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“Yes, mistress,” he caught his breath.

“You, on the other hand, don’t need punishing,” Annabel leaned close.

“You… amazing,” he stuttered the words.

She took his hand. “Come in. Let’s get better acquainted.”

“Absolutely,” Ryan nearly dropped his bags.

“Let’s go to my kitchen,” Annabel showed them into her state of the art kitchen.

“This is impressive. Do you cook?” Andrew set his bags on the counter.

“I do,” Annabel said. “I’m not a huge fan of cooking.”

“I love it. It’s different from building.” Andrew unpacked the bags.

“This bag we’ll set aside for later,” Annabel snatched the Body Shop bag out of the grocery bags and walked it to the dining room. “Ryan, are you helping him or standing there?”

“Helping,” Ryan shook his head. “You’re stunning.”

“Tell me about yourselves,” Annabel asked. “Not the fluff stuff you told the magazine.”

“You don’t want to know our favorite colors,” Andrew asked.

“Not particularly,” Annabel laughed. “Nor do I want to know your astrological sign. Let’s start with the hard stuff. What religion are you both? Are you a regular attendant?”

“My mom raised me in the Methodist religion,” Ryan said. “It didn’t take.”

“What do you believe,” Annabel asked.

“I’m more spiritual. I believe in a higher power, I just don’t think the organized religions have all the details right,” Ryan said. “I studied religion in college.”

“You minored in it,” Andrew put in as he chopped vegetables.

Annabel walked to the breakfast bar. Ryan pulled out the chair for her. “With going into construction, why take religion as a minor?”

Ryan sat in the chair next to her. His leg bumped against hers. “My mom’s a believer. I’m not. I wanted to know more.”

“In knowing more, did you discover one you preferred,” Annabel asked.

“Not really. They’re all pretty similar.” Ryan folded his hands on the breakfast bar.

“Can I get you a drink,” Andrew asked.

“Until we determine all the parameters of this, I think we should leave alcohol off the table.” Annabel said. “Later, we can indulge.”

“Because you want us all capable of giving consent,” Andrew surmised.

“Not just a hunk,” Annabel noted. “A hunk with a brain. Sexy.”

“Most women see the hunk and nothing else,” Andrew raised his eyebrow.

“Their loss. Intellect is more attractive than the brawn,” Annabel said. “I’m not looking for a fighter. I’ve had fighters. They’re tedious mostly.”

“Are you still seeing the judge?” Ryan motioned for Andrew to give him something to do. Andrew pushed a cutting board and carrots to him.

“I’m single,” Annabel said. “No one is in my bed, for now.”

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