Arryn stretched, and opened her eyes, stopping the most delicious Rhys dream. She whispered a laugh at the alliteration. He was a delicious dream. Yeah... too bad that's all he'd ever be. Glancing at the time, she sat up straight. Three in the afternoon. Good Lord. She'd slept the day away and still didn't feel rested. Flopping back down on the mattress, she stared at the ceiling. By now, he knew she'd left.

No reason to waste any more time on shoulda, woulda, coulda. Forcing herself out of bed, she stumbled into the bathroom.

An hour later, trapped in a web of deceit, she pulled her car to the curb in front of the Majestic Diner. It was nearby, and had a homey atmosphere, plus, the coffee wasn't five bucks. Yellow and white striped awnings framed the windows. They struck a sharp contrast to the box planters overflowing with red geraniums and ivy.

From a corner booth, Yennefer and Darcy waved as Arryn entered. She stopped at the counter to order, then slid in next to her dark-haired friend, who bounced on the bench seat. "We can't wait to hear all about it. Why wouldn't you let us text you? How good is he in the sack?"

Darcy nudged Yennefer, her red curls bouncing with the effort. "Hush, and let her start at the beginning."

The waitress appeared and set a mug on the table. Apparently, she understood they were in the middle of something because she didn't say anything. Arryn nodded her thanks, and the server walked away.

"Well, things didn't go exactly as planned."

Yennefer exchanged a mutual expression of confusion with Darcy, then focused on Arryn. "What do you mean?"

"Devon showed up right on time, and I've got to say he's even hotter in person. His selfie angles really don't do him justice."

"Cut to the chase," Yennefer said. "How does he look naked?"

"I never got a chance to find out."

Her eyebrows knit in confusion. "What? But you spent the weekend with him. Are you saying you didn't get laid?"

"Oh, I did it plenty." Arryn smiled, getting a warm sensation from the memory. "Just not with him."

Both women leaned forward, and Darcy said, "Then who?"

"Oh, my God. You little hoe-bag." Yennefer leaned in a bit more. "Did you go home with some random guy? I don't know what you've done with Arryn, but I approve."

Arryn splayed her hands, palms up for emphasis, and moved them up and down as she explained. "I didn't choose. I had it all planned to a T. All the bartender had to do was tell him his drink was paid for, but the barkeep misunderstood my signal, and gave the drink to his friend."

Yennefer bounced again and clapped her hands. "Holy shit! That was fate stepping in. Girl, I told you. The tarot never fails. You went MIA for three days with him, so he must have been good—and by good, I mean bad—and by bad, I mean goo-ood."

Darcy drew her face tight. "Who got the drink?"

Closing her eyes, Arryn leaned her head back and sighed. "The sexiest guy I've ever met. It's like I conjured him out of a wet dream." She placed a hand to her chest. "I felt things with him I've never experienced before. We went fishing. Had sex outside during a storm. Danced in the moonlight." She snapped out of it and looked at Yennefer. "Tall, blue eyes with a patch of brown in the left, and gorgeous naked."

Darcy covered her face and spoke into her hands. "Oh God, please tell me you did not fuck Rhys Wakefield."

Arryn cocked her head. "Oh, God, don't tell me he's married."

"Shit, shit, shit," Darcy said, and laid her head on the table.

Yennefer leaned down. "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing—and everything."

"What does that mean?"

"Hush. I'm praying Arryn had sense enough to use good condoms, and there's no chance of getting pregnant." She rolled her head to look at Arryn. "Please tell me I'm right."

"You are."

Darcy sighed, her eyes now full of sparkle and relief. "Thank Jesus."

"Seventy-five percent."

The twinkle in her eyes faded. "Seventy-five percent what?"

"Chance that I'm not pregnant."

"Holy shit!" Yennefer jerked her head back and forth, focusing on one friend and then the other.

Darcy went quiet, and Arryn knew a detailed account was warranted, so she called on Elia for help. "Okay, Rhys got the drink, and I tried to get out of there, but he followed me out into the parking lot, and then he kissed me, and the next thing I know, I'm back inside, and we're dancing." She took a quick breath. "I liked him. Really liked him. And when we got to my room, I decided not to go through with the plan."

"Then where does the seventy-five percent come in?"

Arryn's shoulders slumped. "Just my luck, I'd pick the one guy in the universe who doesn't carry a condom because of some stupid rule about picking women up in bars."

"Oh no," Darcy groaned.

"I still thought I was okay because my three bad condoms were first in the box, so all I had to do was take one from the bottom, but then he said he'd get it, and he poured them all out and chose one, and it turned out to be one with a hole. After that, I got rid of the other two, so we only had unprotected sex once."

Darcy ran her hands through her hair, pulling it tight against her head. "I'm still not getting the percentage thing."

"I don't know. Google says seventy-five percent of couples that are trying to get pregnant usually do within the first six months. The math is weird on that. But then there are other factors. He was drinking. That lowers sperm count. He carried his cell phone in his jeans pocket. Again, it decreases the number. He takes hot showers, so that affects his swimmers, supposedly. Add to that the stress he's feeling concerning that possible takeover of your company, and that should really make it difficult."

Darcy released her hair, picked up her water and gulped. She set the glass next to her cup and scooted the saucer around. "Let me get this straight. There is a twenty-five percent chance you've got Rhys' baby in your oven right now."

"When you say it like that it sounds bad. It's better if you concentrate on the larger number. The worst part is because I lied, I can never see him again. I've never met anyone like him. He has a beautiful house in the country, which he helped build with his grandfather as a teenager."

"I could do a reading. That might tell us if you're pregnant."

Arryn shook her head. "I don't think I am. With all those things I mentioned working against me, it seems damn near impossible. I'll wait for Mother Nature."

Darcy nodded. "Arryn's right. No need to jump to conclusions. I can't believe you appealed to him because you are not his type. I couldn't imagine you'd have a chance in hell that he'd be interested."

Yennefer scrunched her face. "That's rude."

Darcy dismissed her with a hand wave. "Nothing against Arryn. It's him. All the girls he's dated fit a type-white, blond, and south of twenty-five. But you're gorgeous and kind, so what do I know?" She faced Arryn again. "So we've got what? A couple of weeks before we know if you're pregnant or not? Between now and then, I'll be praying my ass off. Rhys has such strong moral values, if you are, and he ever finds out, we'll be in a shit load of trouble."

Arryn's heart sank. Darcy was probably right, Elia wasn't his type, and he'd only spent the weekend with her because she'd been easy. It made sense. Easy lay, and then after the back-to-back sex, he probably figured why not tap that all the way to Memorial Day. She was such a fool. She'd thought he'd be upset to find her gone without a note when he was probably relieved. When would she ever learn and stop making a fairytale out of every relationship?

As Arryn waited for Mother Nature, every day was endless. She tried to concentrate on work, but hardly an hour passed that she didn't think of Rhys and her possible dilemma. Her body indicated the start of her period. Her breasts were sore, and she was bloated, not to mention how weepy she was. When she baked, she cried about Papi's condition. Even though he was doing fine, the threat of cancer returning always loomed. Just the thought of visiting her mother brought tears, and that damn animal cruelty commercial with Sarah McLachlan's haunting song created a flood big enough to float the ark.

Shaking herself from the trance, she removed her apron and poured herself a glass of water. She was dry as a bone. Ever since Memorial Day, she suffered from an uncontrollable thirst. She decided it was a side effect of all the lies she'd told. After draining the tumbler in a few gulps, she refilled it and drank again. She ambled down the hall to the bathroom, and when she sat on the toilet, the answer to the biggest question of her life, stared her in the face. Four days early, she'd gotten her period. She burst into tears and wasn't sure if they were from joy or sadness.

She grabbed a wad of paper and held it to both eyes. On one hand, she was relieved. Lying wasn't in her nature, and she must have been crazy to think she could do it without guilt and shame. That combination, she'd discovered, was lethal. It tied her stomach into a knot, turned her heart to stone, and blackened her soul.

Now all she had to do was figure out a way to see Rhys again and tell him the truth.

Rhys walked past Melissa's desk, and she looked up at him. "Yeah, I know. If Elia Green calls, put her through no matter what you're doing." The secretary rose and followed him into his office. "Do you ever plan to tell me who she is?"

He set his bag on the floor. Melissa plopped into one of the two leather client chairs, crossed her legs, and folded her arms as if she'd taken up permanent residence.

He sat, rocked back, and stretched out his legs. "No idea."

Melissa shifted, leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs. "That makes no sense, so you need to tell me the whole story."

He never whined about women, but Elia was different. He'd opened his heart and home to her. Something he'd never done before and for her to leave without as much as a note, hurt. So what if she'd gone back to her former girlfriend? She could have at least told him. They'd made no promises to each other. Still, he'd been clear about wanting to see her again, and he expected some common courtesy. He was sure Melissa agreed.

He spent the next fifteen minutes relating the saga, and when he finished, his shared assistant said nothing, just sat back and studied him.

"Well? I'm right, aren't I? Don't you think she should have at least called? And what's going on with her telling the bartender that she was waiting for me? That part is driving me nuts."

She took a deep breath, and he didn't like her expression. "Well?"

"I'm thinking. You said you thought she was getting even with her ex. So maybe she was waiting for a person with a certain look. The opposite of this girl in every way. Maybe you filled the bill."

"Hadn't considered that. You may be right. But why sneak away?"

Melissa fiddled with the pendant of her grandchildren's birthstones resting against her windpipe, and it took him back to the bar, and Elia messing with his shirt button. He shook the memory away.

"Let's put the shoe on the other foot," she said. "And be honest. Back in the day when you were hooking up, how many one-night-stands did you leave without saying goodbye?"

"Plenty. But that's because I was an asshole." He held up his hand. "The thing that bothers me most is I can't find her. It's like she doesn't even exist. I looked up every medical supply company in Orlando, and nobody named Elia or Green ever worked at any of them. And, she isn't on Facebook or anything else as far as I know. How do you explain that?"

"With all the cyberstalking going on, I'd say it's easy. Face it. Women have to be more careful than ever these days. She meets you in a bar. She doesn't know you from Adam, so to be safe, she gives you a fake name. That way, if things don't work out, you can't hunt her down." She gave him a pointed look, "Like you're doing right now."

He rocked forward. "Shit. Is that what I'm doing? Stalking her? That's not my intention. I just want answers. I liked her. She liked me, I think. Hell, I took her to the woods at midnight. I could have been a serial killer. She trusted me enough to go, so I don't get it."

She quirked an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "Speaking of trust. Did you share the story about the scar on your chest? How you almost died because of a lie? That it took years for you to get over it, and because of what happened, you don't trust people?"

"Well, maybe not that much detail, but yeah. Why?"

"Well. If I'd met a man, slept with him, lied about who I was, and found out he'd almost died because of someone's lie, I might not come clean either."

Maybe she's on to something here...

TEASER: "What I'm about to say can't be repeated to anyone."

Wonder whats going on there?