He turned his back to me and began preparing food—never once looking over his shoulder or saying anything to me. He took his time measuring different oils and sautéing meat, shaking his head every few minutes.

While he was chopping vegetables, I looked at my watch and realized an hour had gone by since we’d made it to the house.

“Here.” He turned around and slid me a plate of chicken, potatoes, and salad. “I didn’t see you eat much on your date.”

“Thank you...”

We ate dinner in complete silence; the sound of forks scraping against the plates was the only noise between us. I looked up at him several times, trying to see if he would look back, but he didn’t; he kept his eyes on his food the entire time.

When he saw that my plate was empty, he grabbed it and tossed it into the sink. He put on his jacket and walked to the frosted glass door that was across the room.

“Come here, Claire.” His voice sounded neutral, but there was still a look of coldness in his eyes.

I took my time walking over to him and he wrapped a warm blanket around my shoulders. He opened the door and I realized the Pacific Ocean was only a few feet away.

I thought we were going to walk along the beach since I was still barefoot, but he led me onto a beautiful black yacht that was docked nearby. He helped me up the steps, and signaled for a man—who appeared out of nowhere, to start the ship.

He started tugging me through all types of elegant rooms—tea room, sun room, living room, Jacuzzi room—and then he suddenly stopped.

He turned around and stared at me, looked at me long and hard, as if he were contemplating what he wanted to do—what he wanted to say.

“I don’t like being lied to.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, pressing himself so tightly against me that I could feel his erection through his pants.

He possessed my mouth with his tongue, hardly ever giving me a chance to breathe—instantly turning me on.

I knew he was upset, but I wanted to feel him inside of me again. I wanted him to take me right then and there so I reached down to unbutton his pants, but he broke off our kiss.

“Why did you do that?” He snarled.

“What?” I panted. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t give me any fucking sarcasm...”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t stutter.” He pulled me down onto a couch. “Why were you on a date with that doctor?”

“It wasn’t by choice...” I leaned back and touched my swollen lips. “My mom set me up... I showed up to her house ready to go to the opera, but she told me she’d set me up on a date with him.”

“But someone like him is who you want to date, right?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Someone your age or older?”

“Yes...”

“Explain that to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Explain why you feel that dating someone your age or older is what’s best for you. Better yet, just tell me why I’m not good enough, because that’s clearly how you feel.”

“It’s not that you’re not good enough, it’s just that...” I saw him clenching his jaw. “Whenever I do decide to date again, I want to date someone with a little more life experience—someone who didn’t have everything handed to him, you know? Someone who knows what it’s like to love and lose and someone who would go out of his way to make sure neither of us felt that again...”

“And because he’s older with life experience, that means he’ll treat you right?”

“There’s a greater chance of that. Yes.”

“For the record, I didn’t have anything handed to me. Believe it or not, I had to work for every dime that I have. I know exactly what it’s like to love and lose, and I would never ever hurt you. If you—”

“You never had anything handed to you?” I scoffed. “Have you read your bio in the company handbook lately? You were born and raised in an upper class Boston family and you went to an expensive prep school—Phillips Exeter Academy, in New Hampshire. And you and your—”

“All of that shit is a lie, Claire.” He hissed. “I had my best friend, who happens to be my security director, make up a past for me. I even paid Phillips Exeter to create an old transcript and Photoshop my face into old yearbooks...I didn’t think trailer trash kid with meth-head parents who almost killed their own kids sounded very inspiring.”

What?

My mind went blank. All these weeks I’d been trying to come up with excuses to use should this very conversation ever happen, but his lack of life experience was one of my biggest ones.

“I’m...I’m so sorry about your parents, Jonathan. I didn’t know...But still, it’s only a matter of time before you find someone your age or younger and you’ll want to date her—which is perfectly normal and understandable. I mean, the past couple months have been fun, but I honestly think you’re going through a MILF phase.”

“A MILF phase?”

“Yes. Mother [You’d] Like to Fuck. I don’t think that—”

“First of all, I’ve already fucked you—numerous times, so consider that point null and void. Second of all, I’ve told you over and over that I don’t give a damn about your age. I don’t know how else I can make that fact any clearer. What do you want me to do? Send out a company memo about it?”

“I just don’t want you to think that you and I could ever have something serious...I know you say you don’t care about the age gap now, but that’ll change with time. It always does...And while I’m extremely flattered by your little crush—”

“Jesus.” He balled his fists at his side and glared at me. “I like you, Claire. Point blank. Period. From the moment I saw you at Pacific Bay Lounge on New Year’s Eve, I was captivated by you and I’ve never been this drawn to a woman in my life. I’m not hung up on your age at all. You are. All I see is a beautiful and intriguing woman who is hell bent on frustrating the shit out of me. If I thought you weren’t interested, or if you would have convincingly told me that all you wanted me for was sex, I would have left it alone. But, since neither of those things have happened, just admit that you like me and say that you want to date me because I know deep down you want to.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I just sat there, blinking at him, trying to process everything he’d said. I didn’t remember ever seeing him at Pacific Bay Lounge. I thought our first encounter was at the grocery store.

I put on my best poker face and sighed. “It’s—”

“It’s not that difficult. I’m not asking for your heart or anything. I’m just trying to get to know you better in other ways... Just say, ‘I like you Jonathan and I want to date you.’ That’s it.”

“I think that—”

“I like you, Jonathan, and I want to date you.” He fumed.

“What’s the difference between what we’re doing now and dating? Public dinners? Movie nights?”

“Admit that you like me and I’ll show you.”

“And if I don’t admit it?”

“We’ll keep sailing out here until you do. I’ve got all year.”

Just say it...

“I’ll think about it.”

“Close enough.” He pulled me close and draped his arm around my shoulders. “Was that so hard to say?”

“I didn’t say anything. I said I would think about it.”

He rolled his eyes. “There’s something else I want to talk to you about, but not here. Lunch on Monday?”

“Together?”

“Yes. When two people are dating, they typically eat together.”

“I still don’t want people at work knowing that—”

“I’ve been eating lunch with a different director every day for a month now. No one is going to suspect anything. They’ll think I’m having another business lunch.”

I sighed. “Okay...”

“Good. Now that that’s settled, there’s one thing I’ve wanted to do to you all night.” He moved his arm from around my shoulders and held my face in his hands.