happen to come off. A fresh T-shirt, sleek-fitting, soft and

flattering. My favorite jeans, the ones that gave me a round

ass but kept my gut tucked up tight. The gut I didn't realy

have any longer, I had to admit as I checked out my

reflection. Courtesy of those lists, I'd been working out

more diligently than I ever had.

I swiped a brush through my hair and slid clear gloss over

my lips. A dusting of powder finished me off without

making it look as though I'd tried too hard. I grabbed a

couple of packages of microwave popcorn and a big bowl

from my cupboard, slipped my feet into a pair of flip-flops

and tucked my key into my pocket.

My phone buzzed as I debated taking it with me. Now

Austin caled me? After so long silent? I put the phone on

the table, flipped it the bird and locked my door behind

me.

Eric hadn't changed his clothes, but I spied teltale wetness

in his hair that told me he'd at least washed his face.

Minty-fresh breath gave away the fact he'd brushed his

teeth, too, and I hid a grin as he let me in. I hadn't been the

only one assuming there might be more to this than

watching a movie.

I did brace myself as I stepped inside his apartment, but

on first glance I didn't see anything freaky. He gave me a

quick tour. Living room, kitchen. His was a two-bedroom

unit, and he used one for an office complete with shiny

new iMac that had me salivating with envy. He didn't take

me into his bedroom, but I caught a glimpse through the

open door. His window overlooked the parking garage,

same as mine, but he was closer to it.

I'd been half expecting a St. Andrews Cross in the living

room. I think I was a little disappointed. Eric did have a lot

of leather, but in the form of a modern black-and-chrome

sofa and chairs arranged in front of a flat-screen television

hooked up to a bunch of high-end equipment.

"You have a Wi. Sweet."

"Ever played?" Typical male, proud to show off his toys,

Eric grinned and headed for the TV.

"Sure. Not for a while, though."

"Want to try a game of tennis? I know it's not the latest

"Want to try a game of tennis? I know it's not the latest

and greatest, but it's stil fun." He held up the controler.

That's how we ended up playing video games instead of

canoodling on the couch under a blanket, hoping our

hands met in the popcorn bowl. Eric had a wicked

backhand, and yet he let me win. We laughed a lot as we

played, sharing the sort of random conversation that lets

you get to know someone without treading into territory

too intimate for a first date.

If that was what this was. I had my doubts. Brushed teeth

aside, Eric didn't seem to have any intentions about putting

any moves on me, if he ever had. It had been a long time

since I read a guy wrong, but it wasn't impossible. When

at last we colapsed together onto his slippery leather

couch, Eric's smile didn't give me any clues one way or the

other.

I was flummoxed, to say the least, my confidence shaken.

I remembered the trip to Sensations, and how the clerk

had set me back. I didn't get a gay vibe from Eric, and in

any case, if he liked boys, why had he invited me over in

the first place? No. Something was most definitely up and

unfortunately for me it didn't seem to be his cock.

I excused myself to use his bathroom. And yes, I looked in

his medicine cabinet. Anyone who says they've never done

it is a liar or forgot to add the "yet" to the end of that sentence. I found shaving gel, ibuprofen, Tom's Natural

Toothpaste and a jumbo box of condoms. In the cabinet

beneath the sink I found toilet paper, extra towels and a

few scant cleaning supplies. Like the rest of his apartment,

Eric's bathroom was apparently kink free.

I shouldn't have been so surprised. After al, my own place

wasn't decorated in early-medieval dungeon, either. And

there had never been anything in any of the notes or lists to

indicate he was into hard-core bondage or pain play,

unless I'd been so focused on getting my own rocks off I

hadn't read between the lines. Who knew what those

notes had meant to him?

I had to find out.

He'd put the movie in the DVD player and was popping

the corn in by the time I came out. "It's not too late, is it?"

He gestured at the clock. "We kind of got carried away

with the game. Sorry."

He shot me a sincere and slightly abashed grin. I wanted to

He shot me a sincere and slightly abashed grin. I wanted to

pet him. I wanted to sit extraclose and whisper naughty

words into his ear to make him blush. I wanted, I realized

only a bit uneasily, to see him on his knees again.

"No. It's fine. Anyway, I'm in the mood for a movie."

"Great! Thanks for bringing the popcorn." Eric hopped

over the back of the couch in a fluid motion and headed

into the kitchen. "What can I get you to drink? Soda?

Beer?"

"Soda's fine." I watched him pul the bag from the micro

wave and empty it into the bowl and grab two cans of

Coke from the fridge.

"Coke okay?"

I'd never been with a man so solicitous. "Sure. Yes."

"A glass? Ice? I could slice up a lemon for you."

I broke down and laughed. "I could just drink it from the

can."

"If that's what you like." Eric smiled after a minute, cans held high. "Saves me washing the glasses."

held high. "Saves me washing the glasses."

He brought the drinks and popcorn but waited until I sat

before he did, too. I thought of Austin, who'd have been

yeling from his place on the couch, feet up, to bring him a

beer. This was a nice change, no doubt about it, even if it

did leave me feeling more than a little off balance.

"Be right back." Eric hopped up and disappeared into the

bathroom.

I took the chance to look around. He had framed photos

on the end table and on the brick-and-board bookshelves

that looked as if he'd made them himself but that probably

came from Ikea. He was in a lot of the pictures, his arm

slung around the shoulders of his companions. He'd done a

lot of traveling it looked like from the backgrounds of his

colection. I spotted the blue oceans of the Caribbean,

Hawai's lush greenery. In one he wore the whites of a

cruise-ship crewmember and was sitting at the captain's

table. Ship's doc, maybe.

It didn't look as if he had a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend.

None of the people in the pictures were standing close

enough or giving him goo-goo eyes. Eric was a puzzle, no

question. But at least I could be fairly sure he was single.

"Ready?" If my perusal of his pictures annoyed him, he

didn't show it.

I sat on the couch again, popcorn bowl balanced on my

knees. "Sure."

There's nothing potentialy embarrassing about Monty

Python and the Holy Grail. Even the tiny reference to

oral sex isn't realy sexy. I'd seen the film half a dozen

times but never in its entirety and never completely sober.

And yet I had a hard time concentrating. Eric stretched out

long legs next to mine. He had a deep, infectiously sexy

laugh I couldn't help echoing even if the movie itself hadn't

been hilarious.

It didn't last long enough. I'd forgotten the abrupt end.

When he leaned forward to use the remote to click off the

TV, a thin stripe of skin bared between his shirt and jeans,

tempting me to run my fingers over it. I resisted…but only

barely.

He caught me looking when he turned. "One of my

favorites. Sometimes after a long day in the E.R., al I can

think about is coming home and watching something

stupid."

stupid."

"I can imagine so. Sometimes after a long day at work I

can't manage anything other than stupid." I grinned in

sympathy. "And I'm not saving lives."

Eric's handsome face went stil for a minute. "It's not the

saving them that's the problem. It's when I can't. Sorry,

that's a bummer."

"No, it's okay. There must be a lot of pressure." I watched him look away from me.

When he turned back it was with another smile, less

convincing than his others. "Yeah. Wel. I did a couple

rotations on terminal wards. Pediatrics, too. That was

worse, believe me. A lot worse. At least most of what I

see is fixable. A few stitches, a cast, give out a script for

meds. I'd rather face a roomful of broken bones and

bloody noses than a terminal ward again."

"I can't even handle being sick myself, much less take care

of anyone else." I shuddered involuntarily.

Eric dug into the popcorn bowl to scoop out a couple

unpopped kernels, which he crunched. "Funny thing.

unpopped kernels, which he crunched. "Funny thing.

When I was a kid, I was sick al the time. At least it felt

like I was. Constant colds. Probably alergies, now that I

think about it, but at the time, al we knew was that I

always had a runny nose. I was the kid who always

looked like he'd been squashed in the face with something

nasty."

"Nice to see you outgrew it."

His smile quirked higher on one side, charming me. "Yeah.

So anyway, I got older and decided I wanted to become a

doctor, right? And my mom, you'd think she'd be happy to

have her son the doctor, but al she said to me was, ‘But,

Eric, think of the germs!'"

"It's a good thought." I looked at the bowl of popcorn

we'd shared and tried not to wonder if he'd washed his

hands after work.

"But I haven't been sick in years. Nothing more than a mild

cold or two. I think I immunized myself to everything when

I was a kid, so I can't get anything now. In med school

they caled me Iron Man because no matter what we

faced, stomach bugs, coughs, colds, flu…whatever it was,

they usualy got it and I never did."

"Wow. Lucky you."

He swirled those long fingers through the crumbs again,

bringing them out covered with buttery salt. He licked

them one by one as I watched. If I'd thought he was doing

it on purpose to tempt me I'd have been annoyed, but Eric

didn't seem to have any awareness about how he looked.

Or of how my mind went at once to that dirty place.

"Yeah. Pretty amazing." He held out the bowl. "Want

some more?"

I shook my head. "That's interesting, though. Why you

decided to become a doctor. Was it everything you

thought it would be?"

"It's not like I dreamed it would be. No," Eric said flatly.

I waited for more. It seemed there must be more, but no.

His gaze went to the bowl in his lap. He swirled again

through the popcorn and licked the tips of his fingers. He

put the bowl back on the coffee table and looked up at

me.

"It's an incredible amount of responsibility. It's a lot to

"It's an incredible amount of responsibility. It's a lot to

handle, you know?"

I didn't, realy. Not the way he meant. I thought of my own

job and the lists from Paul, and how there realy wasn't

anything I had to be accountable for there. How I had

nothing in my life I needed to take care of. How I never

had. Even when I was married, what had I ever done but

taken care of myself?

"But Monty Python makes it better?"

Eric laughed and ducked his head again for a moment

before looking back at me. "I'm glad you liked it."

"It's a classic. What's not to like?"

Eric shrugged and leaned back against the couch, one arm

stretched out along the back. His fingers could have

touched my shoulder if he'd stretched half an inch more.

Neither of us moved.

"Some of the women I've known…most of them, actualy,

don't get Monty Python. Don't like it." He shook his head.

"So when you said you loved it, I wasn't sure you meant

it."

I studied him. Many things had brought us to this point.