I sighed. “I’m so glad I have you and your bestie Joe to work this stuff out for me. There’s a reason law school never interested me.”

“I had a nice long talk with Drake when I got the contract. He’s pretty easy to get to know. He’s not a bad guy—for someone who’d pay almost a million dollars to pluck a virgin flower, that is.”

My mouth quirked at the irony. What type of person was I, for selling it in the first place? I took a deep breath. A practical person, I decided.

“I made sure to emphasize certain stipulations—once the contract has been ‘fulfilled,’ there is to be no further contact between you. No phone, no e-mails. Essentially like a restraining order, though we won’t have to go that far unless one of you loses it.”

I looked away, ignoring a weird twinge at the thought of one of us possibly getting obsessed over this. “Uh-huh.”

He tilted his head at me, the glow of his computer monitor reflecting on his stern features. “So, you think you can do this? You were pretty annoyed with him after that first meeting. I knew you were into him in other ways, but you were so determined to go with someone else until something changed your mind. What was it?”

He kissed me and it blew my mind, I thought. How ridiculous. A woman my age being reduced to a blithering moron by one kiss from a desirable—albeit insanely desirable—male.

“I just…did a lot of thinking. He’s young. He’s attractive. It could be a lot worse.”

Heath gave a dry chuckle. “Attractive. Huh. I’d say he’s smoking hot, but maybe that’s just me. He’s not even my type, either, but I’d do him.”

I smothered a giggle at that mental image.

“So I thought Amsterdam was a good choice, given their open policy and legal support of prostitution.”

I rolled my eyes. “Can we stop using that word?”

Heath smirked at me. “Doll, you can call it a freaking clown rodeo if you want. Still won’t change the fact that you are going to have sex with a man and he is going to pay you for that privilege.”

I looked away but my cheeks heated. I fiddled idly with a hole in my jeans—fraying it so that it grew. I shook my head. I was not a prostitute and I wouldn’t be a prostitute after this whole thing was finished. It was one night of my life. Just one. I was empowering myself—

And I was going to have sex with a man. That man. His hands would be on my body, that lush, hot mouth on me. I stayed silent and didn’t meet Heath’s gaze.

“We also went over what he can and can’t do. I wanted to be very clear on that. No kink. No bondage of any kind. Straight vanilla all the way for my girl.”

“Vanilla is a very tasty flavor, in my opinion.”

He sighed and shook his head. “You haven’t lived, my dear. But just wait, once you get a taste, I have a feeling you’ll be wanting all sorts of flavors after this.”

I blew out a breath. I highly doubted it. This was a business deal and I was benefiting from something that not only mattered little to me but had only served as a burden up until this point. I wanted to be rid of the stigma of being the twenty-two-year-old virgin without having to deal with any messy entanglements. I hadn’t wanted a relationship for quite some time and didn’t see that changing at all in the foreseeable future.

“And no oral, right?” Heath asked.

I looked at him like he was an idiot. As if he had to ask that. “That hasn’t changed and it’s not going to.”

He sat back against his computer chair, which squeaked in protest. His gaze grew intent. “The man might want to get his money’s worth after all…” Heath said. He tried to give it that jokey air that he gave most of his words, but these held a dark edge.

A cold pulse thumped at the base of my throat. “Don’t go there, Heath.”

His stared at me. “I don’t think you’re ready for this. You can’t even talk about it.”

“I can talk about it. I have talked about it. You know everything.”

But despite his words, I still couldn’t get the picture out of my mind…that dark summer night, dry winds coming out of the foothills. Out on the edge of town, watching the lights and I was sobbing, on my knees. Hands wound into my hair so tightly, pulling so hard that my scalp would ache for days afterward.

I shook my head, my hands crunching into balls. “Stop it. I’m fine.”

He shrugged, that nonchalance returning. “Okay. If you say so. Let’s see…what else did we talk about? Oh yes, one night straight vanilla sex. Positions of your choice and comfort.”