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“Hi Daphne, I’m Amber and this is Quentin, we both would like a cup of coffee, black, with two sugars,” she finished.

Quentin’s eyes stretched in surprise.

“Anything else?” Daphne asked.

“No, thank you,” Amber said.

Daphne strolled away from the table with an extra pep in her step.

Quentin cleared his throat. “I was unaware that you knew who I was, Amber.”

Amber turned her head to the side in thought. “You didn’t tell me your name when we were outside?”

“I’m sure I said my name was Q.”

Amber tossed her hands up. “You got me; you have a popular face, Mr. Davidson. You shouldn’t be so surprised when people know who you are.”

Something about Amber was off. Quentin was regretting this cup of coffee.

“You told the server how I take my coffee,” he pointed out.

Amber nodded slowly. “Yeah… I did.” She dipped her head in her shoulders, feeling embarrassed. “You’re feeling creeped out, aren’t you?”

Quentin didn’t lie. “Just a little bit.”

“Oh my God,” Amber said. “Okay, so it’s not what you think. I read an interview you did in Men’s Health magazine this year. You talked about everything from your upbringing to how you became the fitness guru that you are. You even talked about how you like your coffee.” Amber smiled sheepishly again. “You can run now if you’re feeling the need to. I’d understand.”

The server bounced back over with coffee for them both, and Quentin pulled out his American Express and offered it over to the clerk.

“I’ll be right back with your receipt,” she said, bouncing away.

“I was going to pay for that,” Amber said. “I was the one who asked if I could buy you a cup of coffee.”

Quentin pulled the mug to his lips and blew softly before responding. “I don’t mind.” He glanced out the window and motioned to the vehicle. “That’s a nice classic. A 1967 Shelby 427 Cobra Roadster.”

Amber perked up. “And you have a love for old school cars, that’s right,” she said.

Quentin thought back to that interview. The information he’d revealed seemed harmless enough. But Amber had a way of bringing to light why disclosing information was important to remember.

“You have an excellent memory, Amber.”

Amber beamed. “That’s a good thing.”

Quentin nodded. “True that. You have me at a disadvantage.”

“How so?”

“You know things about me, but I know nothing about you.”

Amber gave a sly smile. “Well, what would you like to know?”

Quentin took another sip of his coffee.

“Why don’t you tell me how you ended up with that beauty out there,” he said, pointing to the Cobra Roadster.

Amber lit up with glee and went into a full conversation about the car’s original leather interior and 4-speed transmission. Quentin could barely focus on her words when his thoughts traveled back to Phoebe. Like a main attraction, his mind sought images of her deep brown smooth skin and the dark areolas that puckered her breasts. His tongue moved from one corner of his mouth to the other as images from their passionate kisses to the way she jumped into his arms after she’d searched him out slid through his mind.

Phoebe affected him with such a throbbing force that he’d almost indulged in the most precious part of her. Had they moved forward, Quentin would’ve buried himself, completely immersed and all of the built-up emotion he’d held back over the years would’ve exploded in the course of their lovemaking. However, the admission of Phoebe’s virginity had stopped him cold and left him discombobulated, to say the least. It added an extra layer of difficulty on him because as much as he wanted her, Quentin didn’t know if he could entirely trust himself when it came to matters of the heart. Phoebe wasn’t a one-night stand. Nor could she ever be someone he played around with for a while until he had his fill. Phoebe was a trophy, the kind you kept polished and revered with a tender appreciation. She was a one of a kind, like a classic you kept in pristine condition.

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