Sun streaming through the bay window above the head of the bed gently woke them both the following morning. It had been a beautiful, crisp night and the windows had been left open, now letting in a periodic breeze from the bay.

After greeting each other with a mutual light 'Morning', Ken had moved to take her wrists into his lap to free her. As he un-looped his tie, he said, "Just because I'm taking this off, doesn't mean I'm letting you go."

Miranda thought she understood his meaning. As he worked to undo a knot, she asked, "Ken?"

"Hmm," his only response, as he was looking at what he was doing.

"Is this all about sex for you?"

He paused, thinking to himself. Yeah, of course, why else do people do this? But was it all? He lifted his eyes, holding her gaze, as he spoke the next words that came to his mind, "Not even close."

Miranda's breath hitched. She fought to hold his eye contact, and managed to give him a small smile and a nod that she understood. Ken dropped back to his task.

Once he managed to fully unwrap her, he massaged her wrists and hands. Satisfied, he softly tapped his thumb on her wrist, but didn't let go, lightly holding her slender, soft hands in his large calloused ones. "You feeling ok?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "I'm sore, obviously, but its not really pain, more just a tightness, like a dull reminder, but kind of in a good way. I slept well. Did you?"

"Yes, considering I don't think I moved all night."

"You had fun I assume?" she asked.

Ken let out a light chuckle at that one, giving her a quick peck on the forehead. "Yup. Did you?"

"I certainly didn't think it was possible to orgasm that many times."

Ken lightly laughed again and smiled at her. Miranda shifted, getting a little self-conscience under the intensity of his gaze. Feeling the need to change the subject, she stated, "I think our breakfast options are quite low, but we can walk next door and raid the kitchens."

"Yeah?" Ken noticed her light blush and the fact that she had dropped her eyes. He loved pushing her just a little further when she got nervous like this. He slid his palms smoothly up her bare thighs to rest them on her hips. She trembled ever so slightly. "Will anyone be over there?"

"Shouldn't be. I mean there's a chance we could run into someone from my parent's staff. When they're here, there's usually people all over the place, but when they're away its's like a skeleton crew. My brother has his own place, he's in and out, but been busy with a new girlfriend."

"You have a brother?" he asked.

"Marcus Michael McCallister. Heir apparent to the kingdom. He's three years older. Been grooming him since birth to take over the family patriarch. Don't get me wrong, at this point there are several branches of controlling interests in the family fortune. The 'union' with the Cummings this weekend will strengthen the fortune more for the Cummings, but make no mistake, it adds power to the McCallister name as well. Everything's about power and influence around here. My brother will eventually become like my dad, the one who oversees it all, the king of the kingdom."

"And what about you?" he asked.

"Well, I won't want for money if that's what you're asking. I am expected to do my share to grow the family fortune. I can explore my own ventures if I can produce something worthwhile. I'm also given projects as seen fit."

"College?" Ken asked.

"Michael just finished his degree from Harvard law. I went to Wharton like Nora. I finished in three years though."

"So, you're a brainiac?" he chided. "Not sure I can handle having a woman smarter than me." Ken was goading her. In truth, he loved intelligent women.

"No, I just got bored," she countered. "Doubled up on a few classes to get out sooner." She paused. "I'm hungry."

"Well, let's get dressed and head over. I'll make you breakfast."

"You cook?"

"Single man and I like to eat, so yeah I've got some skills. I make a mean scrambled egg."

"Ok."

Miranda slid out of bed, moving to a chest of drawers to pull out some undergarments. Ken followed, heading to the bathroom first and then going to his luggage bag. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. She returned from the nearby closet a moment layer in a short sleeve blouse and pleated skirt. She slipped on flats as he sat on one of the kitchen chairs to pull on socks and sneakers. "Ready?" he asked.

"Let me just run a comb through my hair and freshen up a bit."

"You look beautiful already. It's just you and me walking next door for breakfast."

She smiled lightly at him at his praise. "I know. I'll be quick."

Miranda went into the bath, emerging a few minutes later, having taking care of personal needs. She had also brushed her teeth, brushed out her hair, and tossed on a little makeup. She did notice her skin had a nice glow to it this morning. She figured she had Ken and his ministrations to thank for that.

He opened the front door for her to walk through. Once outside, he took her hand in his, and she shifted to gently lean into him as they walked across the stone drive. "When do you have to leave?" she asked.

Ken let out a huff and a sigh, taking his free hand to rub through his hair. "I should by early afternoon at the latest."

Miranda didn't know what to respond so she remained quiet. They rounded the corner of the drive that led from the boat house to main residence, passing large flowering bushes that lined the drive. Miranda punched in the security code to the hidden panel by the large wooden double doors under the stone carpark and they went inside. The place really was like a small castle. The short entrance hall quickly opened up into a grand open space with double curved staircases coming down either side from the upper floors. A large display of fresh flowers sat on an equally large round tablet between the two staircase landings. Paintings that looked like they belonged in museums decorated the walls and there were several ornate seating chairs placed around the room. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling that opened all the way to the second floor. It all screamed pretense and money.

"Whoa," commented Ken.

Miranda was so used to it herself, but it was a typical first reaction for most people. "Kitchens through this way," she stated, taking the lead, holding his hand. They passed through a large room decorated with expensive soft floral wallpaper and even more paintings. There was a large expensive looking dining table and chairs and several smaller seating areas. China display cabinets of place settings and figurines were dotted around the room. Sunlight streamed through multiple large spotless windows overlooking manicured gardens out back. She took them through a swinging door to enter a professional kitchen.

Miranda let go of his hand to perch herself up on one of the stainless-steel prep tables. "Ok, I can help but I'm fairly useless in a kitchen."

Ken was already inspecting the Viking stove and oven, and opening drawers, and looking through pots and pans. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Don't worry, doll, you just sit there and look good. I got this."

He moved around the room, taking prep bowls into the walk-in fridge and returning, balancing things on his arms, loaded with supplies. Miranda watched, enjoying the show. She suddenly had an idea and slid off her perch, going to the fridge herself and bringing out a bottle of champagne and carafe of OJ. She hadn't grabbed one of the best bottles, not wanting to waste that on a mimosa, but she figured she had earned a reward. She called to Ken as she moved to where the flutes where stored, "Will you open that for me please? Do you want one?"

"What are we celebrating?" he asked, turning to pop the cork. "And, no, I'll just sip some of yours." He was going to need to drive soon and wanted his head clear for the morning.

She returned with the single flute, and he poured a generous portion in. She added the juice, gave it a gentle swirl, took a sip and handed it to him. "Earth shattering, multiple orgasms?" she asked.

Ken took a big swig and licked his lips. "Delicious. How about us?" he countered, leaning in to press his lips to hers.

Miranda was frequently floored by the intensity of his lips. She took a half step back to ground herself as the tip of his tongue pushed in gently to smoothly lick her lips and then retreated. She could taste the citrus and champagne on him as well as herself. She swallowed as he handed her the crystal back, thankful that she managed to not drop it. "Um, yeah, that's good too."

Recovering, she perched herself back up on the table, and took another sip. Ken moved like a well-oiled machine. Cracking eggs into a bowl, adding milk, whipping and folding. He started some bacon in a pan. He shifted from the stovetop as things cooked, to a cutting board, slicing a fresh melon. Miranda topped off her drink as he plated the meal. He carried the plates to her, setting one down on either side of her, and tucked himself standing between her legs.

"You only brought one fork," she commented.

"Only need one," he retorted, picking up a hefty hunk of egg, blowing on it once, and then popping it into his mouth. "Mm, good." He paused to swallow. "You've been working me, girl. Need to replenish some protein." He scooped up a smaller piece with the fork and lifted it to her lips, "here, you too."

Miranda's mouth fell on warm, fluffy goodness. She moaned, closing her eyes. Ken smirked deeply at her reaction, his smile reaching to the light wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"Good God. Where did you learn to cook like that? My folks need to hire a new chef."

Ken laughed heartily. "My skills don't extend to everything, sweetheart."

"Mm." She licked her lips. "I beg to differ. More." She opened her mouth for him.

Ken laughed again. "Demanding much?" But he obliged her, this time adding a piece of bacon with the egg. She moaned even louder.

"Watch it darling, or my breakfast will be ruined, and I'll be consuming you on this table instead."

Miranda swallowed, not sure which option she really wanted.

Ken finished feeding them both, and in short order the plates were clean. Miranda helped him to pick up and they walked together back through the residence to return to the boathouse. She reset the alarm code as they exited. "That was delicious, thank you," she remarked, linking her fingers with his and leaning back into him. She had a light but pleasant buzz from the champagne.

"Glad you liked it. Can you make some coffee for us to have out on the deck?"

"Certainly, and sounds great."

Ken looked at his watch that he had put back on when dressing. They had been sleeping later the last few mornings then he had in ages. "Then I should get going."

Her gait faltered. He leaned over to kiss her temple. "Miranda, we talked about this. It's not goodbye, ok?"

"Ok," she nodded, hating how desperate she seemed. She was literally never like this.

They returned to the boathouse, and she started the coffee while he straightened up and packed his bag. Coffee finished, he helped her fix the mugs and they walked out to the deck together. She moved to sit in a chaise. "No," he said. "Come sit with me." He pulled over one of the side tables, so they had a place for their mugs and made room for her. The bay was quiet as it was a Tuesday late morning, but as it was summer, there were still a few boats out on the water. They sat quietly, enjoying each other's company, the view, the seagulls and the shorebirds, sipping their coffees.

A little while later, drinks finished, Ken pulled her back into his chest, nestling her into him. "I had a great time," he assured her.

"Me, too."

He kissed the top of her head and moved them to stand. He carried the mugs back inside as she got the door. He went to the bathroom and then returned. He unzipped the top of his leather luggage bag, shifting things around, checking the contents. He looked up at her, "Miranda, where's my tie?"

"I don't know."

"Miranda?" he gave her a knowing look.

"I, well, I wanted to keep it."

He crossed over to her. "Nope. Not yet. You want it? You have to come to New York to get it." In truth, he had every intention of sleeping with it under his pillow in her absence. But if he could use it as a bargaining chip to get her up for a visit, that was even better.

She huffed a little, but conceded, moving to the chest of drawers he had seen her go into earlier. She carried it over to him. "Ok, but I will be taking it back."

"Is that a promise?" he asked, being hopeful.

"Oh, yeah."

He tucked it back into inside his bag, shouldered it, and held out his other arm to her. "Walk me out?"

"Of course," she answered, smiling at him even though she was sad to see him go.

Once outside, he placed his bag in the trunk and turned to her. Leaning against the back of the car, he pulled her against himself and kissed her deeply, her face in his hands.

When they pulled back from each other, she asked, "So when will I get to see you next?"

"Well, I have a security gig this weekend and I'm going to be working a lot straight through to make up for the extra time the last few days, but I can come back down to you the following weekend if you'd like?"

"Ok, I'd like that," she agreed, not wanting to push further.

He got in the car and rolled the window down to give her another brief kiss. "Bye," he said.

"Bye," she replied.

"I'll see you soon," he assured.

Miranda watched the sleek black Corvette glide down the stone driveway and turn down the paved tree lined parkway until she lost it as it turned onto the main road past the end of the property. In truth, she really didn't want Ken to leave, but now that he was gone, a warm bubble bath, a nap, and a glass of wine on the deck with a novel sounded divine. She needed a little reprieve to replenish herself. The last couple of days with him had been intense to say the least.

Ken drove away slow. For one, he really didn't want to be leaving her, two, he didn't want her to even consider that he was racing away from her. However, once he reached the highway, all bets were off. Speeding up the onramp and not seeing another car, he hit the gas and floored it. He wasn't speeding to get away, it was just pure joy. The stingray roared into action, and he let out a yelp of delight, glancing at the speedometer, the needle was nearly at a 100. A second later his eyes caught the flash of blue and red light in the rearview, followed by the bleat of a police siren.

"Shit!"

For a split second, he thought about taking off, but the risk wasn't worth the gamble. He glanced back in the rearview, checking distance, put on his blinker, and hit the brake to slow down and pull over. So much for his joy ride. He stopped on the shoulder, put the car in park, turned off the ignition, and left his hands visible on the steering wheel after rolling down the window. One or two cars passed while he waited for the cop, who he assumed was calling in the plates. He really hoped his boss didn't routinely have a lead foot.

The officer approached, maneuvering to get a look at him. Ken turned, giving him his most congenial smile. "Afternoon officer. I want to apologize, I just left the girl I'm going to marry, and well, I guess I got a little excited."

The cop, obviously not having heard that one before, lowered his shades to look at him further, apparently searching his face for sincerity. To be fair, it was the first thing that Ken had thought of to try and talk his way out of what was likely to be a very nasty ticket, but he realized suddenly, that he actually meant it. Well, Fuck me. His grin suddenly widening to what could only be described as shit eating.

The officer looked at his undeniable happiness and answered, "Well is that so?"

"Yes, Sir."

"So, is this your car?"

"My boss', Sir. He leant it to me for the weekend."

"Sounds like a good boss to have."

"He can be, Sir. Not as good as my last Commanding Officer, but still a good man to work for," Ken supplied, adding in the military reference to boost his likeability. A lot of cops had some military background. Sometimes it helped, brotherhood and all that.

"Army?" the officer asked.

"Yes, Sir. Green Beret," he added, taking a chance.

"Marines myself."

Shit.

"But serving's, serving, you know brother?"

"Yes, Sir." Phew.

"Alright, so, how about you drive reeaalll nice and slow back to New York? You know, stay in one piece? So you can live long enough to marry this girl of yours."

Ken tried to not look too relieved. "Yes, Sir. Thank you."

"Hey, GB, don't let me catch you speeding in my county again, or I won't be so lenient, you hear?"

Ken nodded his head as the officer returned to his car. The officer waited for him to pull back on the road, followed him for a minute or two, and then passed him at a high rate of speed that obviously was faster than what Ken had been doing. Ass.

Regardless, Ken drove the whole way back to the city, at or under the speed limit. He even had a family in a minivan, chuck full of kids, pass him at one point.

Turning into the company parking garage to return the 'vette to his boss' parking spot, he made another realization. He was going to have to buy his boss's car. With his recent raise, he could probably just about swing it. There was no way he was going to go through this life without fucking Miranda across the hood at least once. Then again, he reasoned, there was no way once would be enough.