Getting bossy, aren’t we?

Pause: You ain’t seen nothing yet.

In the morning, she did as he had requested. He instructed her to go to the drama section of Ruby’s Books on Chambers Street and look through the copies of Shakespeare’s As You Like It. She followed the instructions. Ruby’s was only a couple of blocks past her subway stop. Nikki felt considerably self-conscious the entire time, trying not to be too obvious about looking over her shoulder as she approached the store and made her way to the drama section. He must be watching. But where is he? There were only three other customers in the store, an old lady and two gay guys, and none of them was paying any attention to her. There were four copies of the play on the shelf. The first copy of the play she leafed through had nothing in it that she could see. When she pulled the second copy off the shelf, a small envelope fell from it. Inside was a note and something small wrapped in tissue paper. The note read: And how exactly do you like it?

The tissue contained a slender chain to which was attached an aluminum dog tag. The word BITCH was inscribed on it. Nikki clutched it to her breast and burst into laughter.

She kept the dog tag in the pocket of the white coat she had to wear on the job. Her fingers ran over it so much she was afraid she might wear down the word. At four the following morning, Nikki hopped online.

Okay. Where?

He wrote back: Tribeca Animal Hospital on Lispenard Street .

What???!!!

Ten o’clock tonight.

Are you nuts?

Wait and see.

She gave it one more thought, then typed her response. She lifted her index finger, gave it a kiss and hit send.

MARSHALL FUCKING FOX.

At five minutes past ten, a tan Lincoln Town Car pulled to the curb in front of the Tribeca Soho Animal Hospital. The back door opened, and for Christ’s sake, Marshall Fox-the real Marshall Fox-was sitting there, prairie-wide grin and all. Nikki was speechless. What were the chances? Who in the world was ever going to believe a coincidence like this? Tina would freak. Or wait. Was someone putting her on? Was this all an elaborate hoax? She looked closer. Maybe it wasn’t really Marshall Fox at all. Maybe it was just someone who looked a ton like him.

“Come here,” he said, and he waved her over.

She finally found her voice. “You’re Marshall Fox.”

“Do you know what else I am? I am one lucky little dog.” He reached his hand out. “Now come on over here. I’m not going to bite.”

Three hours later, he’d be proving himself a liar on that count.

Fox and Nikki rode aimlessly around Manhattan, drinking champagne and snorting lines of what Fox promised was the highest-quality pure cocaine. He was, if this was possible, even more charming and funny and sexy in person than he was on television. Nikki was amazed. He sounded like Lucky Dog. He really did sound the way he had in his e-mails. His e-mails. Marshall Fox. The real Marshall Fox.

“I’m going to spend the entire night pinching myself,” she declared as he filled her glass with more bubbly. “ Marshall fucking goddamn Lucky Dog Fox!” For the tenth time that night, she placed her fingers against his cheek. “You’re still real. I am blown away.”

At midnight, he had her between his legs. He watched Columbus Circle go by outside the tinted car windows as he hummed to himself, one hand lazily stirring the woman’s blond hair. Yessir. Lucky, lucky dog.

She had to know. She insisted on knowing. What in the world was going on here?

He explained. No, it had never crossed his mind to go dipping into the anonymous world of cyber-flirting and cybersex, not until the purported Marshall Fox Internet exchanges had erupted to become all the rage. He had found it amusing; witness his use of the craze on his show for a while there.

“Did you notice about when I stopped doing those bits?” he asked.

Nikki told him that the show was usually over by the time she got home. “I mean, I love it and all. I just don’t get to see it all the time.”

“We phased out a couple of months ago. I’d finally gotten curious and gone online. I knew most of the sites. My staff had been monitoring them all. I pulled the plug on the bits soon after you and I started going back and forth. I told my producer it was time to let it drop.”

The Town Car was cruising slowly up Central Park West. Nikki knew that the celebrity was separated from his wife and that he was living in one of these buildings here somewhere. She eyed him with suspicion. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you? Hooked up with someone like this.”

He raised his right hand. “I swear. Never. This is the very first time.”

She smoothed her skirt. “What if I really had been a dog? I mean, you know.”

“I knew you weren’t, sugar. I checked you out.”

She thought a moment. “Ruby’s.”

“I was parked outside. I got me a nice long look as you came up the block. Did you feel the binoculars on you?”

She giggled. “You’re a freak.”

“I liked.”

“Well, still, I could be a certified psycho. You know how this town is.”

Fox proceeded to tell her her full name, where she was born, her current address, where she worked, where she went to college, her Social Security number, even the date of her breast implant surgery and the name of the clinic that had performed the procedure.

Nikki’s jaw dropped. “Explain.”

Fox pressed a button on his armrest. “Danny? Miss Rossman thinks you are a shit for snooping into her life the way you did. I think she’s right. Though she does have to admit, you did great work on such short notice.”

The driver twisted around and gave a thumbs-up through the thick glass pane. Nikki saw his eyes drop down to her legs before they returned to the road.

Fox explained, “Danny followed you after you left the bookstore. I couldn’t exactly do it.” He laughed. “Jesus. We’re really talking cloak-and-dagger here, aren’t we? Anyway, he got hold of your name at Bloomingdale’s and then hustled to get all the rest of it. The man is good. No better assistant in the world. I’m sorry about the invasion of privacy. But hey, all’s well that ends well, as Billy Shakes likes to say.”

Fox’s apartment was in the San Remo on Central Park West. He directed Danny to take the two of them there, and Nikki stayed the night.

“We can do this straight or we can do this wild,” Fox said as he walked her through the spacious living room. “I’m not going to force anything on you. You’re very sweet, and God knows you’re very sexy, and I really do want to gobble up your sweet little ass. But I’m not going to push anything. I’m just happy that you’re here. You, me and no paparazzi. You can’t imagine how good it feels to have a secret. You’re gold to me, lady.”

Nikki remained silent as Fox began unbuttoning his shirt. He stepped closer to her. “Give me your hand, sweetie. I think we’re going to be fine.”

SEVEN NIGHTS SCATTERED throughout three weeks. Seven insane nights. Marshall Fox was a bad, bad boy, no question about it. Bad, bad, and good, good. Fox had a lot of ideas about how to spice things up in the bedroom-or, on one occasion, on the building’s rooftop garden. He was a fantastic lover, even without the toys he liked to bring in on the action. It could get rough sometimes before it was all over, sometimes more than Nikki might have preferred. But look who it was. He was famous. And he was choosing to do all this stuff with her.

And besides, the sex was-yep-cataclysmic.

He’d asked her that first night not to tell anyone what they were up to. “I need one damn thing to call my own, sweetie. Let’s make that you.”