He snorted. “Daniel should let Ron be the bottom in a scene or two; that’d help him.”

“He’s already arranged a session with Mistress K.”

His jaw dropped. “Shit. Kelly will rip him to shreds only so she can put him together and do it again.”

“Exactly.” Dena laughed. “You should have seen the look on Ron’s face when Daniel suggested it. He told Ron he didn’t have to agree to it, but that it’d go a long way in completing his mentorship. I think they were going to try to set something up this weekend. Kinda sorry I’ll miss it.”

“Daniel wouldn’t have let you watch anyway.”

“I know. But still.”

He narrowed his eyes and studied her carefully. “Not a big fan of Ron’s?”

“Not really, no.” She caught his gaze and smiled. “Hard to be satisfied with adequate once you’ve had great.”

His heart raced, but he forced his voice to remain calm. “Flattery?”

“You know better. The night you collared me and made wax play something I craved, you proved you were the best.”

If anyone would ever ask him why he’d never collared anyone after Dena, he need only look to that night for the answer. When she’d looked up at him from his table, there’d been fear in her eyes. Though he didn’t know exactly how the last wax scene she’d taken part in before that had gone, something had spooked her. Yet even in her fear, the trust that radiated from her body spoke far louder.

It was that trust. The unguarded, raw trust she had in him that lit her eyes. He could play with every woman on the planet and he’d never find a more beautiful sight than the trust in Dena’s eyes.

Unless it was the love in Dena’s eyes.

He reached across the table to take her hand, but before he could, his phone rang. He dug it out from his pocket with a frown. He’d asked not to be called unless it was an emergency.

“Damn,” he said. “It’s the nurse.”

“Hello?” he said, answering the call.

“Mr. Parks, sorry to interrupt your dinner. It’s your father. We’re losing him.”

There was a ritual to death that was oddly comforting to Jeff. A schedule of events to follow and plenty of people to ensure everything got done. He supposed it happened that way to make it easier for those in mourning. Not that he truly grieved the loss of his father; but now that the man was really gone, Jeff realized the depth to which he grieved the relationship they could have had.

Through it all, Dena was right in the thick of things. She handled the business associates and the few friends of his father graciously. Jeff supposed being a senator’s daughter had groomed her for such a role. Even still, every once in a while, he’d look and find her thanking someone for coming by or shaking the hand of a former client of his father’s and she would stun him with her poise and gentility.

She looked so out of place: a queen in the midst of the lowly home of his childhood. He wondered what she would say if he shared his observation with her. Likely as not, she’d laugh and say he was crazy. Then she’d narrow her eyes and playfully tell him she had no desire to be queen.

After the funeral, they drove back to the house. Finally, for what felt like the first time in days, they were alone together.

Dena shrugged out of her coat. “Ugh. I forgot how exhausting funerals were.”

It felt oddly quiet in the house. The hospital bed had been removed from the living room, and the noisy hum of equipment no longer filled the silence. Gone, too, was the flow of visitors.

Dena hung up their coats, closed the closet door, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, just thinking about how silent the house is.” He sighed and looked around the room. “Guess I’ll start boxing up things pretty soon.”

“You’re going to sell it that fast?”

“I don’t see why not. There’s no reason to put it off. Most of the furniture and stuff I’ll give to Goodwill.” He walked toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure.” She ran a finger over the top edge of the well-worn couch. “Is there anything you’re going to keep?”

“There’s nothing here for me. Nothing I want.” He took two glasses down. “The sooner I get this place settled, the sooner I can get back home.”

“I can help pack things up,” she said, following him into the kitchen.

“You’ve already done so much. You don’t have to help me pack.” He crossed the room to where she stood and cupped her cheek. “I haven’t said it enough, but thank you for all your help. You’ve done so much the last few days. I truly appreciate it.”

Her eyes grew soft. “You don’t have to thank me. You’d do the same for me.”

“Regardless, thank you.”

He almost dropped his head to kiss her, but stopped himself at the last minute. It didn’t feel right to kiss her in his father’s kitchen, not many hours past his burial.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered.

He stroked her cheek and stepped away to get the iced tea from the refrigerator. “A bit sad most of the people who came today were old business associates and not friends, don’t you think?”

“Maybe a lot of people had to work and couldn’t get off.”

He snorted. “I don’t think so. The business was his wife, child, mistress, and best friend all wrapped in one.”

“Then yes, that’s sad.”

“I can’t remember how it was when Mom died. I was too young, I guess.”

They carried their drinks into the living room and sat down on the couch. The couch was so small, their knees touched, and he knew if he sat back, he’d brush her shoulder as well.

“How old were you when she died?” Dena asked.

“Six,” he said. “And I hated her for leaving us. Hated that she loved her booze more than she loved me.”

She took a sip of coffee. “How did your dad react to her death?”

“I think in some ways it was a relief to him. He had one less person to look after.” He set the glass on the table, suddenly not in the mood for it anymore. “That’s all I ever was to him, something to look after.”

Dena was silent. She’d never talked about her childhood much either, but he had a feeling the senator hadn’t won any Parent of the Year awards.