I put down the coffee cup on the counter.

"Ryan, how come you can come over to my house and make better coffee using the same equipment and coffee beans that I do?"

"Magic, Hermione."

I harrumphed. It was too early in the morning for me, although Ryan seemed to be a morning person. I suppose he had to be, working in a coffee shop.

He picked up his keys, wallet, and phone to leave and put them in his pocket. Then he wrapped me in his arms in a crazy bear hug, enveloping me in his warmth, kissing my hair and inhaling me. I curled my arms around his narrow waist and stuck my hands in the back pockets of his jeans, feeling the hard muscles of his fantastic ass.

I didn't want him to leave. Not at all.

"Come over to my house this week," he commanded, talking against the top of my head. "On Wednesday. I can't wait until the weekend. I want to have you in my bed.  I want to break some more of your rules.  I want to break the record for the number of orgasms you have had in one night."

I automatically shivered in anticipation. What would it be like to have orgasms delivered by Ryan on his home turf? I took a moment to review my work schedule for the upcoming week in my head; Yes! I could spend the night on Wednesday.

I was getting to the point where I wanted to spend every minute with him because he was getting to be more than just a sexy Sun God to me. Something much, much more.

I needed to analyze that thought at a later point in time too.

But he was still bossy and I needed to call him on that.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" I shot back at him.

Of course I was just messing with him; I was really curious about where he lived and I was glad to be invited. Although I was fearful that it was some crummy bachelor pad, based on the cleanliness of his truck and the way he did the dishes, I hoped that it would be tolerable.

"A little of both," he said warmly, dimples appearing on his beautiful face.  "Mostly telling."

Dimples.

I lost my train of thought.

Focus.

Then my train of thought got back on the rails. He was still telling me what to do.  If I was truthful, I would admit that his bossiness made me wet.  But I still had a backbone and a pathological need to push back.

"You're a short boarder, right?" I asked. I had seen him at the beach with a short board.

"Yeah," he said, warily. "Why?"

"You're this weird combination of confident bastard and mellow zen," I said. "You competed in surfing, so you clearly wanted to win, but surfing is a mellow, natural, individual sport that doesn't require competition. It's like you're an Alpha male hippie."

This brought out a chuckle. "You nailed me," he said.

"No," I argued, "I think you nailed me."

He laughed. More dimples. Damn.  

In a low, husky voice, he murmured, "And I intend to do so every chance I can, Movie Star."

When he talked to me like this, I couldn't handle it.  It was like he was breaking me into dirty talk.  I know there is dirtier talk than this and I'm not sure why I resisted it but I wanted to keep pushing back at him.  I opened my eyes and looked at him.  

"So you're in charge here?"

"Pretty much," he said, lazily trailing the tip of his tongue against my jaw.

I was starting to forget why I was protesting.  I continued, "You order me around — or at least you try to — but you are also really into allowing me to do what I want and letting me do what I need to do."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," he said, now biting my ear with little nips and nibbles, and making me moan.

"Well then. I'm glad we agree," I said lamely.

He looked me in the eyes and kissed me with an open-mouthed, full-blown, hot-as-hell kiss, then broke apart and commanded, "Wednesday."

I let out my breath and nodded.

He was just so bossy.

The thing was, I liked it. Weird. Having him take charge felt hot, and a strange feeling of relief and excitement, but it sure shot my feminist cred out the window.  Fuck my feminist cred.

Ryan went to the door and paused, looking at me.  He looked at me with wide green eyes and asked, "Another thing. What are you doing on Friday night?"

I have to say that it was not a turn off for him to constantly ask me out. Unlike Hugo or even Jake, with Ryan, I wanted it.

"I don't know. Why?" Now it was my turn to be wary.

"Do you want to go with me to a business dinner? It's for a work charity. I have to go, my company sponsors it. I'm not sure you're into those types of things. I really want you to come, though."

He had shifted gears from bossy Alpha male to imploring. He was just so cute. Plus, I was good with business dinners. I normally liked these type of things because I liked getting all dressed up.

"Sure," I replied immediately.

"You're gonna need a dress. I'm warning you, I'm gonna wear a tux. It's black tie."

I was temporarily distracted by thoughts of Ryan in a tuxedo.  Sunny golden curls and handsome face topping broad shoulders in a suit jacket leading to his bulging biceps leading down his body to his lean abs in a white shirt tucked into suit pants that lead to, yeah.

Mental image impressed.

That would do.

Then he asked, "Do you want me to get you a dress?"

I laughed. That was a strange question, and sort of sweet. "No, I can get myself a fancy dress, thanks."

He took my hand, pulled me into the entire length of his hard body, kissed me again, taking his time and having his tongue do a Lewis and Clark exploration in my mouth. After he got me all bothered, he took off in his old truck.

Men, I thought, exasperated.  Just when he got me all, well, wet, he left.

No.

Just this man.  This is the only man who gets me so keyed up.

I skipped into my room, hyped from the kiss and from the anticipation of my upcoming week, and called Marie, ignoring the warmth pooling in my sex. Now it was time to shop.

#

Monday morning at work, I talked with my mom.  She was the kind of mom who went to church every morning to say the rosary.  I love my mom. My mom was patient and kind. I knew she cared for me, and I knew she was there for me, and I knew she wanted the best for me.

But she could be extremely meddlesome, and she was ultra conservative and religious. I didn't mind these things in other people. I just wasn't.

Still, after a lot of therapy sessions, I was realizing that I was undergoing something called "individualization." This was where I was starting to be my own person.

It was a work in progress.

I hoped to cut her off at the pass and used the "I've been busy with work, Mom," standard line, which was also normally the truth.  But no, not this time.  She was on to something.

"What's this I hear from Marie's mother?" she had asked, beginning to press my buttons.

Oh fuck.

Because Marie and I have been friends since third grade, our mothers have also been friends since we were in the third grade. This meant that of course Marie told her mom we went shopping and of course her mom told my mom that I had a date.  I should have known that word would get out.  Or, I should have sworn Marie to secrecy.

Here was another thing about my mom. She was the original snob.  Word got out that I was dating a guy I met in a coffee shop.  She didn't like that.  I mean, I was a snob too and the apple did not fall far from the tree, but I was trying to change that and change myself and this time, I got angry.  I needed to defend my man, if Ryan was indeed "my man."

"Mom, it doesn't matter what his income level is or what he does. He is the kindest man I have ever met."

We had more words and then I hung up the phone on her, still angry.

Fuck.

I would have to call her later and apologize.

I remembered what Christian told me: Where you are from does not determine who you are.

I still loved my mom.

But I remembered that she was not me.

#

On Wednesday morning, Jake stopped by my office, his gorgeousness taking up the whole doorway. "I need you to stay, tonight, and work on the evidentiary objections to the motion for summary judgment."

This was the life of a lawyer.

Guess I didn't get to check out Ryan's pad after all. At least not tonight.

I called Ryan.

"Sorry, Ryan, I have to work late tonight. Rain check on seeing where you live?"

"No problem, Movie Star. I'll see you Friday. I'll pick you up at 6."

#

Friday evening, I showered slowly and carefully, shaving everything. I lubed up with lotion. I used my perfect scent. I fussed over my hair, letting it be down and in waves. I put on heavier eye makeup than I usually did.

I put on my dress. Marie and I found a great satin dress in a sheen green color from Crayola. Look it up. It was strapless and the bodice folded over at the top, hugged my curves, went into a matching belt at the waist, and then went straight down.

Since my ass was not straight, I made the dress curvy.

It was the kind of dress Ava Gardner would wear with gloves above her elbows, while dripping in diamonds.

Since it was about sixty years too late to wear gloves, I didn't. I wore strappy silver gorgeous heels and my earrings that were each three diamonds hanging a row connected by platinum chains. They were the nicest ones I owned.

I liked how I looked.

Thinking about the narrowness of the skirt of my dress, I was nervous about how I was going to get this dress in Ryan's truck and figured I'd offer him my Mercedes.

Still, by the time he knocked, I was ready. I had never been the type to rush around and make a guy wait, so I figured I would not start now.

I picked up my silver envelope clutch that held my phone, an ID, twenty dollars, and my lipstick, grabbed my keys, and opened the door.

Then I was stunned.

Ryan stood there in a tuxedo.

A classic tuxedo.

His tan face and curly golden hair contrasted with the crisp bright white of his shirt. He wore black tie and his jacket was buttoned up. His shoes were shiny. I loved the stripe going down the side of his pants. He smelled clean and fresh but manly.

"You look gorgeous," I managed.

"I could say the same for you," he said, and kissed me on the cheek. "I really want to mess up your lipstick, but I imagine that you might kill me."

"You're right. I would kill you," I agreed, not meaning it in the slightest.

He smiled at me and his green eyes took in my dress, unabashedly looking me up and down. Then he shook his head and held out his hand for me to follow him. "You look so fucking sexy, Amelia. Thanks for coming."

I locked my door and he led me down the path to a shiny black Tesla.

"Where's your truck?" I asked.

"Not the type of night for a truck," he said. "Thought this would be better."

I figured he borrowed it from a friend and I didn't ask any more questions, not wanting him to feel bad. I wondered how much the tux rental had set him back. They certainly did a good job measuring him. There was no indication that this was a rental. He must have picked a nice place.

"So where are we going?" I asked.

"Bacara."

Ooh boy. I had been to Bacara once before for a business lunch and you couldn't get two ham sandwiches and two ice teas for less than a hundred dollars. I should have brought more than twenty dollars in my purse.

"Wow," I whispered. "That's posh."

He looked over to me and smiled. "It's a fundraiser for an charity that my parents started. If you have it at a nice place, the people who need to be there to donate will come with their wallets open."

"What kind of charity?"

"Cancer research. I lost my dad to cancer, my mom to a ski accident. Both while I was in high school."

I was stunned. Why did I not know this? Had I not asked him any questions about himself? He had told me so much about him, but I realized that he had not told me much about his history.

"I am so sorry," I blurted out. I couldn't imagine losing both of your parents while you were in high school.

"I had to grow up pretty quickly. But I carry on their traditions and this is one of them."

We drove in the quiet Tesla, no music playing, and I apprecicated its comfortable interior. It was not that far of a drive to the luxurious Bacara hotel, and soon enough we pulled into the resort and a valet approached. Ryan handed the valet his keys and came around to escort me out and down to the ballroom where the event was.

I saw a sign that said "FIELDING PHARMACEUTICALS FOUNDATION" with an arrow pointing to the event area. There were white orchids everywhere. Like I thought. Posh.

Then I realized.

Fielding Pharmaceuticals.

Fielding.

Ryan Fielding.

Omigod.

He was an heir to the Fielding fortune.

I was such an idiot.

Stunned, I looked at him again. He was not a surf bum. He was not a coffee shop manager. He was a mogul.

As I looked at him, I didn't think that I was imagining the look of admiration on his face. "Shall we?" he asked as he gave me his arm to lead me into an area with people dressed in tuxedos and gowns, jewelry everywhere and waiters circulating with champagne glasses. I was shaken and I didn't know what to do. Normally I could handle these types of events, but now I felt completely stupid and out of my league.

I was not the one slumming with him. He was slumming with me.