She nodded to me and finally got my point. Or at least I hoped she did.

We received our food without any further incidents or disagreements and began to enjoy our meals.

“Well, the food is good,” she told me halfway into her lasagna.

I grinned. “Everything’s gonna be good.”

I didn’t even bring my cell phone with me. This was Rachel’s night with no outside disturbances.

Finally, I got the kind of response that I expected from her.

She grinned back at me and said, “We’re gonna soon find out. So let’s order our desserts and take them with us.”

I raised my brow in wonder. “You’re planning on using it later?”

She chuckled. “You’ll find out. Let’s just take it with us.”

I didn’t know what I was expected to do with New York cheesecake, but Rachel’s lemon meringue pie had whipped cream to do plenty with.

We left the restaurant with our desserts and headed back to her hotel in downtown Atlanta. Rachel looked across at me from the passenger seat. “I finally get to put something on you, huh?”

I had met her only a month ago, but it seemed like we’d known each other longer. We had been around each other in three different cities already.

“I just hope I don’t disappoint you,” I told her.

“Oh, I won’t let you do that. The only way you can disappoint me is if you have a tiny dick that I can’t really work with.”

I don’t know if her frankness was turning me on or off at that point. All I can say is that I was thrown off-guard by it.

“Do you always tell a guy what you’re gonna do to him in advance?” I asked her.

She looked me over and frowned. “I haven’t told you what I’m gonna do to you yet.”

It sure felt like she had. She had me feeling like another plate of food. I was about to be marinated, seasoned, cooked well done, and sprinkled with salt and pepper.

We pulled up to the valet at the hotel, and I was actually feeling excited. What did this woman plan to do to me? She had me mad curious.

I had never been in Atlanta’s Marriott Marquis before. It was pretty elaborate with a giant-size lobby that went up to the top floor. They even had glass elevators where you could look out at everything on your way up. A lot of celebrities stayed there. I was impressed. Rachel had friends with good taste.

I smiled on the elevator with her. “How many celebrities have you seen in here so far?”

“You mean besides you?”

“I’m way low on the pecking order in this city, honey.”

“Not in my book you’re not, so stop talking about yourself like that. You’re a gorgeous man. A lot of other so-called celebrities are ugly.”

She had a point, but without my good looks, I had no fame at all. My looks were my fame. I don’t know if that made me more self-conscious about my appearance or not. Was I more concerned about it than other celebrities? I guess I had to be. Then again, I didn’t really see myself as a celebrity. I was a model, no more no less.