Bliss. Except for Jack Bauer, nervously sitting beside the tub. She could see the tips of his ears, just over the side, tilted toward her alertly. She tried to ignore him and bathe in peace.

But his anxious, foxlike little face peering up at her when she stepped out and reached for one of the thick fluffy white robes she’d found hanging on the back of the bathroom door made her feel guilty. Where had Jack Bauer spent the night? Had she really locked him into this bathroom? At least the bath mat was as thick and fluffy as the robes and had probably served as a comfy bed.

That was it, though. She’d been a horrible pet owner. She was going to have to give him a good, long walk to make up for her bad behavior…

She slipped into the robe-it was so big on her, she had to roll up the sleeves to keep her hands from being lost inside them-then rinsed with some mouthwash she found. She had some makeup in her purse. She put some on, but her cheeks and mouth were so red from the chafing they’d endured at the assault of Lucien’s lips that she needed only a little mascara and eyeliner.

She discovered her dress slung over a black leather ottoman and her underthings strewn across the floor. She pulled them on, thinking about how later, after work, she’d have to do the walk of shame in front of her doorman. Would whoever was on duty realize she was wearing the same clothes she’d left in the night before? She prayed Pradip wouldn’t be there when she got home. Not that she cared what her doormen thought of her.

But what if she ran into Mary Lou in the elevator? Not what if. She would run into Mary Lou in the elevator.

But maybe, given what had happened last night, her luck was finally starting to change.

She refused to think about whether or not Lucien was going to ask her out for tonight. Friday night. She wouldn’t mention it, either. No game playing. They were both too old for that. He was in town on business. She wasn’t going to seem needy…

“Are you free tonight?” Lucien called from the kitchen, where the smell of bacon, now joined by coffee, was stronger than ever.

She called, “Uh, I think so,” and followed the sound of his voice. Lucien had set the glass and steel dining-room table with one place. One dark gray cloth napkin, one set of silverware, one cup of coffee, one glass of orange juice, one everything.

Lucien, noticing her curious gaze from the other side of the pass-through, said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I had mine earlier. I went for a run and I was famished after. I didn’t want to wake you…you were sleeping so sweetly. Like an angel.” He winked at her.

Meena said, “Oh, no. That’s fine.”

That’s just weird, she thought.

She slipped onto the chair behind the table setting just as he came out of the kitchen holding a plate. He presented it to her with a flourish. On it sat three curls of perfectly cooked bacon, two eggs scrambled to a golden yellow, a slice of delicately toasted whole wheat toast with apricot jam, a few paper-thin slices of orange, and a plump, perfectly ripe strawberry.

Meena stared down at it with her mouth hanging open.

Lucien pulled out the chair beside hers. “I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee. There’s sugar and cream on the table.”

“Thanks,” Meena murmured when the ability of speech finally returned.

He’s a prince, she told herself. This isn’t so unusual. All princes probably do this to impress their girlfriends the first time they spend the night.

Maybe, she thought, lifting her fork and idly admiring how his biceps looked in the daytime, the thing about his going running already isn’t so weird either. He has to work out to stay looking so nice. I should start working out, too. We could work out together. Before he goes back to Romania, I mean.

“I thought tonight we could go to the symphony,” he said. “If you’re free. I have tickets for the Philharmonic. Masur is conducting Beethoven. I don’t think you’ll hate it too much.”

Meena looked at him primly over a forkful of eggs. “I won’t hate it at all. I happen to like Beethoven.” She wondered how long it would take for him to catch on that she had no idea who Masur was. She supposed she could use the time during the concert to think up some good dialogue for the new vampire-hunter proposal she was going to pitch to Sy.

“Excellent,” he said. “Unfortunately I have an early dinner engagement with a colleague. Shall I meet you by the fountain at Lincoln Center at seven thirty?”

“I’ll be there,” Meena said. “And without him.” She shot Jack Bauer a meaningful look since he was sitting beneath the table, alternately growling at Lucien and looking up at her beseechingly for any crumbs of food she might spill.

“He’s a very loyal companion,” Lucien observed mildly.

“Yeah,” Meena said, taking a sip of coffee. “Something like that. How long do symphonies usually last?”

“If you’re asking because you want to know how long it will be before I once again rend off all your clothing and perform the kind of indecent sexual acts upon your body that I performed last night and that would horrify your mother were she ever to find out, we could do that right now,” Lucien offered.

Meena, who’d been staring at him with cheeks growing ever more deeply crimson as he went on, said, as she pushed herself away from the table, “I can’t. I mean, I-I’d like to. But I’m already late for work. So I…I better go. I’ll see you at seven thirty.”

Lucien laughed and, rising from the table as well, caught her up in his arms. “Did I mention how much I enjoy seeing you blush?”

“Well, that’s good,” Meena said to the center of his chest, since she couldn’t seem to raise her gaze any higher than that. “Since it’s all I seem to be able to do around you. See you tonight?”

“Don’t forget your coat.”

He got it for her from the closet, helped her into it, then walked her to the elevator-it was the kind that came straight up into the apartment. When it arrived, he caught her up around the waist again and pulled her against him, then kissed her deeply, not seeming to mind that she must have tasted of toast and coffee.

“Seven thirty,” he said when he released her. “Don’t be late.”

He smiled as she wandered onto the elevator like a woman in a daze. Jack Bauer, however, strutted stiff-legged onto it, clearly delighted at seeing what he thought to be the last of Lucien Antonescu. The dog turned and gave him a parting warning yip.

“And the same to you, my friend,” Lucien said just as the doors shut.

Meena, alone in the elevator, watched as the numbers above her sank lower and lower. With each one, she felt, sanity returned. When the doors finally opened to the lobby and she and Jack Bauer stepped out of the luxury building’s entrance and into the sunshine of the bright spring day, reality finally sank in.

And with it, the full impact of what she had just done.