My first trip down here taught me a valuable lesson in shoe selection -- no high heels, no black soles, and traction is a good thing. My trusty old Keds fit the bill perfectly.

I stop at Sandra Jean's slip and take a good look at the fifty-foot sailboat. It's perfect. The amber dock lights glitter off her dark-blue hull like yellow diamonds and, even in the dark, the glossy varnish on the exterior wood shines brightly. I don't know anything about boats, but even I can tell this one is something special. They're lucky guys to have a friend who will let them crash on this baby.

Climbing the dock steps, I call out, "Ahoy, Sandra Jean. Permission to come aboard?"

"Ay, matey, get yer ass down here!"

Jake's already started on the boat's seemingly infinite supply of booze. Wonder if he went with wine or found a stash of hard stuff. All I know is that the last time I was here, he was complaining loudly about the boat's lack of good old-fashioned beer.

I carefully turn around to climb down the ladder into the living quarters. No need to risk breaking my neck. There's no way EMTs could get a gurney down these docks, much less haul me out of this boat. Once both feet are safely planted on the floor, I spin around and nearly fall down from shock.

All four members of Roadkill are seated around the U-shaped dining area, looking at me. I can't help staring at Drax for a moment, before he averts his gaze. God, I've missed those eyes. I don't even realize how much until this moment. My heart clenches and I think we'll have to call those EMTs after all, but it finally starts beating again. Quite a bit faster than before, but I'll take it.

I slump onto the seat across from the table. I feel vulnerable and on display, like a criminal and they're the jury. My eyes want to return to Drax's somber face, but I force them to turn to Frank.

"Welcome back, Frank. How was your...time away?"

He smiles warmly at my awkwardness. "Really good, Lauren. I'm still working with someone as an out-patient, but we both feel I'm over the hump. I really can't thank you enough for the encouragement to get my shit together."

"I'm so glad, Frank." I finally allow my eyes the gift of glancing at Drax and my breath catches in my throat. "Good to see you, Drax," I squeak.

He still won't look at me, just grimaces and gives me a curt nod.

"Lauren," Savory says, drawing my attention, "we're at a crossroads."

"Yeah, and not the one with the Karate Kid," Jake says, without a trace of humor. That's when I know something big is on their minds.

"We've been talking for the last couple days--"

My mind stops listening to Savory. Drax has been back for two days? And he never called or texted or came by the record store? Two whole days?!

I don't know why my feelings are hurt by this revelation. I was the one who insisted on the annulment. I mean, someone had to be the responsible adult, right? Why can't he understand that? It's not like we were in love. So why is he acting like I broke his heart or something?

"--so unless you have some news, we think that's what we'll have to do."

They're all staring at me, waiting for an answer but I have no clue what I'm responding to. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Break up," Drax snaps. "We're going to break up and go our separate ways."

I feel as if he's not only talking about Roadkill. "Oh."

"Marvin really fucked us," Jake grouses, slamming an empty glass to the table. It's a water tumbler but Jake doesn't drink water. The ice is a dead giveaway: He sniffed out the high-octane stuff.

"You guys, I've been busting my butt to find some gigs, but it's hard when two members of the band are MIA. No offense, Frank."

I shoot a glare Drax's way. No need to let on that no one would hire them right now anyway. After the torment he's put me through, I think he deserves a glare or two. Of course, he shoots one right back at me.

Savory sighs. "Stop it, you two. What's done is done, can we just move on?"

"I can if he can," I blurt out before I can stop myself. I can't believe I really just said that. What am I, a ten-year-old?

"Good," Savory says, ignoring my infantile comment. "So, do you have any news to report?"

"I...I..." The truth was, I didn't. I fielded five more rejections today from big venues from as far away as Omaha. Marvin had tentacles everywhere, apparently. But I didn't want to tell them that. Artists' egos can be fragile and it's the job of the manager to keep them pumped up and feeling positive.

"Listen, guys. I understand how you're feeling--" I ignore Drax's chuff "--but you shouldn't make a hasty decision. Now that everyone's back, let me do my job. No need to rush it. Besides, it's not like you're living out of your van..." I look around the luxurious wood-trimmed cabin pointedly.

All eyes turn to Drax. He's staring at me, hard. Shivers trill up my spine and I'm instantly aware that my panties are wet. Good grief, I can't even be mad at him without also being drawn to him. His lips part to speak and I get a glimpse of his tongue. The tongue that did so many wonderful, unforgettable things to my body. All I want to do is suck on it. I wonder if he would mind...

"You have one week."

One week keeps bouncing around in my brain as the boys discuss other matters, such as who likes which cabin on the boat the best and how many bottles of wine Jake has already gone through. I'm just biding my time, hoping for a brilliant idea -- and maybe a little alone time with Drax. We clearly need to talk.

He finally makes his move to leave and I let him, but not without noticing that he doesn't actually say goodbye to me. I give him enough time to get a little way down the dock before rushing after him. I don't want the guys to overhear, but I don't want him to get away completely.

"Drax," I call out, running down the wobbly dock. He glances over his shoulder and shakes his head. Nope, can't get rid of me that easy, buddy.

I catch up to him at a trot, and am slowing down when I stumble over a nail jutting out of the dock. I spin around like a clumsy ballerina and, once again, fall right into Drax. Only this time, he's not prepared.

Arms clad in a black leather motorcycle jacket pinwheel, much as I imagine mine did on the loading dock the night I got fired from my job, but it does him about as much good as it did me. In the blink of an eye, he vanishes into the inky depths of San Francisco Bay.

"Drax!" I shout again, reaching out toward where he fell in. "Drax!"

When he surfaces, he's sputtering and cursing a blue streak. "Dammit, Lauren! Fuck! Shit! Dammit!"

"You already said that one." I know the Bay's waters are frigid and a body can go hypothermic in less than a minute, but it's all I can do to not crack up. I've never seen him taken so off-guard. He stops splashing around for a second, then bursts out laughing.

"Watch yourself, Lola, or you might be joining me. Now help me out."

As neglectful as the marina owners seem to be about upkeep, they at least had the foresight to install drop-down ladders every twenty feet down the dock for just such an emergency. Drax is heavy in his dripping riding gear but together we manage to haul him up onto the dock, where he rolls on his back, breathless and chuckling.

I kneel next to him and brush his mop of dark hair out of his eyes. "You okay? You must be freezing."

He clasps my hand to his clammy cheek and closes his eyes, and my heart hurts that I can no longer see them. "For some reason, whenever I'm around you, my blood runs hot."