Alyssa eyed her watch for the tenth time in the last two minutes. She hadn't actually wanted the watch--James had given it to her for these very meetings.

"This way you'll always know when we're supposed to meet," he had said, then showed her the little button that allowed the wearer to change the alarm.

"Like I could ever forget," she had teased back, elbowing him but rewarding him with a light kiss nonetheless.

Now she shifted on the bench, her stomach churning with nerves. The alarm had already beeped ten minutes earlier, and yet James was no where to be seen. She stood up to get a better view of the darkened park. There were streetlights spaced evenly around the park's walkway, illuminating the walkway but mostly just creating eerie shadows that made her imagination race with the dangers lurking behind the bushes and trees. The fountain's rushing water near her during the day made for nice background noise; now it just served to cover up the other noises that she should be listening for.

Where was he? It wasn't like James to be late. He'd never been late--not once since they had started these weekly meetings so many months ago. It was their only time to escape from their respective realities, and they both craved these get togethers as much as oxygen. So why was he late? Was she being stood up?

There was pounding on the stairs behind her. She turned sharply, spinning to find out who was approaching at such a rapid pace. Her heart fell at the sight of the runner, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. He was older, in his thirities, and barely nodded at her as he continued by.

"Were you waiting for me?"

The gentle voice was pleasant; seductive; sweet. She gasped involuntarily, spinning around again to come face to face with her love. As always, she was struck by the sight of him--6'2, lean, wavy blond hair that he wore long and in his light blue-gray eyes. His lips were curved up in a smile, his lips pink and soft and perfectly shaped. His skin was a flawless white, just the hint of a summer tan on it, and dressed impeccably in a black button-down shirt, open over a white t-shirt, and dark denim jeans with vertical threading through them to accentuate his leanness and length. He was a beautiful man, and here he was, all hers.

"You're late," she accused.

He withdrew a long-stemmed red rose from his back. "I am," he conceeded. "I'm sorry. I had to take care of something."

"Your wife?" she asked, trying to hold the bitterness back from her voice.

"Yes." He held the rose out again, urging her to take it. She did, reluctantly, toying with the velvet-soft petals. He wrapped strong arms around her, exuding warmth even in the coolness of the night. "I missed you."

She sighed into his chest. He smelled of his cologne, a sexy, primal smell that she knew he wore just because she liked it. "I missed you, too." She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. She knew his body intimately, better than she knew her own, and yet every time she touched him she was happy. "Did you have a good day?"

"Mostly. I fought with my wife when I got home from work."

She cringed. That certainly wasn't what she wanted to hear, or talk about, but she couldn't resist asking, "About what?"

"She thinks I spend too much time at work." He sighed; she felt her hair blow to one side. She wore it down every time they met, because he loved it down. He always told her that she looked sexiest with her hair down. "Maybe she's right. I work so much so that I can provide for her and allow her to have the things she wants, but it's hurting our relationship."

It hurt her further to say, "Maybe what she wants is you... Not material items."

He sighed again, a deep, heavy sigh that sent an ache through her heart. "Maybe you're right. But what kind of man am I if I'm not providing for my wife the things she needs and wants?"

She shook her head. "What kind of man provides everything except for himself?"

He laughed lightly. "You're wise beyond your years," he told her, his voice gentle. He pulled back just enough to kiss her forehead. "How was your day?"

"It was okay. I didn't do much." She sighed and shook her head. "I have to get back early tonight. My husband has a meeting tomorrow morning and I need to make his breakfast and lunch."

He pressed his forehead against hers. "Okay. Just a few more minutes?"

She nodded lightly, resting against his warm chest. She fit perfectly in his arms--that was one of the things she loved about him. One of the many, many things.

It was over too soon. He kissed her lightly goodbye, and then he was gone, vanished into the night. She stared after him until a cold breeze ran along her arms and she shivered, turning back to her car.

The ride didn't take long; they had chosen a location close to her home. She climbed out of the car, staring at her husband's black Ford in the drive way. She locked her doors and headed inside, carefully turning the key in the door so as not to awaken him. She slipped out of her shoes and crept up the stairs and along the hallway as quietly as possible, changing into her nightdress and then climbing into bed beside her husband, who was curled up on his side, his back to her.

"Honey, is that you?"

She jerked, startled. "Yes," she said, her voice choked in her own ears. "You surprised me! I thought you'd be asleep by now."

He turned back, his blond wavy hair falling into his light blue eyes. "I was thinking... Maybe I'll call in a personal day tomorrow, and we can go away this weekend." She stared at him, stunned by the suggestion. He had never called in a personal day in his entire career, let alone on a day that he had a meeting.

"Don't you have a meeting with important clients tomorrow?"

He sat up and looked at her, his eyes bright in the moonlight, his bare chest a lightly tanned white. "Yes... But they're not as important as you. And I was thinking... On Monday I'm going to go in and tell them that I need to work a little less. Take it down to ten hours instead of twelve. What do you think?"

She felt tears brimming her eyes, her vision of him swimming. "I think that's one of the best gifts you could ever give me, James."

He smiled at her, pulled her into the embrace she knew and loved, and picked up a rose from his nightstand. "Here," he said, lightly running it down her arm. She felt tears trickle down her cheeks. "I got this for you."

She smiled back through her tears. "It's beautiful."