Because this time she could give him what he wanted, something besides the sex.
He'd given her a name.
Aphrodite.
And now she knew what it meant.
She could, even in the darkness of the garage, picture his eyes, the way they'd shine when she told him what she'd discovered. And she imagined his voice when she finally heard the words she'd been dying to hear for so many months now.
Yes, I told her. Yes, we can be together.
Yes. I love you.
Yes…
It was going to be exactly how she'd dreamed about it. That's why she'd had to get the shoes just right, too, of course. He liked spike heels, all men did. God, men were fools sometimes. It was still the middle of the afternoon and she didn't want to look like a hooker, but what the hell, she'd decided to go for it. She wouldn't wear them when he took her to the White House-and he was going to take her to the White House, he'd all but promised-but today wasn't for meeting presidents and senators. Today was supposed to be for something altogether different, so she went for the Jimmy Choo eggshell-colored heels. Why not? They showed her ankles off so perfectly and that was the best part of her body, she knew. She might be ten pounds on the plump side-okay, fifteen-but her ankles were perfect. So that was what she was wearing with her tight skirt, and that was why she was not dressed for running.