“I am a guy.”

I give Ray a nasty glance and continue. “As a guy, if a woman said to you she wanted you, meaning she wanted to have sex with you, and she said she wanted it right then, and every time you were together, she pretty much shouted it in your face, but each time you just teased her and walked away, would you expect her to keep waiting? Or would that mean you weren’t really serious and you were just having fun with her? Or would it mean you were serious but you wanted to wait? And if you wanted to wait, why would you want to wait, because it’s not like you hadn’t had sex before?”

“Christ.” He shakes his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Well?” I hold my breath as I wait for Ray, of all people, to give me relationship advice.

“Wouldn’t wait.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Not for any reason?”

“Woman’s in the mood, that’s the time to do it. And if it was my woman, to hell with everything else. She wants it. She gets it. Done.”

“You don’t need some time to think about it?” My voice rises to a squeak.

Ray gives me a wry smile. “Stats say a man thinks about sex about twenty times a day. Man like me, more. When it comes available, a man does not turn it down. Especially if it’s his woman. A real man looks after his woman. You get me?”

“Yeah.” I heave a sigh. “I get you. I also get you’ve got some caveman blood still lurking in there somewhere.”

Ray lifts an eyebrow and tightens his jaw. “That said, it’s not just about sex.”

“You’ve just told me you think about sex more than twenty times a day and you’ll sleep with any woman who’s in the mood. How can you tell me it’s not just about sex?”

“Sex is sex. Relationships are something else.”

“I’ve never been good at relationships.” I stare at the table, toying with my fork. “Sex has always been my marker as to whether a guy likes me or not. But relationships scare me. You let people get close, and invariably they let you down. I’ve been hurt so many times, I just can’t be that open or give myself to anyone that way.”

“Fucked up.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

Ray chuckles. “Not you. I meant a man doesn’t turn down a woman like you without a damn good reason.”

My mouth curls into a half smile. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple.”

“Maybe for you.” I give him a full smile. “Thanks for answering the question.”

“Pleasure. This mean you’ll change out the couch?”

Change out the couch? Take out my stiff blue corporate boys and replace them with an old Victorian madam, torn and worn in more ways than one? Not very professional. Not very Farnsworth & Tillman. But then, neither was this lunch, or having employees work for free, one of whom lives on my couch, or running a law firm out of a partially renovated, soon-to-be historical landmark. Maybe I could be a little bit flexible.

Biting my lip, I nod. “Okay. As compensation for going out of your way to needlessly protect me last night and bringing to my attention that I am going to be followed by a man who may or may not be in the mafia, and answering my convoluted question, you can have your couch.”

“And Penny’s screensaver?”

“You’re pushing it, Ray.”

He gives me a cheeky grin. “Only pushing ’cause I know you’re a pushover.”

“You wish.”

He flags down the waitress and his smile broadens. “I don’t make wishes, sweetheart. If I want something, I go for it and to hell with the consequences. If you sit around waiting for things to happen, life will pass you by.”

“Simple.”

Ray gives me a curt nod. “That it is.”

Chapter 11

IS MY SURPRISE UNDER HERE?

“Welcome to Metal Hell.”

After handing our tickets to the heavyset bouncer with the ZZ-Top beard, Penny, Shayla, and I file through the narrow doorway and into the dilapidated warehouse-cum-concert venue that is the site of one of the most anticipated underground death metal events of the year. I catch a whiff of piss, pot, unwashed bodies, and stale beer all wrapped up in a nausea-inducing olfactory package. The dark, dank club is as far from heaven as one can get.

“Love death metal. Whoo. Go Slugs.” Penny pumps her fist in the air and screams as we push our way through the crowd.

Shocked at her outburst, I clamp my hand around her arm. “What happened to your British reserve?”

“Reserve goes out the window when British people cut loose, and after our little warm-up party in the office, I’m looser than a hooker’s…”

“We get it.” Shayla cuts her off with a glare.

Penny shoots Shayla an evil look. “Have you seen the lead singer? He totally has the British rocker thing going. I know you Americans don’t go for the Rolling Stones type, but to me, he is fit. That’s how we say hot in England.” She joins the crowd in a loud chant. “Slugs. Slugs. Slugs.”

We push our way through the crowd and I scan the area for Jake. I haven’t seen him since he dropped me off two nights ago except for the brief five minutes he spent at my office to hand over the tickets. A peck on the cheek, a casual “see you at seven,” and a throwaway “remember, don’t wear panties,” and he was out the door. Penny immediately set about dousing my fire by opening a bottle of white wine. Now, I realize what a mistake that was.