A/N: Surprise. I assume no one had figured to see an update for this story soon. Truth is, I fell into a bit of writer's block for this and wasn't sure how to proceed. But, since the fact that I have four unfinished stories on the site, I sat down, determined to change that and reduce that number - though, Grounded is pretty much a done deal, Survival moves in odd directions on my hard drive and let's just not talk about Villains, shall we?

I somehow feel like this story might have another two or three chapters and than it is done. Maybe. We'll see.

In the meantime, enjoy... Much love xoxo

I had expected jitters and a little nervousness come Saturday and my date, what I experienced was far worse. To some degree I felt like I couldn't eat anything since I most likely would lose whatever I had consumed within minutes. And I wasn't sick or anything, but seemed to experience such a bad case of nervousness that my brain short-circuited. At least that's what I felt like. Which was crazy and insane since I was behaving like a blushing virgin who had never been on a date before.

Somehow, I managed to calm myself down enough to get into a black dress that wasn't particularly fancy but showcased my curves in a nice way and felt comfortable. The shoes and light makeup that followed were a no-brainer and seemed almost easy compared to how long it took me to settle on a dress and the fact that this date was going down.

My Uber pulled up extra early and before I could think too much about it, I was on my way, not sure what to expect.

The drive was uneventful for a Saturday evening and after about 40 minutes we pulled up in front of a breathtakingly gorgeous house that looked as if straight out of a movie - or my dreams. Light colors, large columns and a style you'd usually find more in the Southern States, the most distinctive feature was the soft sound of the ocean in the distance. I loved the ocean and it had always been a dream of mine to live close by to one.

I hadn't even managed to make my arrival known by ringing when the door opened and presented me with a rather nice view: Carlos Manoso in some dark slacks and an extremely cozy looking beige sweater.

"You look gorgeous," was his form of greeting once he opened the door even wider, pulling me into a soft embrace that could have lasted a little longer. He was warm and smelt like heaven: rich, alluring and embracing you in a strange level of comfort. Whatever cologne he was wearing, it did a certain number on me and left me slightly foggy in the head. Or maybe that was just the man itself.

"As do you," I replied, after he released me again and I suppressed my disappointment.

After helping me out of my coat I was treated to a tour and was hardly able to ignore the delicious scent that came from what I assumed was the kitchen.

Almost every room in the house had a view of the ocean, with large windows giving the entire house an even larger feel. The interior was held in black, grey and white, which surprised me a little seeing as I had somehow expected a more maritime look. It worked well, however and gave it a very polished and classic vibe.

The place was large and spacious and for the fact how roomy it was, there hardly was any clutter or an abundance of deco or furniture as well. There were a few personal touches, like photos in frames and some interesting art on the walls, but that was it. Somehow, however, it fit the type of man Carlos Manoso seemed to be.

When we came to the end of the tour, I realized we hadn't seen one particular room. While it wasn't like I was dying to see his bedroom, I found it curious to say the least. He must have noticed my momentarily confusion without me having to voice it, since he provided an answer to an unspoken question.

"I didn't want to make this seem pushy or put you in a presumptuous position. My bedroom also isn't some extraordinary or rare display of design," he said, laughing a moment later as if he had made a joke that only he understood. I found his consideration interesting and had to admit that I never had met a guy who put so much thought into his actions. I got what he was implying but had could easily say that any weird thought would have crossed me had he made that stop. For me it would have been simply just another room, well, maybe not just another room, but I certainly wouldn't have assumed anything by it.

"I really wouldn't mind," I confirmed, curious about that one last room. Well, that and the kitchen, since I still hadn't seen that one either.

Grabbing my hand in his warm and strong one, we went back upstairs again and along the hallway to the very end of it. I was surprised to see double doors, since that was a rather uncommon feature these days. Pushing them open, I decided right that moment this should be the place I want to die. The bed itself was huge and looked so comfortable that I was hardly able to stop myself from not laying down. A mass of cushions, blankets as well as the comforter made it easy to imagine lazy Sunday mornings spent exactly there. The bed was facing the large glass doors that lead to a wrap-around porch which faced once more the ocean. Thick, plush carpet as well as unexpected stuffy wing chairs gave the entire room a homey and comfortable vibe the made you want to spent every single minute of your day exactly here, curled up with a book and some wine. The fireplace at one side of the room, behind what I'd call a reading nook finished the image, making me wonder how often Carlos actually did spent his evening just like that. The weird thing was that I wasn't a bookworm as such and could probably count all the books I had read last year not even using both hands.

"This is just gorgeous. I can't get over the fact that you get to wake up to this every single day," I said, almost astonished, turning back to the large glass doors that led outside.

"Unfortunately, I don't get to enjoy that as often as you might think. My job keeps me quite busy and I also own a condo in Trenton itself that I use when I'm booked back-to-back and it wouldn't make a whole lot of sense to drive out to Point Pleasant and back the next day."

I don't know what possessed me but before I could stop myself, I walked over to the bed, and sat down, laying down, my feet more or less still on the floor. This felt exactly as comfortable and luxurious and perfect as I had imagined, if not even better.

"Speaking of your job, I believe you owe me a story," I reminded him, reveling in the comfort of this bed and also the view from it.

"Oh?" he asked, surprised at which I laughed. A moment later he sat down next to me.

"Back at the set you mentioned how you started out - or I asked you- and you said that's a longer story which you'd tell me at one point. Tonight, seems as good as any time and we also have quite a lot of it, in case it is taking longer."

"How about I tell you the tale of my career once we sat down for dinner?" he offered.

"Perfect," I agreed. "Especially since the only room we are missing on this tour now is the kitchen."

He laughed at my detective skills, before he got up from the bed and turned my way, looking at me in an odd way.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you look rather good in my bed," he said, amused at which I smiled.

"I'd say I look good on top of your bed, but well," I corrected him at which he seemed to be even more amused.

"Tell me, what would I need to do to change your view of things into my view?" he asked and sounded slightly husky.

"I don't know," I replied, mysteriously, getting up from my laying position and eventually back on my feet. "Play your cards right and we see where things lead."

"They say the way to a woman's heart is through her stomach, so maybe we should start there?" he suggested and I couldn't help but laugh at his statement. A moment later he grabbed my hand once more, sending electric currents through my body and led me through his house toward what I figured would be the kitchen.

The amazing aromas that attached my nostrils only increased the closer we got and I hoped whatever he was serving me tonight would taste as good as it smelled.

I wasn't much of a cook and my kitchen contained the bare necessities every kitchen probably had, but I could definitely appreciate the state-of-the-art kitchen Carlos more or less presented me with. Large countertops, a kitchen island in the middle and several high-tech appliances that made cooking fun. Not that I would know about that since I was really not gifted with any culinary skills. But if I had a kitchen like this I would at least try to cook more often.

"Can I offer you some wine while I give dinner the finishing touches?"

"Sure," I agreed. "If you don't mind me watching?"

He handed me a glass and filled it a moment later with red wine before putting the bottle away again.

"So, you model and you cook, you seem to be a rather decent guy and have it all figured out it seems, What's your secret?" I asked jokingly, taking a first sip from my wine.

He laughed for a solid minute while doing some impressive cooking maneuvers that left me filled with envy.

"Who said I'm a decent guy? Maybe it's all just an act and I'm a bad boy."

"Haven't you heard? Us women like a bit of bad boy mixed in with the decent," I replied, almost absent-minded, leaning against the island counter and taking another sip of whine and enjoying the moment.

A moment later I felt a presence next to me and when I looked up from my wine glass, saw Carlos next to me, his upper body almost touching mine.

"If you aren't careful I might just show you how bad I can be," he whispered in my ear, sending my entire body into haywire mayhem. I started sweating all of a sudden, feeling goose bumps on every inch of my body and an electricity that was almost visible. Speaking of sparks flying.

Before I could respond – or found a functioning brain cell again – he turned away and concentrated on whatever it was that he was preparing and the evening caried on.

As promised, we had dinner on the patio, looking out at the ocean once more and enjoying the mild breeze. The sun was starting to slowly set on the horizon by the time my companion served the main course, leaving me impressed with cooking skills he had called 'alright'.

"So... time to fess up, how did you start your career as a cover model for romance novels?"

I watched him put his fork down and lean back leisurely in his chair, seeming to be at a level of relaxation that I almost envied. While I was far away from the nervousness I encountered before getting here, I felt my nerves every once in a while bubble up. It didn't help that Carlos seemed to switch almost masterfully between hot as sin and cold as ice. At that speed and constant up and down, I'd throw him against a wall before the night was over and have my way with him. Which wasn't me and certainly not my MO, but he seemed to know how to keep me pretty much on an edge I had never experienced.

"As glamorous as it might seem to you, I didn't quite start out that way. I grew up outside Newark in what is probably considered a pretty decent neighborhood. I had always been a troublemaker as a kid and when my parents couldn't deal with it anymore, they sent me to my grandparents down in Miami. They probably hoped once I was with new people and a different city, I'd fall into line and straighten up."

"I take a wild guess and assume it didn't work?"

"No, it didn't. Quite the opposite actually, I ran into a whole new kind of trouble that ended at one point or another in front of a judge."

"That must have been quite some trouble. Guess you really are a bad boy," I teased, taking a sip from the glass of wine Carlos seemed to refill religiously. At my comment he just smiled, raised an eyebrow and leaned closer.

"You have no idea, Babe," he whispered hotly into my ear, making me shiver. See? Hot and cold, back and forth….

"But yes, it was quite some trouble and while it isn't something I'm particularly proud of, it paved the way to my current life. The judge gave me a choice between juve and a military academy. It was a no-brainer at that point and I went for the academy."

"And how did that influence your career?" I asked, confused, not seeing how one thing could lead to another.

"Life at a military academy straightens you out for sure and follows very strict rules as well as a rather rigorous regime when it comes to fitness. Not sure if the hormones of a teenager were to blame or the fact that for once I actually found something that held my interest for longer than a week, but working out became almost like an obsession. When you throw in a rather late growth spurt on top of the workout-obsession I quickly became a hit with girls."

"Did that lead to more trouble or less?" I asked amused, seeing as both options were possible.

He laughed at my question for a moment before he replied. "Well trouble was no longer an option. The judge had made it pretty clear that I had one chance. Next time he'd see me, he would send me to juve, no matter what."

"So, what happened?"

"Turns out one of the girls I dated had a mother who was a model scout and also ran her own agency. I think at one point or another she might have been a model herself, but can't be certain."

"Ah, so when your girl took you home to meet the parents, her mother cast her net and acquired you as her newest addition."

Instead of a reply, he just nodded, seeming almost smitten with himself. It was a weirdly adorable picture to be honest.

"Were you an instant hit in the world of modelling?"

"I wasn't a star in the making, if that's what you're asking. But I was booked pretty good, mainly because word got around that I wasn't much into throwing a fit if things took longer. Life on set can be stressful as well as boring as hell. Things happen quickly or can take forever. One job led to another and another and another. I wasn't doing it full time since I was still in the academy and about a year away from graduating. It was a nice way of earning a bit of money on the side and let's be honest, there are worse and harder ways than this. The relationship with Kisha didn't last and somehow I expected her mother to drop me the moment her daughter dropped me, but she didn't, which surprised me, seeing how ugly things between her daughter and me had ended."

"So, after high school you got your break?"

"No, I went to college after that and did modeling on the side. Was a nice way to avoid student loans and make a decent living while also continuing my higher education. I actually only went full time after I had gotten my degree. I did that for a few years before all the travelling and stuff became kind of boring and I looked for something new."

"I can imagine how travelling the world was getting annoying at some point," I joked, understanding that this wasn't humble bragging but probably really just the truth.

"There are people who probably wish they had my problems, but for me, it was at some point just... not exciting anymore. Not that excitement was the main reason that fueled my career, but it was a decent reason."

"How did you go from GQ and New York Fashion Week to romance novels then? Or more importantly, how did you become pretty much the romance novel cover guy?"

"A friend in the business had stumbled across a contest where some agency that specializes in these kinds of things was looking for new talent. I figure they were looking for amateurs that wanted to do a few shots each year and weren't expecting any professionals to apply. I mean, it isn't the most serious or sought-after job and you'd probably end up being ridiculed for it eventually. I didn't really care and found the idea actually entertaining. I never cared much for what others thought - as maybe some of my campaigns and cover shots for fashion magazines might prove."

"I assume they took you gladly?"

"Yes, they did. But I think even they didn't expect the success of this and me becoming…well, me becoming more or less the face of romance novels."

"I don't think that's something anyone could have predicted. It is a rather peculiar …niche."

"It certainly is and maybe for most people it might be an option before they retire. Some kind of last resort."

"You look like you are far away from the age of retirement," I detected, amused and saw him throw me a smile.

"Well, in the world of modelling and appeal the age for retirement is a lot sooner than most other jobs. But yes, in general I'm far away from retirement."

"Do you love it?" I asked serious and saw him think about my question for a while.

"Generally, yes, but like every job, this one comes with a few side-effects that make things not necessarily easy."

"Such as? Being shirtless on hundreds of book covers?"

He laughed for a moment, shacking his head. "That is actually not as bad as you might think. Weird? Maybe. Especially since I can't go into most book stores, without seeing myself looking back at me or people sooner or later making me. I mean, it is mostly woman and again, there are worse things in the world…"

"Still must be quite strange. Complimenting as well, since I figure none of them tells you how you could have done cover xyz better, but… well…."

He laughed some more, probably imagining a fan approaching him and telling him what would have been a really good cover. Or how to improve something.

"Well, it hasn't happened yet, but at one point in the future I wouldn't be surprised if that actually really would come up. But, no, though, it is the fans that can be a bit challenging. Especially the kind of fan mail I get."

I know I shouldn't have been surprised about the fact that he got fan mail seeing a she was considered a celebrity to some degree, but the idea still stupefied me. "Fan mail?"

"Yes," he nodded, pointing a second later into some random location in the house. "I get quiet a bit of it. Not as much as others I figure, but I also don't have any valid form of comparison. Though I figure everyone who gets them gets the same … interesting items sent."

"Items?" I asked, confused, wondering what the hell he received in the mail. Though… I had my suspicions. The world was a strange place these days. "Do I want to know?"

Chuckling at my question, he shrugged. "Not sure. Do you?"

"I don't really know. What's the weirdest thing you ever got sent?"

He thought about my question and I wondered whether it wasn't as wild as I had expected or whether he was going through every wild and strange thing ever sent, trying to decide what would take the cake.

"I think that would be sex toys," he finally answered, having settled on a satisfying enough answer.

"I'm… what? I'm sorry, did you say sex toys? Was that someone worried you didn't get enough… action? And also… toys? As in plural? Like…serval ones?"

He laughed at my question and I couldn't really blame him, seeing as I must have seemed as bewildered as I sounded. I really didn't get it. Why… why would you sent him that?

"I don't know what their initial motive was and I also don't know I want to find out. But if their concern was my need for release, they picked the wrong options. The toys they sent me were female oriented. While one could probably make that work somehow, I figure the main goal wasn't my easy and quick… succession."

While I was wrapping my head around the idea of someone not just being brazen enough to sent something like that to begin with and also for the wrong sex, Carlos went on with the conversation.

"Though, if I may add, there's nothing quick about it whenever it heads that way."

For a moment I almost spat out of surprise. my wine all over the table and barely contained myself from doing so. Now I had an image in my head I really didn't need. At least not right now.

When looking at him, I saw noticed how he was grinning at me, almost seeming calculating. He was pushing my buttons intentionally and so far I wasn't sure whether I was minding as much as I maybe should.

"I also get a lot of underwear in the mail."

"I take it they aren't for you to wear as such?"

"Not really, since they are female and mostly delicate and lacy. I'm also not entirely certain whether they haven't been worn before."

"Ewww," I more or less screeched, not needing to know that for certain. "I so did not need to know that. You certainly have some…interesting fans."

Seeing him shrug, I figured he took this whole lot easier than I did. But than again, he had been at it for a while, so maybe he had just gotten used to it.

"Hey, I never claimed I only received love letters or marriage proposals," he admitted, amused.

"You get that as well?" I asked, not sure why that surprised me after everything he had mentioned so far.

"Yes, though I find them weirder than everything else really. Maybe because they are on a whole -different personal level."

"More personal than worn underwear?"

"It sounds odd, but for that you get naked and put your garment in the mail. Not much to it. For the letters, you actually sit down and write stuff. Some of these letters are 10-pages long and seem more like an introduction and 'reasons why you should pick me' than regular fan mail. I'm not saying you won't wake up the next morning and don't regret either, though."

"What else can be found in your mail box?" I asked curios, wondering whether there was even more.

"Not sure why, but Polaroids. It's not really the fact that someone sends me pictures of themselves, sometimes not wearing much more than a bow or a hat, but the fact that most of them are Polaroids are… unusual."

"Maybe someone should notify the people at Polaroid about a niche they themselves might not be aware of. For all your needs to send nudes to that one person of yours."

"I'm not sure I want them to know about that particular niche market."

"While woman find dick pics incredibly annoying, I have a suspicion that guys do not even consider being offended when getting sent pictures of women in various stages of undress."

"The only pictures I would really be interested in are yours," he boldly claimed, giving me heatwaves despite the fact that the air had substantially cooled down.

"Good thing that you have that cover look forward to," I suggested, smiling.

"I was hoping for something a little more …personal. Exclusive, even," he suggested, starring into my eyes and making me feel all kinds of weird and giddy, hot and sexy, heady and fuzzy and foggy. A second later I noticed him shifting closer until his face was only inches away from mine. His lips cautiously touched mine, almost as if testing the waters, giving me time to pull back.

No way in hell. No. Way.

In an impressive maneuver he pulled me out of my chair and right into his arms and on top of him in his chair, giving me very little room. Not that I really cared. I had more important things to occupy myself with.

As the minutes ticked by the kiss grew more and more heated, picking up in fire and aggression, passion and urgency.

I felt Carlos' hands move up my body, caressing me softly on their way up and making all the right spots tingle. They grabbed the back of my neck softly, moving further up a second later, framing my face and moving me ways he deemed necessary before deepening the kiss even further.

We sat like this for what felt like an eternity or two and only came up for air when I heard an aggressive knocking over the course of long moments, followed by some yelling and someone calling my name. Someone who sounded just too familiar. Mary Lou.

Oh fuck. My phone. The call. Oh…dear.