“Hmm, I guess I see what you mean. Where do you want to start? Like . . . what’s your favorite color?”

He grinned, his dimples creasing. He was damn adorable, despite the salacious things they’d done tonight. His dimples were maybe the only thing that could allow her to think of him that way.

“The cornflower blue of your eyes, sweetheart,” he said.

She groaned. “Oh God, Jamie—if we were still just friends I might have to gag.”

He laughed. “It’s kinda true. When I’m not at the club, I wear a lot of blue.”

“Yes. And green and brown and still a lot of black.”

He raised his eyebrow, the barbell catching the light from the fluorescents overhead. “You’ve noticed.”

“So what if I have?”

“Just another fact to file away.”

“In that Domly-Dom mind of yours that must notice every tiny detail to use against me later?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’m also marking off that smart-ass remark on my mental ledger of infractions where I keep track of how many spankings I owe you.”

She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “That doesn’t scare me.”

He leaned in and said quietly, “Which only motivates me to find something that will.”

And just like that, her body was on fire again. But the waiter came by their table with their coffee in thick white ceramic cups and pastry on white paper plates, the powdered sugar drifting in the air and settling on the green-and-white plastic tablecloth. Jamie picked up a steaming beignet and held it to her mouth.

“You get first bite, despite your errant ways.”

She opened for him and he let the edge of the hot little piece of heaven rest on her tongue. She bit in, the sugar melting in her mouth. “Mmm.”

He reached out and thumbed some powdered sugar from the corner of her lip, and she picked up a napkin and wiped.

“Okay, so what else do you want to talk about?” she asked.

He shrugged, biting into his pastry. “I don’t know. Everything. Like . . . what was your favorite cartoon growing up?”

“Really? That’s what you want to know?”

“Why not?”

“Ninja Turtles.”

“Ha! That so does not surprise me.”

“What about you? Do you still watch any cartoons?”

“Only anime porn.”

Summer rolled her eyes and took another bite. “Which so does not surprise me,” she said, her voice muffled as she chewed. “Okay, next question. Have you ever wanted a dog?”

“Yeah, actually. Always. But I’m at work too much. It doesn’t feel like it’d be fair.”

“Couldn’t you adopt an older animal and have it at the shop with you? It could be your mascot.”

“Huh.” He sipped his coffee. “Maybe. That’s a pretty good idea.”

“What breed would it be?”

“Probably the mangiest mutt available. I always root for the underdog.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

He glanced down at his lap, then up again. “Come on, Summer Grace, don’t give me a hard time. I’m serious. And I’m not sweet.”

“I know you are. Serious and sweet.” She took his hand in hers. “I know, Jamie. I know you’re a Dominant, and that it’s no poser thing—that you’re the real deal. But you’re also still human. Maybe more than most people I know.”

He grinned, picked up her hand and brushed a kiss across the back of it. “Sugar, you sure know how to flatter a guy,” he teased. “But seriously. Thanks. You’re the real deal, too, you know. You dove into this kink thing head-first, and that’s not something most people can do. But I saw it that first moment in the club—the way you respond, the way your body moves, like you’re dancing to the beat. Or to the beating.” He grinned. “But it means you’re right in it. That’s not something you can fake. It’s a beautiful thing to see. And . . . I’m gonna give the dog some thought. How do you think Madame would react if I brought a dog over to your place?”

“With as much disdain as she responds to everything else.”

He grinned once more and nodded, letting go of her hand to eat another beignet. She watched him chew, the motion of his throat as he swallowed, the way his big hands curled around the white coffee mug, everything about him purely sensual. She loved this—sitting in the quiet café while the rain fell on the awning and the street. Watching the sleepy carriage horses, the acrid scent of chicory and the sweet scent of powdered sugar. But mostly she loved talking with him, getting to know each other in a way they’d never really taken the time to do. And the feeling that at last she belonged. To Jamie. She sighed and bit into another beignet. Did she even want to think about what the future might hold? Or did she want to simply live in this moment?

She sipped her coffee and her gaze wandered back to Jackson Square across the street. It was dark, other than the flickering candlelight of the fortune-tellers’ tables set up all around the perimeter. They were there every night, rain or shine, with their fluttering tablecloths, their animal bones and Tarot cards, their incense and candles.

“Jamie?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s go get our fortunes read.”

He laughed. “What?”

She grabbed his hand and tugged. “Come on. Maybe they’ll tell you about your dog.”

“That’s nothing but tourist stuff, sugar. You don’t really believe all that, do you?”

“I was raised in New Orleans just like you were. Of course I do.”

“I was raised in Scotland until I was seven, which lent me a healthy dose of cynicism.”

“Actually, I’ve heard the Scots are a superstitious people. And some of those stories may have come from you, Mr. Cynicism.”

“Superstitious, yes. Gullible, no.”

She batted her lashes at him. “Please? It’s even stopped raining.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay. But I’m finishing my beignets first.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, and he turned his head to capture her mouth. He tasted like coffee and chicory and man. She smiled as she sat back in her chair.

“Hurry, Jamie.”

He stuffed the last pastry into his mouth, wiped his hands on a napkin and got to his feet. “Lead the way, sweetheart—just remember you won’t have the opportunity often. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight.”

She laughed and winked at him. “I have my ways of getting my way.”

He swatted her behind as they stepped onto the sidewalk. “Watch yourself. That’s another mark on the spanking ledger.”

“Promises, promises.”

He yanked her in close and growled in her ear, “You know damn well I’ll make good on those promises.”

“Mmm, I do. And I can’t wait.”

“Then let’s get this silliness over with and go back to your place.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s better,” he muttered, but she could see his cheek dimpling as they crossed the street.

They milled around the edges of the square, gated for the night. The feral cats who lived in the park-like square itself hissed in warning when they walked too close to the iron fencing, checking out all the fortune-tellers’ tables until they found the one Summer wanted.

“This one,” she said, stopping in front of a woman with a small crescent moon tattooed between her eyes. She wore bloodred lipstick and an embroidered shawl, her dark hair hanging in long curls. Her dark eyes were lined in black, and she had a mysterious expression, as though she knew a secret. Summer wasn’t certain it was all for show.

“Have your future told?” the woman asked, her voice low and husky.

“How much is it?” Jamie asked.

“For you two? Twenty-five dollars for both. No, twenty. I like you.”

Jamie started to reach for his wallet.

“You pay me after,” the woman said. “Please. Sit.” She gestured to the two folding chairs in front of her table and Jamie took Summer’s hand as they seated themselves. “I am Madame Rain. I can read the Tarot cards for you, or your palms. I can also read energy.”

Suddenly Summer felt nervous, the tiny hairs at the back of her neck prickling. “Tarot, I think. Jamie? What should we have done?”