"Would you like another?"

"Oh no, no thank you. Did you make them?"

"Does the sun rise every morning? It's my mother's biscuit recipe, passed down from her mother's mother, and so on."

"Biscuit? I thought that was a cookie."

"Not quite."

The thought of him mixing flour and salt and sugar to create something so fulfilling, warmed me.

"Finding a man who enjoys and appreciates cooking is a delicacy. Maybe one day I'll share my secrets with you. Cooking can be fun, you know."

I laughed. "I hate cooking."

"You must have never been taught to really cook. It's rewarding to mix different ingredients together and create a concoction of something you want. Something that your body needs and desires. Something that satisfies you, but leaves you wanting more. And although you might want to share, and others may want a bite, you know deep down inside it's best to be greedy, and keep the secret to yourself. I don't particularly like to share."

Lips, luscious and full, mixed with soft, sensual words created a sexual tension that almost drove me from my seat. I swallowed, and my pulse quickened. I couldn't stop imaging his hands on me, touching me, teasing me, pleasing me. We weren't talking about recipes, or biscuits. No, it was much bigger than that.

"I'm a man who always gets what he wants. But recently, I've found myself caught between wants and needs, and am unsure of which path to take. Life. It's funny, isn't it?"

He sipped his coffee and watched me over the rim of the cup. I hesitated before I spoke, but I had to know.

"What do you want in life, sir?"

"A question I've yet to discover the answer to. Now it's my turn to ask you the same."

Long eyelashes and messy hair made up Mr. Felton. A perfect picture of poise and sex.

"I want happiness."

"It seems like a simple answer to a simple question, but it is much deeper than that. Seems like something is missing in your life, and you are steadily trying to fill the void."

Ding. Ding. Ding. Is he a mind reader?

"That may be true, but I think you struggle with the same thing. The two of us aren't that different from one another."

"It's not easy being this intelligent, or good looking," he said.

Mr. Felton gathered the plates that sat in front of us both and brought them to the kitchen. The refrigerator closed and opened several times, and the water ran in the sink. I leaned on the doorframe and watched him wipe the counters, put up the flour, and rinse the dishes. He was a bit of a Susie Homemaker. I smiled.

"What?" he asked.

"Just thinking about how domestic you are."

"No, I will not fuck you. I'm saving myself for marriage," he said.

"Then you'll be saving yourself forever, won't you?"

His face turned grave. The attitude went from happy-go-lucky to bleak in seconds.

"I'm sorry," he said, and darted his eyes toward me before returning to the counter he wiped so diligently. I didn't respond. There was no reason to. But the silence pressed on, and I knew it was time to leave. I stood, and he wiped his hands on a dishtowel and walked toward me. I straightened instantaneously.

His thumb found my lips and he traced the outside of them before running his fingers through my hair and grabbing the bottom of my chin.

I waited.

I waited for him to make his move, to kiss me, to pin me against the wall, but instead, he stared into my eyes and then walked passed me. My heart fluttered and then fell. The stairs acted as his getaway car to escape me. Before taking another step, he turned around and didn't take his eyes from me.

"You said last night that you wanted to please me. You do, Ms. Downs. You don't even fucking know."

I opened my mouth to speak. To call out to him. But instead, I stood there in the kitchen. Once I heard his door close, I exhaled.

Thirteen

I crawled back in bed, hoping for a do-over on the day. Too many mixed emotions bounced around in me like constantly moving particles. I lay there for at least an hour staring at the blank ceiling, trying to replay the morning.

The trigger was the mention of a marriage. Once that was said, the morning went to shit. I would never mention that in a conversation again and made note to find out more information.

Maybe Lori would know.

I grabbed the little notebook next to the bed and wrote a quick, little sentence to remind me to ask her. Since she'd been back, we'd both been busy. But today, we had planned to have brunch: mimosas and turkey sandwiches at a cute, little diner in town. It reminded me of home, and did the same for her, so we met for lunch, once a week. I wore a cute little dress; yellow and sunny, hoping it would bring my sour mood to another level.

No panties today. I didn't feel like it. I wanted to be scandalous in my own little way. And then my mind traveled back to Mr. Felton. I hated that he walked away from me. How could I know what I said would upset him when I don't really know him at all?

I tucked the little notebook into my clutch, grabbed the keys to the Honda, and arrived five minutes early. Lori, always on time and punctual, had been waiting for at least ten minutes.

We sat in the corner, in our regular place, and I pulled out the notebook and started going down the questions.

"Why do some men like to be called 'sir'?"

"It's because they like to be thought of as the dominant to their submissive. It's kinky and sexy all at the same time. I've got a few sirs."

Next question. I didn't know how to say it or how to word it, but I asked anyway.

"Does Mr. Felton train all of his girls, you know, to be sexual?"

Lori dropped her fork on her plate with a clink. I gave her the most confused look I could muster. She finished chewing her food and then stared at me long and hard.

"No."

My adrenaline pumped, and I couldn't help but be nervous. Was I breaking the rules, with my boss? Would I be fired?

"No, he doesn't. Not to say he hasn't, but he hasn't in quite a long time, like years. Is he… is he teaching you?"

"Yes. Should he not be?"

"Oh, it's his right to teach whomever he pleases, but…"

She paused for a long time, searching for the right words.

"But, he doesn't because it always becomes too personal."

I flushed.

Personal: the word that so easily described every bit of Mr. Felton and me.

"But you're different, Jennifer. He handpicked you. He sees something in you that he likes, not to say that he shouldn't, but he's our boss. It's dangerous territory. Just be careful. Okay?"

"Dangerous, like how? Will he hurt me?"

"Oh no. He won't hurt you. Mr. Felton would never let anyone hurt his girls, not even him. The only thing that might hurt is your heart. Build a wall. He isn't an asshole bastard. It's just, he is the kind of guy that women fall in love with."

"I see, and I would like to disagree with you on the asshole bastard thing. He is pretty assholish and bastardish."

"Assholes are kind of sexy, I think. Training is important, especially since you know you're a virgin," she whispered. Then she continued talking at her normal volume. "But don't take anything personally. Block your emotions like we learned in etiquette training. He is only preparing you for your Number One. You must remember that, no matter what happens."

"I won't fall in love with him. He's too much of a dick for me." I had to say it out loud. I had to believe that it was true.

"If you know what's best, you'll avoid the mention of love at all costs."

"This morning, I joked about Mr. Felton getting married, and he acted weird. Why?"

The waitress, Sue Mary, arrived with another round of mimosas. We thanked her as we sipped from mismatched champagne glasses.

Lori leaned over the table and whispered.

"He was married before."

"Really? Oh my god. Did she divorce him or something?"

"She died, Jennifer. He moved to the States for her. They fell madly in love. She was pregnant with their firstborn, and a few months before she was due, she was involved in a fatal car accident. It killed both her and Mr. Felton's unborn son."

"Oh my god. I feel horrible."

"Don't worry about it. He's still sensitive about it, and it's been wow, six years, I think? He was young, like your age, when it happened. I secretly think that's why he hates love so much. It was a tragic love story like a modern day Romeo and Juliet. I don't think The Elite would be here today if it hadn't happened. Felton created the business to busy himself into forgetting about his wife and son, but I don't think it worked."

I couldn't speak. I was such a fucking idiot. Out of everyone in the house, I knew what it felt like to lose someone close. No wonder he turned cold. I sipped my drink, hoping to drink my dumbness away.

Changing the subject abruptly, Lori said, "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but Luke has a weekend getaway scheduled for the two of you."

"What?" I semi-yelled.

"Shh. I overheard Jesse telling Mr. Felton early this morning in the kitchen. You'll find out this afternoon, and leave in the morning, so try to act surprised?"

"Where are we going?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm sure it will be somewhere sexy. Damn, that man is gorgeous."

I smiled thinking about Luketon and I playing on the swing set, watching the light show at the park.

We finished our mimosas, paid our ticket, and tipped Sue Mary a few hundred dollars. The old woman loved us, which is why she made our drinks so damn strong.