“Do you really?” Sean pressed, evidently unconcerned with the arrival of the stars. “Is it an absolute must or just habit?”

My gaze shifted to meet his, and I felt as if I’d been caught in a lie. Sean’s gaze was patiently challenging, as if waiting for everything to click in my head.

“No, I really do.” Of course I did—it was a Wednesday. I couldn’t just randomly not show up on a Wednesday. My face scrunched with uncertainty. Could I? I turned back to the Hummer, forced to squint against the onslaught of flashbulbs, and tried to consider this unfamiliar alternative.

“We could come up with a proper itinerary and everything.” He lifted his hand to settle on the back of my neck, squeezing gently. “Has no one ever taught you to snatch at opportunities when you can, before they disappear?” Sean murmured.

Those particular words served as the necessary inducement. I suddenly felt a feverish need to race the clock, to make every second of this temporary romance count, knowing that it would, inevitably, come to an end. “Okay.” The word just ripped out of me before I could snatch it back, and the inherent hesitancy was just hanging in the air between us. I couldn’t seem to stop the flood of stilted sentences that followed. “Definitely. I’ll take the day off. Wednesday. Hump day. I need a break anyway.”

“I must be even more charming than I imagined to lure the dedicated Nicola James away from the office on a random Wednesday. This definitely calls for a celebration, a toast to tomorrow’s adventures. But being short on drinks, a kiss will have to do.”

The moment his lips began to skim and slide over mine, the strangeness that had settled over me began to fall away. The uncertainty gave way to compliance, and I began to morph from Go-To Girl to Swoony Girl. Everything inside me began to loosen: melting, unfurling, derailing. I should resist him—I knew I should—but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Danger, Nic James, danger! And then suddenly we were swept up in the wave of people flooding through the doors on an urgent mission to find their seats. As we stepped from the lobby into the theater, with its breath-stealing, turn-of-the-century grandeur, my heart hiccupped and my throat closed. I gripped Sean’s hand, desperately needing to hold on to something. When he gazed down at me, I’m certain he saw stars in my eyes.

“Brilliant, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely dazzling,” I agreed. “Thank you for inviting me.”

His answer was only a slow smile.

We slid into seats near the back, and as the lights dimmed and the film credits began to wink past on the darkened screen, I felt myself relax. By the end of the movie, my head was propped lightly against Sean’s cashmere-soft shoulder, and it felt ... nice. So did linking our fingers as we walked through the chilly evening back to my car.

Sean was first to break the silence. “I am now starving and willing to eat virtually anything.”

“Most places around here will be packed with festival crowds. Do you want to widen our search parameters?” Whoa, did that sound geeky!

“Logical to a fault—it’s impossible not to love you.” Suddenly I was frozen with uncertainty. He’d said the “L” word (not “lesbian,” thank God!), and it was up in the air, hanging there between us, unclassified, and I hadn’t the slightest clue what to do about it. “I’m game for anything,” he added, oblivious to my dilemma.

“Hula Hut?” I finally suggested in a shy, scratchy voice.

“Hold here for a sec. I’ll grab the bike and follow you.” And then he was jogging off into the darkness.

His absence was palpable, and I caught myself staring into the rearview mirror, straining to catch a glimpse of him. The snarl of the motorcycle engine set my nerve endings on full alert long before I had a visual. Then I was squinting against the glare of the headlight until he pulled up close behind me, helmeted and very competent looking astride his roaring beast of a bike.

Driving up South Congress toward the glowing green rotunda of the Capitol building, the colors of Austin nightlife streaming by like a small-town carnival, I finally felt like I belonged in this city. I switched on my blinker, turned left onto West Sixth, and peeked again at my rearview mirror. I was mesmerized by this whole situation and the fact that, head down, eyes focused, Sean was following me. With most of Sixth Street’s clubs and restaurants running to the east of Congress, we bypassed the crowds and began to leave downtown behind. As Sixth snaked into Lake Austin Boulevard and the city gave way to tree-lined neighborhoods, my gaze was ping-ponging between the narrow roadway in front of me and Sean behind me.

I was starting to imagine a whole spider / fly dynamic. We were heading into an increasingly intricate, very sticky situation, and it almost seemed as if the motorcycle behind me, cruising along at neighborhood speeds, was poised to pounce. My slightly giddy SXSW / hooky high began to morph into more of a predator/prey nervousness. Particularly as the predator was undeniably sexy and the prey couldn’t seem to help herself.

I made a valiant attempt to dial back my Animal Planet–fueled imagination and just park the car. Sean might well be a master of seduction—a grand master, or whatever kung-fu term supersedes them all—and Fairy Jane might have done a little wand-waving here and there. But ultimately I’d made the decisions. More or less. I was going to go ahead and go with that assumption anyway. As the saying goes, I’d made my bed, and I was going to have to lie in it.

Watching Sean dismount, slide off his helmet, and immobilize me with a smile in the dark, it occurred to me that that particular saying was especially thought-provoking. And a quick FYI: It’s very difficult to behave normally with a man while you’re imagining all sorts of bed-related pastimes. It’s also difficult to keep your eyes from roving. And your hands from twitching. And your body from sparking off fireworks or puddling in a heap.

But somehow you manage.

“Come over here a sec,” said the spider to the fly... .

Even in the dark with the engine off, the motorcycle was intimidating, but I stepped cautiously forward.

“I’d wager you’ve never even been on a bike—never straddled one, leaned in, and pretended to ride.”

I swiveled my gaze to his and narrowed my eyes slightly. He looked so innocent, it was impossible to tell whether he was using these particular words on purpose, whether he could read the lurid train of my thoughts. But I couldn’t accuse him without giving myself away. So I tried to picture myself flying down Mopac on the back of this motorcycle, fear forging a frozen trail from my head to my stomach. It went a long way toward dredging my mind from its lust-ridden haze.

“No,” I answered. “I haven’t.” And I was pretty sure my placid smile implied that I didn’t ever intend to.

Sean quirked his lips, seeming to be working an idea around in his head, and I felt the faint stirrings of nervousness. But as he grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the bike toward the restaurant entrance, the nerves were covered over with fresh stirrings of lust. Clearly distance (from the bike) made the heart grow fonder (of Sean).

It wasn’t until we were cozied up under our very own private tiki hut on the patio, overlooking the moonlit waters of Lady Bird Lake, the romance at its zenith, that I was let in on the secret.

“Shall we tackle tomorrow’s itinerary, leave nothing to the whims of chance?” We’d already dispensed with the menus, deciding to split the infectiously termed Huli Huli Luau Platter.

“Definitely,” I agreed, relieved that we were finally on the same page.

“You’re all in, then? You’re committed to the hooky?”

Hooky ... nooky ... When did simple word association get so dangerous? Clean it up, Nic.

“I am,” I admitted, schooling my features.

Sean’s knee bumped up against mine and stayed, radiating little curls of heat in all directions. “As I see it, the proper way to go about this is to divvy up the day. You get half, and I get half.” He speared me with a look and laid his cards on the table. “My half will be devoted to dethroning the Virgin Queen.”

Oh. My. God. Is he talking in euphemisms, or is this the real deal? It was possible I was going to need a translator to make it through this conversation.

“Meaning what exactly?” My voice was pitched low; it was difficult to get anything out around the wad of nervousness trapped in my throat.

Sean was clearly reveling in my reaction, smug as a satyr with wicked intent dancing in his eyes.

“Meaning this time tomorrow I’m hoping your list of Austin ‘been there, done thats’ will be considerably longer.”

Okay, now I was truly nervous. Forget all those little uncertainties over sex—he was going to try to get me on his motorcycle. Deep breath. I looked deliberately away from him, running my eyes along the maze of colored lights strung up on the patio and then out over the sparkles on the water and up the dark cliffs to the mansions hanging on the edge. Austin was bewitching at night—a city of surprises—and tonight, I was definitely caught up ... but insecurities were hovering, waiting to make an entrance. And this could very well be their cue... .

When did my life get so out of control? When did I decide to let Sean waltz in and spin me until my life got dizzy and unrecognizable? When will I make it stop?

My heartbeat was loud in my ears, roaring almost, as my mind sped through the possibilities that might conceivably comprise a day with Sean. This was effectively a dare, and on principle, I didn’t do dares, but it was about time I earned my Weird shirt—without any help from Fairy Jane. And really, what was the worst he could come up with?