Shattered: by Janet Nissenson

joke, Angel, and definitely not about something like this. You’ve had enough booze and that’s that. As for me, I’m estimating I’ve got a good seven inches and maybe as much as seventy, eighty pounds on you. My tolerance for alcohol is a lot higher than yours.”
    She thought briefly about protesting again, or telling him about the drinking contests she and Lauren had often engaged in, but then thought better of the idea. She could sense he wasn’t prepared to negotiate on the matter, and she absolutely didn’t want to risk pissing him off. At least not until he’d fulfilled every one of the sexual promises she could see glittering in his eyes.
    ‘Besides,’ she consoled herself, ‘he’s probably right. I’ve had quite a bit to drink already, and I want to make sure I remember every single second of this night.’
    Because she had a niggling fear that this was destined to be a one and done kind of affair. Nick might have already broken one of his rules by going out with a co-worker, but it was highly unlikely he’d break a second by seeing her again after tonight. So she really ought to make the best of it – enjoying this fabulous dinner at one of the best restaurants in town, and then have as much wild, raunchy sex with the impossibly gorgeous man seated across from her as she could handle. She wondered dizzily how many times a barbarian of a man like Nick would be capable of getting it up in one night, how long it would take in between, just how huge –
    “Eat your dessert. You could stand to put on a little weight, you know. I like it – a lot – that you keep things nice and toned, but five to ten more pounds would look really good on you.”
    Once again, Angela opened her mouth to protest, but Nick merely used that opportunity to shove a huge forkful of Meyer lemon tart in her mouth. He was grinning at her wickedly, her mouth now too full to offer up any sort of protest.
    “I’ll have to remember that little trick when it looks like you’re getting ready to sass me,” he chuckled. “Just stick some food in your mouth.”
    She glared at him while frantically chewing her food, then washed it down with a few sips of coffee. “Maybe not such a big bite next time, okay?” she croaked. “I almost choked.”
    “Sorry.” He offered up a falsely apologetic smile before turning his attention to his own plate.
    Angela toyed with the rest of her dessert until Nick placed a hand over hers, stilling her motions.
    “Don’t pick at your food,” he told her firmly. “Eat it. Please.”
    It was that last, rather unexpected word that did the trick, and she somewhat reluctantly managed to eat at least half the tart. She tried to take another bite but shuddered instead, pushing the plate away.
    “I can’t,” she confessed. “I don’t usually – what I ate tonight is way more than I normally do at one sitting.”
    “Okay,” he assured her. “After all, not only don’t I want you drunk tonight, I sure as hell don’t want you getting sick, either.”
    He beckoned their server over, handing over his credit card – an AMEX black card she noted, not surprised that he’d be one of the select group who’d been issued one. Nick didn’t even glance at the total when the bill was presented, merely writing in a tip and signing his name with a bold flourish.
    He stood then, and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go. The night isn’t getting any younger, and I hate wasting even a minute of my day. Especially,” he murmured as he pulled her close against his side, “when I could be putting those minutes to a much more pleasurable use.”
    She knew he felt the shiver that trembled through her body because he smiled down at her knowingly, looking very much like the devil he’d likened himself to back at the meeting. She knew that this was it – the point of no return at it was – and that if she was having even the slightest doubt about going with him she’d have to speak up now. Otherwise, he would