A/N: God bless each and every one of your hearts! Almost at 200. I truly appreciate it. A nice chocolate cupcake to all of you!

I've already been rec'd on TLS by Cared Cullen! Thank you so doggone much.

So, you're all anxious to get on with it. SMeyer owns. I just dress Edward up and make him cook for me.

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4. "Damn, I look good."

##

A production assistant met us in the lobby at 30 Rock and hurried us upstairs to a large room which turned out to be a professional grade kitchen. She was a flirty little thing, and I was ready to wrap my hands around her elegant little neck before she hauled her pink-and-green-haired ass out of the room. Edward had told her if he was to be ready for a 9:30 spot, she needed to vacate the premises. She eyed me, but I only smiled before she walked out.

"Okay, Miss Swan. Grab an apron. This is Alec, one of my Chefs de Cuisine, and that's Jane, another. This is Bella. Let's get busy," Edward announced. The two began moving quickly, chopping… sautéing… stirring. Edward was pulling plastic bags out of a cooler, and I was completely out of my element.

"What, um, what would you like me to do?" I seriously had no business being there. What was he thinking by inviting me?

"I need ingredients for the live spot, so if you wouldn't mind measuring them into those little bowls, I'd appreciate it," he requested, handing me a list. I began pouring a tablespoon of this and a teaspoon of that into small glass bowls, double checking them as I went.

"Do I need to put a note with them so you know what's what?" I asked innocently.

He laughed. "I think I'll figure it out, Bella." At that, he continued working without a word.

At 7:30 AM, he confidently strolled out to the makeshift set where barbeque grills had been lit and an elaborate table was being "styled" for the live spot.

It was outside on The Plaza, and there were people everywhere who were cheering for him. He walked over to the line and spoke with people as Alec and Jane began roasting skewers of vegetables and meat on the grills while others were back in the kitchen making additional sides for the hosts to eat during the live segment.

He walked back to where I was trying to blend into the background and kissed my lips gently. "You okay?"

I had no idea if I was okay or not. I was too overwhelmed to answer, so I simply smiled at him and nodded in agreement.

Just then, the production tart showed up again. "We need you inside for the teaser at 8:30, so you need to go to make-up and change if you're going to. It'll just take a couple of minutes," she instructed.

I saw him roll his eyes, and for the life of me, I couldn't understand why on earth they thought the stunningly handsome man needed make-up or to change from the sexy jeans and shirt he was wearing. He laughed a bit and grabbed my hand. "If I have to endure this, you're going with me."

We followed the girl up three flights of stairs and he settled into a chair where a skinny guy began applying foundation to his gorgeous face. "Why?" I asked the guy as I pointed to the base he was blending on Edward's stunningly handsome forehead.

"The lighting washes him out. We've been through this before a time or two. I'm Brady, by the way," the guy answered.

"I'm Bella." He looked me up and down, smiling a strange smile and pulling me to a chair to Edward's right to force me into it.

"Well, Chef, she's gorgeous. On camera?" he asked without looking away from my face.

"Yes," Edward answered with a smirk.

"What? No…no, I won't be…"

"Yeah, she'll definitely be on camera," Edward ordered which set the man off. Suddenly, he was on me like white on rice. He took a damp cloth of some kind and removed the little make-up I'd worn, and after five minutes, he stepped away and spun the chair around.

When I saw myself in the mirror, I was pretty surprised. "Damn, I look good." I heard laughter next to me and saw Edward grinning at me in the mirror which caused my face to flame immediately. Piss, I said that out loud.

"You looked good before, make no mistake. Come on, I need to get downstairs," he instructed, taking my hand and leading me back in the direction we'd just traversed.

We followed the bitchy PA down to the studio where Edward was led to a couch and wired up with a mic pack and a small microphone attached to his shirt collar. He said a few words so they could get a level, as they'd called it, and then everyone scampered off the set. "And we're back in five, four, three…."

"We've got a return visit from the latest celebrity chef on the New York cuisine scene, Executive Chef Edward Masen. He's cooking out on the Plaza. What are you making today, Chef?" a beautiful sandy haired woman asked.

"We're grilling today, Savannah," he answered with a smile that nearly took my breath away.

"We'll be back after this. This is Today," the woman commented.

"We're out to locals," someone called and chaos erupted once again.

The woman walked over to where Edward was sitting and shook his hand. He rose and spoke quietly with her as some other person turned off the mic pack behind his back. I was honestly without a voice.

He walked over to where I was standing in stunned silence and took my hand. "Okay, now I've got to go cook, love." I stared at him because his smile was mesmerizing, and I was so far beyond swept off my feet.

He took my hand and led me back out to The Plaza, and I watched the elegant ballet yet again. I hoped, for the sake of ratings, those people were taping him. He was laughing and teasing with Jane and Alec, and I could tell the three of them were comfortable working together. They anticipated each other's moves, and they worked around each other as a team. I stood back and watched the show, hearing the crowd call his name occasionally.

I must have been living under a fucking rock in Hanover. I had no idea Edward Masen was as popular or as successful as he appeared to be. He was going to be on morning television, for fucks' sake. How the hell had I missed hearing anything about him?

All of the dishes were delivered to the elaborate table to be plated for the hosts, and his segment, as I was told it was called, was up after the commercial break.

"She'll need to move behind the barricade," pink and green ordered.

"No, she won't. She can stand with my chefs, but she stays or I walk," Edward barked at the woman, his face suddenly contorted in anger. It happened so fast and the look was so fierce, I prayed I was never on the receiving end of anything like it.

"Edward, I don't mind…"

"Shush. She stays or I go."

Apparently, he carried a lot of weight because the bitch didn't say anything else. She also walked away with a very pissed off look on her face.

"You didn't…don't have to…I don't want to be on television," I whispered, hearing the panic in my voice and praying he didn't pick up on it.

"I'm sure you don't, but I want to put an end to the mystery behind whether I'm single or gay. My agent likes to keep it up in the air, but I'm sick of it. I'm not looking, and I think this is the best time to make it known. Saves a fuck load of headaches and time." I truly had no idea to what he was alluding.

"You're not looking…." I began when a woman walked over and instructed us to stand near the grills with Alec and Jane. There were last minute touch-ups, and then they were live again.

"Welcome back. We're here on The Plaza with Executive Chef Edward Masen. So, you earned a Michelin star at one of your restaurants, Tuscana, since you were here last spring. Congratulations," the beautiful woman began.

"I did, and I'm very proud of it. Jane Winter is the chef at Tuscana, and she deserves the credit for taking my ideas to another level. She earned the star, not me." I was extremely impressed by his humility, and Jane seemed thrilled with the acknowledgment.

"He's being too benevolent," Jane announced behind him, causing him to laugh.

"Well, congratulations to you both. So, what are we cooking today?" the woman asked.

The sexy, handsome man went through the recipes, and half ass cooked the food he had already prepared to serve. At the end of the segment, he pulled the plates from a warmer under the table and handed out forks to the hosts, pouring sangria punch of some type to accompany the food.

"Who are your elves?" a man asked referring to Alec and me as we hovered on the periphery.

"Jane, of course from Tuscana. Alec, my chef at Seasons, and my girlfriend, Bella." Okay, work with me, girlfriend?

"Thank you for coming today and feeding us so well. We'll be back after this. This is Today," the hostess responded, looking into the camera.

"We're out," someone called.

I stood next to Edward as he continued to cook. "What happens now?" I asked quietly, afraid to disturb him as he worked.

"Well, I'm not going to toss it away. I'll finish cooking and feed the crew. You're going to help me, Miss Swan," he commented as he pushed me in front of one of the grills.

"I'll tell you when to turn," he answered my unasked question, and for the next fifteen minutes, we cooked and fed the crew. It was more fun than I ever thought I'd have at such an early hour.

After we finished dishing up the food, Edward and I climbed into a sedan and proceeded to visit a few of the local markets he frequented. We also visited a couple of the restaurants he owned in Manhattan, unbeknownst to me.

Four o'clock that afternoon found us at Go Fish. He took my hand and led me back to the beautiful office where Esme sat behind the desk, working at the computer.

"Hello, little brother. Nice spot this morning. Did you talk to Felix yet? He wants to talk with you about a cookbook. Bella, it's lovely to see you again," Esme commented as she rose from her chair and hugged me, rather unexpectedly.

"God, he needs to let that go. I'm not anywhere near doing anything like that. So, how's Carlisle?" Edward asked his sister as he picked up mail and began opening envelopes before she pulled them from his hands.

"Are you really going to start doing the books now? If you want to jump into the minutia, there's a particularly pissy fish monger with which you can deal. Why are you here again? If the staff sees you, they'll go into a panic. You're not here today, and they're all in good moods. Don't ruin it, yet again," she teased as she sat down at the desk.

"Fuck the staff. I'm showing Bella what she's in for if she hitches to my wagon. So, your husband?"

"He's working too hard, as always. Oh, Victoria is seeing someone. I don't know if I like him yet or not, but we met him over the weekend. His name is James, and he plays baseball. Carlisle thinks he's an ass, but I'm attempting to keep an open mind." She was quite lively as she spoke of Victoria, whom I assumed was her daughter. I really had no idea how many siblings Edward had aside from Eric, but Esme seemed to be quite sweet and very shrewd.

"I was a teenaged boy at one time or another. Don't let him out of your sight. Tilly, we're going to raid the walk-in. I'll leave a list when we're done. Bella is cooking dinner at my place tonight." He wrapped an arm around my waist drawing me into his body.

"Gutsy. I won't even make him toast because I do it wrong. Are you going out on Sunday?" Esme asked. The comment about not cooking for him made my stomach turn. I couldn't ever live up to what I'd witnessed that day, and I wanted to slip away and hide.

"I am, and I hope Bella will go with me. Have you talked to Eric? I offered to drive him out, but he's in love again," Edward responded, reminding me of the most perfect night in my life...the night I met him.

"I got a tweet from him that he's in heaven. Who's the latest boy rocking his world these days?" she asked with a laugh.

"Some teacher named Riley. I'll leave the list, Till. Tell Carlisle hi. We'll see you on Sunday."

He led me back to the familiar kitchen. It was busy, but he wasn't as focused on the staff as they were on him. "Okay, Miss Swan, tell me what you need. I keep a well-stocked kitchen, and unless your mac and cheese recipe requires something like tripe, I'm sure I can accommodate you."

"Oh, fuck no. If your sister won't even make toast for you, no way…I can't live up to what I saw this morning," I protested.

He chuckled. The bastard laughed as he looked around the busy kitchen, and he took my hand, leading me over to the counter. I was so completely overwhelmed, I couldn't speak.

"See these people? Many of them have gone to the best culinary schools in the country, and they can cook on demand, which is something I do all the time. I walk in here on random days and call out dishes, insisting they prepare them for me. If they're not up to snuff, I fire them on the spot." The activity ratcheted up substantially as he stood there observing them.

Okay, that didn't make me feel any more confident in my abilities.

"Um, well, I don't work for you." What the fuck else was I to say?

"Exactly. You don't work for me. Do you have any idea how tired I am of being the bastard who comes in here and shouts out dishes? I'd love to have someone else cook something simple for me. So, Miss Swan, recipe?"

I did a mental inventory of what I'd need, not knowing what he had at his house. I requested a few cheeses, pancetta, and spring onions. Once we'd packed up my ingredients, we took the town car we'd used all day back to Irish Eyes. When we got out of it, Edward tipped the guy and led me up the back stairs to his place. I was truly excited to see it, and it didn't disappoint.

It was a mainly open-loft concept, which wasn't a surprise. Several bedrooms were off to the left with an additional bathroom in the hallway, as I got the nickel tour. One bedroom was Edward's, and one was most likely his daughter's, based on the frilly bedding, but the doors to the other rooms were closed so I didn't know what they were. He had a large bathroom off his bedroom with a gorgeous antique, clawfoot tub with nickel fixtures which sent my brain in seven different directions.

He led me up a flight of stairs, and I could have been knocked down with a feather. "So, here's the kitchen." Oh, hell, and what a kitchen it was. I stood in the middle of the damn thing, which took up half of the second floor and looked down over the formal living room on the first floor from the great room on the second.

The kitchen was stainless and glass with appliances I'd only ever dreamed of. They were a hell of a lot better than we had in our apartment in Chelsea, and forget about the kitchen at my parents' place.

There was a large, rustic table next to the two-story, floor to ceiling wall of windows, and it was definitely something out of a high-end architectural magazine. It was what I dreamed heaven must be like…Viking and Sub-Zero heaven.

"Um, uh, okay." That's the best you've got, Swan? Seriously?

"I'll help you as a sous, if you need me," he teased as he kissed my neck, having slipped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, clasping his hands low on my stomach.

Him, helping me and kissing me and touching me wasn't going to motivate me to cook him anything, so I shooed him out of the kitchen and got busy after he handed me an apron.

The pots and pans were elegant and expensive, not worthy of my humble recipe at all, but I used them. Chopping pancetta and sautéing it, adding onions as music played in the background. Minced garlic cloves joined the dance, and I thought it smelled mouthwatering in that little slice of heaven.

Straining out the pancetta, onions, and garlic left me with the drippings. I added butter, a few tablespoons of flour, then heavy cream and egg yolks. Once it was to my liking, I added the cheese I'd grated, and as the sauce came together, I added salt, pepper, and nutmeg, just as Gran's recipe from years ago instructed.

I boiled elbow macaroni and took the opportunity to open a bottle of white wine, adding a splash to the sauce. Once the noodles were al dente, I drained them and found a baking dish, buttering it liberally so as not to let anything stick.

After mixing everything together, I poured it into the dish, adding fresh herbs I found in his fridge and spreading a cracker and cheese mixture on top as I placed it in the oven to bake. I actually made the sign of the cross over it, hoping it made it heavenly good, but not sure it would.

I went to his fridge and dug around a bit, finding boneless breasts which surprised me. I pulled them out, cut them into strips, and grabbed a skillet. Chicken strips and cheesy macaroni? Who could complain about that?

An hour later, dinner prepared and table set, I followed the sound of music downstairs. He was in his bedroom with a laptop on his lap top. I knocked on the door frame and saw him look up behind a pair of glasses that looked extremely sexy on him.

He pulled them off. "Please tell me the food is ready. It smells incredible, and I've been fighting with myself for an hour to keep from coming up there."

"Chicken strips and mac and cheese. Pretend you're at a seven-year olds' birthday party." My stomach was flipping over like a pancake, but I held it together.

He hopped off the bed after putting the computer on a side table, and he followed me up to the kitchen just as the timer went off for the mac and cheese.

I stopped him just at the top of the stairs. "I'll clean up the mess, I swear, but I didn't have the chance to do it while I was cooking. Sorry."

It was a horrible mess, but I'd make the damn thing sparkle again before I left. It was an honor to have had access to such a beautiful kitchen.

"I give a shit less. It smells good in here, and trust me when it's just me cooking, I'm a messy fuck. Let's eat, please."

I served him macaroni and cheese with fried chicken tenders with a honey-mustard dipping sauce I'd improvised at the last minute, adding a bit of fresh ginger. It was a very simple meal, and I couldn't eat because I'd just cooked for a renowned chef. People all over the city were eating his elaborate recipes in his various eating establishments, and I was almost embarrassed by the simple meal I'd prepared for him.

"Sweet Fancy Moses, this is fantastic," he moaned. He was being kind, obviously, but at least he wasn't puking in the sink as I was ready to do.

"It's not that great and you don't have to patronize me. You're a chef. I'm a cook. Where'd you study, by the way?"

"Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, but don't get all whipped up about it. Learning at a culinary institution gives you the background and techniques. It doesn't make you a good cook, and I value a good cook over a master chef any day."

"What's the difference?" Hell, he'd studied in Paris? I learned to make meatloaf in Forks, Washington, and until I tweaked it after reading a recipe in a magazine, it was always dry. God bless Mom, she tried.

"A good cook puts heart into a meal. They cook for people they care about, and it comes out in the food. A master chef, well, we tend to get lost in creating culinary masterpieces, but there's nothing behind them other than actually wowing an audience. There's passion, but there's no love. This food you've made, I can taste the love, Bella. You love cooking for people about whom you care. I cook because it's my profession. There's a huge difference."

"Chef, I tend to think you've got the market cornered on bullshit," I replied as I sipped my wine.

He lifted a fork of mac and cheese with a bit of the chicken on it to my lips. "Taste."

I took it in, and it wasn't half bad. The mac and cheese needed a bit more nutmeg, but it tasted pretty damn good. "Needs more nutmeg," I responded after swallowing.

"It doesn't. It's a perfect blend, Bella. You're a wonderful cook. I'm quite happy to tuck my legs under your table."

"Actually, it's your table, Chef." I chuckled as I took a bite of the food I'd dished up for myself. It was pretty damn good, if I said so myself. He laughed and continued to eat. I was quite thrilled he seemed to be enjoying it.

After dishes were cleared, he led me to his couch and turned on soft music because we needed to talk. "You owe me a lot of explanations regarding who you are and what you expect…how you think…what you want from me, Edward," I told him as we stared at each other.

I wasn't sure how to ask the question because really, I'd only just met him two nights before, but his lifestyle was pretty overwhelming, and I felt it was in my best interests to figure out what he thought would happen between the two of us before I fell for him any further. Fuck, it was probably too late already.

We settled into the buttery soft leather facing each other, and the smile on his face made me not really give a damn about anything else. The fact remained I needed to know why he was interested in me because clearly, he could have any woman he wanted. He was a famous, sexy chef, and everyone seemed to know it except me. I was such a damn simp.

"Look, I've been busy with law school and working at a legal aid clinic in Hanover, and I don't really watch television, so I had no idea about you. I thought you were just a bartender, for Christ's sake, not that there would be anything wrong with that if you were."

He laughed and took my hand, kissing it gently. "Good. You have no idea how great it is you knew nothing about me. I much prefer a beautiful woman who's willing to take a chance and get to know a guy simply because they have chemistry and not because of what he does for a living or the size of his bank account. That makes me very happy."

I considered his comment, and I could put myself in his position, never knowing if people wanted to be friends with me or date me because of me or because of how much money I had. I was sure he ran into those types of woman all day long.

"Okay, since we've established I'm interested in you for you, tell me what I need to know." It was simple and direct, and I braced myself for his answers.

"Tuscana, the Italian restaurant run by Jane, the resident Chef de Cuisine and a nice guy named Caius who manages it, was my first restaurant. It's been in its current location for five years. Seasons was next. It's organic, American cuisine. We purchase from local growers and farms, and I plan the menu according to what's fresh at a particular time of the year. Alec's the resident Chef, and his fiancée, Chelsea, is the manager. I enjoy that one the most because it's more of a challenge to create the seasonal menu, and I love a challenge.

"Wild Flower, which is only open during the summer, is in Bellport where my parents live. It's sort of a mix of everything people would associate with living in a beach community. I run it when I move out to Bellport for the summer. I've thought about keeping it open year round, but finding someone to manage it and a Chef to head it up is a pain in the ass.

"Of course, Irish Eyes is more casual. Seth, the guy who was there the other night, runs it and his girlfriend, Claire, cooks there. She's not a trained chef, but she's a hell of a cook, much like you. Go Fish is the latest one I've opened. I've been spending a lot of time there to establish quality and consistency, but I think we've finally found a Chef to run the kitchen.

"Esme found him, actually, and she loves him. I make the guy so damn nervous when I show up he can barely function, which is why Es was pissed at me today. She owns half interest in the place, so she wants it to succeed, as do I. I just have to work with the guy more because he's a bit pig headed." I nodded at everything he said to confirm I heard the words, but the reality was weighing heavy on me.

He was so busy I didn't know how he'd have time for a relationship, which made me wonder if that was what broke up his marriage to Kate. It would, most definitely, take a toll on any relationship.

"A temperamental chef? That's novel, isn't it? So, what about the one in Vegas?"

"I'm only an investor in that one. A friend from culinary school wanted to start a restaurant a couple of years ago. I was doing pretty well by then, so I flew out to discuss it. He presented me with his business plan and menu ideas, and I backed him. It's a French restaurant, and it's booked up for months in advance. I gave him input on tweaking the menu, but he and his wife, Charlotte, have made it successful. His name is Peter. Great guy. He's actually Kate's brother." I guess he saw the surprise on my face because he continued without waiting for my response.

"I met Kate through Peter while we were both in culinary school when Kate came to visit him in Paris. She and I spent time together the summer she was living with him, and after she came back to the States to finish college, we had a long distance relationship until it was no longer enough for either of us. I moved back, and we got married. Even after the divorce, Pete and I stayed in touch and maintained our friendship."

Well, that explained how he and Kate got together without me having to sound like a jealous harpy and badger it out of him. I really had no desire to delve into the gory details of the women he dated before me, but I was curious about one thing. "So, um, would you ever consider moving to Cali to be closer to your daughter?"

He rested his temple against his fist as he pondered my question. "I can't say never, but not right now. I've got so much going on here, and I'm not ready to sell it all and move across the country. Sounds selfish, I know, but even with having managers and chefs at each restaurant, there's a lot of shit to do, four times over. I don't know how I'd turn over those responsibilities to someone else."

"Is each one an independent entity or do you have a holding company?" I asked. It was a way to move off the subject of other women, so I took a shot.

"One of my lawyers suggested it once, but we didn't delve into it because I didn't have time when he brought it up. It was just before Go Fish opened, and the subject hasn't come up again. Why? Is it something I should consider?"

At least it was something on which I could actually speak knowledgeably. I knew nothing about running a restaurant, but I did know about business and taxation. "Well, you could centralize operations. For instance, you could run all payroll through the holding company. All vendor contracts as well, which would keep you from having to contract individually with, say, your linen provider for each different restaurant. They send one bill for all and you send one check instead of four. It would definitely cut down on overhead, and any profits, or God forbid losses, could be weighted to give you the best possible tax position. I'm sure you pay an assload of taxes. How many employees do you have, collectively?"

I saw him do the count and wince. "Actually, in total, there are about a hundred and twenty, not counting the Vegas staff because I don't pay them since I'm not really an owner. Why?"

"Well, you'd still qualify for SBA status, but you'd need to discuss it with a lawyer and accountant. It's something to consider, I'd say. So, um, thank you for explaining it to me. We've only known each other for about seventy-two hours, and it's really none of my business, but considering I knew nothing about you, I was confused."

"So, you're not confused any longer?" He was playing with my fingers, which made it really hard to concentrate on anything he'd told me, so I was going to have to be honest. There was no time for me to even attempt to form a plausible non-answer.

"I'll need time to stew on it all. That's how I deal with things. A lot of stewing and dissecting."

"Well, how can I clear things up for you?" I didn't even have an answer for that.

"You can't, really. I just need time. Look, I've had a great day spending time with you, but I've got to get serious about this job search thing if I'm going to be able to pay the utilities next month. I'm going to Irish Eyes on Friday night to see Jasper. Will you be around?" Please be around…please be around.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through it, frowning. "Actually, I'm not free again until Sunday. Would you go with me to Bellport to visit my parents? My brother hasn't gotten back to me yet, so I might be going alone. Would you consider going with me?"

I didn't think meeting his parents after just knowing him three days was a good idea, besides the fact I'd never met anyone's parents before, so I contemplated manufacturing an excuse, but I concluded I didn't want to lie to the man, so I was going to be honest with him because I felt it was too soon.

"I, uh, I think maybe that's a bit premature for such a big step. I mean, we just met on Monday night. You might not like me after you really get to know me, Edward. Maybe we should see where this goes before you introduce me to your parents. Eric seemed to be hesitant to introduce Riley to your parents, so I just figured you'd be of the same mind," I reasoned.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and turned to face out into the room, resting his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. "Okay. I understand you have reservations, so I'll give you time. Can I call you?"

"Of course! It's not that I have reservations, per se. It's just been sort of a whirlwind. I think we both need time to sort of think about this, don't you? I mean, from what you've just described, it sounds like you have a very busy life, and right now I'm not busy at all, but if I get a job, I'll be working a lot of hours. I'm not sure…well, I'm sort of getting ahead of myself. Never mind. We'll talk this week when you have time. I'll wait to hear from you," I rambled like an idiot.

I stood to leave, but before I could take a step, he had me in his arms, kissing the living shit out of me. Damn, Sam, the man could curl my toes.

His hands were on both sides of my neck, thumbs gently stroking my jaw as our tongues swirled together. I grabbed the belt loops of his jeans and pulled him closer, feeling his hard chest against my soft one.

His left hand moved to my back as he tilted my head to the right, breaking the kiss and kissing his way down my neck. The kiss certainly didn't disappoint, and I felt my pulse pick up as he nipped and licked his way to my shoulder.

"I sh…should…oh, God. That feels fantastic." I sounded like a wanton hussy, but it truly had me breathing hard, experiencing the lust coursing through my body and straight down there. I hadn't felt any sensation down there in a long time, and even the vague memory of a short tryst in law school with a guy named Jeremy didn't begin to touch the feelings I was experiencing.

He pulled back and looked deeply into my eyes. "While you're doing all that stewing and dissecting, I'd appreciate it if you'd weigh that kiss in the mix. I realize I have a busy life, but Bella, I haven't had a reason not to be busy in a long time. It might take me a bit of time to shuffle things, but I will make time for you. I'm just happy to have met you, which is why I wanted you to go with me to meet my parents, but I don't want to scare you off. I'll come out and hail a cab for you."

He pulled away and slipped on his shoes, walking back to his bedroom. He reappeared a minute later and walked me down the stairs to the street level, hailing a cab quickly. He opened the front passenger door and spoke to the driver, tossing money to him before he closed the door.

"Thank you so much for dinner. It was delicious. I look forward to the leftovers for dinner tomorrow night. I'll call you tomorrow. Good luck on the job search," he whispered as he kissed me again before opening the door and helping me inside.

He stayed outside the bar until we turned left at the end of the block to head to my apartment. I could still feel the sensation of his hands on me and smell him on my skin, which didn't help the feelings of lust coursing through my body. There was definitely a shower in my future or I wasn't going to get a wink of sleep. I was sure it wouldn't be the only sleepless night I'd spend because of the man.

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E/N: Well, now, that was a longer chapter. He gave her the rundown and a little bit more, didn't he? We have a lot more to learn about the two of them, but all will be revealed in good time. I read all of your reviews, and I know there's skepticism regarding whether he's got a dark, sordid secret. I'll leave it to you to decide it as we get to know them better. Can't wait to hear from you. I love theories…(No, he's never been to prison.)

Till tomorrow…xoxo