Feasibility Study
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT

"Birthday Boys – Part 7"

August 17, 2005 (Day 117)
The Grissoms'
6:48 p.m.

As Ron and Gil stood staring at each other, the silence in the kitchen was thick enough to cut with the bread knife Sara had left out on the counter.

Finally, after a couple of minutes and what he hoped was long enough for his son to deal with receiving the gift, Ron spoke up. "I hope you're not upset because that wasn't my intent. My intent…well, I think you saw what my intent was when you caught Sara's reaction. And I think, from the story I told, it was pretty obvious that I didn't have a hidden agenda to paint myself in a positive light."

"Unless…" Gil's eyes darted from his father to the box and back again. "...unless you're trying to manipulate me into trusting you by using honesty to disarm me."

"Wow." Ron pulled out one of the barstools at the island and took a seat. "Now it not only smells like I've been transported back to a kitchen in California in the late 1950's, it's starting to sound like I'm there too."

Gil winced from the insinuation…not because it was offensive, but because it reminded him of how automatically reactive and distrusting he still was. "You're referring to my mother."

Ron finished his sip of tea then nodded. "The more honest I was, the more distrusting she became. Finally it hit me…why bother? Your mother taught me one of the biggest benefits of lying."

"Which is?"

"Lying makes life easier. Which sometimes is true but not in the way your mother and I applied it."

Gil snipped, "A husband should never lie to his wife."

Although they were veering off course, he took the bait. "Gil, you see everything in terms of black and white, I don't." Ron calmly explained, "I would argue in some cases lying to your wife is the right thing to do."

Not agreeing Gil demanded, "Cite an example."

Ron studied his son's eyes and then shared a scenario. "A hypothetical wife, getting ready for a big shindig asks her hypothetical husband, I love this new dress but, do you think it makes my ass look fat? The easiest and right thing for him to do is lie…of course not, Honey, you look gorgeous as always. But, if he tells her the truth…Honey, the reality is, your ass is a little fat and that dress that you love so much doesn't help matters, but I love you just the way you are, what do you think happens?"

Gil responded quickly, "I want to hear your take on what happens first."

Appeasing his son, Ron answered, "The wife gets emotional. Suddenly, the stunning new dress she loved thirty seconds ago is horrible. Consequently, she either decides not to attend the party she's been looking forward to attending or, she goes and has a horrible time because she feels self-conscious about her ass all night. The husband feels like shit because he ruined the night and he knows he's sleeping on the couch instead of getting lucky. Think it could happen that way?"

"Quite possibly."

"Trust me…you're a newlywed and I'm thrice divorced…it will happen that way." He chuckled briefly. "Conversely, if the husband lied, the wife would have had a wonderful time at the party and, when they got home, the husband would have gotten lucky because the wife was happy and felt good about her body looking fine all night in her fancy new dress. Regardless if he lied or told the truth, the wife's ass is still the same size and he still loves his wife big ass and all. The truth in my scenario wouldn't have helped anything…it would only have hurt the wife and ruined her good time."

Gil countered, "What happens when the wife realizes her ass is big and figures out her husband lied?"

Ron smiled, "He only lied to protect her from having a terrible time at the party and since she had a great time at the party and her ass would have been big no matter what dress she wore, she should realize he didn't do it maliciously. But the trick is, I said, she should realize…that's the thing about women, they think emotionally and not logically. They worry about things that haven't happened or they can't change, they jump to conclusions, they get paranoid, they feel betrayed…when sometimes the only thing really going on is someone is trying to spare them a little unnecessary pain." Ron smoothed his hands over his slacks and grumbled, "Sounds a lot like your reaction when Sara was trying to protect you from finding me, doesn't it? Which proves my point we discussed in my hotel room, your mother had a lot of negative influence on the way you think…you react intensely emotional to personal situations rather than trying to see things logically. Your mother did such a good job screwing with your mind, she managed to rewire part of your male brain. There's a good topic for therapy should you ever be at a loss."

In a nice show of deflection Gil coolly replied, "I think your answer about the wife and the husband reflects your vast experience with women and lying."

It was classic deflection but he let it slide. "That I have." Ron nodded vehemently. "Even though it would be easier…I won't lie to you because this is important. Yes, I know my way around women and bullshit, and I frequently used one to get the other. But I never lied to your mother…"

"How do you figure that?" He asked, miffed by the bold untruth.

Holding up his hand, Ron said, "You didn't let me finish. I never lied to your mother about important matters while I loved her and she was my wife. Problem was, one day shedecided to stop being my wife…my partner…my friend…hell, everything we swore as young lovers we would always be to each other." His voice grew a little distant as he drifted, "…over time what I thought as a naïve twenty-something madly in love with the woman of his dreams could never happen, happened…she fell out of my heart." Reconnecting his gaze with Gil's he said, "That's when I started lying, and I did it because it made life easier…for a while. That's the trick about a man and woman lying to each other…it works fine for the little things…the big ass dress kind of stuff, but not for the things with real consequences and not as a long term solution. A person can only live a lie so long. So, when I got sick of living a lie every day, I told your mother the truth, in a cold and vicious way that only a shameful coward angry over broken vows would…and then I walked out the door…away from her…and by default, away from you."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Gil asked while uncertain he really wanted to know, "How did you do it?"

"You really want to hear this?"

"Yes.

Ron hesitated for a moment, but continued on, "Being a strict Catholic, Jillian refused to give me a divorce, even though we hadn't been truly husband and wife since she began lying to me about her hearing and keeping me locked out of her life…our life." Ron wrapped his fingers around his glass, using its chill to soothe himself while he confessed, "I finally did what she had falsely accused me of doing on numerous occasions…I slept with another woman on a business trip…had to get so hammered to do it that looking back, I'm surprised I was capable. It was my way of saying to myself it's really over even though I had known it for almost two years."

The news came as no surprise to Gil, whose mother had told him numerous times what a lying filthy cheat his father was and having had to translate the phrase during several arguments between non-hearing mother and non-signing father. However, it was the first time he heard his mother had been wrongly accusing him at least part of the time.

Pausing, Ron took a sip of chilly tea to regroup for the worst part. "After all was said and done, I asked the woman if I could keep her lingerie and when she gave it to me, I packed it in my suitcase. I knew Jillian would never let me live in the house once she saw I would be flaunting my supposed affairs…because she would be afraid it would influence you. In this warped version of marriage we were living at the time, your mother insisted on doing my laundry…she found the lingerie when unpacking my suitcase…as was the plan."

The hurt son, having heard enough, was about ready to cease the tale when his father continued on in a somber tone.

"I was standing right there when she found it and that's when I realized…even though she had accused me of cheating on her dozens of times, she never really believed I had or would. After that, she signed the divorce papers. Once, Gil…I cheated on her once and I did it so we could all move on." Again, he locked his eyes on his son. "So there's another gift to you on your birthday…from your parents…our twisted story…don't let what happened to us happen to you and Sara. Don't avoid things, don't see everything as black and white, and don't ever start living a lie because it will build a wall between you and one day you'll look over and you won't be able to see each other anymore."

Gil remained silent, processing the information and trying Greg's technique...deciding what to filter out and what to absorb.

Taking a deep breath, Ron steadied himself and then tried to inject a little levity. "And I know it's difficult for you to operate in the grey but, promise me, after Sara has a baby, if she asks you, do I look fat in this dress, that you won't blurt out the truth. It's really okay to tell her, of course not, Honey, you look gorgeous as always. Think you can manage that without fearing your nose will grow?" He chuckled slightly. "Your nose will definitely grow if you tell her the truth because Sara is spunky and she might pop you in the schnoz."

Gil was reminded of how people often misinterpreted Sara's sometimes gruff exterior. "She's spunky but, she doesn't condone physical abuse or violence except of course for self-defense."

"You're a lucky man," Ron smiled. "My third wife…thirty years my junior and surprisingly energetic for an anorexic former model, hurled a vase at me when I wouldn't let her and her party girlfriends use the company jet to fly to Aspen. I had to get eight stitches in the back of my head."

Unamused by the story, Gil groaned, "How horrible for you."

"Actually it was a godsend…" He explained with no remorse. "…there was a clause in the pre-nup regarding domestic abuse. She insisted on it in case I turned out to be a beast, turns out she was the beast and it worked against her." Turning the conversation back to Gil's life, Ron said, "To sum up this patriarchal diatribe of mine, I'll say this…always remember, when it comes to the important stuff, no matter how much it hurts in the moment, keep your marriage open and honest because, in the long run, you'll be stronger as a couple instead of destroyed. I lived the nightmares so you don't have to…each generation is supposed to get a little wiser, right? You've come close to blowing it once already…don't make the same mistake twice. Different mistakes are fine, but women don't care much for repetition in this area."

Gil leaned against the fridge, using its gentle hum and slight chill to soothe himself. Once again he had to accept that his parents' story had no true hero or villain, only two lost human beings and that he and Sara were also two human beings capable of making poor choices and letting distance build. And then he remembered what they had just gone through and how they faced their problems head on and were stronger together now instead of weaker.

After polishing off his tea, Ron caught his son's eye. "Still think I'm trying to manipulate you by using honesty to gain your trust?"

"No," He replied without hesitation.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Ron asked and with a smirk he added, "And I'd prefer a no-bullshit answer."

"I…uh…" He took a step forward and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Maya Angelou has a quote…you did what you knew how to do and when you knew better, you did better." Gil took another step. "For most of my life you didn't know what the hell you were doing as a father. You were an asshole and that's me being generous to you on my birthday since biologically I can't deny that without you I wouldn't be here to celebrate."

"Thank you, I'm happy to accept your generosity."

Gil gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. "I think at some point you realized what an asshole you were and what you lost…maybe it was the day you received this box you gave me today, I'm not really sure when…anyway, over time you learned a little better so now…now that I've given you the opportunity, I think you're trying to do better." With the clearing of his throat he took another step. "I think you're trying to be a better father."

"And how does that make you feel?" Ron asked in the voice of a man who put in plenty of time on a therapist's couch.

"Lucky," He replied without filtering his response. "Because not everyone gets this opportunity I have and that leaves them no choice but to be haunted by unanswered questions. Now I know I can get honest answers if I want them. Sara would give anything to have this opportunity with her parents so…"

"I'm back!" Sara announced from down the hall so she wouldn't interrupt anything. "I hope that's okay!" When she turned the corner she was relieved they were both alive and well and neither had used the bread knife she recalled absently leaving on the counter.

Gil smiled at his wife and blurted the depressing truth. "I was just talking about you, Honey." When she reached him, he took her in his arms for a hug and realized he shouldn't have said it because now she would be curious and he didn't want to have to explain the context of his statement.

"You were talking about me?" She grinned. "What were you saying?"

"Uh…"

Ron jumped in with an answer. "We were admiring the smell of your delicious dinner and wondering how long it would be until we got to enjoy it."

"That's why I had to come back!" Sara cheerily replied as she slipped out of her husband's arms and moved to the oven. "I wanted to make sure I didn't ruin this special night by burning dinner. Plus, I'd never hear the end of it from the Anal Retentive Chef!"

And while Sara checked the status of the casserole, Gil looked at Ron, who had just lied to his wife to make things easier while not compromising her in any way, and said, "Thank you for the gift, Dad."

"You're welcome, son."

Sara, having heard the exchange, placed the casserole on the stove and gawked at the Grissom men. Suddenly her eyes welled and a lump formed in her throat. "Did you just call him…"

Ron stood smiling. "We had a good talk. And it's all your doing, Sara." He extended his hand out to Gil. "Let's show her how civil we've become since my last visit to your house. How about a shake to symbolize our fresh start?"

It was an intriguing situation to Gil. He had no doubt that Ron was manipulating the situation, using Sara's presence to ensure he got what he was requesting. At the same time, Gil, who really didn't want to shake his father's hand and make such a bold commitment just yet, knew it would show Sara that he was keeping his promises and working diligently toward his therapy goals. The other thing he knew for a fact was, if the handshake occurred, his wife would be ecstatic. So he concluded, although both his and his father's intentions were in a grey area, since it was a win-win-win situation…for the first time in over forty years, Gil accepted his father's handshake. "To a fresh start."

Witnessing the monumental moment threw Sara over the edge and without warning tears started streaming down her face. "Sorry…this isn't like me." She lunged for a paper towel. "I'm just feeling really hormonal today for some…" She turned to look at Gil. "…for some reason."

Exchanging smiles with his wife, Gil asked a loaded question. "Honey, are you planning on eating the chicken casserole?"

"Hell, yeah!" Her smile widened. "I'm craving it!"

Paris Hotel
6:59 p.m.

Looking quite debonair in his suit and new tie, Nick navigated through the crowd on the strip, shielding the dozen red roses he was carrying. Even though it was his birthday celebration, the gentleman in him couldn't show up for a formal date without flowers for his special lady.

As he approached the nostalgic rendezvous spot, he caught a glimpse of his future wife facing the tower and glancing at her watch. The sight brought a smile to his face for two reasons…her stunning appearance in the sophisticated black dress she was wearing and her endearing penchant for punctuality driving her to stare at her watch.

Even though he knew he'd be late and she'd be ticked, he took a few minutes to stand there admiring her beauty from a distance. The backless dress she wore accentuated every gorgeous curve of her body and her wavy chestnut hair fanned out over her shoulders so delicately…in his eyes, she was sheer perfection. There wasn't an inch of her he didn't worship. And later tonight, when she reiterated her two options, he couldn't wait to ask her to don whatever delicate lacy garment she had brought for the special occasion.

As people and time passed him by, Nick stood enamored with the future Mrs. Stokes and the idea that she had gone to the trouble of planning such a special night for his thirty-fifth birthday. In spite of his playboy past taking up too many years of his life, he was right where he always wanted to be at this juncture in his life…engaged to a wonderful, witty, intelligent, stunning woman with whom he was planning a family and a future together.

And while Nick stood there, in awe of the honorable woman he would marry in a little over five months, Carrie turned around to scan the area for her tardy date. That's when she saw him, standing there so handsome in his best suit and holding a dozen roses.

Although there had to be a hundred people swarming to and fro all around them on the streets of faux-Paris as the sun started setting, Nick and Carrie only saw each other as they exchanged smiles.

Just as Nick hoped, Carrie remained at the foot of the tower so he could walk to meet her, savoring the view every step of the way. With each eliminated yard between them their smiles expanded a little more and when he was finally standing in front of her he said softly, "I know I'm late" and he handed her the flowers. "I was on time but then I saw the most amazing woman I ever saw and I took a few moments to appreciate her. It couldn't be helped."

"You're forgiven," She gushed as she accepted the bouquet, filling her nose with their sweet fragrance. Bringing her flowers to his birthday celebration…there was no denying he was a gentleman through and through and she adored him for it. "They're beautiful."

"They seemed that way until I saw them next to you…" Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her against his chest. "But they're hardly worthy of you tonight. My god you look gorgeous." The view of her from behind had been divine, when she had turned to face him he was profoundly moved, but it was the love in her eyes that sent him over the edge.

"We'll always have Paris," She whispered while bringing her curved mouth to his. "Happy Birthday, Nick."

As their eyes closed and their lips met, the bustling sounds of The Strip faded away and during that glorious kiss on this special first birthday they celebrated together, they both dreamed of all the birthdays they'd celebrate in the future… not only theirs but those of the future generation they would create together.

"I love you, Baby," Nick whispered as he kept his forehead pressed to Carrie's. "Thank you for making this night so special."

"I love you, too," She answered in a dreamy sigh. "And this is only the beginning."

Greg's Apartment
7:32 p.m.

Sitting at the kitchen table with Tawny and his mom, enjoying his favorite home cooked meal of Chicken Fajitas with refried beans, Greg couldn't remember the last time he felt this content. To his left, he had a woman who loved him deeply and on his right he had the same. To make matters infinitely better, they liked each other.

"Greg, Honey…" Bev lowered her beer bottle and asked in a motherly tone, "…when was the last time you ate today because if you shovel that food into your mouth any faster…"

"Twenty-one rounds of Boggle increases your appetite…" Tawny deadpanned "…and Greg told me earlier that he's never played so much Boggle so frequently as he has lately."

Lowering his fork, Greg announced to the two women laughing like hyenas, "Have you noticed that you have the same twisted sense of humor, particularly when it comes to tweaking me?"

Bev winked at Tawny. "Yes, we discussed it earlier today." It was just another reason to love the girl and hope this relationship worked out for her son.

"Your mom is totally cool, Greg, I completely understand why she's such a popular teacher at her high school. She can be all business when it's necessary, but she lets her hair down and has fun at every opportunity." Tawny lunged for another tortilla as she spoke. "My dad was the same way…the kids loved having him for math. The other Algebra teacher, Mrs. Kelly, was a real stiff. There's a plaque in my old high school commemorating my dad and under his picture it says, 'Mr. Cooper – We loved you because you made math fun!'. Your mom and he would get along great if he were…" And with her last word, she found herself completely swamped with emotion. "Sorry…um…I need to use the bathroom…"

Stunned by the zero to sixty emotional turn, Greg watched her hurry away from the table.

Squeezing her son's hand, Bev said, "She told me earlier today that while she's having a great time having me visit, seeing you and I together is a reminder of her loss."

"Oh." Greg sat there contemplating what to do about the situation and what to say.

Playfully smacking her son upside the head, Bev instructed, "Your significant other just left the room about to burst into tears, what are you still doing sitting here? I know you've never been in love before, but haven't you seen this scenario in movies? Whenever a woman leaves your side crying, don't hesitate, follow her immediately."

"I don't know what to say or do to make her feel better," He lamented. "How can I fix this for her? I mean so far all the problems have been fixable. Like she couldn't make her rent if she stopped dancing, so I asked her to move in. Or when she wondered if she was still good at school, so I set her up with online courses and encouraged her. But this…her father's gone and…"

Sighing she said, "Men…you're wired to believe you have to 'fix' everything. Women…we don't expect everything to be fixed, we just want someone to listen and provide a little comfort when we're emotional. This is a problem that can't ever be fixed, Greg, and it's not going away any time soon so you need to get used to it. When you ask Tawny to marry you, she'll eventually get emotional about not having her dad there for the wedding…" Bev wasn't too proud to use the lecture for her own selfish gains. "…the real wedding you're going to have, not a drive-thru chapel hoax. And after your baby with her is born, she'll wish her dad could see his grandchild and she'll mourn all over again." Now Bev started to tear up. "How could Becca think you were sweet and sensitive if you don't know this stuff?"

"Oh, don't you cry too…" Greg grabbed a napkin and handed it to her, wondering how Nick managed to survive not drowning growing up with five sisters and a mother under the same roof for years because a mother and a girlfriend had almost flooded the apartment in less than six hours.

"Thank you." After accepting the napkin, she slapped him upside the head again. "Never comfort your mother before your significant other. I'm second now, remember? So, would you get your ass in there already because the girl has probably soaked a pillow by now! Remember…don't try to fix anything because it's highly irritating to a woman when the problem is unfixable…just comfort her. All she needs right now is for you to make her feel loved and secure."

Getting up from the table he hurried to the bedroom and knocked on the door. "Tawny…"

"You don't knock, Gregory! Woman don't want to interrupt their breakdowns to answer inane questions." His mother droned from the kitchen. "Take the lead, walk in and start comforting."

Doing as told, he opened the door and sure enough, he found Tawny's face in a pillow sobbing her heart out.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed he whispered, "Hey…" After a few strokes of her hair he said, "I know it's a little hard seeing me with my mom because it reminds you of your dad's loss…and I know there's nothing I can do to fix the problem, but I want you to know I'm here any time you need someone to hold you and listen."

In a flash, she had her arms around him, crying on his shoulder. "You know just what I'm thinking and what I need, Greg!"

For a moment he contemplated giving his mom credit, but ultimately decided to keep his mouth shut and just provide the loving comfort and attentive ear Tawny needed. When she eventually purged her emotions and pulled back slightly, he moved her damp hair off her tear drenched face and soulfully asked, "Feel better?"

"Yeah." A slight smile returned to her face. "Thank you. You're the best."

It was an odd feeling really…after spending every day at work doing things to solve problems and never getting thanked, now he found himself doing absolutely nothing and not fixing anything, but being greatly appreciated. "You're welcome."

"Sorry I ruined the happy dinner with my drama." She sniffled and when she saw Greg's shirt, she added, "And for ruining your shirt with my mascara. The new stuff isn't waterproof. I probably shouldn't wear it while I'm pregnant, huh?"

Smiling sweetly, he used his thumb to wipe away the black smudges under her eyes. "Probably not." He paused to peck her lips with a kiss.

"Aww…Greg." She threw her arms around him. "You really are a sweet and sensitive guy."

"Uh oh." There were the two dreaded words coming from a girl's mouth.

"Don't worry…you'll still be getting lucky." She giggled, feeling her usual light mood returning.

"Thank you." He breathed a sigh of relief. Then, glancing down at the soaked pillow Tawny had left behind, he teased, "Hey, we better change the sheets before my mom gets suspicious."

Two minutes later, Greg walked out of the bedroom, carrying the bundle of mascara and tear stained linens and proceeded to walk through the kitchen, past his mother, to the laundry area tucked behind a folding door in the corner of the room. "She's feeling much better," He assured Bev who was looking on a bit disgusted. And after letting his mother loathe him for a few seconds, he explained, "You were right…she soaked the pillow case with her tears before I got there. Next time, I'll follow her immediately and then I'll have less laundry." The feeling of a tortilla smacking him on the back of the head cracked him up.

Getting up from the table, Bev joined her son. "You did exactly what I said, she loved you for it and you didn't give me any credit for telling you what to say or do, did you?"

"Exactly." He reached for the laundry soap smiling.

"Good boy." She took a swig of her Corona and said, "Now…let's discuss how to respond once she starts popping out and asks the infamous question, Honey, do you still think I'm as attractive as I was before I looked pregnant? Because the truth is not an option, trust me. Repeat after me…Honey, you look even more gorgeous because you're carrying our beautiful baby inside you."

"Let's hope I can say that." He shuddered thinking about the alternative. "So, what do I say in that scenario if it's not my baby?"

Placing her hand on his shoulder Bev sighed, "Sweetie, if it's not your baby and you still love her and want her in your life, I don't think you'll have to worry about impressing her with the little silly stuff for a while."

"She's not going anywhere," He said confidently for the first time as he shut the lid of the washer. "I never would have told her I loved her if I couldn't deal."

"Becca was a fool," She snipped as she hugged her son. "Her divorce to that hotshot plastic surgeon was finalized in March. Just goes to show you…she let the best one get away back in high school. She's lucky I'm not a catty woman or I'd rub it in her face when I see her at the club next week during tennis league."

"Please don't say anything to her, if you do, she'll think I'm still crushing on her. I'm glad she didn't think of me as boyfriend material. You know the saying…" He smiled over his mother's shoulder when he saw Tawny enter the room with her face washed and her happiness intact. "…thank heaven for unanswered prayers."

The Eiffel Tower Restaurant
8:17 p.m.

The romantic atmosphere of the intimate restaurant paled in comparison to the love flowing between Nick and Carrie as they sat sipping champagne and gazing into each other's eyes. The view from the window they were seated by provided a bird's eye view of The Strip but they couldn't remove their gaze from one another long enough to appreciate it.

Taking his fiancée's hand, Nick murmured, "I'm thinking we need to make time to get out more." He brushed a kiss over the back of her silky skin. "Playing dress up with you is rocking my world."

"We work so hard," She whispered as she placed her hand over his. "We deserve to play hard too." That's exactly what she was hoping to do in about thirty minutes. The 2nd bottle of champagne they had almost finished was helping her find the confidence to summon Roxie…the uninhibited plaything her fiancé would no doubt enjoy after months of sweet lovin'. He was everything she could ever want in a lover…tender to an extreme, always attentive to her needs…and anatomically blessed Staring into his eyes, she recalled how sweet he was their first night together…

In her new apartment, unpacking her boxes from Seattle, Carrie glanced over and saw Nick screwing a light bulb into the living room ceiling fan. "Watch yourself, Stokes," She warned, "You don't have that ladder open all the way."

"Are you afraid I'll sue you?" He teased, loving the ever-present lawyer in her. It reminded him of being around his litigious family which now included one judge and four attorneys. "Baby, the only thing I'll ever seek damages for from you is a broken heart."

"Smooooooooth." She rolled her eyes. "You know if I… OH!" She shrieked as the ladder collapsed and Nick went sailing through the air, luckily landing face down on the new leather sofa instead of the glass-top coffee table. "Are you okay!" She rushed to his side.

"Other than a severe bruise to my ego, I'm fine." Rolling onto his side he looked up at the beautiful woman laughing at him and said, "Yeah…I recall from the first night we met how much a guy humiliating himself turns you on."

"That's right." She chuckled heartily. "Tell me where it hurts and I'll kiss it and make it better."

"Definitely here." He pointed to his mouth. "Somethin' awful."

Leaning over, she caressed his lips with a delicious kiss, tinged with the flavor of the Snickers bar they had shared minutes earlier. "Better?"

"No, ma'am." Wrapping his arms around her, he eased her down on the couch for a snuggle. "Maybe one more will do it."

The feel of his muscular body pressed to hers, combined with the smell of his cologne mixing with the perspiration of physical labor drove her mind and body wild. As the minutes passed…minutes filled with passionate kisses and soft caresses, she felt her resistance breaking down. While her body was desperate to take the plunge with this incredibly sexy man pressed up against her… her cautious brain pushed back.

You've only known him six weeks she reminded herself as their kiss deepened, and half that time you were in Seattle and he was here. You're not an impulsive girl she chided while rejoicing from the feel of his strong arms wrapped tightly around her grateful body. He's Smooth Stokes, a self-professed ladies man only recently turned one-woman guy. How will you ever compete with the memory of all those other experienced women? She whimpered as he delicately shifted their bodies into a more tantalizing position.

With Nick's latest smooth move, her emotions and her debate intensified. Your experience fills a thimble while his could overflow Hoover Dam! Case in point, in less than fifteen minutes he has your body melting like butter on a steaming ear of corn! You're not thinking straight because you have only been with two sweet, but woefully inexperienced guys your whole life…a far cry from the hunk sharing the same air with you right now. And to make matters worse, you haven't been with anyone in years! You're desperate and that desperation is making you take a risk you wouldn't normally take. Let go of those burly shoulders of his…pull yourself away from his rock solid physique…and for the love of god, stop kissing him like he's heading off to war tomorrow! Think with your head, Carrie! Stop! "Nick um…" A nervous smile fanned out over her lips. "Could we um…take a breather?"

After catching his breath, he stroked her hair, whispering, "Sorry…I know we said we weren't going to rush into this. I blame my near-death experience earlier and the fact that I'm madly in love with you." A quick rock of their bodies and he was once again with his back to the couch and she was no longer pinned beneath him. "I'm going to need a few minutes to recover before I can walk across the room and get back to work." After a minute, he gently prodded, "I'm not going to make much progress recovering until you to let go of me, Sweetheart."

"Oh!" She realized that her arms and one of her legs were still firmly clamped around him, pinning him to her. "Apparently my mind and body aren't in agreement over how to handle this situation."

Their faces only inches apart, he leaned in and brushed his words over her lips. "Apparently your body is the more influential of the two, because you don't appear to be going anywhere. Is there something on your mind?"

"Many…many things," She giggled lightly from another perilous shift of his hands and hips. "This feels so good, Nicky, but…I'm uh…" Engaging his eyes she confessed, "…I'm a little…nervous…you know why."

"That makes two of us," He whispered before blanketing her lips with a tender kiss. "This is a big step for us. You're everything I've ever wanted in a woman, Carrie, and I don't want to mess anything up. I want this…" He sweetly chuckled. "Well, I think it's painfully obvious how much I want this but, only if you're 100 percent ready."

Unable to ignore his body's eagerness she blurted, "It's very obvious how much you want this, and I'm finding it simultaneously highly encouraging and extremely intimidating." She felt a deeper shade of red flush her cheeks as her desire and nerves battled to see who could build faster. "Oh god this is so…" With her eyes she begged him to help her past her insecurities. "I want to…um…"

"What do want, Carrie?" His eyes studied hers as he made sure she knew where he stood. "It's all up to you."

The tender tenor of his voice and the steady gaze of his loving eyes sent her over the edge. "Nick…"

In a voice as soft as his caresses, he assured her, "You're safe with me. I'll take care of you…I always will." Running his fingers through her hair he murmured, "Do you believe me, Carrie? Do you trust me?"

"Yes." Her breathing quickened along with her heart rate. "More than any man I've ever met."

In that moment as their eyes locked and their hearts beat in the same loud erratic rhythm, Carrie's mind caught up with her body. "I believe the ceiling fan in the bedroom needs a light bulb too. I'll go with you just in case…" Her words ceased when Nick stood and swept her up in his arms. And as he whisked her to the bedroom like the romantic she always dreamed he'd be, her mind kindly informed her to stop thinking and let her body and Nick's experience take it from there.

"Baby…" Nick gently turned his fiancée's face away from the window and back toward his. "Have you heard anything I said?"

"Sorry…" Roused from the memory, she leaned in to capture his lips with a lingering kiss. "I'm sorry, what were you saying, Nicky?"

"Hell if I can remember now," He teased while glancing around the dining room. "Honey, there's no need to give the patrons a show." Taking her hand, he said, "Let's move the rest of this celebration behind closed doors."

"I'll get the check," She answered in a pleasure-fused sigh.

"I already paid the bill," He quickly informed her. "That's what I was telling you when you were lost in the view."

"I was lost in a memory," She quickly corrected. "Of us."

In a husky whisper he suggested, "Well then…let's go make some new ones."

"Wait…you paid the bill?" A frown captured her smile. "You weren't supposed to do that, this is your birthday celebration."

"Trust me…I don't mind." Standing, he placed his hand on the back of her chair to assist her in sliding it out and rising to her feet. Once again he was in awe of her beauty in the delicate black dress she wore so well. "More beautiful than when we arrived…not that I know how it's possible."

"Oh…" Once again she was swooning. He was so on tonight…smooth but not smarmy, in control but not pushy and most importantly…romancing her uncontrollably. Romance…it was the one area of her life where she gave up the lead and checked her feminist sensibilities at the door. After playing the hard-ass take no prisoners feminist attorney seventy hours a week it was always a welcome change of pace.

"Come on." After grazing a kiss over her cheek he laced his fingers with hers and led her out of the restaurant. "I can't wait another second."

She knew what he meant and a nervous smile twittered across her face. "Me either." When they reached the elevator, Carrie winced as a stab of insecurity pinged through her but quickly reminded herself that it was about time she gave him a little extra effort.

"Is everything okay?" Nick inquired with concern in his voice for the first time tonight. "All of a sudden you look nervous." Honestly she looked as nervous as she had the first night they spent together.

Just thinking about that night triggered a series of phenomenal memories…each releasing a flash of pleasure in his mind which coursed through his body. Everything about that night was thrilling. The electric look in her eyes, a mixture of excitement and trepidation…the way her breath caught in her throat every time he touched a new starving area on her beautiful body…the feel of her hands as they gripped his shoulders for security…the sound of her voice calling his name while she shuddered against him…and the trembling yes, please don't stop she whispered when he paused to confirm at the last minute if she was sure.

It was all about being in control for Nick. Not in the sense that he needed to forcefully show a woman who's boss. On the contrary, it was about the lady desiring him to take the lead, and in exchange for her freely giving it, he gave back tenfold…through tenderness, attention and satisfaction. Never disrespecting the lady and always ensuring she enjoyed every minute of his company until he rode off into the sunset.

That first night with Carrie was a perfect experience in his eyes. Although he had experienced similar feelings with other women, it had never been close to the magnitude he did with Carrie. She gave him everything he needed to feel powerful in bed. When she was nervous, she let him assure her…which he did lovingly. When she was naïve, she let him guide her…which he did gently. When she was ready, she trusted him to take care of her…which he did expertly. And when she finally lost control, she let him know how fantastic he made her feel…which she did loudly. It was absolute perfection and the good news was it felt as wonderful every time they were together since.

With her overwhelming need for security, she would never want him to be powerless in bed, and after being terrified by that feeling once, two and a half decades ago, it wasn't a place he ever wanted to return. So he and Carrie were the perfect combination in his mind. Perfect.

"I'm fine…I was feeling bad about you paying the check that's all. I'm over it now," Carrie finally forged an upbeat tone as they stepped into the empty elevator together. "Yes, now I'm just counting the seconds until I have you in our room and you tell me your decision…leather or lace."

When he opened his mouth to answer and end the silly feigned suspense, he was met with the fingers of his fiancée's hand.

"Not here," She scolded while blushing. "I know you're chomping at the bit, Trigger, but I'm going to make you wait until we get to our room."

"Yes, ma'am." He backed off, grinning at her determination to keep up the charade. As if she didn't know what he'd pick. As if she had actually needed to buy some sleazy leather outfit from Lady Heather's boutique of tramp trash. Chuckling, he leaned back against the elevator wall. "Making me wait, huh? Looks like you're already showing me who's boss."

Much to her surprise she easily chimed in the lusty banter, playfully tipping her hand. "That's right, Mister. Tonight I'll be cracking the whip and you'll like it."

He rapidly lobbed the next joking retort. "Baby, I can't wait to see you sporting leather and ordering me to lick your boots." Just saying it out loud made his stomach flip with displeasure. "I can hardly stand the thought of it!" He announced in a faked lusty tone while meaning it literally.

Carrie plastered on her best Roxie smile. "In less than fifteen minutes you won't have to think about it…you'll be living it."

When the elevator doors opened, Nick stepped into the hall and continued the randy ruse. "What are you waiting for woman? Shake your ass out here! It's time to show this cowboy you know your way around the rawhide." He felt like he should shower for talking to the future mother of his children in such a perverse manner but since she was enjoying the offbeat humor he continued, "Hey, you better giddy up! 'Cause it's my party and I'm ready for the ride you promised!"

Strutting past him she shrilled, "Yee-Haw!"