FIREMAN’S FAKE FIANCÉE

AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

_______________________

A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 26

FLORA FERRARI

CONTENTS

Copyright

A Man Who Knows What He Wants Series

Fireman's Fake Fiancée

1. Isaac

2. Julia

3. Isaac

4. Julia

5. Isaac

6. Isaac

7. Isaac

8. Julia

9. Isaac

10. Isaac

11. Abby

12. Isaac

13. Julia

14. Julia

Epilogue ~ Julia

Epilogue ~ Isaac

Epilogue ~ Julia

Extended Epilogue ~ Julia

Billionaire's Virgin Ballerina

COPYRIGHT

Copyright © 2017 by Flora Ferrari.

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations.  It is intended for mature readers.

A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

Book 1: Baby Lust

Book 2: Veteran

Book 3: Built

Book 4: Bambino

Book 5: Rescued

Book 6: Leader

Book 7: Professor

Book 8: Burned

Book 9: Worldly

Book 10: Pistol

Book 11: Policed

Book 12: Driven

Book 13: Lucky 13

Book 14: Lumberjacked

Book 15: Protector

Book 16: Carpenter

Book 17: Italian Stallion

Book 18: Gardener

Book 19: Budapest Billionaire’s Virgin

Book 20: Billionaire’s Babysitter

Book 21: Cocky CFO

Book 22: Fireman’s Filthy 4th

Book 23: Mechanic

Book 24: SEAL’s Secret

Book 25: Police, Pooch, and Smooch

Book 26: Fireman’s Fake Fiancée

Book 27: Billionaire’s Virgin Ballerina

FIREMAN’S FAKE FIANCÉE

Why does it feel so real, when it's only meant to be fake?

Fireman Isaac Irons is supposed to save me. He’s tall, dark, and as handsome as he is rich. With his rugged good looks and masculine presence, surely no one's going to catch on to us. There's no way you'd suspect our engagement is fake.

And I'm starting not to suspect it either. The way he whispers in my ear when no one's looking. The way he puts his hand on the small of my back. The way his kisses go on just a little longer than we need in order to put on our little show. Is it just for show?

He's enjoying this; this tormenting me.

But I can dish it out just as well as I can take it. I can play hot and cold, making him wonder what's real and what's not...and just what he really wants out of this so-called relationship of ours.

But when the sun goes down, my blood pressure rises. We're alone in our shared bedroom, keeping up the charade. But the way he looks at me with those bedroom eyes of his, I know this is more than a game.

Can I risk losing everything if it means winning the man whose passion for me is suddenly feeling more and more real?

Fireman's Fake Fiancée is an insta-everything standalone romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

CHAPTER 1

Isaac

“Who is that girl he’s with?”

I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

In between the clinking of glasses, the rattling of plates, and the conversation between the other firemen, her voice still cuts through the air like a knife.  She’s standing behind me, which doesn’t even register as ironic anymore considering how long she’s been stabbing me in the back.

It’s Abby Lawson, at least that’s what she calls herself.  Rumor has it that she changed her name to match the advice columnist she tries to mimic on a daily basis.  She writes a daily column in the local paper called “Around Town.”  The paper positions it as some sort of cultural and style piece but everyone knows it’s just the juiciest gossip she can dig up.  And by everyone I mean everyone.  Everyone reads it and that’s exactly why I’m in the predicament I’m in.

Fire Chief Weston has been in charge of our fire department for years, thirty-three years to be exact.  Back in his day he was appointed fire chief, which is the way most stations around the country have done it forever.  Not ours.  Not any longer.  Weston retires in exactly thirty-seven days, which is exactly thirty days after the election for fire chief, which voters will be going to the polls for in exactly one week.

I should have been appointed.  I’ve got the training, experience, military background, and most of all I’m really good at my job.  I’m so good in fact that Abby Lawson seems to think it’s gone to my head.  At least that’s what she’s said in her column on multiple occasions.  “His likability index is lower than a snake’s belly.”  Her words, not mine.  Likability index?  Who talks like that?  Well, she does, and like it or not what she writes is what people believe in this town.

And believe me when I say I’ll do anything to be fire chief.  Anything as in the stunt I’m pulling today at the fireman’s ball, which of course she’s attending because she’s married to one of the guys at our station.  I, and a lot of other fireman, started avoiding him like the plague once I found out he was the one who was spoon feeding information to his wife, which coincidently would appear in her column the next day.  She sees herself as some sort of investigative reporter, taking whatever her husband says as the gospel, and then putting her own spin on it for the public.

Of course we have a rule about speaking to the press.  Don’t do it.  Since everyone besides her husband seems to follow that rule, it means she has no competition when she wants to write something about us.  And it means she knows we won’t respond to anything she says that goes to print.  It’s the perfect situation for her.  She can say whatever she wants, without fear of a reply from us.  That means whatever she says goes, at least in the public’s eyes.

We’ve been told on multiple occasions to just ignore it.  The bigger problem is why is her husband giving her the dirt?  That’s easy.  He’s running for fire chief too.  It’s a neck-and-neck race heading into the final week and I’m not holding back any punches any longer.

“It looks like that girl he rescued,” another voice from behind me says.

“So who’s the lucky lady?” my buddy Fred says as he approaches with an extra glass of two fingers of whiskey in hand.  We’ve been battling blazes for years, and he’s a guy I admire and respect like no other.  My first year on the job I passed out from smoke inhalation while I was trying to make a rescue on the third floor of a residential unit.  Fred not only pulled me out, but he pulled the little girl out as well.  The world could use a lot more guys like Fred.  He’s a true hero.

“This is Julia,” I say, as Fred hands me my preferred adult beverage.

“Julia!  Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” she says.

Her tone sounds perfect, but I can feel by the hand she has in mine that’s she’s nervous.  Her hand is a sweaty, mushy mess…the exact contrast to the cold, firm glass I have in my other.  I quickly tip back half of the whiskey hoping this all goes as planned.  It better, or else I’m in big, big trouble.

CHAPTER 2

Julia

“Isaac tells me you’re from Kiev.”

“Yes.  That is where I was born and lived, until very recently.”

“I’ve never been to Russia.  I hear it’s a beautiful country.  Lots of bears right?”

“I wouldn’t know.  I’ve never been to Russia either.”

“But I thought you were from…” Fred continues.

“Kiev is in Ukraine.  It is the capital.”

“Oh.  Isn’t that pretty much the same thing as—“

“No.  We are very different…very, very different.”

I feel Isaac’s grip tighten on mine, his signal that I need to avoid being so direct.  I’m still not used to these Western ways of speaking and communicating.  Where I come from nothing is sugar coated.  The most commonly heard word is “no.”  I often use it myself.

“Would you like a faux fur coat, Yulia?” my last boyfriend in Kiev asked me.

“What is faux?”

“It is similar to the real thing, just a little different.”

“No.”

“Would you like to go ice fishing, Yulia?” my brother would ask.

“No.”

And my favorite was my mother’s question, which she asked at least ten times per day.  “Will you marry soon, Yulia?”

“No.”

I wanted to be my own woman.  I wanted to do things myself, to go off and see the world.  I wanted to become well rounded and learn new things.  And most importantly I always wanted to see U.S.A.  I had seen it in movies and on television and I knew one day I would visit it and I would absolutely fall in love with it, and maybe an American man too.

Except I didn’t.  When I heard of a work and travel program that was offered to the United States I applied the same day.  It took some time to raise the money to go, but I did it.  And I was excited to be a hostess in an upscale club.  I would meet rich and interesting people, and people who were on holiday and just wanted to unwind and play games like baccarat.  It sounded so fun and exciting.

But from the moment I arrived I knew something was off.  The “upscale club” was high-stakes poker, played in a dark, dirty basement on the outside of town.  I served vodka to high-level Russian mafia bosses while they drank and smoked the night away.

I just reminded myself it was only six months and the money I would make would help my family back home.

I didn’t even make it a week.

The third night on the job someone from a rival group threw gasoline all around the building and then threw a match on it.  Next thing I knew we were being pulled out by firemen and that’s how I met Isaac.

He was kind to me and asked me a few questions about what happened.  When I told him what was going on, his jaw hit the floor.  Apparently no one had any idea such activities were going on inside of this building.  Next thing I knew I was being asked to testify against these men.

But that wasn’t the only thing I was asked to do.  Isaac asked if I could pretend to be his wife for the rest of the time I was here.

I had no job, and my visa didn’t allow me to find another one.  I was only allowed to do the job I came for, which no longer existed.  And to make matters worse, even from thousands of miles away, my mother was still asking me when I was going to get married.  When I left she didn’t even own a mobile phone.  The moment I arrived she was texting me to look my best and to smile at all the successful men I passed.

Isaac’s offer was the best I could do.  He said he would get more money if he became fire chief, and he would give me five thousand dollars if he won.  That was more money than I would have put in my pocket for my original six months of employment so I agreed, and next thing I know here I am pretending to be his wife.

Being that I’m from Ukraine, the idea of working undercover was too hard to resist.  It was just like those Hollywood movies where deadly Eastern European or Russian women infiltrate American society and report the secrets they uncover back to the motherland.  But I wasn’t a spy. I was just interested in seeing how the culture worked and to have a little fun while doing so.

I Americanized my name from Yulia to Julia and we prepared to play the game.

“Oh sorry,” Fred says.  “I hope I didn’t offend you.”

Just be friendly, and always appear that everything is perfect.  Isaac repeated those words on the drive over, and I was already forgetting.

“It’s a commonly held belief.  And Ukraine does translate to the word borderland, which of course refers to the border with Russia.  So I guess you’re actually right,” I say, adding emphasis at the end.

“I knew I had a talent for geography!” Fred says.  I can see he is the kind of man who is the life of the party.  The one everyone likes.  “Just don’t go telling me about Georgia and Hungary…that’s where I really start to get confused.”

“Why is that—“

“Julia, I’d like you to meet Georgia,” Fred says, introducing me to the woman who has just come up from behind him.  “My wife.”

“Nice to meet you, Julia.  Fred tells me you’re from Russia.”

“Yes!” I say, and I feel Isaac’s grip relax.  I must be getting the hang of this.

Georgia turns to Fred.  “Hungry dear?”

I squeeze my face as hard as I can, trying not to laugh.  Now I know what Fred meant.

“See what I mean?” he says turning to me.  He laughs immediately and you can feel the depth of his tone fill the entire room, which is not a small feat considering the number of guests that are here.

“We’ll be back,” he says, and Fred and Georgia take off after a caterer holding a tray of absolutely mouth-watering appetizers.

I lean into Isaac, my mouth less than an inch from his ear.

I hadn’t noticed it before, as I guess there was really no reason or no need, but he has very cute ears.  I inhale, as I prepare to whisper into one of those ears of his, and I catch a whiff of his scent.  I hadn’t noticed it in the drive over.  What is that?  He smells like the forest in autumn…like wood chips on the floor of the garage in my grandfather’s dacha, or summer home, where he built things when I was a little girl.

I look at Isaac’s eyes.  From the side you can almost see through them.  It’s a big contrast from the almost black shade of his eyes that you seen when you’re looking right at him.  I like the color.  It matches the uniform he’s wearing.

If there’s one thing that’s universal, it’s a woman’s appreciation for a man in uniform.  In my country girls practically fall over themselves for such a man.  I guess here it’s no different.  As much as this country I find myself in is different, I am starting to notice it’s more and more like home.  No one would believe me if I said such a thing, but it’s true.

“Am I doing—“

I feel Isaac’s grip tighten again and suddenly we’re moving forward.

“I need a drink,” he says.

“Is everything okay?” I ask trying to match his speed as he moves toward the bar.

“You can’t ask me how you’re doing.  Someone might hear.  Someone might figure us out.”

“Oh,” I say.  “I thought I could just whisper—“

“You can’t, Julia.  No-one can know,” he says, suddenly stopping as he turns to look at me.

Those dark eyes of his find mine, and then start moving up and down and side-to-side as he surveys my face.  It’s like he’s trying to remember it in case he has to draw it later, for a police sketch or something.

Suddenly his eyes move down to my chest and then back up.  He got this dress for me, which is bright red and shows off a lot of cleavage.  He wanted everyone to see us, he said on the drive over.  Everyone had to know we were together.  It was part of his plan.

But what wasn’t part of his plan was the way he looks in that uniform and how it’s making me feel.  How he grabs my hand tightly and claims me, or is he just telling me I’m out of line?  I’m confused.

“No-one can know that this isn’t real,” he says, finishing his sentence this time.

“Of course not,” I say.  “I don’t want to get in any trouble.”

And I don’t.  But by trouble I mean any trouble for what we’re doing.  I’m not talking about actually developing any sort of feelings for this guy.  That’s a whole separate kind of trouble that will never happen.  I mean, how could I feel for someone who I’m just playing a game with?  It’s just pretend like when I was a little girl playing with dolls.  It’s not real.

The way he just checked out my breasts isn’t real.  The way he seems uneasy at the other men looking at me…not real either.  And the way he’s holding my gaze right now, as if we’re the only two people in the room…definitely not real.

It’s just a game after all.  A game and nothing more.  But we have a proverb where I am from…appetite comes from eating.

And by the way he’s looking at me in my dress right now, he’s thinks I’m a juicy red delicious apple and he wants to take a bite.

CHAPTER 3

Isaac

“Two shots of Jägermeister,” a voice next to me says.  “You in, Captain Irons?”

I turn and look.  It’s Jacobs, the kid we just brought on last month.  Either I’m getting older or these new fireman are getting a whole lot younger.

“No thanks, Jacobs.  I’m good with my whiskey.”

“Whiskey?  That looks like a water you’re drinking.”

“I’m alternating.”

“Right.  Have to stay sober for networking.  Well, don’t worry Captain Irons.  You’ve got my vote.”

“Thanks, Jacobs.  Appreciate your support.”

“No problem,” he says, as the bartender places a full shot glass in front of each of us.  I shake my head when the bartender looks my way.  He slides the second shot glass next to the first, right in front of Jacobs.

“And speaking of having my vote, I give that one a perfect ten,” Jacobs says.

I repeat his words in my mind wondering what in the heck he’s talking about.  It he judging the shots like drinking is now an Olympic sport?  Who knows?  Then again I don’t really care.  I’ve got my hands full with Julia.  Maybe bringing her here wasn’t such a good idea.  We should have practiced alone first…gotten her use to the way this should have worked, and not the way it’s currently working.

She’s come close to blowing the lid off our little charade, and in the process she’s almost rubbed a few too many people the wrong way.  I guess I underestimated her directness.

“Look at that one,” Jacobs says, elbowing me in the ribs.

I try to ignore him, opting to look to my right hoping to see Julia come out of the bathroom any second now.  Nothing.

I scan the room making sure Abby is in sight.  I can only imagine her following Julia into the bathroom and then trying to butter her up for information.  I would be ruined.  We’d both be ruined.

I wonder if they let you off with a lighter sentence if you’re not already married.  Engagements can be broken, and we’re not planning on going through with this thing anyways.  We haven’t signed any papers anyways.  An engagement is just an agreement between two people, right?  It’s a civil matter, not criminal one.

I can’t believe I’m having these thoughts.  Then again I can’t believe some of the thoughts I’m having about Julia.

I bought her that bright red dress so everyone would see I’m with someone.  I need to appeal to as wide an audience as possible, and having a spouse, or fiancée in this case, does that for me.  But as much as I was hoping to appeal to a lot of voters, what I wasn’t expecting was Julia to appeal so much to me.

I mean, when I pulled her out of that fire I could see she was a really good-looking girl, even though she was covered in soot and had been working all night.

Come to think about it, she didn’t really seem that scared when I got to her.  Then again, nothing seems to worry her too much.  I’ve never met a woman that’s so direct and sure of herself like a man, but is so feminine at the same time.  Must be something in the water over there in Russia…I mean Ukraine.

And what are they putting in the water that makes the women look so incredible in red dresses?  I want everyone to notice her, but it turns out I’m the one who can’t take my eyes off her.  I think she caught me checking out her cleavage earlier.  I can’t believe I did that.  Then again I am a man and she is a woman…a very, beautiful woman who’s strong and independent.

I don’t have a type of girl that I usually like.  Then again I haven’t had a girl in awhile.  It’s not that I couldn’t.  The offers are definitely there.  I’m in incredible shape, regardless of my age.  I’ve been saving some money over the years, and am not afraid to enjoy some it if the right girl comes along.  And everybody in town knows I’m a fireman.  I can’t go out at night, or even linger in the frozen foods section at the grocery store, without some lady from the bar offering to slide down my pole, or let me unload my hose, or one of the other clichés that fireman always hear.

As crazy as it sounds I want a girl who wants me for me.  I know a lot of guys get in this line of work for the women, but not me.  I was the kid who read comic books.  I wanted to be a superhero, so I could rescue people.  It took a lot of work to get to where I am today.  A lot of lifting heavy iron every day for over thirty years in the gym.  A lot of vacations missed because I studied fire disbursement patterns in various residential and commercial structures.  A lot of late nights memorizing the blueprints of the buildings that hold the most number of workers during the day.  I need to be ready in case anything ever happens.

When most guys were out on dates, I was at home reading books about profiling crazy arsonists.  I’m really all in on my commitment to being a complete and professional firefighter, and I know I’d make a great chief.

What I don’t know is why I keep thinking about her, and what’s taking her so long in the bathroom.

“They’re swarming on her like bees to honey,” Jacobs continues.

“What?”

“The new girl.  The one everyone’s talking about.”

“Who is everyone talking…”

I turn and see Julia smiling as about ten different men are trying to chat her up at the same time.  They’re all standing around her like they’re waiting for her approval…waiting for her to just look their direction or to say one word to them.

How in the world did she slide out of the bathroom and wind up over there?  And how did I miss her when she did?  I’ve been eyeing that bathroom entrance for ten minutes.  And she’s wearing red for Pete’s sake.

I feel my stomach tighten, and I want to sock Jacobs in the jaw.

“Well they better stop talking, because that’s my girl!” I say, slamming my glass down on the bar before marching straight over to her.

CHAPTER 4

Julia

I can see Isaac moving my direction out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t look his way.  He’s covering ground quickly and I know he’s going to be irritated again, especially since I’m sure he can tell I’m having too much fun.

All these guys are asking me questions about Isaac and how we met.  I’m retelling the story of him saving me, adding more and more details and making him seem like more of a hero with each word.

“I see you met Julia,” he says as he arrives.

I blow him a kiss, and he tries to smile out of the corner of his mouth, but I can see he’s angry.  He’s not hiding it well.

“How come you never introduced us to Julia?  She’s so much fun.” one of the men from the station says.

“I was just waiting on the right moment,” he says between gritted teeth.  “Right honey?”

“Right,” I say, sliding through the crowd to be next to him.  I stop just short and place my finger on his chest, before running it down his uniform.

“Next vacation I’m taking is to Russia!” one of the men says.

“You got any sisters, Julia?” another asks.

“Unfortunately I am an only child,” I say.  “And ever since this big guy rescued me I only have eyes for him.”  I lean in and kiss him on the cheek.

I can tell Isaac wants to banish these guys to the frozen tundra of Siberia during the coldest days of January, but we’re a long way from there, and the more time I’m spending here at the Fireman’s Ball the more I’m feeling like maybe America could just be my home.

I remind myself that I was extremely unlucky when I first arrived.  And those bad men?  They were Russians, so I really haven’t met many true Americans yet.

Not until now.

And even though I’m surrounded by a bunch of guys that any girl would drool over, there’s just something special about Isaac that makes him stand out from the rest.  He’s a leader.  Now that the other guys know I’m here with him I see their body language change.  The men who were feeling so confident with their chests puffed out like proud peacocks now have their shoulders rounded and are doing everything they can not to draw Isaac’s ire.  It’s not just because he probably outranks some of them.  It’s much more than that.  Even when he’s perturbed, he still carries himself so confidently, and if anything the way he’s being so protective of me right now is turning me on even more.  Just the way he’s claiming me here is enough to make my heart rate pick up like I am running from a bear.

But the bear is now him.  The way he hunted me from across the room.  The way he came at me like he was going to eat me alive.  He’s a man who knows what he wants and he goes for it with everything he’s got.

And where I’m from women look for a strong man.  It’s a tough life, and we need a tougher man to help us get through.  And not only that, but we have to be tough ourselves.  There’s something about Isaac in his uniform, and the way he’s biting his lip right now showing that he can control himself even though I know he would rather let loose some very strong words to these guys, leaving them crystal clear about the fact that I’m off limits to anyone but him.  I like a man who can control his emotions…at least when it comes to a public setting that is.  Behind closed doors it’s my job to make sure he can’t.  To make sure that no matter how hard he tries to resist, he can’t do anything other than lose control with me.  It’s one of the many jobs of a woman.  We need to be a lady in the streets, and a freak in the sheets.

But unfortunately I had no chances to prove this back home.  Although I had a boyfriend before, there was no man that caught my eye.  And now that I’m finally here in the States I find myself in a fake marriage.  How ironic is that?

But it seems Isaac is taking it a little more seriously than before.  Is he worried that I’m going to say the wrong thing, or is he actually…jealous?

“Sorry, guys,” he says, as I see he’s trying to be as professional as possible.  “I need to borrow her for a minute.”

I offer him my arm, which he takes and then leads us away from these men.

“What did you say to them?”

“I told them how you rescued me.  The truth.  That you are a hero.”

“What else?” he asks.

“That’s all.”

“How long were you over there?”

“Isaac,” I say leaning closer to his ear.  “I was only over there for a few minutes.  Some guys started talking to me so I told them how great of a guy you are.”

“Okay,” he says.

“You were the one who bought this dress for me.  You were the one who set this whole thing up.  Remember?”

“I know,” he says.  “I just don’t want some guy trying to…to mess things up.”

“To mess things up?”

“Right.”

“There’s nothing to mess up, is there?”

“You know…the vote.  My image.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about…honey.  Those guys are going to vote for you and I’m sure your image has improved.”

“Why do you say that?”

“They said something about you being too serious.  I told them it’s just that you take your job very seriously and you are the ultimate professional.”

“That’s good,” he says.

“And I told them you aren’t always so serious.”

“You what?”

“You want to change people’s perception of you, right?  I’m helping.”

“Going off script is not the same as helping.”

He doesn’t even see the irony in his comments, because he can’t see that it’s clear that he’s the one going off script.  This may be a fake engagement, but what isn’t fake is the way I can see how much he truly cares about me, much more than he’s letting on.

“So if I bit your ear right now…that wouldn’t be helping?”

“Definitely not,” he says, as I breathe out hard against his neck.  His hair is cut close but I can still see goose bumps forming…on his head!

“Or if I ran my hand along your chest right now, like this,” I say, doing exactly that with my hand, “that it wouldn’t help.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m showing the world that you’re not as cold and calculating as everyone seems to think.”

“I don’t need your help right now,” he says.

“Isn’t it ironic that your cinema portrays Russian, and Ukrainian, women as cold and calculating, but here I am trying to show you how to live a little more spontaneously?  How to enjoy life.  I thought you Americans were so bubbly and full of life…at least that’s what your movies and TV shows led me to believe.  So isn’t that true, or did I just manage to find someone who’s just as cold as the Eastern European winters?”

“We all express our emotions differently,” he says.

He’s right.  And I don’t know what’s gotten into me.  Maybe it’s the dress or maybe it’s the fact that such a big strong man seems so nervous of what I might do next.  I would never do anything to jeopardize his future, and that includes the election.  But I’m feeling a certain power over how much he’s worried about me.  I never thought a small girl from the middle of nowhere on a globe could do such a thing to a mighty fireman.  But I have no intention of making him uncomfortable.  If anything he’s the one who’s making me uncomfortable.

I feel alive and a bit aggressive, which surprises me.  I feel like grabbing him and showing him what passion and lust for life really looks like.  I want to show him how to be spontaneous.  The only thing that’s stopping me is our agreement.  At least that’s what I tell myself.

But I know the truth.  If I start, I’m not so sure I could stop.

CHAPTER 5

Isaac

What have I gotten myself into?

Part of me can’t believe how Julia is talking to me, and the other part of me is so turned on I want to take her right here and now.  Just grab her hand and pull her into the bathroom and do all kinds of things to her that I’ve never dreamed of before.

I imagine the stall door slamming open and us ducking inside, but not shutting it behind us.  I lift up her dress just as quickly as I pull my pants down to my mid-thigh.  I’m so turned on I don’t even have the time to get them all the way down.  I’m just overcome with the need to fuck her so bad that I just bury my cock in her dripping wet pussy right there in the bathroom.

It would never work though.  I wouldn’t put her, or us, out there like that.  I wouldn’t want people talking about her after something like that.  It would make me so mad to hear anyone say anything bad about her that I wouldn’t be able to hold back my fists.

My mind shifts to the alley.  Are there cameras around this part of town?  Surely some of the businesses have them.

Her face is still inches from the side of mine.  I adjust my feet so there’s more space between my legs, trying to conceal my erection.  It’s not working.

“If you get out of control again,” I begin, “I’m going to have to spank you.”

“You’ll have to will you?”

“You’ll leave me no other choice.  That’s what bad girls get.  Spanked.”

“I didn’t know I was being a bad girl?”

“A very, very bad girl is exactly what you are being.”

“I am?” Abby Lawson says.

I turn my head slightly and my eyes even more.  I can see she’s standing right behind us.  She snuck up on us like the predator that she is, hungry for the kill in the form of some juicy gossip.

“Julia, right?  I don’t think we’ve met.”

Julia introduces herself and at the same moment the city mayor approaches from the front.  I’m stuck.  He hasn’t backed either of the candidates yet, and I need his support.  If he backs one of us before the election it’s likely all over for the other guy.  The mayor is admired in this town, and nothing would mean more than a simple statement in the paper from him.

“Congratulations on your engagement,” he begins.

“Thank you, mayor,” I say keeping my eyes focused on him and my ears focused on Abby and Julia.

I’m in a pickle here and there’s no way out.

“That was pretty fast, wasn’t it?”

“Well, you know when you find the one you know.  Just like you and the Mrs.”

“You do know we’re getting a divorce?”

“Oh.  My apologies.  I didn’t hear.”

“It was on the front page this morning.  How didn’t you hear?  Don’t you follow the news?”

“Today has been hectic.  I put all my energy into preparing for tonight’s ball.  Plus I’m newly engaged,” I say, motioning down towards the ring on Julia’s finger.

“The fire chief has to be in the loop, Isaac.  It’s 24/7 365.  There are no off days.  You know that.”

“Yes, mayor.”

I’m getting chided by the mayor while Julia is talking a mile a minute to Abby…in Russian, or is it Ukrainian?  Abby speaks that language?  What the heck?  I’ve got to stop this fast.

“But I will say if you’ve got to pick a wife, you certainly picked a good one.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say, getting distracted from Julia and Abby and feeling like socking the mayor.  Why is everyone checking out my fiancée?  And after they check her out they all want to come to me and make some sort of attaboy type comment?  Why don’t they just leave us be?

Then again I guess there really is no us in the first place.

“Mayor,” someone calls from off in the distance.

“Have to be going,” the mayor says.  “Enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, mayor.  You too.”

I immediately turn and see that Julia is gone!  I scan the room and don’t see any sign of her or Abby.

“Excuse me,” I say, waiving my hand to get the attention of the caterer who is serving drinks in our area.

“Another round, sir?”

“No.  I was hoping you saw where the lady in the red dress went.”

“Who didn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

“The lady she was standing with jiggled a set of keys and then they walked right across the dance floor.  Every single drunk guy stopped what he was doing and stared…sober ones too.”

“Did they use the elevator for the low floors or the high ones?”

“Elevator?”

“Yeah, you said the lady jiggled a set of keys.”

“Not room keys.  Car keys.  And the keychain had a Ferrari symbol.”

CHAPTER 6

Isaac

“You just missed them,” the valet says.

I breathe in deep, catching my breath from sprinting over to him.

“Who was driving?”

“The lady in the red dress.”

“The lady in the red dress?” I say, raising my voice.

“She said she hadn’t had anything to drink.”

“No.  I mean that’s right.  She’s totally sober, but she doesn’t have a license.”

“She doesn’t?  I can call it in.”

“No.  It’s not that.  I mean she has a license from another country…probably.”

“Sir, I can call the police and they’ll—”

“It’s okay,” I say.  “Everything will be okay.  No police.  She’ll be back soon.”

I walk back inside feeling defeated.

Abby’s a professional at this.  She’s going to extract all the information she needs, and then dump her right back here on my lap…used and abused.

Why did I ever even come up with this fake fiancée idea?

And worst yet, she seems like a nice girl.  She does have a bit of a wild streak to her, but still…I could have just asked her out the traditional way and found that out.

I was just in such a big hurry that I rushed into this without thinking.  Plus I didn’t ever expect to really get married anyways, at least not married to anything other than my job.  And to continue down that path I needed to be fire chief or else I would have wasted everything I worked for.  And it’s not like I would have had another chance.

This is the kind of position you get and then never leave.  I mean the outgoing chief has been there thirty-three years.  I’m no spring chicken either, so this is my one and only shot.

Maybe that’s it.   Maybe I’ve lost touch after all those years buried in my work.  I should have lived a more well rounded life and I wouldn’t have had this problem.

Marriage.  Two point five kids.  White picket fence.  The American dream.

But there was no way I was going to get married just for the sake of it.  I don’t even have meaningless hook up sex.  I’m a dinosaur compared to the younger generation.  Even this young Eastern European girl reminded me of that.

The writing’s on the wall.  I’m cooked.  I’ll be exposed and I’ll have to leave the only town I’ve ever known without so much as a reference.  I’ll be lucky to get a job teaching CPR on the weekends to high school kids.

I avoid the room where the ball is still going full blast and make my way to the elevator to my room.

When I arrive I put my key card in the door and the light flashes red.  Of course, it’s been one of those nights.  I take the elevator back down and after a quick recharge at the reception desk I’m standing back in front of my door.

This time the key does the trick, and I walk into my room and faceplate on the bed.

CHAPTER 7

Isaac

Knock.  Knock.  Knock.

The water rains down over me in the shower.  After dozing off for fifteen minutes I got up to take a quick shower.  I need the cleanse after everything that’s gone on today.  I need it to try and unwind, but it seems like someone else has other plans.

I towel off and make my way to the door.  Whoever it is has their hand over the peephole.

Knock.  Knock.  Knock.

I open the door.

“Hey!  I’m back.”

“You ran off,” I say holding the door open as she steps in as if nothing happened.

“I didn’t run off.  My job is to convince people that we’re real.  That’s exactly what I was doing.”

“With Abby Lawson?  She’s a professional dirt digger.  She’ll pretend to be your friend to your face and then stab you in the back.”

“She is my friend.”

“Oh my god,” I say.  Abby must have pulled the wool over her eyes.  That didn’t take long.  “What did you tell her?”

“Not much, at least about us.  We just talked about Eastern Europe and Russia.”

“So she thinks you’re some poor mail-order bride now.”

“Actually…no.  She’s the poor mail-order bride.”

“Come again?”

“She immigrated to this country years ago after her husband found her on a website.  They started emailing and next thing you know she had a green card and eventually citizenship.”

“You’re joking?”

“No.  That’s why she picked the name Abby.  She learned English by reading that column, and she wanted to be able to support herself over here if something went wrong.  That’s why she started her own version of Dear Abby.”

“That’s what she wants you to believe.”

“It’s the truth, Isaac,” she says.  “We spoke in Russian the entire time.  The words she used…they way she spoke…I believe her.”

“What did you tell her about us?”

“Just what happened on my own journey.”

“Including the fact that this is pretend?”

“Of course not.  I conveniently left that part out.”

I realize I’m still standing in my towel and Julia’s laid out on top of the bed.  She’s been looking me in the eye the entire time we were talking, but now that I’ve paused her eyes have started to wander.

“Do you mind if I take a shower?” she asks.

“No.  Go right ahead,” I say.

Julia jumps up from the bed and reaches for the bottom of her dress.  She begins pulling it up just as she turns the corner and enters the bathroom.

What is she doing to me?  Does she know how long it’s been since I’ve been with a woman?  Does she know what I’m thinking right now?

“Can you hand me a towel?” she asks, her head popping out from around the corner.  “It’s on the table,” she says pointing toward it.

“Yeah, sure,” I say.

I grab the towel and consider tossing it to her, but don’t.  I walk it over to the door and stop an arms length from the entrance.  I extend my hand that’s holding the towel.

“Thanks,” she says, never taking her eyes off of mine as she takes it from my grasp.

Is she in her bra and panties?  Did she even have any on underneath that dress?  Is she naked?

I want to take one more step around that corner and grab her right now.  I feel my towel start to rise, and I take a step back towards the bed.

Julia holds my gaze, before smiling.  “Everything will be okay.  You just have to trust me.”

I want to yell, “How can I trust you?”  Then it hits me…we’re both in this game together, which means she should have no reason to trust me either.

But as much as I’m not sure I can trust her, I’m more concerned whether or not I can trust myself…in a different way.

I hear the water turn on and the shower door close as she steps in.

“Ahhh.  A shower feels so good right now,” she says.

I sit on the bed and realize my erection is only getting bigger.  Why does she have to moan like that?  Why does she have to tease me like this?

Just a few minutes later she’s out of the shower and turning the corner coming back into the main room.

There’s still some water on her skin.  It’s beading up, almost like sweat on her chest on a hot summer’s day.  The towel’s wrapped just above where her nipples must be and goes barely below her butt.  The towel is small enough to show me more than enough to whet my appetite, but big enough to keep what I hunger for a complete mystery.  I immediately imagine the knot she’s tied in between her breasts coming undone and the towel falling to the floor, causing me to come undone as well and bringing out the animal in me.

“Do you have anything to wear to bed?” I ask.

“I brought something,” she says, digging in her purse.

She reaches in and pulls out something that looks like about three tissues wadded up in a ball.  It’s black, and when she shakes it out and holds it up, it’s clearly transparent and completely sexy.

She faces away from me and slides each of her legs into it, pulling it up just as the towel falls behind her.  She pulls the straps up and over her shoulder and turns to face me as if everything is totally normal.

“So I was thinking,” she begins.  I can’t take my eyes off her.  I’m not even trying to hide it now.  My eyes start at her legs and work their way up her entire body, following her curves all the way up to her breasts.  I can see her nipples popping out in between the lace patterns, or whatever they’re called.  She’s standing close to the air conditioner and it should be cooling us down, but it’s doing anything but.  It’s making her body more firm and her nipples even harder.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I say putting my hands in my lap, trying to cover my erection.

“Oh right.  I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” she says looking down at her body.

“No.  Not at all,” I say.  It’s the most obvious lie in the entire world.

“Where I’m from we’re very open about our bodies.  We don’t view the body as sexual.  A body is just a body.  We all have one.”

“Right,” I say.  “But some bodies are created differently.”

“Sure, but they’re more the same than they are different.”

She’s not the same.  Far from it.  I’ve never seen a woman that made me feel this animalistic…this feral.

“Do you mind if I get into bed?” she asks.

“No, not at all,” I say, standing as she slides in under the covers pretending to be oblivious to the way this is making me feel.  Surely she knows the truth.

“I think I’ll try and go to sleep now.”

“Yeah, me too,” I say, knowing that sleep is the furthest thing from my mind.  I took a fifteen-minute nap earlier and seeing her in that thing she calls pajamas makes me feel like I just downed five double espressos.  My heart is beating out of my chest.

I grab the phone and hit the button for the front desk.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, I’m just,” I put up one finger to her.  “Hi.  Is it possible to get a rollaway up to our room?”

She’s staring at me intently as I listen to the receptionist.  “Right.  I understand.  Thanks.”

I hang up the phone and look around the room.  No couches.  Just two chairs by the table.

“What’s the matter?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I say.  “Do you need the lights?”

“No thanks.”

I flip the lights off and walk over toward the table.  I line up the chairs so I can sit in one and put my feet in the other.  I tilt my head down like a cowboy and try and fall asleep.

“What are you doing?  Come to bed.”

“I’m okay over here,” I say.

“How can you be okay over there?  You’re going to freeze with the air conditioning.”

“I like it cold.”

“Isaac, I have seen these American western movies.  Is that what you’re doing?  There is no horse here and there is no hat to tip down to cover your eyes.  The fire is over here, and it gets cold in the desert at night.  Please, you’re making me feel bad for having this entire bed all to myself.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“Okay,” she says, and through the darkness I see her shake her head in dismay as she pulls the covers up to her neck.

But I’m not all right.  This position is extremely uncomfortable and I know if I try sitting in one chair and putting my head on the table it isn’t going to work either.  I’ve tried that way before, and it never works for me.

What I really want is to just go back to a week ago and wish this whole thing never happened.  But I know that’s not true.  What I really want is her, and she’s a few feet from me in a black, transparent lingerie thing…and she’s practically begging me to come to her.

I need to win this election, I repeat to myself inside my head over and over like a broken record.  Stay focused, Isaac…but I clearly can’t.

And that’s the problem.  As much as I know I need to be the fire chief, that I’ve worked my entire career to get here, now it’s clear to me that I need something else entirely.

The right woman.  And my body and my mind are telling me that after all these years I’ve finally found her.

CHAPTER 8

Julia

I can’t believe he’s resisting my advances.  And I can’t believe I’m resisting him.  I want to go over there and jump on top of him and ride him while he sits in that chair.

My eyes are open staring at the ceiling.  What’s wrong with me?  Why won’t he come to bed?  I took care of Abby for him, and now I want him to take care of me.

We are engaged after all.  I giggle quietly at the irony.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.  Apparently he’s not sleeping either.

“Nothing,” I say.

“You were laughing at something,” he says.

I move my head in his direction and I see his hands are in his lap.  He’s trying his best to conceal his desire, but it’s not working.  He’s still got that towel wrapped around him.  He was so focused on not sleeping in the bed with me that he didn’t even put on anything for bed.

“It’s just funny that we’re supposed to be engaged, but here we are now…like this.”

His feet come off the chair and he places them on the floor.  He stands up from his chair and takes a step in my direction.

“Because this isn’t real,” he says, as he takes another step.

“Definitely not,” I say.

“It’s just a mutually beneficial arrangement, for both of us.”

“Right,” I say, as he sits down on the edge of the bed and leans toward me.

“That’s why you don’t feel anything when I do this,” he says, as he runs the back of his fingertips up my arm.

“Nothing,” I say, my goose bumps giving me away.

“Or when I touch your face,” he says, as his hand rolls over and his thumb runs along my cheek.

“Zero.  Zilch.  Nada.”

He leans in closer and I feel my heart pounding against my chest.

“Nothing,” he says softly, his warm breath cutting through the cool air in the room and cloaking the skin on my face.

“Nut uh,” I moan softly and he leans in the last little bit and his lips meet mine, causing all hell to break lose.

I grab the sides of his face and pull his kiss into me, our lips pressing together harder.

His feet come off the floor and he’s yanks the cover off of me exposing my nipples, which are so hard they’re nearly piercing the fabric.

His hand finds my breast and he squeezes it hard as I raise my chest, pressing it into his firm grip.

My back arches and his other hand slides underneath me and pulls my body to his as he mounts me on the bed.

I can feel his muscles meet my body and my legs spread.  He slides up in the bed causing his thigh to grind along my middle, covering his skin with my wetness.

His hands grab for my spaghetti straps and he pulls them to the side, my breasts popping out but quickly covered by his hand on one side and his mouth on the other.

I run my hands through his hair and lift my midsection desperately, hoping he’ll rub his body across mine again, sending a tingling sensation that starts from my pussy and continues through my entire body.  He slides back and then forward, doing just that.

He yanks my lingerie down and pulls it past my ankles, my feet pointing straight towards the ceiling, my pussy fully exposed.

He slowly reaches for his towel like a gunslinger and whips his hand across his body exposing his long, hard cock.

He slides in and mounts me, placing his cock at my opening.

This isn’t a game anymore.  This is real…very real.

“Fuck me,” I say and he pushes his hips forward guiding his dick inside me, opening me slowly.  The nerve endings in my walls feel every part of his cock as he splits me like wet pine.

He moves his hips in rhythm and I feel like our bodies are dancing together to the beat in our heads.

“Fuck me harder,” I say.  As much as I am already enjoying this, I want to feel the passion of a man possessed in his desire to own me.  “Like I know you want to.”

He responds to my words as his hand slides forward and he fists a handful of my hair, twisting it, which causes my body to arch slightly sideways.  He pulls my hair toward him, as his dick hammers into me at the one o’clock position, the perfect position for getting me off.

I feel his hands come down hard on my hips and he spins me over onto my stomach.  I reach for the headboard and just as I grab it with both hands he pulls me back like a sack of potatoes, sending my ass barreling into his hip bones.  He repeats the move over and over again, my body moving back and forth and flopping side to side as he fucks me into next week.

I’m reaching for something, anything, but coming up empty.

I feel one hand release as he grabs my hair again and pulls it back toward him.

“Uhhh,” I moan through gritted teeth.  His other hand joins his first and now he’s pulling even harder.

I’m doing everything I can not to cum, but I’m fighting a losing battle.  He’s fucking me so good it makes me feel like I’ve been asleep for years and now I’m finally awake.

One hand comes off my hair and slides under my armpit and wraps back toward him, grabbing my shoulder giving him even more leverage to drill me deeper.

His body comes down on mine and I feel those rock hard abs of his against my lower back.  He’s still got my hair as he moves his hand, placing it on the sheet causing my head to rotate back.

I’m breathing hard through my nose like a bull ready to charge, but the only bull here is him.  He’s a wild animal who’s attacking my pussy with a reckless abandon, and I’m loving every second of it.

“Hold on,” he says.  “I’m gonna make you cum right now.”

His confidence is all it takes, but he offers even more as he somehow finds another gear as it feels like his entire body is slamming against mine as the legs of the bed bounce off the floor and the headboard slams against the wall.

I feel my midsection tighten and my pussy erupts like a dormant volcano that’s been brought back from the dead, spewing my hot juices all over his dick.

“Uhhhhh!” he yells, in a voice just as raspy as molten lava rolling over black hardened stone as he unleashes inside me, which send my pussy into a second geyser almost as powerful as the first.

He drives his hips forward once more and then stops, his juices filling me as I feel my hair pulling and releasing in short bursts as his arms spasm.

Suddenly his entire body collapses onto mine sending us face first onto the bed, causing the front left leg to snap as we slide to that side, which causes the back left leg to follow suit as we roll off that side of the bed entirely and onto the floor.

We’re panting, trying to get air when suddenly we both start bursting out laughing.

“Looks like I’m still not going to get to sleep in that bed after all.”

“Why would we want to sleep?” I say.

“And that angle will be perfect.  I can bend you over and hit you inside just where you need it most.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“It’s like the Liberator Wedge, but an entire bed.”

“I was barely born the last time America liberated Eastern Europe,” I say.

I see a mischievous smile creep across his face.  “Well then, Uncle Sam definitely owes you one…and I’m here to pay that debt.”

CHAPTER 9

Isaac

Two days later

“Ror…n…ta,” I say, trying to pronounce the funny letters on the front of the book Julia is reading in the green room.  We’re waiting to be interviewed on TV about my bid for fire chief, and how the two of us met.

Julia’s eyes move from the page to meet mine.  She flips over the book so the cover is facing her, and then moves her eyes down to it.  She starts laughing.

“How did you pronounce it?”  She starts laughing.

“Rornta?”

She laughs even harder at my second attempt.  “It’s in Cyrillic.  It’s Lolita.”

“Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov?”

“There’s only one Lolita,” she says.  “I’ve probably read it at least ten times.

“In Cyrillic?”

“Always.  It’s my mother tongue, and Nabokov’s too.  There are certain words which just don’t translate.  It has so much feeling in Russian.”

“But don’t you speak Ukrainian?”

“That too, and it’s kind of similar, but my mother tongue is Russian.  Kiev is split, and Ukraine is in general.  The Western part will get angry with you if you speak to them in Russian.  The eastern part speaks almost entirely in Russian.”

“Because of what happened a few years ago?”

“Way before that.  What boiled over has been there for years.  It just came to a head unfortunately, and it’s one of the reasons I wanted to get out while I could.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.  I escape in my books so I barely even noticed the war raging around me.”

“You’re joking?”

“No.  When I’m reading I’m lost in my own little world.”

I nod my head.

“Do you read?”

“Actually I do.  We have a lot of down time at the station.  Some guys play video games.  Some guys watch movies and TV.  I read.”

“Really?  What do you read?”

“A lot of things, but my favorite are the short stories of Anton Chekov.”

“A great author.”

“Incredible.  I also read Gogol, Dostoyevsky, and Tolstoy.”

“All Russians.”

“Maybe I have a fascination with them.  From Russia with Love is one of my favorite movies, and it introduced me to the book and a world of reading.”

“Wow.  It’s usually the other way around I thought.”

“It is, but I guess I do things a little differently.”

“I would say so,” she says.

I smile knowing how different everything we’ve already been through has already been, and in such a short amount of time too.  It was just two days ago that we spent the entire night having incredible, hot, sweaty sex even though the aircon was on full blast in our room.  Our bodies fit together like the last puzzle piece does to the puzzle you’ve been working on for days, or in this case a lifetime.

“You’re up,” the head that is suddenly sticking inside the room says.

“Here goes nothing,” I say, and we stand up and make our way to the live interview room.

Over the next fifteen minutes we’re asked questions from both the hosts of the show and callers.  I was expecting a lot of calls about my candidacy, but it’s anything but.  People are calling in asking about our relationship.  They’re mostly women callers, and I watch as Julia fields the questions with ease.  She answers with passion and enthusiasm, spinning the tail more and more romantically as she goes.

The two anchors of the show are women and I watch as Julia holds them spellbound with her words.  I could only imagine if she wasn’t here.  I would fumble through this and probably give stoic one-word answers.  She’s really a game changer when it comes to dealing with the public.

We finish up the interview, and check the latest online polls.  I’ve shot up seven percent since just before the interview began.  Julia is worth her weight in gold, or should I say my wait for her.  Where has she been all this time?

“Thank you,” I say as I offer her a high five.

“A high five?  Is that any way to treat your fiancée?” she jokes…I think.

I lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek, then I open the car door for her and we drive off.

“Feel like an ice cream?” I ask as we sit at a stoplight.

“If they have chocolate, they have my heart,” she says.

I like that she’s colorful and full of life, from her clothing to her words.  I picked out the red dress to get attention, but I didn’t even know red was her favorite color, and one she wore often.

My stoic ways combined with her outgoing personality are quite the opposites, but somehow they come together to balance each other out perfectly.  If anything I feel more talkative and energetic when I’m around her.  I’ve always had a lot of energy and I work out a lot, but there’s something about her that pumps me up more than any amount of caffeine or exercise ever could.

“I know just the place,” I say, as I shift into fifth gear.

I look forward at the road ahead, trying to will us to the ice cream shop even quicker.

Out of nowhere I feel her hand come to rest on top of mine.  I turn and look at her, and think what this really means.

I may be driving, and I’m in control…or that’s just the way it seems.  We’re doing this together, and she’s letting me lead, but deep down I’m starting to wonder who’s really driving this relationship forward.  But it’s not a relationship…I don’t think.

But I’ve never had a relationship that felt like this.  If it’s better than any relationship that I’ve ever had, but it’s not a relationship, then what is it?

It looks like a duck.  It walks like a duck.  It quacks like a duck.  And I’m still telling myself it’s not a duck.

I can’t keep fooling myself, because my brain can’t accept my attempts to trick it much longer.

CHAPTER 10

Isaac

Four days later

Can you meet? - Abby

I look at the text again, and shake my head from side to side.  Am I dreaming?

Don’t think that’s a good idea.

Why in the world would she want to meet?

Need to clear up some things, and discuss the campaign.

What is there to clear up?  Everything she touches she destroys.  Discuss the campaign?  Her husband is running against me and I’ve pulled ahead in the final days, thanks to Julia.  This is not the time to go and ruin it at the last second.

Sorry.  I can’t.

Not what you think.  Coming to the station.

The last thing I need is for this to go down here, but on the other hand I’m not sure if she’s bluffing.  It’s not worth the risk.  Why won’t she just leave me alone?

Starbucks.  Text me when you arrive.

Will do.

I set my phone on the table and start wondering what she wants to really talk about, and how I’m going to avoid getting caught up in some sort of trap.

Less than ten minutes goes by and I get a text that she’s already at Starbucks.  I exit the station in my uniform.  The last thing I need is something appearing in the paper of me in civilian clothes meeting up with her.

Just before I walk into Starbucks I text her again, changing the location to a sushi restaurant three doors down.  It will be empty at this time, and I don’t expect the owner will be the type to care what two people are talking about.

I walk into the sushi restaurant and two minutes later the door opens and there she is.  She has a look of remorse on her face as she walks straight to my table.

She looks sorry for something she’s done.  I can only imagine what she’s done to me now.

CHAPTER 11

Abby

“Thanks for meeting with me,” I say.

“What’s up?” he asks.  I can see he’s itching to leave, and I can’t blame him.

“I just want to say I’m sorry.”

His head doesn’t move.  He says nothing.

“I’ve written a lot of things I wish I could take back, but I can’t.  But I know now it’s not entirely too late to do what’s right.”

“What do you want from me, Abby?”

“You have every right to be angry.  I’m sorry, and I’m not asking you for forgiveness.  I just wanted to tell you in advance that my last story will make sure you become the fire chief.”

“Please don’t do anything now,” he says.  “Just let the voters vote in peace.”

“It’s not that easy.  See, there’s something about me that most people don’t know.  Something that Julia reminded me of when we went for that drive.  I felt free again.  Young again.  I could see myself in her.  We’re the same, but we’re different.  Different in the way our stories can be told.  She’s a beautiful young woman and I want to see her story have a happy ending.”

He says nothing for at least ten full seconds.  “What are you talking about?”

“Years ago I came to this country just like she did.  I had to support myself, so I turned to the only thing I knew.  My mother read all the advice columns for years, so I generally knew how they worked.  I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong and one thing led to another and soon I had a job at the paper.  It’s gossip…it sells itself.  I just don’t know how I let it get so out of control…until now.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I speak Russian, Isaac.  You probably heard me the other night.  Well, my husband does too…I just found out.  After all these years you think you know someone.  You think you know who you’re sharing a bed and a life with, only to find out you don’t.”

I pause thinking back to how it felt like a punch in the gut when I found out the truth.

“I got up one night to get a glass of water.  He was in the kitchen on the phone.  He was speaking in Russian.  They were talking about drugs, gambling, prostitution and an insurance scam.  At first I was shocked to learn he even knew the language.  And then I listened.  They had girls in that building that burned.  Thank god, they got them all out, but it’s not the end of the story for them.  They’re somewhere else now, and I’m going to do what I can to put a stop to it, just like your Julia did.  She was so brave for talking with the police.  If those guys ever found out it was her that is going to testify they would kill her and then kill her family back home.  Fortunately for me I changed my name a long time ago, and I don’t have any family that I know of.  There’s no one but me, and I’ve already got my plane ticket out of here.  I leave tonight.”

“Is this a joke?”

“I wish it was, but it’s not.  The paper doesn’t know it, but I’ve turned in my very last story.  It’s an exposé on my husband…it hurts so much to even call him that…and the men he was involved with.  It will go to press in the morning, just before the voters start showing up at the polls.  It will be over for him.  You’ll win in a landslide and he’ll be locked away.”

“Just because you write a story doesn’t mean anyone’s going to believe it.  It’s gossip after all.”

“I took his computers just now.  Both of them.  Laptop and desktop and drove them straight to the police station.  I found the files yesterday when he was asleep.  I was so worried he was going to find me and kill me, but fortunately he drank a lot before bed and when he fell asleep, he stayed asleep.”

“I’m not sure if I believe you.”

“You don’t have to believe me.  You’ll see in the morning.”

“Why didn’t you just go?  Why did you have to come here and meet with me?”

“I had to say sorry for what I did.  I owe apologies to a lot of people, but unfortunately I only have time for one.  Yours.  Like I said, I really connected with Julia.  I wanted to speak with her to get some dirt on you, if I’m being honest.  But she was so warm and so young and optimistic she just made me want to hug her and keep her safe…something I know you’ll do, so I’m not worried.  The evidence I’ve turned in will be enough to put him away for a long, long time.  Julia won’t even have to testify and no one will find out she was even involved.  She can just live her life, with you, the way life intended.”

I see Isaac processing everything that’s coming at him so quickly.  The sushi chef arrives at our table and sits down a green tea for each of us.  “Arigatou,” I say.  He bows slightly and excuses himself as he can see we’re in the middle of a pretty heavy topic.

I tip back my tea even though it’s too hot.  In some strange way I feel like it’s a sort of penance for what I’ve done.  It’s not nearly enough, but I want to hurt right now, more than I already do.  I want to feel the pain I’ve inflicted on others, and even though burning my mouth doesn’t come close to the damage I’ve caused, at least in some strange way it’s something.

“That’s all I’ve got.  I’m sorry, Isaac.  I really am.  Just take care of Julia for me…please.”

He nods and takes his own cup in his hands.  He slides it directly in front of himself, and removes his hands as it’s too hot.  He looks down into the green liquid like it’s an abyss that he’s looking into hoping there’s an answer down there somewhere.

I rise up out of my chair and make my way to the counter.  I place a $10 bill on the counter and before the chef can return with the change I’m out the door.  I’ll spend the next few hours in the airport and then I’m gone forever.

CHAPTER 12

Isaac

The next evening

Congratulations!

Fire Chief Irons!

You deserve it!  Look forward to working for you!

The text messages of support are pouring in.  It’s a landslide victory.  Abby’s story ran this morning, just as she said, and now she’s nowhere to be found.  I think it’s the strangest thing I’ve ever been a part of, with one exception…

“You won,” Julia says.

“Thanks to you,” I say as she gives me a big hug.

“I guess you got what you wanted, so…that’s it, huh?”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” I say.

“It does, Isaac.  Deep down I believe in real love, true love, and I’m not going to settle for anything less.”

“That’s exactly what you deserve,” I say.

“Thanks.”

I pause, realizing for the first time just how much I’m going to miss her.  She was kind, incredibly supportive, a great cook, and beautiful to boot.

“Where will you go?”

“Well, I guess they don’t need me to testify, and I still have some time left on my work and travel visa so I’ll just catch a bus and see where it takes me.  I want to travel cross country, and see all the beauty that America has to offer.”

“Are you allowed to do that…I mean on your work and travel visa?  Does it permit that?”

“Since when did you worry about the rules?” she says, tapping me on the nose.

“I guess you’ve got a point,” I say.  I pause again and look into those incredible eyes of hers.  I can see her sadness and her optimism at the same time.  I guess the two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.  “What should I tell people who ask about you?”

“I don’t really know.  I mean I don’t care…I’ll be long gone.  Wait!  I do care.  Tell them thank you.  Thank you for showing me their hospitality and helping me understand this American way.  This American optimism and the way the people of your country always find a way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, where I’m from sometimes people get…how do you say…beaten into submission.  The weather, the news, the government, the media.  It’s all carefully orchestrated to keep you in place, to prevent individualism and keeping you from the things that you really want in this crazy little thing called life.”

“Even the weather?”

“Okay…maybe that’s just a product of our latitude, but anyways I like this can do attitude that I saw.  I mean yeah, we had to bend the rules a little bit, but you got what you’ve always wanted in life.  You didn’t let anyone stop you, and you didn’t hurt anyone in the process.  And most importantly, even though you may have a rough exterior, I can see you care about people and that you’ll do a great job for them.”

“I do care about people.  More than I ever knew.  You showed me that side of myself.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”  She releases me from her hug, and looks at the watch on her arm.  It’s bright red, of course, and looks like something a college kid might wear.  It’s fun, loud, and fits her perfectly.  “I guess I better be going.  My bus is leaving soon.”

“You know,” I say, thinking back to last night when I practiced this moment a thousand times in my head.  I’ve still got a long way to go when it comes to expressing my feelings, but I’m ready to start now.  “You don’t have to go.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Is it so silly?”

She says nothing.

“I mean, if you’re interested in staying I mean.  I definitely enjoy having you around.  And I think it would be fun to learn more about you and show you more of just what America is really about.”

“You have to get started as the fire chief,” she says.  “You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.”

“That’s one of the misconceptions right there,” I say, smiling.  “I do plan on working hard, but when you reach the top you have to learn how to delegate.  That and there’s a transitionary period over the next month.  But before that there’s a time to celebrate my victory, our victory.”

“Our victory?”

“None of this would have happened without you.”

“Aww,” she says.  She takes a step back and looks me up from head to toe, as if getting her last look at me forever.  She looks down at her watch.

“Can you drive me to the station?”

“Sure I say,” glad I’ve bought a little more time with this amazing young woman.

CHAPTER 13

Julia

All the way to the bus station we’re talking, laughing, and having a great time.  I don’t want to miss this, but I don’t want to live in a fantasy world either.  This isn’t real, even though I wish more than ever that it were.

We park the car and Isaac goes with me to the waiting area.  I want to kiss him so bad, and for him to hold me, but I need to get used to this idea that the game is over.  There’s no reason to make this any harder than it already is.

“Everybody on the bus,” the driver yells and the passengers start filing on.

Isaac walks with me to the door and after everyone is on the driver gives us that look like he’s seen this before, and he’s not about to wait any longer.

“Any bags ma’am?”

“Just my backpack,” I say.

“You can put that in the overhead then,” he says, moving to the side of the bus, and shutting the doors to the storage areas on the sides of the bus.

“We’ve got to go,” he says just a few seconds later.  “We’re on a tight schedule.”

“Thanks for everything,” I say to Isaac.  “I’ve got quite the story to tell when I get back home.”

He nods his head, but says nothing.  I can tell this is as hard for him as it is for me.  I need to be strong.  I stand up on my tiptoes and kiss him as hard as I can right on the mouth.  Tears stream down my face, as I rub my hand on his, feeling him one last time.

I turn and quickly dart up the steps and onto the bus.  I sit on the far side.  I don’t want to wave or see him disappear in the distance.  I don’t want to cry right now.  Luckily there’s a seat with no one in the seat next to it.  I put my backpack down on the seat next to me, and bury my head in between my knees.

I hear the air break release and the door shut.  The bus driver fires up the engine and we back out of our spot.

I’ll never be back here as long as I live, but I’ll always remember this place, because I’ll always remember him.

CHAPTER 14

Julia

I wipe the tears from my eyes as we approach the front gate.

The gate raises halfway and then stops.

“What’s the hold up, Marge?” the driver says into his handheld CB communication device.

“Late comer.  Hold for one more, Dave.”

“Since when do we wait for stragglers?”

“You’ll see,” comes over his device.

Suddenly there’s a frantic knocking on the door.

Great.  I hope this maniac doesn’t sit down next to me.

I lean back in my seat and try to look like I’m asleep, putting my arm over my bag on the seat next to me.

“Is this seat taken,” the voice I’d recognize anywhere says in between huffing and puffing to catch his breath.

“Isaac!  What are you doing here?”

“I’m going with you.  We’re doing this together.”

“Are you crazy?”

“For you.  Yes.”

“I can’t believe you came.”

“I can’t believe I let it get this far.”

“Sit yer butt down!” the driver yells.

“Yes, sir,” Isaac says, as I move my bag and he settles in next to me.

We hug, and I feel the goose bumps all over again, but this time they’re different.  The moment outside the bus felt like our last, but oh how times have changed.  Now the goose bumps are from the excitement of feeling his touch all over again.  I didn’t ever want to miss that.

“But…what about?”

“It can wait.  Everything can wait.  Everyone will be expecting me to celebrate these next few days anyways.  The timing is perfect.”

“The timing?”

“The timing to see where this adventure can take us.  To see what’s next.  I know where we’ve been and now I want to see where we can go together.  I want to be with you.  To try this for real…if you’re okay with that.  I mean if I’m crazy I’ll get off at the first stop and leave you alone for good, but I know I’m not crazy.  I know you feel the same things I do.  And I know we owe it to ourselves to at least give this a shot.”

“Yeah,” I say, starting to cry again.  “Let’s give it a shot.  You and me and whatever the future holds.”

His lips meet mine and I’m not sure if he’s kissing me or attacking me.  I’m just glad he’s so thrilled to be with me, and that he was willing to risk everything.  And I’m most happy that the kiss I gave him before I hopped on the bus wasn’t our last.

I hope there are a lot more to come, as I set out to see America, and really find out what this American dream is all about.

EPILOGUE

Julia

Three months later

“There it goes!” I say.

“Right on time,” he says.

“Wow!  It’s so beautiful.”

I stand in awe for the next three minutes as Old Faithful erupts.  The day has been incredible and this is the ultimate ending.

We started off the morning with a trip to the Grand Prismatic Spring here at Yellowstone National Park.  It looked like something from another planet.  Part hole in the ground, part volcano looking…and all the colors of the rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, and blue.  I couldn’t have imagined something so beautiful, even after all the beautiful things we’ve seen these last few months.

Isaac has put the extra salary he receives now that he’s fire chief towards weekend getaways for the two of us.  And I’ve been making some money too, teaching both languages and piano on the side.  I never expected there would be such a demand for either.  But that demand all started with him.  Now that I was “with” Isaac, I was recognized everywhere I went.  And Isaac’s public perception had grown as well.  He was more open, more of a listener and empathizer, and people had really started to respond to him.  There was even chatter that he’d make a good mayor one day, or even a state politician.  He’d come a long way the last few months, and I was really proud of him.

But soon we’d have to face reality again, but I was putting off thinking about that.  My visa would expire and we’d be faced with a decision.  Luckily the only decision I faced this weekend was what amazing sights to take in each day.

These trips around the country that we had been taking really showed me the real America.  I loved the straightforward nature of New Yorkers.  They somehow reminded me of home.  I guess it was their bluntness.

And Florida…what a beautiful place.  An incredible melting pot, which made me feel so comfortable as a foreigner in this beautiful country.  The sand in between my toes was also quite welcoming.

And Texas.  I had heard so many things, but when I arrived I found most of these ideas I’d been told were misplaced.  These were some of the most caring, loyal, and family oriented people I’d ever met.  I absolutely loved it there, and I definitely got addicted to the Tex-Mex cuisine.  I even learned how to make some things for us when we got back.

But this weekend in Wyoming was the best.  The open plains.  The feel of the wind in your hair.  This was the frontier that I always pictured America being.  A place of freedom where the American buffalo grazed and rivers ran for miles.  Everywhere I turned was a postcard…picture perfect and even better than any photos I had seen online before I left home.

“What do you think?” he says, as I feel his arms wrap around me just as Old Faithful finishes her salute towards the sky.

“Of all the places I think this is the best.”

“You’re the best,” he says.

“Thank you,” I say, as I hug him tight.  “Awww,” I say into his shirt as I bury my face in his chest.

“And not only are you the best, but you’ve brought out the best in me.  You’ve shown me another side I didn’t even know I had.  And now that I’ve seen that side, and seen what you can do to me, I don’t ever want to lose either.”

“But,” I begin, but his finger quickly comes up to softly meet my lips, silencing me.

“No more ifs, ands, or buts,” he says.  “No more hypotheticals, I only want to deal in certainties when it comes to us, and that’s because I’m absolutely certain of this,” he says dropping to one knee.

The floor of our Premium West-Wing Hotel Room at the Old Faithful Inn creaks as he lowers himself down.  I feel like I’m in an old movie where strong men and romance were the saviors of the day.

“Julia.  You’ve reminded me just how beautiful this place is that I call home.  And in doing so, you’ve shown me so many sides of your own beauty.  But the most beautiful of homes isn’t a home at all, unless it has a princess in the tower.  And right now you’re my princess, but I want to change that.  I want to make you my queen, and turn my home into a castle.  A castle where I’ll protect you and cherish you like the matriarch of the family we will begin.  Join me on the throne of our little castle.  Be my queen.  Be my wife.  Will you marry me?”

He opens a small black box and an absolutely perfect diamond sparkles under the candlelight.  This hardened fireman who battles blazes has become the most romantic man on the planet, and now the love and romance he has to give will be all mine.  Forever.

“Yes,” I say.  “I want nothing more than to be your queen.”

He takes my hand and slides the ringer on my finger.  In my country the ring finger is on the right hand, but I’m not in my old country anymore.  I’m in my new country, with my new life, and the perfect man to share it with.

He stands and we kiss.

“I can’t wait to be with you forever,” he says.  “And forever starts right now.”

He scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the bedroom.  Soon I’ll be his queen, but the way he effortlessly carries me reminds me I’ll always be his princess too.

EPILOGUE

Isaac

“When did you…” Julia says, unable to finish her sentence.

“When you were in the shower.  I had to work fast.”

“You sure did,” she says, as I lay her down on the rose petal covered bed.  There are vanilla scented candles placed around the room, and I’ve also scattered wood chips in a few places to add to the rustic smell.

We’re in the largest log cabin in the world, but our little room feels as cozy as a lakeside cottage on a warm summer’s night.

I slowly take off my clothes, watching her as she does the same.  Just a few seconds later we’re both naked, and lying next to each other on the clean, crisp white sheets.

I run my hand through her hair, placing it behind her ear before allowing my fingertips to continue along down to the small of her back.  Touching that curve of hers gets me every time.  It doesn’t matter if I’m placing my hand there as we enter a restaurant or as I am now, as we lie naked together under the candlelight.  There’s something special about that spot that drives me crazy.

“You’re already ready,” she says, looking down at my erection.

“I can’t control myself when I’m with you,” I say.

“Neither can I.  And I’m ready too.”

“Don’t rush me.  I need romance,” I say.

“Very funny, but I’m glad to see you’ve become a little more in touch with your emotional side.”

“Emotional or sensual?”

“Maybe both.” she says as she places her hand on the side of my head and runs a single fingertip along my closely cropped hair.  “But let’s call it passion.”

“Passion for you,” I say bringing my head forward and kissing her lips as softly as I can.  I want to dive in, but this new part of me wants to take my time…to make this last as long as possible as I explore her and all the hidden twists and turns of her body…to see how she responds to my touch for hours as I watch her experience an entire roller coaster of pleasure.  I want to give that pleasure to her, and I will.  And now that we’re engaged it will be like this forever.  How did I get so lucky?

I move my hand around the side of her back and slide it underneath her, allowing me to pull her across the bed, eliminating those few inches that separate us.  I want to feel her skin on mine, everywhere, and that feeling that I get when our bodies touch feels incredible.  It still gives me goose bumps.

She slides her legs in-between mine as we continue to kiss softly.

Getting engaged is something I never though I’d do, making this moment even more incredibly special for me than it already is, and I want to make sure it’s just as special for her.

I roll her onto her back and kiss my way down her stomach, until I reach the top of her opening.

“I want to taste you,” I say.

I listen as she moans, and I bring my mouth down to her pussy and prepare to taste the sweetest fruit known to man.  Her peach.

EPILOGUE

Julia

His tongue opens me and I feel his mouth take my clit inside, rolling it around under and above the tip causing my knees to straighten and my toes to curl.

“You taste like a fruit and smell like a flower,” he says.  I love that he absolutely loves each and every inch of me, including the inches that lie inside me.  His tongue dives deep in-between my folds and enters me in a flicking come hither motion.

My eyes roll back in my head and I grab for a pillow, bringing it to my face as I bite down on it hard.

His tongue slides out before finding my clit again, flipping it rapidly in succession, causing me to absolutely lose my mind.

At first I see white and I feel like I’m spinning, then suddenly all I can see is black and I’m floating.

I come crashing back when I feel two fingers slide inside me as his mouth continues to satisfy my clit.  His fingers find my G-spot instantly, and combined with what his tongue is doing to my clit I know there’s no other way he could heighten my pleasure.

I realize I’m wrong when I feel his other hand slide up my midsection and his wrist come to rest on my jaw.  I reach for his fingers, taking two in my mouth, but it’s not enough.  I grab his wrist with both hands and stick all four of his fingers in my mouth.  His thumb isn’t forgotten.  It’s pressed lightly on the underside of my jaw providing leverage and heightening my experience.

I suck his fingers for only a few seconds when my body can’t take it anymore.  I yank his hand from my mouth and my body shoots up in bed as my juices shoot out onto his face.  I convulse forward and retract back, only to repeat the process over and over again as my mouth hangs open and I gasp for air as my orgasm continues unabated.

My pussy clenches hard around his fingers and it won’t let go.  I look at his face and can see what I’ve done to it, as he sticks his tongue out as far as it will go, licking in big circles around his lips taking in more of my cum.

“You are a filthy animal,” I say, still breathing hard.

“Animal yes.  Filthy no.  Your pussy is cleaner than my filthy, your word not mine, mouth and tasting you cleanses me and is the taste my palate prefers over any other.  I could eat you alone and survive for weeks.  Your juices, my food…nourishing me more than any other substance on earth.”

“I don’t know if I think you’re even filthier than before or that’s somehow the most romantic thing you’ve said all weekend in a weekend that’s already been filled with beautiful compliments.”

“And we’re just getting started, and I’ll never stop.”

“Complimenting me, or…”

“Both.  Not this night.  Not this weekend.  Not this month.  Not this year.  Not ever…now that you’re mine.”

EXTENDED EPILOGUE

Julia

Nine years later

“Mom, it squirted on me!” Cheyenne, our oldest yells.

“It’s chicken Kiev.  That’s what it does.”

“The middle is the best part,” Isaac says.  “And this is absolutely delicious, honey.”

“Thank you,” I say.  I think it took all of about one week for Isaac to adapt to my cooking.  Then again I’m not sure if adapting is the right word, considering when we met he ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and protein bars most of the time.  That and oatmeal and grilled chicken without any seasoning.

“It’s good, mom!” Helena, our middle child says.

“Thank you, dear.”

Phoenix, our youngest is only six months old so it will be another Gerber night for him.

And we just learned today that number four is officially on the way.  If it’s a boy we may mix it up a bit and go with Wyatt.  We’ll keep those names that match the open plains of the Wild West, but maybe give the state capitals a break.  We’ve already covered Wyoming, Montana, and Arizona.  I don’t think the next child would appreciate being known as Sacramento or Santa Fe, although Austin could be a perfect fit.

But hidden inside each child’s name is a little secret…the cities where each was conceived.  I’ve come to love this country just as much as I imagined, and our names are a small tribute to that.

But it’s not just the country that makes it all worthwhile.  It’s him.

He encouraged me to open a language school nine years ago.  The first couple years were hard, but he stuck with me and even invested some of his own money in the idea.  He was sure of it, and sure of me, and that made me push even harder.

And all those late nights paid off.  Eventually the brand name we came up with started to become recognized and one thing led to another and we were approached by an app maker.  We weren’t sure the world needed another language learning app for their iPhone or Android device, but somehow they convinced us.

And now that app has gone global and we’ve been blessed with more money than we could ever spend.  I’m sure if we tried we could, but we live a simple lifestyle that’s focused on two things…family and travel fun.  We love nothing more than vacations together and I’m so glad that some of that money from the app can go towards helping us spend more time together.  It’s nice to know I had a little something to contribute financially, although Isaac tells me my contribution was one thousand times greater than his.  All that really matters is that it was us, together.

At the end of the day it’s just the names on the different paychecks that all wind up in the same place, but I would have never got my feet off the ground without his help and encouragement.  It was even his idea to sponsor my mother for a U.S. green card so she could help out.  We cited her deep understanding of the Russian language as to why we couldn’t hire an American for the job, and it was true.  We got her approved and now she lives in the States, visiting frequently but living out her dream of a life in Miami.  Word was she was the toast of the retirement community where she lived.

And after years of waiting I’d become an American citizen myself.  My kids were born with the citizenship, but I had to earn it, just like Isaac and I earned each other’s trust, and love, all those years ago.

It’s crazy to think that our “relationship” started off as an arrangement with certain rules and timelines.

Now it was like time was flying by as the kids were growing up so fast, and also there were no rules in our house.  We simply lived by the ideas of loving and respecting each other, including our neighbors, friends, and strangers, and everything worked out all right.

Strangers…just how Isaac and I started out.

I look over and see him spoon-feeding Phoenix some baby food.  I shake my head and smile, thinking just how unbelievably crazy, in a good way, this thing called life can be.

My fireman fake fiancé had become my real husband, and in doing so he won my heart and gave me the family I always wanted.

I stand up out of my chair and move around the table to him.  I wrap him up in a hug from behind as he continues feeding Phoenix.

“Hey there,” I say, kissing him on the cheek and then laying my head on his shoulder.

“Hey there yourself,” he says, turning which causes my head to come off his shoulder and puts our faces in line for a perfect kiss.  He squeezes my booty hard under the table out of the line of sight of the kids.

“Gross.  Get a room you two.” Cheyenne says.

We both laugh and Isaac whispers to me, “Maybe a room in…Cheyenne?”

“Maybe,” I say.  “Just maybe.”

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you,” I say.

“Wait…is that why you named me Cheyenne?”

Our heads turn at the same time catching the absolute surprise on her face at the revelation she’s just experienced.

We burst out laughing like two kids right in front of our own kids.  Our three kids, which are soon to be four.

And why stop there?

We’ve got a lot more journeys to take and a whole heck of a lot more gas in the tank.  We’re just getting started.  Together.  Forever.

BILLIONAIRE’S VIRGIN BALLERINA

Barbara: I've prepared my entire lifetime for this moment, but I wasn't prepared for him.

Tonight will define my career. The one chance to shape my future, but all I can think about is the one man who represents my past. The only man I loved more than dancing. Him.

How did he find me here? And can I find with him, what I've always wanted? A future...together.

Brian I've traveled halfway around the world to find her. She may have changed her name, but it doesn't change the way I feel about her.

But what will she say when I finally tell her after all these years? Tell her all the things I want to do with her. How a future without her is no future at all.

I've risked it all to get this close, and I'm not about to back away now. Not now, and not ever. I'll do whatever it takes to show her I'm the man for her, and she's the only girl for me.

Billionaire’s Virgin Ballerina is an insta-everything standalone romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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