“I"m sorry.” Dana"s fingers tightened on her hand, over that ring. “Was it recent?” Dana was planning to attend seminary. Though she"d only just begun prep courses for it, Rachel could tell she was going to be a good minister. She already had that quiet, soothing way of talking that made it feel like she was inviting a confession and forgiveness, instead of being intrusive or nosy. Of course the idea of forgiveness for a passionless crime…

She didn"t want more questions, so it was best to get it out, rip the bandage off fast.

“No. It"s been a few years. I wear the ring so I don"t have to fend off male attention.” She forced herself to sound light, breezy. “It"s appalling how few men are deterred by it these days, but it does help some.”

Rachel was far more curvy than Dana"s regal Ethiopian physique. Full-breasted, with a generous ass and hips that didn"t bother her, because the yoga kept it all firm and healthy, even if she didn"t match the standard for thin. She knew from experience she was far more likely to catch the eyes of passing males than the pencils in designer wear a couple decades younger. She did understand that about men, that they liked a woman to hold in bed, liked the way clothes could be made to amplify those fertile attributes of breast and backside. But it was bolstering knowledge only, not designed to catch the passing fish who couldn"t meet her needs. She"d learned it was best not to cast the line.

“So no one in your life now?”

“Do I detect a matchmaking note? If so, remember I can actually tie your body in a pretzel shape and leave it that way.”

The problem with having this kind of conversation with a blind person was they couldn"t be thrown off by visual cues—the false smile, a casual shrug. Rachel tried hard to make her tone teasing, relaxed, but the crease across Dana"s smooth brow said she wasn"t fooled.

“You feel like a woman who has so much love to give a man, Rachel. I never would have guessed you didn"t have one. Do you have other family? Children?” I had a family. And one beautiful child.

“Oh heavens.” Rachel gave a strained laugh, one she was sure sounded fake, but she was out of courage to handle the conversation. She was too fragile today. That word kept running through her head. Master, Master, Master… With each beat of her heart, she felt anew the thrill that had run through her vitals when she"d heard it. Only now it was starting to feel like an electric shock applied to the soles of her feet. “It"s almost eight o"clock. I have to run an errand upstairs before my next appointment. I"m sorry, honey, I don"t mean to cut us short…”

Withdrawing her hands with a quick pat of Dana"s, she rotated on her stool and jumped, surprised to see Peter leaning against the wall a few feet behind them. She hadn"t heard him enter, so she guessed he"d arrived during their brief, far-too-intimate interchange.

Dana rose then, gesturing as if she"d give Rachel another reassuring touch if she was still in range. “I"m sorry, Rachel. I didn"t mean to get too personal. You don"t have to pretend. You can tell me not to be such a nosy bitch, I can tell you to bite me and we"ll be square again.”

The warmth that welled up in Rachel now was real. She liked this woman and her fiancé, so very much. There were too few people like them. Since she had no trouble being physically demonstrative in such circumstances, she was able to put her arms around the slighter woman and give her a pure warm energy hug, rubbing her back a moment before letting her go. “Okay. Nosy bitch.” She laughed as she stumbled self-consciously over the rough language, but then added, “Remember to keep up with your exercises and I"ll see you next Tuesday. Ice pack and heat when you get home.”

“Bite me. And no problem.” Dana gave her another squeeze. When she reached out, Peter was already there, putting her cane back in her hand and giving her his arm.

“How"d she do?” he asked.

“Exceptionally well,” Rachel said.

She meant it sincerely. However, looking at the two of them, another impulse gripped her. Something needy uncoiled in her belly, a desire to connect on this level, even if it was only in some miniscule way.

Knowing she could be risking a vital faux pas, she added, “Except she was a little tough on herself at the end. Thinking her hard work didn"t deserve praise because it would never restore her to what she was. Just a brief moment, but I thought you should know about it.”

“Really?” Peter arched a brow, holding her gaze an extra minute before glancing down at his fiancée. “Well, I guess we"ll have to go home and deal with that attitude, won"t we?”

He gave Rachel a significant nod then, an expression that made something quiver inside her. Her hands closed at her sides, terror at her own daring. “Most illuminating,” he murmured. “Thank you, Rachel. See you next week.” She was relieved to see the smile playing on Dana"s lips, and accepted the additional press of the woman"s hand before it slipped away to rest on Peter"s biceps, trusting him to lead her wherever she needed to go.

* * * * *

By the time she finished the week"s appointments and three yoga classes, Rachel decided she needed to start the weekend with a stiff drink and a serious reality check.

She"d been oddly euphoric right after that little interchange, but ever since, she"d been unbalanced, raw. She knew better than to go down that road, even with a seemingly innocuous tease. But for one solitary second, she"d put a foot inside a circle in which she"d longed to be all her life. Though it was only as a pathetic side character, a walk-on part where she facilitated something for the main players she couldn"t share with them, it had felt so damn good.

Of course, like most things that felt that way, it came with a crash like a sugar high.

Damn it. She"d been vacillating between reliving the moment and being depressed over it for most of the week. It hadn"t helped that Jon hadn"t showed for any of the week"s classes. It just underscored she needed to have herself committed.

As she slid into her car outside the hospital, she saw her cell had a voice mail waiting. When she listened to the recording, she didn"t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Rachel, this is Jon Forte. I"m sorry I missed class this week, but we had an engineering prototype due and I was burning the midnight oil. Would you be free to do a private for me on Sunday? Give me a call and leave your preferred time on my message service if you miss me. Sorry for going the impersonal tech route, but I"ll look forward to seeing you Sunday if you can do it.”

The impersonal tech route had given her a permanent recording of his voice. She could listen to it whenever she wanted, unless she made herself delete it. Yeah, right.

That would happen after she got herself sloppy drunk, which she never did.

She needed to make up a lie, tell him she wasn"t available for a private this weekend. Indulging in a one-on-one class with Jon would be the height of foolishness after the way she"d been raking her emotions over the coals and dredging up dark memories that really needed to stay buried. Next week would have been her twenty-fourth wedding anniversary. The small gumball of nails rolling around her belly grew into something like a spiked mace at the thought.

Knights carried maces, right? Knights of the Board Room. Even her colorful self-deprecations were making her think of him. Great.

When she hit the button to reply to the call, she didn"t know if it was a positive or negative sign she reached his voicemail. Instead of telling him she wasn"t available, she opened her mouth and something else entirely came out. “Jon, thanks for your call. I"ll see you at 10 a.m. Sunday.”

A time most people were in church. Choosing to ignore the significance of that time choice, she snapped the phone closed. Who really cared if she stood on the slippery bank of a lake in which she could drown?

No one. Especially not her.

* * * * *

Despite a glass of wine, maybe two, she rocked herself to sleep Saturday night, her thighs pressed together over that sick, unabated throbbing. Every reformed drug addict knew you couldn"t indulge even a taste without awakening the horrible, must-have-it-or-die craving. But still, she got up the next morning, put on her yoga clothes and went, anticipation making her knees wobble, her stomach flutter. Her hands shook on the steering wheel of her battered old Corolla, fingers cold.

She"d spent a lot of time creating a peaceful environment in her yoga studio, which was an add-on room to the local fitness club. Rice shades, oak wood floors and a high ceiling with a slowly rotating fan. Bamboo plants and bonsai were displayed on a few artfully placed pedestals.

He"d arrived early, of course. With his masculine grace and inexpressible beauty, Jon looked like he belonged here, though the feelings he evoked this morning were anything but peaceful. During those few moments before he noticed her arrival, she hung back in the doorway of her studio, remembering all the guilty scenarios she"d played out in her mind.

At appropriate intervals, she joined other female rehab professionals for lunch.

Since they were all of a similar age, occasionally there"d be jokes about “cougars”, women who preferred younger men. Women who fantasized about those strong agile bodies, someone who would make them feel in their twenties again, males who could match their surprisingly expansive forty-something sexual appetites. Though she enjoyed the harmless frivolity of it, that wasn"t what she felt for Jon.

She wasn"t seeing herself as the older, wiser woman, taking him over like some kind of Mata Hari, guiding his steps in her bed. When she looked at him, instead she sensed his ability to take her over, guide her steps. Why couldn"t she say it, even in her mind? She"d already opened that can of worms, hadn"t she?

Jon was a sexual Dominant, the same as Peter was. A Master. Now that she knew it about Peter, she was certain of it for Jon. In between the lines of that gossip column, there"d even been a couple of snarky hints about certain sexual tendencies the Knights shared, but nothing stated overtly enough to invite problems for the paper or confirm Rachel"s suspicions. But now she was sure, and wondered that she"d ever doubted it.