Lucy managed not to drop the tablet, but it was a near thing. How could she have been so blind? She had just been congratulating herself on being able to read Frederick so easily, but somehow she'd missed this? She was an idiot. An idiot with a big, goofy smile on her face, but an idiot just the same.

"Thank you," said Lucy when she could speak again. "Miranda, thank you for showing this to me. I knew things were going well, but—" Lucy shook her head. "I am a grade-A fool. I didn't see it."

"You are most welcome, sweetie," said Miranda, wrapping Lucy in a motherly hug. "But that's still not what I wanted to talk to you about."

Lucy gaped at her. "There's more?"

"I don't want you to freak out, but when I said everyone on set knows, I wasn't exaggerating."

"Oh, no," Lucy groaned.

"This is not a bad thing," Miranda insisted. "It just means that word gets around. We're spending day after day with the same group of people, and when they're between tasks, they talk. Word is, Frederick is planning something tonight. I don't know what exactly, just that it's something fancy, and it's for you."

"For me?"

"Yes, you! And I talked to some of the girls from hair and wardrobe, and we all agreed that we want to play fairy godmother for you tonight. When we're done with you, Mr. Asherton won't know what hit him."

* * * * *

An hour and a half later, Lucy stood gaping at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her eyes looked enormous. She had a million eyelashes, all of which were perfectly curled, as was her hair.

Miranda had done something called 'contouring' to Lucy's face, which had her worried when she saw hard streaks of various shades of foundation painted across her face. But Miranda had worked some sort of magic with a blending sponge, and now Lucy's cheekbones were standing at attention, and her nose looked more proportional to her face. Her lips looked especially full and had been painted a glossy deep red.

The lipstick matched the shimmery satin dress that had appeared from nowhere. It had a low neckline and fitted like a dream, but through some sorcery of design, the cut was classy rather than trampy. Black heels, matching clutch, and some sparkly earrings completed the look.

Lucy emerged from the change-room and did a happy little twirl for her team of experts. She gave a little curtsy when they applauded.

"I can't thank you guys enough. I still don't believe that the person I'm seeing in the mirror is really me," Lucy gushed.

"We just polished you up a bit. It's definitely all still you, sweetie," Miranda promised. She glanced at the big clock on the wall. "Now, go! Cinderella can't be late for the ball after all this!"

Lucy agreed and hurried to her car.

* * * * *

Lucy knocked on the door of Frederick's hotel room at 9:32.

"Come in," called that deep British voice she so enjoyed.

Lucy's jaw dropped when she saw the inside of Frederick's room. The dated hunt camp decor had vanished. Instead, the room looked like it had been plucked from a chic penthouse in a nicer London neighborhood.

The wood-paneled walls had been covered with pale gray patterned wallpaper. Gone were the deer head and stuffed fish. In their place were two mirrors in chunky silver frames. The log bed-frame was still in place, but was nearly hidden by the thickest duvet Lucy had ever seen, and the bed was piled high with pillows in coordinating blue and gray patterns.

The hotel carpet remained, but looked freshly shampooed, and with the new decor, it was easy to ignore that it was industrial quality rather than soft wool. Classical music drifted from somewhere in the room. The piece was familiar to Lucy, but she couldn't remember what it was. Vivaldi, maybe? Best of all was the addition of a dozen or so matching black end tables of various heights which, along with every other surface in the room, were covered with colorful bouquets of flowers, candles, or both.

It all paled to nothingness in comparison with Frederick himself. He stood in the middle of the room, one hand tucked casually into a pocket of his trousers. He was wearing a black suit that looked as if it had been made just for him—which, Lucy realized, it probably had been—as well as an impeccable white shirt and a black silk tie. His normally wavy hair was smooth and straight, combed back from his forehead in a high and trendy, yet elegant, style that showed off the masculine beauty of his face. No-one on the red carpet had ever looked half as good as Frederick did tonight.

"Frederick!" Lucy gasped. "You did all this?"

He walked over to her, moving like confidence personified. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Happy Birthday, Lucy," he murmured in her ear.

"Birthday? Frederick, I'm so sorry, but—"

"I apologize. I'm a bit late."

"A bit?"

"Two days before we met, to be exact."

"How did you even find out?"

"Your employment records. You had to fill out forms to work on set. Don't worry, I didn't snoop. I know people in the paperwork department and asked them to peek, just at your birthday."

"Everything is so beautiful, I'll take it, even if it isn't exactly the right date."

"You look stunning tonight, Lucy," Frederick said. He leaned back to take in the full effect of her new dress. "Would you care to sit?" he asked when his eyes had finally stopped roaming her body.

She nodded. The large television and the hulking piece of furniture it had rested on were gone, making room for a round, exquisitely set table just big enough for two. Two high-backed, comfortable looking white chairs (painted in Palest Ecru, Lucy thought) stood to either side.

Frederick held Lucy's chair out for her and, for the first time in her life, Lucy was grateful for the assistance; she wasn't as maneuverable as usual in her tight dress and heels. A bottle of champagne was sitting in an ice bucket in the middle of the table. Frederick poured a glass for each of them.

Once he was sitting, he raised his glass and said, "To you," eyeing Lucy approvingly over his champagne flute.

"To us," Lucy amended. The chime of crystal on crystal echoed around the small room as they drank.

"I can't get over how fantastic the room looks. How did you pull this off?" she asked.

"I started making arrangements after the first night we spent together in this room. You'd be amazed at what you can have delivered. It still doesn't compare with your beauty, but now, in this room, you can shine your brightest."

Lucy didn't think anyone had ever given her such a lovely compliment. She was leaning around the champagne bucket to kiss him when there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," called Frederick.

A black-vested waiter appeared carrying two covered plates. He bustled into the room, set a plate in front of each of them, and dashed back out with their plate covers.

"Where did you find a formal waiter out here?" Lucy asked after the door closed again.

Frederick chuckled. "This is a movie set. You can't swing a cat without hitting a former waiter or waitress. That one was more than happy to have me owe him a favor."

Lucy examined the beautifully plated salad in front of her."Did you find a cook, too? I've never seen anything like this at The Restaurant."

"You remember me telling you about my friend Chase Flannery, the one who is playing Mr. Bingley?"

"You borrowed his personal chef?"

"I borrowed him."

Lucy laughed. "Are you telling me that Chase Flannery made this?"

"He was too sarcastic to be a waiter, so, before he quit his day job, he worked in the kitchen of a fine restaurant."

Lucy shook her head in astonishment.

After the salad course, the waiter whisked their plates away, then returned with two more. Lucy's mouth watered at the smell that filled the room when he pulled off the covers before making his departure.

"This looks fantastic," said Lucy, taking in the grilled chicken drizzled with a creamy sauce, a fluffy mixed rice dish, and bright green asparagus stems arranged prettily on her plate.

Two bites later she said, "Wow, your friend can really cook."

"When I mentioned that I wanted to do something special for you, Chase offered to cook. I think he actually misses it."

Lucy and Frederick ate, the conversation flowing easily as the candles flickered and danced around them. She told Frederick about being outed by the costume department, and them flocking around her to transform her for tonight. She did not tell him about the photos. No need to rub his nose in how obvious the two of them had been.

Frederick admitted that his costumer, who tended to talk a mile a minute, complained out loud some time ago about getting Frederick camera ready every time Lucy came to visit. Frederick had made it clear to the man that he did not want to be the subject of gossip, stopping just short of swearing the department to secrecy.

"Let's see, the entire costume department knows about us, not to mention someone in the birthday-keeping section of human resources, plus whoever redecorated this room, the waiter you borrowed, and now Chase Flannery cooks us a romantic dinner? I think we're officially busted."

"Agreed," said Frederick, raising his glass for Lucy to clink again.

Far too quickly, Lucy realized that she'd finished every bite of her excellent dinner.

Right on cue, the waiter appeared to change their empty dinner plates for full dessert bowls filled to the brim with alternating layers of frothy chocolate, whipped cream, and sliced strawberries. He also left a tray of fruit, cheese and crackers on a side table.

"That's the last we'll see of the waiter tonight," Frederick said. "I'm afraid I rather stressed the point that we wanted to be disturbed as little as possible."

This bit of information sent a pulse of pleasure through Lucy that had nothing to do with the confection in her mouth. Well, hardly anything, she thought, closing her eyes to savor the airy sweetness on her tongue.

Her gaze slid to the inviting bed across the room. She spent a moment wondering if Frederick would let her spread a bit of her chocolate dessert on his bare skin if she promised to clean it all up with her tongue, then realized that she'd finished the entire bowl while daydreaming. Darn.

Once he'd finished his own dessert, Frederick produced a small skinny box wrapped in silver paper.

"For me? Oh, Frederick, you've already done so much. You didn't have to get me anything."

"I know I didn't have to," he agreed. "You give so much of yourself and never ask for anything. I wanted to give you something for a change."

"I feel like I'm the lucky one, and you're getting the short end of the stick."

"Never," Frederick insisted, placing the box in Lucy's hands.

Lucy tore open the wrapping paper, feeling a bit guilty about destroying it after she noticed the quality of the paper. Inside was a blue box from a famous jewelry store that she had heard of, but never visited.

Inside was the most beautiful necklace Lucy had ever seen. Three brilliant diamonds were set into a silver triple-drop pendant. The setting was simple and elegant, yet stunning.

"It's gorgeous," Lucy breathed. Though she would have been just as happy with another bouquet of wildflowers, she had to admit that the necklace was prettier.

"May I?" Frederick asked. He removed the necklace from the box and stood behind Lucy. Shivers danced down her spine as he moved her hair and fastened the necklace. The pendant hung just the right distance above her cleavage.

"Thank you, Frederick," Lucy said, gazing down at the sparkling jewelry, still cold against her bare skin. "I've never owned anything half as lovely." She pulled him down to her, then put her hands on the sides of his head and kissed him, fully expecting that it would lead to Frederick tossing her onto that luxurious bed.

Instead, Frederick pulled back. "Lucy, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh. Okay."

"Lucy, you know that I'm done filming soon," Frederick said.

Lucy cringed inwardly. She realized what this entire beautiful night was all about. It was her last hurrah, her big send-off before he left town and was out of her life for good. She had known it was coming. No matter how much fun they were having together, she'd always known it was temporary. What she hadn't seen coming was how much it was going to hurt to say goodbye.

"This was the best summer of my life, and it was all because of you, my sweet Lucy," he said, crouching in front of her. He picked up one of her hands and kissed the back of it. Tears filled her eyes. Why did he have to be so sweet? This would be much easier if he would do something, anything to show the worst of himself. But no, the worst thing he did was leave dirty socks on the floor.

"But you know I can't stay," he said.

Lucy nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He couldn't stay here. Even if he offered, she wouldn't let him. It would be a crime for his talent, his shine, to be hidden away in the backwoods any longer.

Frederick kissed her forehead. "I've upset you. Was this too much?"

Lucy shook her head. "I don't want to say goodbye," she said, her voice cracking.

"Then don't."

Her head snapped up.

"Lucy MacKinley, I love you. Come with me when I go."

"What did you say?" Lucy managed to whisper.

Heat flared in Frederick's eyes. "I'm in love you," he said, his voice igniting as well. "Madly, head over heels for you, Lucy."

Lucy blinked, paused a heartbeat to take in his words. Then she knew what to say. "I love you, too."

Lucy was stunned. She loved him. How could she have been so sure of something only moments ago, and now recognize that she'd gotten it all backwards, again? She loved him. It was forehead-smackingly obvious. How had she stayed in denial for so long? She loved him.

And he loved her.

"Frederick..." Lucy began, but words failed her. Instead, she let her body do the talking. Her body had always been so good at communicating with Frederick, surely it would tell him what she wanted him to know.

Lucy fell to her knees on the floor beside Frederick and kissed him hard, trying to pour her relief, her spiraling delight, and most of all, her love, into that one small act. Frederick returned the kiss, his full of exhilaration, joy, and, of course, his love. Frederick scooped her up as easily as if she were a child and sat her on the edge of the high bed.

* * * * *

Frederick could hardly stand his good fortune. Lucy loved him. She said it out loud. He knew that she cared for him, but wasn't sure she was ready for the L-word. He would have waited, but he was running out of time. With filming coming to an end, he needed to ask Lucy to leave town with him now so that she had a chance to adjust to the idea. He knew it wasn't something he could spring on her at the last minute.

He noticed that Lucy hadn't agreed to come with him yet. The thought that she might refuse hurt, but he was used to that; even a good day with Lucy brought pain. His heart had been slowly pulled from his body since the first day they'd met. He'd been plagued with anxiety every time she drove home in the dark, every time she was alone working with someone who could overpower her. He even worried that she'd slip and break her head in the shower when she was home alone.

He was being ridiculous, he knew. Lucy was a grown woman who was perfectly capable of driving and showering on her own, and she was never far from other people when she treated clients. And yet, since his first stolen kiss, he'd been grateful every time he saw her well, unharmed and happy to see him. It felt like some sort of enchantment. He took each day, each minute with her as a gift, knowing how fragile it was and how quickly he could lose her.

He knew that Lucy was giving all she had to give tonight. He knew that just when she had opened her heart widest to him, they were at their most precarious. There was so much more at stake now. What she decided in the next few weeks would either make tonight a spectacular beginning or a bittersweet goodbye.

But at this moment, not only did she love him, but she was on his bed, her warm brown eyes filled with elation. Frederick wondered if a heart could actually burst from happiness. He hoped not; he intended to get his heart rate jumping in the very near future.

"Help me with my zipper?" Lucy asked. Frederick was more than happy to oblige.

"I don't want to risk ripping this dress. It isn't mine," she said.

"Actually, it is. I brought it to the costume department and asked them to slip it to you sometime today."

Lucy's shiny red mouth fell open. "But it fit me. Perfectly."

"Your measurements were taken the day you were fitted for the zombie costume. The records are still with the costume department. The rest was easy," said Frederick, feeling smug that his weeks of planning had all worked out so neatly.

Lucy gave Frederick a look that he would treasure until his final moments. "You are amazing," she said.

"And you deserve it," he said. He kissed the velvety skin of her neck as he leaned forward to open the zipper at the back of her dress.

"I have to warn you, though," Lucy began. Frederick froze. "I'm still wearing my workday underwear. They're not nearly fancy enough for this dress." Frederick realized that he'd been holding his breath as Lucy spoke. He exhaled quietly, then eased Lucy's zipper down.

"You make anything you wear look beautiful." Besides, it all looked the same to him once it was on the floor, and that's where he was planning for the rest of her clothes to be in the next two minutes.

As if she was reading his mind, Lucy stood in front of Frederick, who was still seated on the edge of the bed, and let the dress fall from her body to land in a shimmering heap on the floor. She moved to take off her high-heeled shoes, but Frederick stopped her.

"Leave those on," he said.

She gave him a naughty grin and removed her undergarments, but kept the shoes. She stood with one hand on a cocked hip, exposing her full glory to him. She swaggered towards him and grabbed him by the necktie.

"You've done so much for me tonight. I almost don't want to ask for anything else."

"Name it." If there was anything in his not inconsiderable power that he could do for her, any small discomfort he could relieve, he would have done it in a millisecond, even if she hadn't been stark naked.

"Lose the suit," she purred.

"Done." He liked seeing Lucy's confident side. So much so that in the back of his mind he worried that he was going to pop the button right out of his trousers.

Lucy tugged at the knot on Frederick's tie, but he felt it tighten rather than loosen, and pulled her hands away. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, and inspired by her brazenness, he said, "My turn."

He stood, and Lucy reclined against the pillows of the bed. Frederick loosened his tie, pulled it over his head and tossed it to Lucy like a rock star. She cheered and slipped the tie over her own head. The black silk dangled between her breasts, pointing the way to paradise.

Frederick unbuttoned his jacket and slid it off his shoulders in a rolling movement that he knew would play up his toned upper body. Unwilling to let the tailored jacket fall to the floor, he dropped it on the back of a chair.

Feeling a bit silly stripping to classical music, Frederick pulled a low-backed chair beside the bed to use as a prop. Actually, he thought, as he started grooving to the playful, teasing melody of Ravel's "Bolero", it sort of worked. He untucked his shirt, making a show of revealing a bit of belly as he did, and turned the chair backwards. Sitting astride, he slowly undid his shirt buttons.

Frederick knew how to perform not just with his face, but with his body, as well. He could pose, build the tension, create little dramatic moments. Not only did he know he looked good, he knew how to make the best of his hard-earned body. Lucy's lips parted and her eyes went dreamier with each button he opened.

Frederick let his shirt drop to the floor behind him, then stood in front of Lucy with his feet wide and his shoulders back as he undid his belt and fly.

Lucy had been inching her way towards him since he stood up and she now lay on her belly, breasts squashed high around his tie, legs bent at the knees and high-heeled feet crossed at the ankle. From his height, her perfect round arse was on full display.

Frederick was sure that he never wanted this moment to end. A sad voice in the back of his mind told him that the number of these moments still to come might be few indeed. He pushed that thought away and let his mind be filled with the sight of his lovely Lucy. He wanted no tomorrow, no yesterday, only the glorious now.

He worked his clothes down from his hips and Lucy put her hands around his waist. She pulled him closer to her until his knees touched the edge of the bed. She was at just the right height to take his aching erection into her mouth. Frederick was glad that the bed was supporting his knees as they suddenly had trouble supporting his weight. Lucy's mouth was warm and talented, and he could see her arse wiggling in time with her head. If he died right this moment, he would die a happy man.

No matter what happened next, tonight she was here, she was his, she was willing, she was...oh, lord, she was doing something with her tongue that made his eyes roll back in his head.

When his eyeballs started to ache from staring at his own brain, Frederick leaned sideways and found some protection in the drawer of the end table. Lucy snatched it out of his hand and put it on him with impressive speed. He untangled the clothes from his ankles and reached for his beautiful Lucy.

"Come here. This way," he said thickly. He turned her around and guided her legs to the floor so that she was leaning face-down over the edge of the bed.

With regret, he realized that, although he was fit to burst, he had hardly touched her. He put a hand between her legs and found that, despite his neglect, she was more than ready for him. He put his hand around himself instead and eased into her. She pushed back against him and let out a throaty sound that nearly made him lose it completely.

They rocked against each other as though they had been practicing this move for years. He reached an arm around her belly and moved his hand down between her legs, searching for her clit. She let out another long moan when he found it. Frederick changed his mind. If he died in this moment, he would die a happy man.

They moved against each other, letting the tension build until they were both at the edge. Frederick was about to start his final rush when Lucy pulled away from him.

"Wait," she said.

He did, though every fiber of his being was calling out for her.

"I want to see your face." She climbed up on the bed and motioned for him to do the same. Lucy put her hands on his shoulders and had him lie face-up. He grinned when he realized what she had in mind.

Lucy sat astride him and guided him back inside her. When she began moving, Frederick knew that he'd gotten it all wrong. This was the moment worth dying for, he thought, watching as she moved on top of him, breasts bouncing. Her new pendant sparkled just above them, but wasn't half as beautiful, he was sure. And wasn't nearly as satisfying to squeeze, he though, taking one breast in his hand, paying extra attention to Lucy's tight, pink nipple.

Lucy's brow furrowed. If he hadn't known better, he might have thought she was in pain. He was, too. The sweetest pain imaginable.

"Tell me again," she said.

He knew what she wanted to hear. "I love you, Lucy."

"Oh, Fre... Frederick. I love you, too" she said.

The pained look on her face grew more intense. "I love you," he said again. She kept her warm brown eyes locked onto his. "I love you," he repeated as she cried out and pressed him deep within her, as deep as he would go.

Frederick was lost when he heard her. When the spasms shook his body, he struggled to kept his eyes open, but found it was worth it when he got to watch Lucy watching him.

Any effort was always worth it many times over with her.