With slow, almost stealth movements, she pushed open the ajar bedroom door. Across the room Brady's lean body was stretched diagonally across his large bed. His crimson and gold comforter was lazily draped over him.

His jeans and t-shirt had been discarded in a nearby chair before he had apparently climbed into bed with only his boxers covering his body.

With a shrug, she decided that perhaps Brady had the right idea. With smooth motions she slipped off her shoes and began to cross the room in her bare feet. She languidly tossed the suede jacket she had been wearing into the chair housing Brady's clothes. By the time she reached the foot of the bed, she was covered only by her lacy black underclothing. Her own garments marked her path to the bed.

Even as she slithered under the comforter, she wondered what possessed her take such a bold action. However, as she positioned herself atop Brady's warm body, she banished such nagging thoughts of logic and consequence.

As she planted a series of playful kisses on his firm chest, she was rewarded with a faint smile as he began to wake from his nap.

A wicked grin played across her face as she moved her left leg over Brady's stronger ones. Straddling the handsome blond, she continued to direct her series of kisses up his chest and neck.

Just as she placed a kiss dangerously close to Brady's lips, he closed his muscular arms around her slender body and smoothly rolled both of their bodies so that he was the one on top. Finally opening his eyes, Brady looked at her with total shock. As his lips hovered mere inches above her mouth, he gasped, "Sinclair?"

As Sinclair broke into a fit of giggles, a familiar voice called out from the top of the stairway. "Brady, are you home?"

Brady hurriedly pulled the comforter over his and Sinclair's heads, inadvertently leaving their bare legs exposed. In a whisper, he ordered, "Not a word."

"Brady," called out Belle as she prepared to walk through the open door. "Are you . . ." Catching sight of the exposed flesh, she quietly finished, ". . . in here?" As her face flushed a bright shade of pink, Belle diverted her gaze to the floor and apologized, "I'm so sorry. I thought I heard someone giggle, but I didn't even stop to think that you two might be . . . well . . . anyway, I'm really sorry."

While carefully keeping Sinclair's bemused face hidden by the comforter, Brady managed to expose his own head to say, "Belle, it's not a big deal. Um, how about I just meet you downstairs in a few minutes?"

Still averting her gaze, Belle quickly responded, "No, no, that's okay. I was just getting a little anxious after being locked up in the penthouse all afternoon. So, I convinced dad to drive me over so I could return the movies you loaned me over the weekend." Haphazardly laying the DVDs on Brady's desk, Belle concluded, "And, now that I've done that, I'm going to go back home."

Without another word, Belle uncomfortably backed out of the bedroom and carefully made her way down the stairs.

Only when he heard the front door slam shut did Brady uncover Sinclair's face. Noticing the smirk upon her face, he sternly stated, "This isn't funny."

"Oh, I think it's hysterically funny. And, if you still had a sense of humor, you would, too."

"I have a sense of humor," countered Brady. "I just don't see the humor in my sister being humiliated and my marriage being risked by one of your stunts."

Sinclair struggled to not give voice to the annoyance she was beginning to feel. Her visit to Brady had been intended to serve as a source of amusement and distraction. Instead, he wanted to play the wronged party while making her out to be the cynical sinner.

Rolling her eyes, Sinclair bent up and lightly kissed Brady's cheek. "It was funny."

Brady stubbornly shook his head before admitting, "Maybe just a little." Before Sinclair's smirk could evolve into a genuine smile, he added, "But, that doesn't mean it was appropriate - or should ever happen again." Tossing aside his irritation, Brady finally cracked a smile as he asked, "What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

With a smile that was not quite as carefree as Brady recalled, Sinclair replied, "Long story. But, lucky for you, I'm going to be in town for a while."

As various thoughts and emotions assaulted Brady, the weight of his situation hit him. He could not deny that part of him was thrilled to see Sinclair and had missed her beyond words. However, an even larger part of Brady was absolutely terrified. It was one thing for him to relive the past with someone who had once been his best friend. It was something else entirely for Chloe to witness such a thing.

Brady mentally tabulated the contrasts between his young wife and old friend. Chloe was reserved while Sinclair was exceptionally uninhibited. Chloe was the beautiful wallflower in the corner while Sinclair was the spirited partygoer dancing on the bar. Chloe was an innocent who had only dated one guy. Sinclair, however, was someone that Brady could not imagine having ever been naïve in such matters.

As Brady attempted to formulate a plan of action, he heard a voice downstairs call out, "Brady, I'm home."

One of Sinclair's eyebrows lifted in a mischievous manner as she commented, "The wife, eh?"

His face contorting with unease, Brady shouted, "I'll be downstairs in just a minute!"

"Ah," teased Sinclair. "Don't tell me you're going to leave me all alone in bed so you can be with your pesky wife."

"You're still not funny," stated Brady as he threw aside the comforter and jumped off the bed. Looking down at Sinclair's scandalously clad body, he quickly said, "You've got to get dressed."

As Brady pulled his jeans over his boxers, Sinclair jokingly asked, "You mean I can't meet the little wife in my panties?"

Brady rolled his eyes and speedily pulled his t-shirt over his head. "You are not meeting the little wife at all."

Finally pulling herself off the bed, Sinclair commented, "Fine. I'll get dressed and wait in here until you let me know it's safe to leave."

"Thank you," said Brady before giving his friend a quick kiss on the forehead.

As soon as the door shut behind Brady, Sinclair muttered, "I wonder if I should have told him that his shirt was on backwards and inside-out."

Skipping the last two steps, Brady loudly made his appearance in the living room. The smile he was forcing upon his face instantly fell when he noted the solemn expression Chloe wore. Almost forgetting that he had a half-dressed girl upstairs, Brady asked, "What's wrong?"

"On the way home, I got a call from Nancy. Her father had another heart attack."

"Is he okay?" Brady asked as he observed Shawn still standing close to the front door.

"I don't know. Nancy's flying out there in a few hours." Rather hesitantly Chloe continued, "She wants me to go with her." While Brady's mouth fell open in surprise, Chloe quickly added, "I'll only be gone a day or two."

"You're actually going . . . with Nancy?"

"Yeah," answered Chloe with a raised eyebrow. "I think she really needs me to go since Craig is going to stay in Salem to be with Zach."

"Of course," muttered Brady as the initial shock was erased by the recurring thought that Sinclair was upstairs hiding in his bedroom . . . or, as was more likely the case, lying on his bed with the headphones of his portable c.d. player attached to her ears. "Are you sure you're gonna be able to handle a few days alone with Nancy?"

Chloe smiled with what Brady hoped was true confidence. "I'm a survivor. Surely, I can survive a few days with my own mother."

Returning the smile, Brady replied, "You are definitely a survivor." After a brief pause, he asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, but thanks. I'm just going to run upstairs and pack a bag. Shawn's already agreed to drive me to the airport to meet Nancy."

Despite the severity of the situation, Brady felt himself just slightly indignant and hurt that Chloe would ask a supposed friend to take her rather than her husband.

Stirring Brady from his thoughts, Chloe wearily asked, "Brady, why's your shirt inside out . . . and backwards?"

"I, uh," Brady stuttered. Quickly regaining his composure, he curtly stated, "I was taking a nap." Brady took a quick glance at Shawn before adding, "And, baby, you know I have a real hard time sleeping fully clothed."

Allowing herself more self-assurance than usual when Brady was concerned, Chloe hopefully wondered if his last comment would have been uttered if anyone but Shawn had been standing in the living room. Chloe fully understood that it was imperative for their marriage to appear sincere. However, Brady's comment seemed just a bit more showy than the situation merited.

And, she secretly longed for that unnecessary showiness to be in her honor.

With her bare feet swinging in a gentle motion, Sinclair sat perched on the smooth countertop in Brady and Chloe's small kitchen. With only mild interest, she watched Brady prepare a turkey sandwich. As with every task he undertook, Brady worked both diligently and effortlessly. No matter how uncomfortable he might feel, he never appeared to be out of his element.

Lightly covering his whole wheat bread with mayonnaise, Brady curiously asked, "So, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Sinclair sweetly asked with the falsest of innocence.

Brady openly laughed at Sinclair's attempt to charm him with her counterfeit virtue. "Just a little while ago you snuck into my locked home and climbed into bed with me. Then, when I mentioned that I was married, you didn't seem the least bit surprised. What's going on, Sinclair?"

"You make it sound as if I need ulterior motives to visit a friend."

With a grin Brady responded, "You have ulterior motives for everything you do."

Knowing that Brady's words were the truth, Sinclair was unable to work up any offense at the comment. "I'll tell you what's going on with me . . . after I hear what in God's name you've been up to since I last saw you."

Mimi alternated between pushing the doorbell and repeatedly knocking on the front door of the Masters home. Wrapping her coat closer to her body, Mimi grumbled almost incoherently about Jason's inability to promptly open the door.

Just as Mimi was preparing to go next-door to see if Jason was at the Deveraux house, the door finally opened. Mimi was in such a hurry to get to the warm indoors, she did not immediately notice Jason's attire.

However, as Jason shut the door and Mimi turned back around to look at him, she could feel her eyes grow larger than a pair of green saucers. "Uh . . . Jason?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are your pants?"

Jason, clad in his blue shirt and cherry red boxers, grinned sheepishly as he walked by Mimi and answered, "Actually, I just threw them in the washing machine." Seeing that Mimi was clearly unsatisfied with his brief explanation, Jason further clarified, "I was in the kitchen cooking us dinner when I spilled hot tomato sauce down the front of my slacks. So, I was pulling them off when you started ringing the doorbell . . and knocking on the door . . . and ringing the doorbell some more."

To Jason's utter dismay, Mimi proved to be oblivious to the greater part of his explanation by asking, "You were cooking dinner?"

Though he could not fully explain why, Jason's cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink under Mimi's critical gaze. He instantly felt embarrassed for having gone to the trouble of preparing a meal.

"Well," continued Mimi. "Don't keep me in suspense. What are we having?"

And, his cheeks faded to their usual color. "Spaghetti, salad, and red wine."

Mimi shook her head disapprovingly. "How about spaghetti, salad, and apple cider?"

"Yeah, okay," responded Jason as he mentally noted to avoid the unnecessary consumption of alcohol when in Mimi's presence.

"Hey, Jason?"

"What?"

"Are you going to put any pants on?"

Jason smiled broadly. "Yeah. I'll be back down in a minute."

As Jason disappeared up the stairs, Mimi dramatically waved her hand in front of her face. Releasing a deep breath, she whispered, "Gawd, he's hot. Whew."

Sinclair's head rolled back as laughter erupted from her lips. With unsteady movements she dropped down from the counter, her laughter causing her entire body to shake with amusement. "Your wife is an underage virgin?" Following Brady into the living room as she ridiculed him, Sinclair continued, "Jesus Christ, that has to be the funniest thing I've ever heard."

Brady shook his head and allowed his eyes to roll upwards. He could only wonder what had possessed him to reveal the truth about his marriage to Sinclair. Watching his friend carelessly collapse onto the sofa, Brady realized that he knew exactly what he had been thinking.

During the time in his life when he had no one, he had Sinclair. And, now that Chloe Lane had turned his life into such blissful disarray, he was truly in need of his old friend and her alternative coping methods.

Lifting up Sinclair's legs, Brady sat himself down on the couch. Allowing his companion's legs to gently fall into his lap, Brady sarcastically remarked, "I'm glad you find this all so amusing."

"You should just be glad I don't find it completely disturbing," countered Sinclair. "Here you are a grown man married to a little girl still in high school. A little girl who is, even after getting married, still an icy little virgin."

"She's not icy," argued Brady in Chloe's defense.

"How would you know? From what you've said you haven't gotten close enough to her polar regions to find out." Altering the path of the conversation before Brady could respond, Sinclair continued, "I still can't believe you're married . . . to a minor."

Brady smiled reluctantly and responded, "I'm only three years older than my wife. You make it sound as if I'm a sixty year-old man hooking up with a fourteen year-old girl."

Using Brady's own words against him, Sinclair jokingly commented, "Well, your little wife is only three years older than a fourteen year old. So, surely someone dating a fourteen year-old isn't so bad either, right?"

"I hardly think you're one to be judging. When we met I was eighteen and you were twenty. There's not that big of a difference between two years and three years."

"You and I were both legal adults in college. Besides, you don't see me running around throwing myself at children, do you? Nah, that's you."

Cringing with disgust Brady remarked, "You're making me feel like a pedophile."

"Brady Black: self-proclaimed child molester."

'"You, Sinclair Ivy, are a sick individual."

"I, Brady Black, am not the one cohabitating with an underage girl."

Again, Brady shook his head as he struggled to find a way to make Sinclair see the situation from his perspective. "She's seventeen. She'll be eighteen on her next birthday."

"And, you will be twenty-one. Jeez, Brady, you don't see me running around with a seventeen year old boy, do you? That would just be insane." Grimacing with clear disgust, she muttered to herself, "That would be like dating one of my baby brother's friends."

Once more Brady attempted to make Sinclair abandon her logic for his. "Yes, but a seventeen year old wouldn't be just two or three years younger than you. He'd be five. He'd be a high school student and you're a college graduate. That is way different than me marrying someone just a little younger than me. Besides, the gir- woman I married is mature far beyond her years. She's had a lot of really difficult things happen to her."

Sinclair's face hardened uncharacteristically and she grumbled, "Lots of people have bad things happen to them. Doesn't make her special."

"She's special to me."

"Gag me."

Twirling a pair of noodles around the prongs of her fork, Mimi cautiously asked, "Any change with Zach?"

Mimi regretted asking the question when she realized that Jason wouldn't look up from his plate to answer. "Not really. I stopped at the hospital before I went to school this morning. The nurse on duty at the nurses' station told me he was the same as when I was there the day before." After a pregnant pause, Jason requested, "If I drive you by the hospital on the way to take you home, would you mind visiting Zach for me?"

As Jason finally lifted his head to look at Mimi, he found her eyes lightly sparkled with tears. Her voice was low and intimate as she answered, "I'd love to go see Zach, but why wouldn't you come in with me?"

"I would if I could. But, Dr. Wesley has forbidden me from visiting Zach more than once a day."

Hating to take the side opposite Jason but knowing he needed to hear the truth reinforced, Mimi responded, "Maybe that's for the best. What happened to Zach is totally not fair, but it's even more unfair for you to spend all that time hanging out at the hospital. You don't have to be there all the time to prove that you care."

Jason's initial urge was to vehemently argue against what Mimi said. Yet, the look on her face made it clear that she was not trying to hurt him with the statement. Unable to keep his voice entirely steady, Jason attempted to logically plead his case, "What if Zach wakes up and no one's there. What if he wakes up scared and there's not a damn person there to let him know it's all gonna be okay?"

The sparkling of tears in Mimi's eyes evolved into a shallow pond as she placed her fork down on her plate. "Jason, I know you want to be there for Zach. We all do. But, there's no way we can be there twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. And, from what I know about Zach, I don't think he'd want us there that much anyway. There are doctors and nurses on duty around the clock to keep a check on him. If . . . when he wakes up, they'll let us know."

"Mimi," responded Jason. "His own parents haven't come to see him. All he has is Craig, his sister, and me."

Again, Mimi seemed to miss Jason's intended point. "Zach has a sister?"

His facial expression one of confusion, Jason slowly answered, "Yeah."

"Huh. Didn't know that."

Jason chuckled softly as Mimi inadvertently alleviated the tension that had been building in the Masters kitchen. "Yeah, Zach has a sister. She's staying with Craig and Nancy."

Completely changing the course of discussion, Mimi randomly stated, "I didn't know you were such a good cook. This spaghetti rocks."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." After a pause, Mimi timidly asked, "So, are we cool? Or, are we mad at each other? Or, do we maybe not care right now? Because, you really confuse me."

"Diddo."

"I confuse you? Please. You're the confusing one."

"No way, Meems. I never know where I stand with you. One day I'm your hero and the next you think I'm a total slime ball."

Mimi's face contorted into an expression of pure indignation. "What? Some days you treat me like you really want to be my friend and other days you do whatever you can to embarrass me."

"I embarrass you?" Jason incredulously questioned. "You were the one who left me there in the hallway after I hijacked the p.a. system to sing for you."

Swallowing the last bite of her spaghetti, Mimi retorted, "Don't you mean after you publicly humiliated me?"

"How were you humiliated? I was the one who purposely embarrassed himself and got detention for it."

"What about the time I was at the theater and you guys snuck in to embarrass me and Jeremy?"

Having almost forgotten about the juvenile incident, Jason quickly looked away and muttered, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Whatever," Mimi lightly replied with a roll of her eyes. "What about that time Jack sang Afternoon Delight to us because you groped me in front of your bedroom window and he saw?"

"First, I didn't grope you. Second, you liked it."

Unable to say anything truthful to the contrary, Mimi rose from her place at the table and deposited her empty plate in the sink. Changing the topic of conversation once again, Mimi asked, "So what movie did you rent?"

"The Mexican. I missed it when it came out in theaters."

"Good," chirped Mimi. "Let's go watch it . . . now."

Watching Mimi flit out of the kitchen, Jason smiled smugly. For the first time in a long while, Jason felt his egotistical confidence returning. Mimi wanted him, and he knew it.

Jason left his own plate on the table as he began to follow Mimi to the living room. However, as he was walking down the hallway, Jason was struck by what he considered to be momentous inspiration. Stopping at the thermostat, he punched the arrow until he had set the heat at a ridiculously high temperature. With a few more taps on the keypad, Jason had locked the thermostat. "I love technology."

Continuing along his way, Jason casually strolled into the living room. "Hey, Meems," Jason happily greeted as he joined her on the sofa. "Now, about that whole afternoon delight thing . . . "

Mimi scooted away from Jason as she defensively asked, "What about it?"

Jason mimicked Mimi's actions by also scooting along the plush cushions. With his right leg once again alongside Mimi's left leg, he answered, "You really liked it."

"I did not," Mimi denied. She once more scooted away from Jason. This time, however, she did not stop until she had reached the arm of the sofa.

"Sure you did. In fact, I bet you'd fantasized about being on my bed for years."

As Jason again scooted close to Mimi, she exclaimed, "You are so full of yourself!"

"Maybe, but I don't hear you denying anything." Jason slowly moved his face closer to Mimi. "Just admit it. You enjoyed the way it felt to touch my bare chest while in bed with me that day."

Mimi's mouth fell open in outraged disbelief. She attempted to rise from the sofa but Jason prevented her escape. With his outstretched arm acting as a barrier, Jason taunted, "What's the matter, Meems? Cat got your tongue? Or, maybe, you're just thinking about me having your tongue . . . in my mouth."

Pushing Jason away, Mimi rose to her feet. "You are such a jerk, Jason Masters. I mean, I don't think I have ever met someone so full of himself!"

"Why, thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

Tugging uncomfortably at her sweater, Mimi asked, "Are you getting hot?" Catching sight of the devious grin on Jason's face, Mimi held up her hand before he could reply. "Never mind. Don't answer that."

Seeing that he had perhaps pushed the envelope as far as he should for the time being, Jason said, "Why don't you just have a seat. I really do want to ask you something."

"Oh, this should be good," muttered Mimi as she reluctantly sat down in the armchair.

"During fifth period today, I was talking to Cynthia and-"

Interrupting Jason, Mimi grumbled, "Don't you mean you were flirting with Cynthia?"

"No," Jason responded with a seriousness that truly shocked Mimi. "She's not the one I want to be flirting with." Continuing a little less lightheartedly, Jason said, "When we were talking she mentioned that she's on the decorating committee for the Winter Formal."

"And, you want my opinion on what to wear when you go to pick up one of your little cheerleader friends?" Before Jason could give a response, Mimi continued, "It's really getting hot in here."

"Maybe you should take your sweater off," Jason slyly suggested.

"No," said Mimi even as she pushed up the sleeves of her sweater. "I'll be just fine."

"Okay. Now, as I was saying before you once again interrupted. Cynthia and I were talking and she mentioned the winter formal. And, it got me to thinking about how some of us should get together and go as a group or something. Or, maybe pair up and go together. Whatever."

"Ugh," commented Mimi as she tossed her head back. "You're actually going to make the rest of us watch you and some phony blonde slobber all over each other?" Finally pulling off her sweater to reveal a plain white tee-shirt, Mimi grumbled, "You have got to turn down the heat."

Though he was glad the stunt with the thermostat was having its desired effect, Jason was not happy that Mimi seemed oblivious to the fact that he really liked her. After having admitted that he was falling in love with her in the Titan storage room, Jason thought that Mimi would understand that she was the girl he expected to show up with at the final dance of the semester. Unbuttoning the top buttons of his dress shirt, Jason responded, "I'm not wanting to take some cheerleader. For God's sake, when was the last time you even saw me hanging out with a cheerleader - and Belle obviously doesn't count."

"Well . . . I don't know. But, I'm sure it wasn't very long ago." As Jason rolled his eyes, Mimi requested, "Can you please turn down the heat? It really is getting hot in here."

Pretending to play the gentleman, Jason said, "If you're hot, the thermostat is in the hallway. Feel free to adjust it as you like."

"Thank you," Mimi replied as she got up and left the room. Less than a minute later, she yelled out, "Jason, it won't let me change the settings. What is the access code?"

"Oh, no," Jason loudly replied as he pretended to be hit by a thought. "I bet my mom locked the settings before she left. And, I don't know what the code is to unlock it."

When Mimi returned to the room, she found Jason unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. Forcing herself to not stare at the skin exposed, Mimi said, "Will your mom be home soon?"

Jason tossed Mimi the advertisement section of the Salem Spectator. As Mimi viewed the ad for Salem Place's sale, Jason explained, "If Salem Place is having their annual Midnight Monday Mania sale, she won't leave until the stores close." Ripping the advertisement from Mimi, Jason threw it aside and said, "Now, about this dance."

"What about it?" Mimi asked as she continued to stand in front of Jason.

"Ah, jeez," grumbled Jason as he grabbed Mimi's hand and pulled her onto the sofa. "Have a seat." With Mimi uncomfortably on the sofa, Jason stated, "As I said, I think we should pair off but maybe split the costs for a limo . . . or maybe just beg Philip's dad to let us borrow his. That would be cool."

Mimi struggled to formulate a response as Jason completely removed his shirt, followed by his shoes and socks. "I . . . um, I guess that would be good . . ." Her gaze falling upon Jason's chest, Mimi added, " . . . really good."

"You know, Meems, if you're hot, it wouldn't bother me if you took off your shirt."

"Uh, no. I think I'll pass."

Jason shrugged with forged indifference. "So, the dance is the Friday we get out for Christmas break. I think it starts around seven."

"Okay," Mimi distractedly responded as she slightly rolled up the bottom of her shirt. Taking hold of Mimi's hands as they worked with the bottom of the tee, Jason said, "So, what time do you want to be picked up?"

"6:45 . . ." Mimi whispered as she watched Jason's hands slowly roll her shirt even higher to expose the majority of her stomach. Her heart began to flutter uncontrollably as Jason daringly pushed her shirt up to her bra. As his hands lingered on her abdomen, Mimi nervously repeated, "Yeah, 6:45 would be good."

"Mmm-hmm," agreed Jason before gently placing a kiss on Mimi's stomach.

Before the moment could become any more intense, the doorbell rang. When Mimi looked as though she might get up, Jason commanded, "Don't move. Not an inch. I'll get rid of whoever it is."

Shocking herself and Jason, Mimi did as he ordered. Without bothering to recover his shirt, Jason dashed to the door. Though he had intended for it to only be opened a crack so he could send the visitor on his or her way, his guest had other ideas.

Completely ignoring proper etiquette, Jack Deveraux pushed past Jason and barged into the house. Not yet aware of Mimi's presence, Jack surveyed Jason's lack of attire with a critical gaze. "If you would turn the heat down and save your mother some money on the electric bill, you might not have to run around playing the Baywatch hunk at the beginning of winter."

Turning away from Jason, Jack finally noticed his female companion. "Why, Miss Lockhart . . ." As Mimi quickly unrolled her shirt, Jack apologetically said, "I see I may have intruded at a bad time."

"You think?" Jason sarcastically asked.

"No!" Mimi proclaimed. "Um, actually, your timing was really great. Awesome timing, Mr. Deveraux. I was just about to leave."

"But, we haven't watched the movie yet," Jason contended.

"Oh," interjected Jack. "I have a feeling you've already gotten quite a show tonight, Mr. Masters."

Pulling her sweater over her head, Mimi asked, "Mr. Deveraux, would you mind giving me a ride home?"

Jack darted his eyes back and forth between the two teenagers. "Of course, I don't mind. I'm sure your friend here would relish the opportunity to take a cold shower."

While Jason rolled his eyes, Mimi made an additional request. "Would it be okay if we stopped on the way so I could see Zach?"

"Not a problem." As Mimi grabbed her coat, Jack turned to Jason and said, "I'll return once I've taken Mimi home. We have business to discuss."

As the door shut behind Mimi and Jack, Jason grumbled aloud, "Damn, it's hot in here."