When Linc asked me where I wanted to meet, I'd hesitated. We couldn't go anywhere someone from school might see us, but I didn't want to invite him over to my apartment. Meeting my son would be a big step, and it was too soon. I needed to get to know Linc better first. After the surprises I'd had on our first date, I couldn't help wondering what else lurked under the surface.

"I don't know the area very well. Maybe a coffee shop, or somewhere else we can get a bite to eat?"

"I know a place. Pick you up outside your place at eight?"

"Okay."

Now I was waiting in the lobby, listening for Linc's bike. The evenings were already getting colder, and if this kept up, I'd have to consider buying a leather jacket.

A roar sounded in the distance, and I stepped outside. That was another problem—with Linc's bike, there was no sneaking around.

He unstrapped my helmet from the back seat, but before I could put it on, he leaned over and pressed his lips to mine.

"Missed you," he said.

My skin burned where he touched me, but only in a good way. "You just saw me three hours ago."

"That's still too long."

I climbed onto the bike behind him, tucking my hands into his front pockets to keep warm. I needed to add gloves to my shopping list as well.

"Where are we going?"

"I know a family that runs a restaurant near here. We can borrow the room at the back for an hour. I hope you like Chinese food."

"It's just become my new favourite thing."

When I tried the array of dishes that arrived at the table soon after we did, I found I'd been telling the truth. This wasn't the egg fried rice and sweet-and-sour chicken I usually ordered.

"This is amazing. What is it?"

The grey-haired lady who served us laughed as she shook her head. "Ah, is secret recipe. My mother taught it to me. Is Mr. Lincoln's favourite."

He nodded in agreement. "She's not kidding. I could live on the stuff. Every time I came home back in my army days, this was the first meal I'd eat."

"I might just become a regular customer myself."

Every other dish tasted delicious too, but with the restaurant owner bustling around as if Linc was her long-lost son, we didn't get much beyond small talk. Each time we tried to turn the conversation to a more serious topic, she interrupted with a question or comment.

"It so nice to see that Mr. Lincoln has a girl. You come back soon?"

"We will, I promise." Linc bent to peck her on the cheek, and an irrational sense of jealousy burned in my chest. Crazy because she was old enough to be his grandmother, but I wanted those lips to myself.

"Well, that was the most excruciating experience of my life," he said as we walked back to the bike.

"She meant well."

"I felt like a spare part on my own date. I thought she was going to invite herself back for coffee."

"She probably has a special recipe for that."

On the way home, the weather gods conspired against us too, and big, fat drops of rain started to fall. Linc slowed down as the road surface got more slippery, and by the time he pulled up outside my apartment, I was soaked through.

"Go inside before you catch a chill," he said, leaving the bike idling as we both pulled our helmets off.

"But..."

"Don't want you sick, sweetheart."

On impulse, I leaned down and kissed him. I'd meant it to be brief, but he grabbed my butt with both hands, tipped me into him, and followed up with a swipe of his tongue. Then as quickly as he started, he stopped. I tried to capture his lips again, but he let go and leaned back.

"Good to see I'm not the only one with needs." He chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers through my insides. "Now, go get dry. I'll see you Wednesday."

"I can't wait," I whispered, and this time I managed to meet his eyes.

Even the rain couldn't dampen my spirits as I skipped up the path, but when I got inside, a cold dose of reality hit. I wanted this man, I wanted all of him, but my scars were physical as well as mental. What would he say if he saw all of me? Or would I be too scared to find out?

On Wednesday, I still didn't have the answer, but I did have a new sweater—a baggy maroon one with a hood—and I wore it pulled low over my face as I snuck out of school past the cameras. Jansen was walking along the corridor ten yards ahead of me, and I turned away from his beady eyes as well. I'd already had a tongue-lashing from him yesterday, and not the pleasant kind. That I hoped to get from Linc later. As long as I managed to make it through the parking lot without being seen, that was. In mid-afternoon, the campus was still full of students and worse, faculty members, but my classes were done for the day. Linc had the early shift, and we didn't want to waste any time we could spend together.

I ran the last few steps to his bike, which was purring away, ready to go. As soon as I swung my leg over the back, I yanked on the helmet he passed me and buckled it up.

"Go!"

We were heading for a pizza place near the park, far enough from school that students didn't make a habit of eating there. Since the fellows tended towards three courses with wine, we figured they wouldn't go there for a late lunch either. We wanted a bit of alone time without getting interrupted.

That seemed like a good plan until we got to dessert. The menu didn't have chocolate mousse, but ice cream ran a close second. As Linc raised the spoon to my mouth, a shadow fell over the table, and we looked up to see the percussion teacher looming. I didn't have classes with him myself, but he had a reputation for being strict and just a tiny bit unreasonable. Perhaps that was why he styled his moustache like Joseph Stalin's? If Jansen hadn't been Dutch, I might have suspected the pair of them were related.

"Well, well, well," he said. "I thought you two weren't supposed to be together?"

Chikushō times ten. Beads of sweat popped out and ran down my spine, a chilling reminder of the lecture from the dean. I opened my mouth, then realised I had absolutely no idea what to say. Staring at the table felt like a good option, but I couldn't let Linc take the blame for this, so I forced my head up.

Except he stayed remarkably calm. "Possibly not, but what would your wife think of your little tête-à-tête with the dean's secretary?"

"We're here for a business meeting."

"Really? I've never had a colleague rub their foot in my crotch before. That a new thing?"

I almost choked on my tongue, but Linc squeezed my hand under the table and that kept me calm as the percussion teacher went a shade redder.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he spluttered.

Linc shrugged and looked straight at him. "And the other day when you had a 'meeting' in your car at lunchtime, I presume she'd lost her contact lens in your lap?"

"You were watching? You... You filthy pervert."

"Hard not to catch an eyeful when the path to the tool shed runs right alongside that parking space. If you hadn't been so focused on what she was doing with her mouth, maybe you'd have noticed."

"You're disgusting." The man sneered at us. "I'm not the only one keeping an eye on you. It's just a matter of time."

He marched off, and Linc slid out of his seat and crouched beside me. "Sweetheart, you're shaking. It's okay. He can't touch us."

"But what about the next person who sees? Do you have dirt on all of them?"

Hisashi's father once told me that blackmail was an art form. He'd been proficient at it, and Emmy was the master, but I couldn't keep running to her for help. Linc and I needed to fight this battle ourselves, but how?

"Sadly not. We got lucky today. We'll have to be more careful next time."

Lucky today? Surely he meant unlucky?

"What are we supposed to do? Wear bags over our heads? Go for dinner in the next state?"

"How about I make dinner on Friday? There are no prying eyes in my kitchen, and I've got a couch for canoodling on."

"Canoodling?" I'd worked hard on my English, but I hadn't heard that word before.

"Making out."

Oh. Oh! "I think I'll like canoodling. But can you cook?"

"I can dial."

"Then it's a date."

On Friday morning, the thought of spending a whole evening with Linc meant even Jansen's nitpicking went over my head. At least until lunchtime. Then the nerves kicked in so badly I couldn't eat my pasta salad. I was going to spend a whole freaking evening with Linc.

Alone.

I felt guilty about leaving Hisashi, but Sofia told me he hadn't wanted his afternoon nap, and when she shoved me out of the apartment at seven o'clock, he was already fast asleep.

"Don't worry; we'll be fine." She grinned wide enough for both of us. "And I don't expect you to come home early either."

But I still felt nervous. Linc knew something was up as soon as I walked out of the building. His forehead creased into a frown, and by the time I reached him, he'd got off the bike and held out his arms.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Nothing."

He tilted me back so he could look me in the eye. "Akari?"

"Okay, but it's silly."

"Try me."

"I've never done the whole dating thing. Obviously I've been alone with a man before, but that was...different. I don't know what you expect."

"What I expect..." Linc dropped his arms and took my hand instead. "Is for you to eat the Chinese I've lovingly ordered, pick out a movie you want to watch, laugh in the appropriate places, and enjoy yourself."

My cheeks heated, and I averted my gaze. "But what about the canoodling?"

"I'm not going to say no, but I'll leave that up to you."

I let out the breath I'd been holding, and all my pent up fears flooded out with it. "Thank you."

He held out my helmet. "Are you ready to go now?"

Definitely.

Curiosity got the better of me as Linc drove. Apart from saying it was on the other side of town, he'd barely mentioned anything about his apartment. Would it be homey or a man-cave? Was he messy or neat? On his salary, it was probably small, but beyond that, I really didn't know what to expect.

Half an hour later, he slowed outside a three-storey building and turned down a narrow alley. A single yellow street lamp cast a dim glow, and once my eyes adjusted, I made out the shadows of refuse bins and a few beaten-up cars. Linc parked next to one of them and helped me off the bike.

"Not as swanky as your place," he said apologetically.

If he'd only seen the shithole I'd lived in before—a sweaty, miserable hovel where the water ran brown and mosquitoes kept me company.

"I don't care."

On the second floor, he pushed open the door at the end of the hallway and flicked on the light, motioning me through in front of him. The heavenly aroma of something chocolatey wafted out.

"Is that dessert? Can we skip dinner?"

"I baked cookies."

"Really? You baked?"

"Okay, so I used ready-to-bake dough from the store, but at least they'll be edible. And no, you can wait. Dinner will be here in a couple of minutes."

I pouted, but it was no good. He wouldn't give in. Although when the food arrived and I realised it was the same special-recipe chicken we'd eaten the other night, I was kind of glad about that.

"I'll set the table." Might as well make myself useful. "Where do you keep the plates?"

"Uh, try that cupboard over there." He pointed next to the sink.

"Nope. This is cleaning stuff. You don't know where you keep the plates?"

"Usually I just eat out of the cartons."

My eyes rolled all of their own accord, and I opened and closed cupboards until I found an assortment of dishes. "Spoons? Can you remember where those are?"

"There's always chopsticks in the bag."

Eventually, I got the table in the corner of the living room set for two, having shoved a pile of bodybuilding magazines and a stray baseball cap onto the floor.

"What's that?" I pointed at one of the chairs. "That metal thing?"

"Oh, it's the gear lever off my old bike. Probably I could get rid of it."

Clearly I had some work to do here. Domesticating Linc looked to be a challenge. What on earth would he do if takeout didn't exist? Starve? But I couldn't complain tonight because dinner was delicious, and I loaded the dishwasher while Linc bagged up the trash.

"Do you have any dishwasher tablets?"

He shrugged. Yes, definitely needed work.

When he came back in, I'd wiped down the surfaces in the kitchen, and he took the cloth out of my hand.

"I didn't ask you here to clean."

"I don't mind."

Although the therapist's words flitted through my mind. You're acclimated to slavery, she'd told me. I tried to block those thoughts. What was wrong with looking after Linc? After all, I cared about him.

He interrupted my runaway brain. "Well, I do mind. I've got other plans for you."

Ah, yes, the canoodling.

"Is it movie time?"

"Why don't you pick something while I open a bottle of wine? The DVDs are in the rack by the TV."

The rack held a bewildering array. Frozen? The Lion King? I'd never have put Linc down as a Disney fan. Die Hard, now that was more like it. Hang on, what was this? Pulp Friction? Lord of the G-Strings? I was still holding a dubious copy of Free Willy that definitely wasn't PG-rated when he walked into the room.

"What do you want to watch?" he asked.

"Uh..."

He came closer and peered at what I was holding. "What the hell?"

"I think that's my question."

"That's not mine, I swear. I let a buddy borrow the apartment while I was away a few months ago, and he must have left it here."

"Them. Left them." I pointed at the other delights on the bottom shelf.

"I'll kill him."

Linc grabbed them all and dumped the pile into the trash, even You've Got Male, My Bare Lady, and Laid in Manhattan. Was he telling the truth? Or did he have a secret fetish for girl-on-girl action?

"Should I disinfect my fingers?"

"Probably." His disgusted expression said he shared my sentiments. "I'm never lending the place to him again, that's for sure. Uh, how about Star Wars? I've got the whole set."

"That's some space thing, right?"

"Some space thing? Seriously, you've never seen a Star Wars movie? Not one?"

"I didn't even have a TV until last year."

I'd binge-watched films while living with Emmy, but nobody in her household was a sci-fi fan. At Riverley, movie nights meant guns, explosions, and gore. Everyone picked apart the plots while munching their body weight in popcorn and downing beer from the micro-brewery they'd recently clubbed together to buy. Apart from Bradley. Bradley watched musicals and cartoons and knew every word in The Devil Wears Prada by heart.

Linc slung an arm around my shoulders and took the box containing Star Wars: Episode 1 from the shelf. "Come, young Padawan. I can see I need to educate you."

The spaceships were interesting and everything, but my attention was captured by the steady rise and fall of Linc's chest as I leaned against it. His warm breath curled around my ear, and I totally lost track of the plot. An hour passed, and all I could think of was the muscular arms wrapped around me and how safe they made me feel.

"Enjoying the movie?" Linc asked.

"Yes. It's fantastic."

"Who do think is going to win? The Lakers or the Red Sox?"

"Uh, the Lakers?"

"You're not watching this at all, are you?"

Chikushō. "Not exactly. I'm distracted."

His voice took on a playful tone. "By what?"

"By stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Okay, fine. You. I'm distracted by you."

"Want me to distract you a little more so you can forget the film entirely?"

I nodded and held my breath. What did he have in mind?

He slid down on the leather sofa, swinging his legs up so I lay on top of him. Then he kissed me, and it wasn't some soft, gentle effort like before. This was a nerve-tingling clash of tongues and teeth, and I couldn't get enough of it. He still tasted of cookies—sweet, delicious, and so good I wanted to eat the whole plateful. By the time we came up for air, I'd dissolved into a puddle of mush and the closing credits were almost finished.

"Didn't you say you needed to get home at a sensible time?" he asked.

Probably, but I wished I hadn't. Did three or four o'clock in the morning count?

"Something about your nanny having to go out early?" he prompted.

Oh, yes. "She needs to leave early to stay with her cousin for the weekend."

"I'd better get you home, then."

"I guess."

He leaned up and kissed me again. "I wish I didn't have to either, but you can't leave the girl in the lurch. We'll have plenty more evenings like this."

That night as I floated up the path to the front door, I felt like doing cartwheels.