystal goblets yesterday, because it was too heavy for him? The man is annoyance personified into a human form. That's like saying Cinderella should have ended up with the footman or Julia Roberts should have ended up with Lyle Lovett or…."

As Summer fled from her office and then apartment as quickly and as unannounced as she had first appeared, Marissa sat back in her chair and laughed. She had found her secret weapon of conversation to get Summer to do anything: Seth Cohen.

&&&

"…but Ryan, you do not understand how terrible this woman is! She makes me physically work. I don't just get her coffee and bagels, a skill I feel quite confident in, or carry her purse or lick all the stamps she uses; I have to do manual labor. 'Carry this, Cohen,' 'Pick up my dry cleaning, Cohen,' 'Empty my garbage can, Cohen,' 'Wash and wax my cars, Cohen,' and not just one or even two, but the woman has five cars, none of which, let me add, did she purchase on her own. Daddy 90210, Bagillionaire plastic surgeon to the stars, did for her. Plus, you should hear the way she speaks to me. It's so dismissive….like she's not even listening to anything I have to say. But that's not all. Her worst offense yet is that when she caught me reading a comic book…..on my lunch break no less, she fed it through a paper shredder, proceeded to break the machine, and made me buy a new one, because I was 'the ass who was reading the comic book in the first place.'"

Paying little attention to his brother's complaints for he was trying to work, Ryan mumbled absently, "I'm sure you have another copy at home, Seth."

"That's beside the point!"

Looking up annoyed, he asked, "do you even have one…a point, I mean?"

"Of course I have a point, and I'm getting to it. Do not rush me, buddy," Seth chastised playfully. "My rambling is an art form. Anyway, as I was saying, she's unbearable! I hope the nookie you got out of this bet…."

"Seth, don't say nookie."

"Whatever," the obsessed brunette shrugged off his brother's warning, "back to me and my point, this bet better have been worth it for you, you better marry this woman, because nothing and I mean NOTHING else will suffice the amount of torture and level of cruelty I must endure day after day of being Summer's bitch on a collar." Pausing to breathe, Seth ignored the message from Ryan's computer alerting him to the fact that he had mail, but, when he looked up to see his brother grinning….with his teeth actually showing, all his concerns for himself vanished. "What's that," he asked, referencing the email.

Without thinking, Ryan replied, "she's coming….to the benefit."

"Dude, by the size of that ridiculous smile on your face, I'd say whoever this mystery woman is, she is like the cat's meow of grand dames who donate to obscure charities. Let me guess," he pushed eagerly, "it's The First Lady of California, Mrs. Governator herself."

"What," Ryan asked as he shook his head in confusion. "When you dropped those glasses yesterday, did you trip and fall on your head, too?" Regaining his composure, he simply answered, "it's Marissa. She just sent me her RSVP to let me know she's coming to the party."

"And you're beaming like that because the future Mrs. Atwood will be in attendance at your little shindig in two weeks? Dude, you're already so gone on her!"

"Seth," Ryan responded shortly, his temper barely in check, "I'm glad she's coming, because this whole event was her idea, not to mention it's because of her that Summer is organizing this for me."

Whispering to himself, Seth joked, "so it's she who must face my wrath." Ryan simply ignored him.

"Plus, I have a feeling she'll be a generous donator to the center, someone who maybe could become a major benefactor in the future. As for calling her Mrs. Atwood," he continued surprising his brother when he reached across the desk and slapped him upside the head, "you have no idea what you're talking about. Marissa and I we're….I mean….um…."

"You're friends," Seth replied smugly, using air quotes to parody his choice of words. "I get it. Last week, you slept with her once…."

"Twice," Ryan corrected.

"Twice," the laughing brunette amended his statement, "and it meant nothing. You just have the 'best sex of my life' walk going for you still two weeks later, because the infamous Miss Cooper is merely your friend. Right, I understand completely."

"Seth, do you know how Summer likes to hurt you?" Ryan smirked when he noticed his brother swallowing thickly. "Well, not only am I taller and a lot stronger than she is, but I also have more motivation to injure you right now."

"Wow, look at the time," Seth exclaimed, standing up and whistling in mock surprise. "Time flies when you're having fun, right buddy? However, that said, I think I have to break up this little laugh fest. I still have to run to the drug store to pick up a few personal things for Summer before I meet her at the florist."

Although his comment was obviously said in hope of pity, Ryan ignored him. "By the way," he called out to get the leaving brunette's attention, "could you mention to Summer that I would like a working fountain in the center of the room on the night of the party, nothing too gaudy…just a simple park fountain."

"Uh….sure," Seth responded doubtfully. "I'll mention it to her, but she doesn't take suggestions very well. She says they 'infringe upon her creative process,' whatever the hell that means."

"It's not a suggestion," Ryan corrected him as he stood up to move towards his office door. "It's an order." With that, he shut the door in his brother's face, ending their conversation.

&&&

"Marissa, I don't see why you insisted upon dragging me to this benefit….in Chino," Julie complained to her daughter. It was not the first time she had uttered those words, but Marissa paid no more attention to them than she had the first ten times they were uttered. As they stepped into the community center though, Julie's protests were stifled. "Well," the fiery red head gulped in surprise, "this is not what I was expecting."

"I told you that it'd be just as nice as any charity event held in Newport. Summer designed everything about it," Marissa explained, "from the invitations to the menu to the….." Her voice trailed off as her eyes fell upon the center decoration of the entire event. It was a fountain. The water was glistening, the pulsing of its aquamarine liquid a soothing, melodic sound to her ears, and there was only one person in that entire room who would ever think to decorate an indoor party with a working fountain: Ryan.

"Does it meet with your approval," a masculine voice whispered in her ear, catching her off guard.

Turning around to look into his eyes, their gazes locked together and everything else….everyone else in the room disappeared. "Hey," she returned, her voice equally as soft and seductive. "Everything looks amazing."

"I didn't mean everything," Ryan countered, tilting his head in a silent challenge. "I was talking about one thing in particular. Does it meet with your approval?"

"I think you know it does, and that's why you're asking." Curiously, she pondered. "Why though? Why go through all the trouble of having that?"

"If anyone should know that answer, it's you." She merely looked at him, searching his face, his eyes for the answers to her unsaid questions; he was unreadable, merely staring at her with amusement and attraction radiating from his eyes.

"Excuse my daughter," Julie interrupted their moment, making Marissa take a step back and sigh quietly to herself. "She has no manners. I'm her mother, Julie Cooper, and I presume you're the young man who is hosting this fundraiser. I've had the pleasure of renewing my friendship with Kirsten since I moved back from Hawaii, so, of course I've heard many wonderful things about you, but I haven't seemed to be able to run into you yet in Newport."

"Well, that's probably because I don't live there," he offered her before holding out his hand. "Ryan Atwood, it's nice to meet you Mrs. Cooper."

"Please, call me Julie," she insisted, smiling confidently. Marissa knew that face; she feared that face, because it meant her Mother was up to something, and, knowing her Mother, it wouldn't be good. "Now, tell me, how do you know my daughter? Marissa, as always, has been coy and elusive with her explanations of your acquaintance."

"We met at school," Ryan answered easily, diplomatically, honestly, "and we, by chance, ran into each other at the breast cancer awareness event Kirsten held a month ago. This," he motioned towards the party, "was actually Marissa's idea."

Teasing him, her Mother pushed. "Oh, and I bet your girlfriend just loves the fact that you took another woman's advice."

"I'm single," he answered her disguised question, "and I like my life how it is. Please," he smiled tightly at her, "feel free to walk around, socialize, dance. Dinner will be served soon, but, if you'll excuse us, I have a quick question I need to ask your daughter."

"Certainly, don't let me keep you," Julie gracefully moved far enough away so that she would not be able to hear their conversation but could still observe them.

Once alone, Ryan cleared his throat before speaking, his face instantly showing his nervousness. Marissa waited in expectation to hear what he had to say, but as he started talking, her countenance fell, and Julie noticed everything. "I was wondering if it would be okay to recognize you tonight during my speech, to mention that this event was your idea, because I don't want to take credit for your work."

"That's what you wanted to ask me," Marissa demanded to know from him in disbelief. Before he could respond, she answered him. "Yeah, fine, do whatever you want. I don't care. After all, it is your community center; I have nothing to do with it. Now, if you'll excuse me, my Mother is waiting…." Walking away from him, her face emotionless, she rejoined Julie who instantly smirked at her. "Do not say a word," she warned her Mom.

"I know that face," Julie taunted her, laughing. "I know that face well. You're attracted to him."

"Aren't you," Marissa retuned quickly. "Everyone breathing woman in this room is probably physically attracted to him. It doesn't mean anything."

Stopping suddenly as they progressed into the crowd of the party, Julie gently took her daughter by the hand. "Honey, you can say what you want, but I'm your Mother. I know you. I wasn't lying when I told Ryan that I've seen and talked to Kirsten a few times, and, let me tell you, you're exactly the opposite of his taste. He'd never even consider dating you, because you have money, you come from a prominent family in the community, and you were raised in an elitist society. You have no chance with him."

"Wow, Mom, thanks for the vote of confidence!"

"Marissa, I'm not trying to be mean or even harsh. It's just the truth. You could pull every trick in the book, but you'd still never be able to sleep with Ryan Atwood."

Marissa had to hold back her laughter as another opportunity seemed to be falling right into her lap. "Is that a challenge?"

"Are you serious," Julie snapped, lowering her voice to a whisper and pulling her daughter closer to her. "I am not going to bet my own daughter that she couldn't get a man to sleep with her! What kind of mother do you think I am?"

"Well, obviously an apprehensive one." Marissa knew every single one of her Mom's buttons, and she also knew how to push them. "Are you scared of losing?"

"Do not challenge me, young lady!" In response, she merely quirked her eyebrow in a contest of wills at the older woman. "Fine," the baited redhead snapped, "you have until 8:00 tomorrow morning to seal the deal. I'll pick you up here at that time, and, if you want to win, you better have proof."

With poise, Marissa replied. "That won't be a problem. As for what the winner's prize will be, we'll determine that in the morning." She watched as her Mom rigidly nodded in agreement before pivoting on the heel of her stiletto and stalking off to find other company. Pleased with herself, Marissa, too, went in search of someone to talk to, but, in her case, she was looking for a particular person: Summer.

&&&

"Oh man, are you in for it now," a chuckling Sandy abruptly appeared behind Ryan, startling him out of his personal thoughts. He had been watching Marissa since she walked away, his eyes following her wherever she went. "Do you even know who she is?"

"She who," Ryan asked, turning around to talk to his adoptive father.

"The girl,….well woman now I guess," Sandy answered, "that you've been practically drooling over all night, the one and only, thankfully, Marissa Cooper."

"I wasn't drooling."

"Fine, call it what you will," the older man offered, "ogling possessively, surveying with apparent interest, studying a coveted piece of art, but you've got it bad."

"I don't have anything," Ryan argued. "She's good looking, I'll give you that much, but so are dozens of other women in this room."

"True, but are they all AS good looking as Marissa? Plus," Sandy added with a knowing nod of his head, "she's also smart, successful,…"

"I already know that. Look," Ryan offered an explanation, "we met when we both in college, and she helped me with this fundraiser. Besides from me being attracted to her, that's it; there's nothing else to discuss."

"Is attracted a code word for 'I want to shower her with expensive presents, spend the rest of my life with her, and then make lots of babies together?"

Exasperatedly, Ryan tried to walk away. "What is with you and Seth? There is nothing and there will never be anything going on between Marissa and I."

"So Seth noticed the pure lust oozing from you, too," Sandy beamed proudly. "I have hope yet he won't die a virgin." His comment was meant to make Ryan laugh, to ease the tension between them, but it didn't work. Ryan just kept scowling.

"This conversation is pointless," he dismissed moving away from the amused older man, "because the only thing I feel for her is physical attraction, and it'll never amount to anything."

"You're right," Sandy agreed with him, surprising his son.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that, and don't take this the wrong way, because I love you, but you stand absolutely no chance with Marissa Cooper. She's what I affectionate term a 'man killer.' No one is ever good enough for her."

"You know," Ryan smiled smugly. Trapping people was starting to get a bit too easy. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were daring me."

"Oh, this is no dare, because I know you wouldn't be able to see it through. She'd turn you down faster than a Newpsie pouncing on an old, wealthy widow."

"We'll just see about that," Ryan challenged. "Meet me here tomorrow morning at 8:00, and we'll see how particular Miss Cooper is. Loser cleans up after the party."

"I'll bring you an old pair of clothes to get dirty in," Sandy teased as he walked away, his laughter floating around him when he left just as when he had arrived, while Ryan's own smirk could be seen flashing across his face wherever he went that night.

&&&

The party had been a success, but everyone was gone, finally leaving him alone with Marissa. As soon as he realized she would be coming two weeks before, Ryan couldn't help but hope somehow their night would end up like this again, but, this time, they didn't have to rush or go back to their friends afterwards; they had the rest of the evening to spend with each other. He was standing in the shadows simply observing her. She moved fluidly, her delicate hands grazing over the various things she looked at, in a leisurely pattern around all the various tables as she made her way towards the fountain. This time they hadn't even shared signals with each other to organize their meeting. Somehow they both just knew. Reaching beside him, he dimmed the lights until they were turned off, leaving the entire center in the warm glow of the floating candles on every centerpiece, and he realized as a particular candle cast a radiance across her face that she looked even more beautiful than earlier in the evening…if that was possible.

Stepping out of the shadows, their eyes locked as he made his way across the room towards her waiting figure, and he relished the fact that he was finally free to admire her as much as he wanted. Again, like the previous party, she had been dressed unlike any other woman there. While the skirt of her dress was form fitting and sequined, the bodice was sheer, pleated chiffon, letting his vision see glimpses of her soft, smooth, creamy skin. She looked subtly sexy, sophisticated, and intelligent all at once. The dress was made for her body, and he was made to remove it.

Just as he approached her, they were both startled by a sudden noise coming from the back of the center. Simultaneously, their gazes turned towards the disruption, and they were surprised to see a giggling Summer leaning into a smiling Seth as they loudly made their way of the building. It was obvious they were both slightly drunk and definitely getting along better than before. As soon as they had disappeared from sight and sound, Marissa looked back to Ryan, questions and curiosity resting brilliantly in her eyes.

"What was that all about?"

"I have no more idea than you do," Ryan answered her, grinning. "The last I heard Seth was accusing her of being related to Castro."

Marissa giggled. "Well that's not much better than what Summer said. She claimed the only thing she could figure out to excuse his behavior was that he ate paint chips." Glancing back at the door where her best friend and former neighbor had just departed, Marissa thought for a moment before returning to Ryan. "You don't think…." But she stopped herself as they both, together, said, "nah," dismissing the idea that Seth and Summer were going to end up sleeping together. Still lost in thought, Marissa was startled when she felt Ryan's hand on the small of her back as he led her away from the fountain towards a relatively clean and bare table. "Aren't we going to….you know," she asked, blushing. Ryan couldn't help but chuckle at her embarrassment. Even after they had been so intimate with each other, the simple task of conversation after their first night seemed so difficult at times between them now.

"Later," he answered, grinning at the thought, "but, first, I was hoping you'd have something to eat with me. I was too busy during the party to grab something, because I had so many people to talk to, but I'm starving."

"Then we should eat," she agreed ardently. "I don't need you tiring out on me after one round."

"Reassuring her, he responded, "that's not going to happen." Helping her into her chair, Ryan leaned down to look closely into her face. "I'll make you a deal," he playfully offered. "I'll fix our plates if you eat with just your dress on….no undergarments."

"And what do I get in return?"

"Anything you want."

"Hm…," Marissa mused to herself as she let her eyes roam Ryan's body. "Lose the suit jacket, the tie, and unbutton the shirt, and you'll have yourself a deal."

After removing said clothes, Ryan went to fill their plates, placing various appetizers and entrees onto their dishes while piling many sweet delicacies onto a separate one for them to share, and, the whole time he was gone, he could feel Marissa watching his every move. It was exhilarating. Moving back to the table, he put the food down, and they ate in relative silence, occasionally commenting upon the different things they liked or sneaking glances at each other, but it didn't satisfy Ryan. He needed more.

"So," he taunted, motioning towards her clothes. "Do you always wear black now that you're home in Newport? Your style was very different at Berkeley."

"Do you always pay attention to what I wear?" Ryan could feel himself redden guiltily at her question, but she simply laughed before answering. "I could be who I wanted during college; my reputation and appearance didn't affect my grades, but here, now that I've taken over my Father's business since he died, every little thing about me says something to potential clients. So, when I'm in the public eye, my entire look and demeanor is planned to give me an advantage over my competitors. However, I don't always look like this. You just never see me outside of the social sphere."

"Well then I guess my challenge is to figure out a way to observe you in a more natural state."

"Natural," she questioned, flashing him a dazzling smile. "I can do that right now." He observed her carefully as she stood up, turned her back to him and removed everything from two tables beside them, stripping free the tablecloths. Tossing them into the air, she watched as they floated down to lay smoothly on the floor in front of the fountain before looking over her shoulder at him, giggling, and unbuttoning the top of her dress and unzipping the back, letting it fall to the floor. Standing in front of him completely nude with only her alluring stilettos on, she finally pondered out loud, "I wonder if this is natural enough for you now?"

That was all the invitation Ryan needed. Within seconds, he had her wrapped in his arms, his mouth seeking hers desperately as she hastily stripped the rest of the clothes off of his willing and inviting body, their senses only aware of one another as everything else faded away. The shoes, designer, expensive shoes, she impatiently kicked off landed with a splash in the fountain, but neither of them noticed. The button on his pants flew off to land discretely amongst the other remnants of the party on the floor. It would never be found, but he wasn't even aware it was lost. The tablecloths they were to lay on were pushed aside in their hasty actions, but the cold of the floor merely made their glistening, sultry bodies feel as if they were sizzling with passion. Nothing else existed, because they were lost in each other, first exploring every nuance of their partners bodies and then by their slow, sensual, beautiful coupling.

With abated breath, they laid next to each other, a table cloth pulled loosely over each of their bodies, as they waited for the pure ecstasy of their orgasm to fade into a tingling warm. While Marissa kept thinking about what it felt like to feel Ryan moving inside of her, Ryan couldn't stop remembering what her face looked like when she quivered with pleasure beneath his stimulated body as she reached the pinnacle of her release. Breaking him from his thoughts, he felt her move across his body as she reached for something.

"Look at this," she exclaimed, "someone dropped their whole pack of cigarettes. Sucks to be them."

"Actually," Ryan revealed, laughing at her final comment, "those are mine." He only laughed harder at her shocked expression.

"How did I not know that you smoked," she questioned. "I mean, we spent a whole night together back at Berkeley, and, since then, we've had sex three times and I've never once tasted them on your breath."

"That's because I'm really not a smoker. I was nervous tonight before the event, and sometimes smoking one will help me calm down. It's actually been years since the last time I had one."

"Aw," Marissa teased, moving to straddle his hips and sit on top of him, letting the tablecloth fall and expose her body. "That's cute you know, admitting that you were scared, lame but cute at any rate."

"Glad I could amuse," he quipped lightly. Her next movements fascinated him. He observed her body as she leaned back down to pick up the lighter which had also fallen out of his pants' pocket and then proceeded to pull a cigarette out and light it. After taking a long drag off of it, she turned it around and held to his mouth insinuating that they should share.

"It's been years since I've had one, too," she admitted, crawling back down to curl her body around his once the cigarette was firmly placed in his mouth, "but there's nothing better than a post orgasm smoke."

As they continued to share the cigarette, Ryan realized that she was the only woman who was capable of constantly surprising him. From everything he had heard about her, he would have never imagined they'd have sex on the floor of a Chino community center and then proceed to talk as they made their way slowly through a pack of Marlboros, but the fact that she could amaze him only made her that much more attractive to him.

"So, I've been thinking," he revealed, rolling over to lay on his side so he could look down upon her stunning face and figure as he talked, the hand he wasn't using to hold up his head constantly tracing the lines of her nude body. "I want you to come here, to the center, see what this fundraiser has helped keep alive."

"As a guest," she posed, "your friend, or a volunteer?"

"No one gets to come here and not work," he taunted her making her roll her eyes, "but I promise to take it easy on you the first few times you come, no bathroom cleaning duties or food service."

"What do you mean a few times? This isn't just a one time thing?"

"Well, this money we made is going to continue to make improvements." Testing her, he pushed, "don't you want to see every step of the process." He waited for her response as she seemed to judge the true intentions behind his words.

"Is this a dare?"

"Take it however you want." Leaning in, he captured her lips in a fervent kiss. When neither of them could remain in the embrace for a moment longer, she pulled back to answer him.

"Fine," Marissa agreed, "I'll be here once a week, every Sunday, to volunteer, because I never back down from a dare. However," she grimaced pulling away from him, "I hate the taste of cigarettes when I'm kissing someone. You're not getting close to me again until you find some gum or a breath mint."

Baited, Ryan bit back, "it was your idea in the first place to smoke together, and it's not like your mouth taste any better."

"I would never have gotten the idea to smoke in the first place," she returned, standing up to search for her purse, "if you hadn't of needed them to curb your fears."

"It wasn't fear," Ryan yelled back, thoroughly annoyed by her comments. "I was just anxious. There's a difference. Besides, this whole event was your idea, so technically it's your fault we shared those cigarettes."

"I would never have had to think up an idea to save your community center if you were a better businessman and hadn't run it into debt!"

"It was bleeding in the red when I got hired," he defended himself, moving to quickly confront her, but, as he spun her body around to face his, their blazing blue irises locking in passion and intensity, he suddenly didn't care about their breath, her nagging demands, or their provoking fight; all he could think about was how much he wanted to lose himself in her again. Picking her up by holding onto her bare, firm derrière, his senses of arousal only awakened further as he felt her wrap her long, lithe legs tightly around his torso. Joining their mouths together again, he relished in the taste and feel of her.

"But your breath mint," she managed to gasp out when he pulled away to run his lips down her jaw, over her neck, and onto her quivering chest.

He didn't reply immediately though. Instead, he took her lips in another endless kiss, finally answering her question once her mint was in his mouth. "We'll share." Blindly, he walked backwards until his feet came in contract with their tablecloths again. Melting slowly onto the floor, Marissa still wrapped in his arms and clasping him tightly, he realized all their bets, challenges, and dares were merely an excuse, but what they were an excuse for, he wasn't willing to think about yet. For as long as it would last, they, instead of thinking, would simply live in the moment.

&&&

His back hurt, his body was sore, and he had a headache, but none of his nuisances mattered as Ryan slowly woke up the next morning; the feeling of a naked Marissa curled into his body was enough to eradicate anything unpleasant. He didn't want to wake up, and he didn't care if it meant he wouldn't be able to walk right for a month if he could stay in that one spot all day long with her.

"Holy shit," a frightened and startled Marissa broke him from his pleasant thoughts as her loud voice made him snap open his eyes and sit up beside her in case something was wrong. Luckily they had one of the tablecloths wrapped around them as he realized what had troubled her. Sitting in chairs directly in front of them sat a shocked Julie Cooper and an amused Sandy Cohen, both of them merely watching the young couple as they slept.

"Look who's finally awake," Sandy teased. "You know you were the one who insisted I be here at 8:00 in the morning. It would have been nice if you would have seen it appropriate to wake up in time so you were ready for me."

"What time is it," Marissa asked, slowly burying herself further and further under their cover. "How long have you been watching us, Mother?"

"It's about 9:30," Julie revealed, finally sending a proud smirk in her daughter's direction, "but don't worry, we haven't been sitting here the whole time. Sandy brought breakfast, bagels and coffee. We got here, saw you two, ate, and then took our seats to watch the show."

"Yeah, I really wouldn't call watching your daughter and I wake up a show," Ryan snapped back testily. Turning to Sandy, he added, "as for you, you're just delaying the inevitable. You lost, so pay up. This place has to be spotless before you can go home."

"Alright, alright," the older man conceded, holding up his hands in surrender, "but don't think I'm not telling Seth about this."

"He already knows," Ryan dismissed. When Sandy looked confused, he explained. "This isn't the first time Marissa and I have made bets with people."

"So basically," Julie added, slightly irritated, "we got had."

"Don't be a sore loser, Mom," Marissa further provoked the riled redhead. "Just….go and help Sandy start cleaning up in the kitchen. I guess that can be your payment to me, that you can't leave here either until everything is in perfect order."

"But I had a spa appointment."

Ending the discussion, Marissa retorted, "I don't care!" When Julie merely stared at her in shock, she motioned for her Mom to leave. "If you don't mind….," and finally the two adults left them alone.

Standing up together, they gathered their clothes quickly, helping the other get dressed, and it became obvious that the abrupt intrusion by their parents into the private world they had created for themselves together had made them, once again, slightly awkward with each other.

As he buttoned the clasp on the back of her dress for her, Ryan asked Marissa softly, "do you want some breakfast? I'm sure there are plenty of bagels left, and I could put on a new pot of coffee in my office."

"That would be nice," Marissa smiled at him as she followed his lead towards the back of the building. "And, while we eat," she added, "we can talk about that volunteer work you tricked me into last night when I was vulnerable."

"Vulnerable from what?"

With a saucy smile, she replied, "my orgasm…well the first one anyway," completely unaware that two very interested people were listening into their conversation intently, both of them completely baffled and, at the same time, intrigued by the discovery they had made that morning. Things were about to get interesting.