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raises his eyebrows. “You called me Jack?”
    “You sound as if you like it.”
    “Let me try it on when I’m making love to you.”
    I roll my eyes again. “Stop it.”  
    “You stop it.”
    I raise a hand. “Five feet, Jack.”
    Wearing a lopsided grin, Belmont takes two large steps backward. I chuckle and start toward the doorway.  
    “Daisy?”
    I stop to look back at him. Gosh, he’s good looking. It should be a crime to be so sexy.  
    “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks.
    “Back to the room I was put in.”
    “Sleep with me in the master suite,” Belmont says.
    I shake my foot. “Jack, we’re wearing these. What if we roll within five feet of each other in the middle of the night? Think about how shocking that will be—pun intended.”
    Belmont snickers as his eyes lasciviously fall over my body. He and I are alone on what I suspect is a deserted island. Under these circumstances, all the stuff that pulled us apart gets stored at the back of the closet. I ignore those haunting photos of him and Stacy Pruitt. He tries to forget about my sensual kiss with Dexter. I forget that I have been keeping score, and on a scale from one to ten, his indiscretion was a ten and mine was a one.  
    “Right,” Belmont says. He seems absorbed by his thoughts again.  
    “Okay.”
    “But use the tub in the master suite. It’s bigger. You’ll like it. If you don’t want me to show you where it is, then I can tell you how to get there.”
    “What’s wrong with the tub in the smaller room?” I ask.
    “Nothing. It’s nice, just not as big.”
    I cut a tiny smile. “You do like everything bigger.”
    “Not everything…”
    I stifle a laugh. He just doesn’t stop. He’s referring to my pussy, which he constantly reminds me is tighter than average. But he knows I can’t resist a luxurious bath. “Okay, I’ll use the bigger tub.”
    “Out this door, make a right. Down the hallway, make a left, go up the stairs, make a right, and the master is on the right. It faces the ocean. It has the best view in the house, next to your tits and hips.”
    I roll my eyes. “Jack Lord, you’re just working yourself up for something that can’t happen.”
    “Right,” he says, still grinning naughtily.
    “Right.”
    “See you soon.”  
    I grunt and shake my head, but I can’t wipe the smile off my lips as I walk down the long hallway and follow Belmont’s instructions to a T. Now that a lot of the stress I felt earlier has dwindled, I can get a better feel of this mini-mansion. The décor is so contemporary chic and in line with Belmont’s pristine bachelor-pad tastes, even though he isn’t a bachelor. I walk up the floating stairs made of heavy-duty glass then take the first right down a hallway with textile art on the walls. The sun is setting, and the lights turn on automatically as I go.  
    I make it to the master bedroom, and it’s just as grand as I knew it would be. The wooden headboard of the king-sized bed sits against a textured ceramic wall. Serious special effect lighting surrounds the headboard—it would make anyone sleeping in the bed appear to be the sun king or queen. Pendulum lights shaped like teardrops hang on both sides of the bed, and a white fur rug lies at the foot of the bed.  
    I walk over to the large windows and look out over the island. Belmont could never fully articulate this view. Tropical trees coat the hillside. Soft orange and yellow lights have been placed pleasingly throughout the brush. At the moment, I’m transcending our entire situation. I feel as if I’m on vacation or on assignment on a tropical island I’ve never explored.  
    I pull off my dress and figure out how to open the large windows. The island breeze consumes me. A full moon is rising, so the ocean is active. I would love to swim in those waters, but I would never do it without a guide. Tiger sharks are thick in these parts. I take a deep breath and one last survey of the land before I trot