Champagne Rules. Susan Lyons

surprise when you pull out the big words.”

      Jen leaped to her feet, swatted Ann’s shoulder, then said, “Let’s boot up the computer.”

      Ann handed the pad to Suzanne. “Final proofread?”

      Suzanne stared down at the words. “Erotic escapade.” That was so not her. And yet, they perfectly described the afternoon on Crete. Could she be that woman again? Did she want to be?

      She held up a hand in a “time-out” gesture. “Hold on. This has been fun, but we’re not really going to do it, right?”

      “I did not skip out of work early, just for you to bail on us,” Ann said.

      “Suzie, we’re just placing the ad,” Rina said softly. “What’re the odds of actually finding the man? And if by some wild chance he actually does respond, then you can decide what you want to do.”

      True. If he didn’t answer the ad, it didn’t prove he didn’t exist. It didn’t mean her afternoon of magic—of being the sexiest woman in the world—hadn’t really occurred. And if, by some miracle, he did answer…Then the next step would be up to her.

      Suzanne squared her shoulders. “Let’s do it.”

      They crowded into her teeny bedroom and clustered round the computer that sat on a small desk by the window. Mouse, her little grey cat, who’d been sleeping on the keyboard as usual, jumped up. He shot her a dirty look and stalked out the door. Even though the bedroom window faced away from her parents’ house, Suzanne pulled the curtains firmly shut.

      “Jenny, you’re the computer whiz. Do your stuff.”

      Her friend clicked and tapped deftly, then said, “All right, Suzie-Q, what’s your alias?”

      “Um…How about ‘islandgirl?’”

      “Cute,” Rina said.

      “Dull, dull, dull,” Jenny said. “It makes me think of that movie You’ve Got Mail. Wasn’t her e-mail name ‘shopgirl’? Can you think of any better way of saying ‘hello, I’m really, really boring’?”

      But she was boring. Wholesome, traditional. She was a student who lived in her parents’ backyard, shared her apartment with three cats, and dreamed of one day being a modern-day version of June Cleaver.

      Of course, on that enchanted afternoon her behavior had been so out of character, so…“Outrageous,’” she said, her voice coming out husky, almost sexy.

      “Now you’re talking!” Jenny tapped away at the keyboard. “Oh damn, it’s taken. The good ones are always taken. How about adding a number to it? We can try ‘outrageousl,’ ‘outrageous2.’”

      “‘69,’” Suzanne said, then clapped a hand over her mouth as her friends howled. “No, honestly, I didn’t mean that. My evil twin made me say it.”

      “Your sexy twin,” Jenny said. “It’s perfect. Now, if only someone else hasn’t thought of it.” She tapped away then pumped her fist into the air. “All right! Suzanne Brennan, you are now officially ‘outrageous69.’”

      Before Suzanne knew it, the ad was placed and her friends were splitting up the leftovers and heading out.

      By the time she’d tidied up the kitchen, Suzanne was having serious third thoughts. What was she thinking, pretending to be some outrageous, sexy, sizzling gal?

      She was a twenty-four-year-old vet student who had her life mapped out. She was a firm believer in setting long- and short-term goals, and so far that approach had worked beautifully for her. Her summer and part-time work as a veterinarian’s assistant not only paid her tuition, but assured her she’d chosen the right career, and even promised a job when she finally graduated.

      She knew exactly what her husband would be like, because her dad and brother-in-law provided the perfect role models. Mr. Cleaver, as her friends jokingly called him, would have a job he loved—a meaningful job—but would work regular hours and put his wife and kids first, always.

      Her friends teased her about being so old-fashioned, but Suzanne didn’t care. She valued security and truly wasn’t a risk taker. That’s why this whole internet thing was so crazy.

      Crazy, yet…kind of exciting.

      Yes, it was exciting to think she might again experience amazing sex with a stunningly handsome man.

      Then she shook her head. Let’s face it, great sex and Suzanne Brennan didn’t go together. In her cave-sex dream, she became a sexy woman, but somehow that image of herself never carried beyond the dream. She’d had a couple of lovers in the last few years, but every time things got hot and heavy, she just kind of…locked up.

      The word “escapade” came from escape, as in to let go of inhibitions, Jenny had said.

      If her Greek god really did exist and she found him, would she be able to escape her stupid inhibitions with him?

      What if she couldn’t? That was a scary thought.

      After pulling on cotton pajamas, she stopped and stared at the computer screen. Would there be any answers yet? Why had she promised the girls not to look until next Monday?

      Man, it was stressful, placing a personals ad. Kind of like throwing a party. What if no one came? What if too many people came? What if weird people showed up? What if the right guy didn’t?

      Expecting one man, somewhere in the world, to see and respond to her ad was sillier than casting a fishing line into the ocean in hopes of luring one particular salmon.

      If that very special fish even existed….

      Jaxon yawned and rotated his head, trying to ease the ache in his neck and shoulders that had settled in an hour ago. What kind of guy had nothing better to do than sit at his desk doing research at eleven o’clock on Saturday night?

      Answer: A lawyer who wanted to score brownie points with the senior partner. So here he was, spending his weekend researching a complicated point of antitrust law, so he could have a memo on Trent Jefferson’s desk before Monday morning—a memo outlining a strong argument they could make to the charge that their client had violated the laws governing unfair competition.

      Besides, what would he rather be doing? Sitting in a bar, making meaningless conversation? Twiddling his thumbs in front of a television? No, he was right where he wanted to be, plodding steadily forward on the fast track to success.

      Plodding on the fast track. What was that, an oxymoron?

      Who cared? It was the life he’d chosen.

      He stretched and took two steps to his office window. Outside, the city twinkled with moving lights. San Francisco was alive, but here on the thirtieth floor he was insulated from it. No sound reached his ears, and he viewed the world through tinted glass.

      When had he last had a date? There’d been the lawyer he met at the continuing-ed course on intellectual property litigation. After they’d had to reschedule their first two dates, they’d both laughed ruefully and decided it wasn’t worth the effort. That had been…what? Three or four months ago?

      A date. He couldn’t even organize a date. Yeah, he knew he couldn’t afford the time for a relationship, but he wouldn’t mind a date.

      He chuckled at his reflection in the glass. “Fuck, man. What you really want is down-and-dirty sex.” He was a physical guy, with physical needs. Putting in fourteen-hour workdays tired out his brain, but his body had a deep-down craving to get sweaty and satisfied.

      Oh yeah, he was definitely horny. That dynamite blonde from Crete was back in his skull. Christ, it must have been, what? Four years? And it had only been one afternoon. Since then he’d fallen in love, been married, got divorced. But still, that blonde had a grip on him that had never let go. He thought of her at the oddest times, as well as the completely predictable ones like alone in his bed in the middle of the night.

      Gazing