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son; perhaps he was just better at hiding his ulterior motives than his progenitor. "What are you getting out of this, Sim?" I asked bluntly, voicing my fears without preamble. Sim watched me with a blank expression; it was almost as if hed been expecting the question. "Apart from the pleasure of your company, you mean?" he replied smoothly. I nodded and tried to ignore the little flirtatious upturn of his mouth. "Youre wondering why Im bothering with you, arent you?" "A little," I admitted, suddenly feeling shy. I watched the steam roll off the surface of my tea; it was easier than looking Sim in the eye. "Imogen," Sim chided gently. "Youre being ridiculous. Youre funny and smart and sexy as hell. You have the most amazing legs under those little sundresses of yours, and theres just enough cleavage there to make me think of doing the naughtiest things with you. I look at you and I just want to kiss you, to make love to you. Not every woman makes me feel that way. Thats why Im bothering." "But you could have any woman you wanted," I interjected. Inwardly I cringed at how insecure I sounded; I hoped Sim didnt hear it the same way. Sim shrugged. "Ive done that, Imogen and it doesnt satisfy me. I guess you could say I like a challenge and youre a challenge. I like the idea of knowing Im the first to do these things for you. Its selfish, I suppose, but I like to think that ten years down the road when youre happily married to some lucky guy, hell touch you in a certain way and itll remind you of me, of right now and what we had together." I turned my attention from my tea to Sims chocolate brown eyes. "Immortality, huh?" "Of a sorts," he chuckled warmly. "Does that bother you?" I considered him for a moment. "Surprisingly, no," I admitted with a crooked smile. "It should, but for some reason it doesnt." Sim returned my smile with a breathtaking one of his own. "Good, then we can begin lesson two." "Which is?" I prompted. "Flirting," Sim replied swiftly. "Youre already very good at it, but you dont even realize youre doing it, and while there is a certain amount of charm in your approach, with a little practice you could be downright dangerous." I laughed, feeling a little of my anxiety ease as I watched Sims own expression soften. "Youre going to teach me how to flirt?" "I happen to be very good at it," Sim said with mock derision. His smile was wide. "Your first words to me were Actually, I think its great; not exactly Don Juan," I teased. "Ah, but it produced the desired effect," Sim pointed out. "I got your attention, didnt I?" "I wanted to punch you in the face!" I admitted with a laugh. "I hated you." "But you were thinking about me." Sim laughed and took a sip of his tea. I watched the progression of the mug to his lips like a hungry woman


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being denied food. The way his mouth met the porcelain made my knees weak. The memory of those same lips between my legs was like being hit with a lightening flash of arousal. One look in Sims eyes revealed he knew exactly what hed just done to me. "Is that a lesson too?" I asked breathlessly. "Of course," Sim grinned. "Your body says more than your words." "Riiight," I drawled. "I know words, Sim; Im a writer. My body however, were not always on speaking terms." "Part of the problem, dont you think?" Sim asked. "You do the cutest little things without realizing it, but just think of the possibilities if you did know the effect those subtle movements had on men. Think of what you could do!" "I dont know about that. Im really not that sort of girl," I admitted with a wry smile. "What sort of girl? The sort who understands the power she has just by being female? Theres no shame in that, Imogen. Im not saying you have to flash your tits around like some floozy. Im suggesting you become comfortable with yourself, confident in your body. Once you accomplish that, you can do anything." "What makes you think Im not confident?" I countered defensively. I wasnt, but I didnt think it was apparent to others. "You can barely look people in the eyes. Id say thats a pretty obvious indicator. Its only when youre mad at someone that you actually raise your chin and look at them." Sims smile was gentle but it didnt stop my feelings from being hurt. "You hide behind things: your hair, your computer, the image of yourself as an aloof writer. You think you should be above us all, looking down and watching us, writing about us, but writing doesnt work that way. You have to get your hands dirty. Live what you write, Imogen, and theres no limit to what you can accomplish." I had no response for Sim. There wasnt anything I could say to refute his argument. All of it was true, but hearing it from a virtual stranger didnt make it hurt any less. "I dont like this lesson," I confessed in a whisper. "Yeah, well thats how intimacy works, Sweetness. You have to open yourself up and let the other person see the messy insides." Sims gaze was direct and I fought hard to hold it, to resist the urge to look away and hide from the piercing brown depths of his eyes. "All right," I conceded with a shrug. "What about you? When do I get to see your messy insides?" Sim froze and the concerned expression on his handsome face fell away. He stared at me for a moment before laughing bitterly, shaking his head. "Fine. What do you want to know?" The question which had been plaguing me for days flew from my lips without thought. "What happened between you and your father, Sim? Why do you two treat each other the way you do?" Sims answered chuckle was dry and cynical. "Thats