We finally made it to the bedroom. I tugged at the buttons on my shirt, but Elliott stopped me. “Wait. Let me undress you. I have wanted to do this for so long.” He moved my hand away. He began slowly, tenderly, and way too deliberately for my taste, removing my clothes. He peeled them away like one would remove the leaves from an artichoke.

“I have all sorts of lingerie for you to choose from,” I said.

“Not tonight. I have been waiting a long time, and I want to see all of you.”

Dammit. How had Elle done it? That made her two for two in the “knowing men” department.

Elliott had a muscular body—much more so than his loosely fitting clothes indicated. I found myself wanting to study him in the way he wanted to study me. We kissed, we gazed, we touched places that were once forbidden. Then, we gave into our bodies’ desires. Time seemed suspended. Our breathing seemed suspended. We connected in a way that felt complete. When we were finished, my enthusiasm got the better of me.

“Best Thursday ever!” I said, trying to catch my breath. In some ways, this acrobatic adventure had left me with more adrenaline than I started with.

He laughed. “I may need a break before seconds.”

“And I thought your best work was in the kitchen.”

“Perfectionism, Ms. Edgeworth, in all things has its definite advantages.” He scooted next to me and we embraced. All the adrenaline I thought I had evaporated, and we fell into a deep, sound sleep.

Sometime after midnight I threw on the black nightgown Reggie had selected and made my way into the kitchen. I was surprised at how hungry I was. I couldn’t even remember what we had eaten or even if we had eaten.

The light in the galley kitchen was on, and Elliott was standing there eating a big piece of Bing cherry-rhubarb tart. He was stark naked. I didn’t know which was more beautiful: the dessert or his frame under the perfect track lighting. I decided to have a bite of the former and seconds of the latter.

“Where are your forks?” I asked, staring at the ease with which he moved around without clothes.

“It’s better with spoons,” he said. He took one out of the tray, scooped up a bite, and then walked over to me, pressing his full body against mine and teasing me to open my mouth.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Elliott. But I must tell you straightaway, nothing gets in the way of my eating, especially something tasty like that.” He didn’t move. He just laughed and continued to feed me the decadent dessert.