Getting sexy. Kayla Perrin

      Diana scribbles some notes.

      Is that the right choice? I wonder. “Wait. You know what—if they’re preparing a sampling menu for us, why don’t you add the lemon flan and praline parfait to the list. That way, we can see what we like best before the wedding.”

      “No problem.” Diana makes more notes. “You’re paying big bucks for perfection, and I assure you you’ll have perfection.”

      At the price she’s charging, we most certainly should have perfection.

      “Now for the fun part.”

      “Oh?” I say.

      “I have a surprise for you.”

      I squeeze Adam’s hand. “A surprise. Isn’t that exciting, Adam?”

      “Oh, yeah. It’s great.”

      Diana removes her glasses, pushes her chair back and stands. “Let’s head to the pool-area bar, because you two lovebirds are going to create your own drink.”

      “Our own drink?” I can’t help smiling.

      “I brought in a mixologist today and he’ll work with you to concoct a cocktail specifically for you and your guests that they’ll enjoy as they arrive at the reception.”

      “That sounds amazing.” I look to Adam, who’s got a cheesy smile on his face. “I had no clue.”

      “I like to add some personal touches of my own,” Diana tells us.

      Adam and I get up. We follow Diana to the pool area in my parents’ vast backyard. They have a full bar there housed in a Caribbean-style hut. Behind the bar’s counter, I see a white man with shoulder-length blond hair. He’s tanned and looks as if he just stepped off a beach. He’s the type I associate with surfers and a carefree lifestyle.

      “I’m gonna like this,” Adam proclaims.

      At least he’s interested again. No surprise there. With the amount of drinks we’ll sample, I’m sure we’ll have a nice buzz before noon.

      “I’ll leave you two to Jason,” Diana announces, “and I’ll head back into the house, as I have some things to go over with your parents.”

      Adam and I slip onto bar stools. Jason extends his hand and we take turns shaking it as we introduce ourselves.

      “Jason, you look like you flew in from Hawaii last night,” I can’t help commenting.

      Jason chuckles. “Nope, I’m from Atlanta. I work at a bar in Buckhead.”

      “Adam and I live in Buckhead.”

      “Have you been to Apple?”

      “No. That’s the piano bar, right? We keep meaning to check it out. Don’t we, Adam?”

      “Yeah,” he responds, and I’m sure Jason must realize he’s high.

      “Why don’t you?” Jason asks. “That’s where I am almost every day of the week.”

      Jason’s eyes linger on mine, and I wonder if he’s just hit on me.

      Adam, however, is oblivious. He reaches for my hand. I can’t help gazing at him with affection. I like when he’s amorous with me.

      But Adam doesn’t just link fingers with me, he pulls my hand toward him, stopping only when it’s on his crotch.

      Oh my God. He’s hard.

      My face flushing, I quickly glance away. “Jason, what do you have for us?”

      “Yes, what indeed?” Adam asks.

      Jason shrugs. “What are you in the mood for?”

      “Oh, we’re pretty risqué. Like to live life on the edge. I’m sure whatever you suggest will excite us.”

       OhmyGodtellmeheisn’tpropositioningthebartender!

      “I was thinking something fruity,” I quickly tell Jason. “Maybe with vodka, or rum. Something that will make me think of lazy days on an island beach.”

      “Got ya.”

      Jason spins around and grabs some bottles. If he thought there was anything strange about Adam’s words, he’s chosen to ignore it.

      Thank the Lord.

      I lift my sunglasses and glare at Adam. He flashes me a devilish smile, one that confirms my worst fear.

      What’s happened to you, Adam? I wonder.

      What’s happened to the man I love?

      On Monday, I’m still feeling very weird about what happened on the weekend with the bartender. I could stay home and ruminate by myself, but instead I call An-nelise and see if she wants to get together for dinner. Nothing fancy, just dinner at my place. Lishelle’s working, or I would have invited her, too.

      But maybe it’s good that it’s just me and Annelise. Not only do we have to discuss the wedding photography, I’ve decided to confide in her about my concerns over Adam. Originally, I figured I might broach the subject of Adam’s bizarre sexual appetite with Lishelle, but considering Annelise is in a relationship, she might be the better one to discuss this with. Because I have to talk to someone, or I’m gonna go out of my mind.

      I swallow my bite of Caesar salad, then put down my fork. “Annelise,” I say cautiously.

      She looks up from her salad. “Yeah?”

      I think of how best to phrase what I want to ask, but there’s only one way to say it. I’ve got to say it straight. “Does Charles ever want…really kinky sex?”

      Annelise’s eyes widen in surprise. “Why do you ask that?”

      “I just…” I lean forward and whisper, as though there’s a fly on the wall that could hear us. “Adam is into all kinds of weird stuff lately. I’m hoping it’s a phase. But I’m also wondering…is it me? Am I uncomfortable with it because I’m a prude or something? I know times have changed drastically even in ten years, so maybe it is me. Then again…” I blow out a breath. “I know it’s a personal question, but has Charles ever been into…weird stuff? And if so, did he get over it? I guess I want to hear that it won’t last forever.”

      Annelise clears her throat. “Wow. That was—”

      “A mouthful, I know. And probably too much information. But I need to know if I’m obsessing over this, or if perhaps I need to be more sexually liberated.”

      Annelise’s fork clinks against her plate as she lowers it. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I have no experience in that department.”

      “Damn,” I mutter. “So Adam is a freak—that’s what you think?”

      “You haven’t said enough for me to form an opinion. Just how ‘kinky’ are we talking?”

      I can’t meet her inquiring gaze. “Anal sex,” I admit shamefully. “Having sex in public places. Not that anyone would see us,” I quickly point out, “but there’s the threat of getting caught. That threat really turns him on. Then on Friday night…” I let out a heavy sigh. “He bought me a strap-on. As a present for me.”

      Annelise’s eyes bulge. “What?”

      “I know. It’s horrible, isn’t it?”

      “But I don’t get—”

      “He said he wants me to do him.” Now I meet Annelise’s blue-eyed gaze. “Can you believe it?”

      Annelise shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Not really.”

      I groan my dissatisfaction. “I knew it. I knew this was over the top.” I push my salad away, no longer hungry. “And please, don’t mention this