Billie pulled up at a small Italian restaurant that she normally stopped at when she drove this way. During dinner, Billie kept the conversation completely neutral. She discussed her idol, Elizabeth Arden, who was also interred in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. Buried under the name of Graham with only a simple foot plaque. No one would really know that there lies one of the first brilliant woman billionaires. Or at least that's what she would have been worth in today's money.

Quentin kept up with the conversation. He found it easy to talk with Billie and asked if she knew the spot where they buried the Ramones alive during the video Pet Sematary, and, of course, she did.

They covered just about everything except religion and politics because both knew better than to bring up such topics during a first date. The food was well prepared, and the owner seemed pleased to see Billie there, not dining alone.

Mama Bellini said this to Billie as she brought them some of her famous Tiramisu, on the house. Billie wanted to crawl under the table. "He's a handsome one, Bella," Mamma Bellini said with a wink at Quentin that made him grin.

The older woman walked back to her husband. "He better not hurt my Billie." Quentin heard Signore Bellini say when his wife passed him, earning him a playful slap on the arm by his wife.

"Leave them alone, Angelo. It is good to see our, Bella out and having some fun for once."

Senior Bellini just narrowed his eyes in distrust at Quentin, causing Quentin to shake his head. "How do you do that?" Quentin asked Billie after she took her first forkful of Tiramisu.

"Do what?" Billie mumbled her mouth still full. A bit of the creamy mascarpone filling caught at the corner.

"You got something right here," Quentin said pointing to his own lips.

Billie's tongue darted out to swipe it away, a simple movement that she thought nothing of until she could see Quentin's expression change to one of desire.

"Do what?" Billie asked again, wanting to steer them away from whatever it was that caused that look.

"Carlos, Mitch, Mr. Bellini. You have such loyal men surrounding you at all times."

"Oh that," Billie waved the question off as if it were nothing.

"No, seriously. What is it about you?"

He was asking because Quentin really wanted to know as he was only with her a day and he too wanted to protect her and her father. To make her wish of saving Mr. Dupree and his company a reality. What sort of spell does this woman cast over the men in her life?

Billie laughed. "I'm a short, petite woman who looks like she can't take care of herself. I bring out that instinct in the men around me to shelter and protect and in the good ones, their conscience, I guess. They want to take care of me and so I let them."

He found it interesting... her choice of words. "You let them?"

Billie nodded her head yes as she savored another fork full of dessert. "Men like Carlos, Angelo, Mitch don't look at women like possessions. They look at them as someone to cherish. They need to know they are doing the right thing by women in their lives. It's... important to them.

I don't need them to look out for me. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself but I'd be doing them a disservice if I acted as if I didn't need or appreciate their ways. There really aren't enough good men left in this world, in my opinion, men who know the proper way to treat a woman. Especially a woman they love. They are becoming a rare breed. So, I like to encourage such behavior instead of squashing it like a bug."

Quentin gave this hypothesis some serious consideration before saying. "I think it's more than that. I think it's you that brings that trait out in them. There's just something about you."

***

Billie fidgeted a little under the intensity of Quentin's gaze. He was trying to figure her out and she'd rather he didn't. After all, it's been decided, he's not sticking around. All of this is pretend, and if earlier was an example of his talents, he's damn good at it. Something she really needed to keep in mind.

After dessert, they took the long way back to New York City. Riding with the top down both of the car's occupants had settled into a comfortable silence. Until...

"You know I really ought to take you home. I doubt your father would have waited around for you this long," Billie said and Quentin turned to look at her but seemed a little lost in thought.

"Come again?" he asked.

"Home? I should probably take you home. Where do you live?"

"Home is outside of the city. I'm currently staying with a friend. My mother would love that I stay at the house but having that much exposure to my father is not healthy for our relationship."

"So, where to?"

Quentin rattled off an address involving Lexington Ave and the Upper East Side.

"Your friend lives in The Burton?" Billie asked, getting a sick feeling in her stomach. It was a huge co-op. Quentin could be friends with anyone in that building.

"Are you familiar with the place?"

"A little, yes," Billie said but even she could hear the tension in her voice.

"You okay?"

"Fine, Lexington Avenue it is," Billie said expertly navigating the city. Soon they arrived at their destination. Billie pulled up right out front.

Quentin wished there was a way to lobby for more time but knew he'd have to let her go. "I really enjoyed this time with you."

"I did too."

Quentin grinned. "You sound surprised by that fact."

"That's because I am," Billie admitted. She really expected to find a complete narcissist, a self-absorbed, spoiled brat who only cared about himself but instead, she found him one of the most interesting men she's met in a long time.

"Well, here's hoping that I continue to surprise you," Quentin said and he leaned in to kiss her but Billie pulled back.

"It's been a pleasure, Mr. Harrison." Billie held her hand out to him.

Quentin grinned. He was now more determined than ever to win Ms. Dupree over. It's been years since he's enjoyed a woman's company this much. He wasn't sure how far he was going to take this little experiment of his but he knew giving up wasn't an option.

He took her hand in his. It was warm and his large hand enveloped her petite fingers. Just that simple touch sparked something in her eyes. Quentin could see it, but he refused to pounce. Instead, he said, "The pleasure was all mine, Ms. Dupree," as his thumb lightly grazed over her hand.

He'd seen her swallow hard as she stared at him but she hadn't pulled her hand away. Ever so slowly, almost in perceptible, he pulled her closer. She was drawn to him like a moth to the flame. It was almost a gravitational pull; it had such weight behind it.

As he drew her closer, he saw how she subconsciously wet her lips in preparation for them to kiss and found it vexing. Billie Dupree was both sensual and seductive and she wasn't even trying. So close was she now he could feel her breath brush his lips. Just a fraction more and...

There was a knock on the window, shattering the spell into a million pieces. Billie pulled away and pulled her hand from his, before rolling down the window.

"Do you need me to park your car, Miss? Because if not I'll have to ask you to move along so that the others behind you can move up."

Quentin glared at the young man, who suddenly realized he was in trouble. He didn't wait for an answer, and instead, stepped back from the car.

"Goodnight, Quentin."

His anger at the valet took a back seat to Billie calling him Quentin. Up till now, it was either Mr. Harrison or she didn't use his name at all when addressing him.

He smiled at her. "Sweet Dreams, Billie."

Quentin got out of the car and watch as Billie drove away.

Quentin knocked and the apartment door opened. His best friend since childhood stood there, with lounge pants and a t-shirt on, wearing a silly grin.

"You're out late? Hot date?"

Quentin shrugged feeling a bit dejected from not getting that last kiss. "Yeah, something like that."

His friend stood there dumbfounded. "No! Shut up! You? Struck out? With a woman? I never thought I'd live to see this day. My God, you are human after all."

"Shut up, Donavan," Quentin said as he was let into his friend's apartment.

"Who is she? Was she hot? Details man? I gotta know the details."

"I'm not talking about her, especially not with you," Quentin replied as he stripped off his tie.

"Aw, come on! You know I live vicariously through your escapades. To hold back is just cruel."

"Look this girl, she's not a... fling."

Unfortunately telling Donovan this didn't exactly deter his interest. In fact, it just made him all the more curious.

"Are you telling me you let another one slip past your defenses?" Donovan shook his head in disappointment. "You should know better than that."

Donovan was right he should know better but Billie Dupree was not like other women. He knew he was playing the fool. There was no possible way she'd be genuinely interested in him, but he wanted her to be, almost desperately. What was wrong with him?

Quentin flopped on the sofa and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt feeling stifled.

"Man, whoever this chick was she really did a head trip on you. I haven't seen you this wound up since..."

One look from Quentin and Donavan knew not to finish that sentence. "You want a beer?"

"Yeah," Quentin said leaning his head back on the sofa. Was he being stupid? He promised himself he wouldn't let his heart get involved in his dealings with women, that his relationships would just be a natural give and take with no strings attached. But Billie Dupree had him all tied up in knots, and he didn't exactly want to struggle to get free.

"Your dad called by the way?" Donavan said sitting across from him, handing Quentin a beer.

"Yeah. What did he want?"

"He kept hounding me about where you were and if you got back yet. He seemed pretty pissed off," Donavan said taking a sip from his own beer.

"Good," Quentin replied. Let his Dad wonder. Tomorrow he will start his own campaign to save Dupree Industries and ... and what? Win the daughter's heart?

"Gah!" Quentin exclaimed and rested his head back on the couch again.

"Wow! Whoever this girl is she's really done a number on you. Don't you remember your own rules? Never let down your guard. Draw them in but keep them at an arm's length. Take what they offer but don't offer more than you're willing for them to take. 

These are the commandments set down by you, Quentin Harrison. The man that has had sex with more hot women than this city alone can provide."

"Please, it's not like that and you know it," Quentin said, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, maybe I exaggerated that last part a tad but it's not because you couldn't be that guy. It's because you chose not to be that guy. I'm still trying to figure out why? I'd love to be that guy."

"Donavan, there is more to life than sex."

"Sure, there is but tell me one thing that is better in life than sex?"

Love – the answer immediately sprung to Quentin's mind but he didn't say it. Love was for fools, dreamers, and people who still believed that it can and will conquer all.  That definitely wasn't him.

"So what did you do with your evening?" Quentin asked.

"Not much. I had some charity event thingy to attend. Boring! There wasn't one single, hot woman in that place. Just a bunch of old women that wanted to raise money for some sort of cause, I don't know what for, I really wasn't paying attention. I was instead, biding my time waiting to go home so I could watch the second half of the game, mourning the box tickets I had to let go to waste."

"Aw, poor baby. Yet, somehow you managed to survive," Quentin teased, as he swigged his beer.

"Just barely. Boredom, Quentin, that's what really kills us all. Are you really not going to tell me anything about tonight?" Donavan asked disappointed.

"I got to travel around in a sweet ride, with a sick sound system, driven by a gorgeous woman. There? Is that enough?" Quentin asked.

Donavan shrugged, guessing it would have to do, as his best friend of all time was not in the mood to share this evening.

"I'm going to turn in. Thanks for the beer," Quentin said taking his bottle and shuffling off to the guest bedroom.

"Yeah, sure don't mention it," Donavan said with a cheers motion of his bottle.