He rubbed my hands gently. "I dried your pager off and your cell but it's probably ruined."

            "I forgot about them." He handed them to me.

            "I did too."

            I looked at the cell, it had shut off. I took out the battery and blew on it. It couldn't have got that wet, the pager was fine. I checked it. There were two pages from USC. I asked to use Rafe's phone and called in. Junior was in need of surgery. I didn't have to go just yet, but I was inclined to.

            I gave his phone back and he started pushing buttons. I stared curiously, till he pulled up one of his music videos and pushed his chair around next to me as the tea was brought. I knew the song. But the video--

            Well, it didn't have anything to do with what I thought the song was about. I frowned as I watched Rafe and a half naked model cavort about a desert cave, among other venues. I watched as his tattoos pressed sexily against her naked chest. Her hair blew about them, his hands were all over her. I watched longer, as the video showed him callously riding his motorcycle away from her as it flipped occasionally to him singing, and the rest of the band members also. It showed him every few seconds, or less--just snaps of them all-- in all different places, too much almost for the mind to register.

            I caught his eye and he raised his brows. I nodded and shrugged. He pulled up another video. This time for sure it had a story that sort of-- and I mean loose interpretation-- went with his song. A hospital, a car crash, a girl--the same girl--beat up, hurt. Him going after the guy who did it-- a case of domestic abuse. A police station, a hanging, an electric chair, lethal injection. The girl watching from behind glass. Rafe was being killed--or the other guy-- it flashed between them. I finally looked away. It wasn't something I wanted to remember.

            He pulled up another one. This time just the band singing on the beach, Venice beach in the background, and some girls in swimsuits, a bonfire. The whole things was just them singing and playing, no quick snaps. I smiled. Obviously my preference.

            So he pulled up a fourth as our cookie was brought out to us, steaming hot and two forks placed there. The waiter brought chocolate drizzle and whip cream. I eyed the whip cream meaningfully and Rafe picked it up and after examining it, handed it back to the waiter.

            He started the music video. It was him only in a bar, waiting for someone. The story line apparently was about rejection and fantasy. His rejection and revenge against a girl or many girls he was fantasizing about. The clips were so fast--- and the girls so provocative, and him--- half dressed, drenched in paint, or blood, or something--- it kept changing colors.

            "What do you think?" He fork fed me the first bite of cookie.

            "Um... delicious." I chewed thoughtfully, knowing, or at least thinking I knew he wasn't talking about the cookie. It did flash in my brain for one second that when I used the word delicious to describe Rafe to myself, he'd been kissing cotton candy in my mouth. That could be considered really gross. The fact that it really hadn't been was interesting to me.

            Reading my mind he took a bite and leaned forward and kissed me. We did not exchange cookie, but the smell of warm chocolate was intoxicating. I felt his finger at the corner of my mouth. "Wh---?"

            He had smeared chocolate there and then kissed/ licked it off, sucking on my lip softly. He never closed his eyes for that one, and neither did I, and so we watched each other's reaction.

            "What do you think?"

            "Um... delicious." I repeated, but kept my eyes on him--- he knew I meant the kiss. I liked his creative kisses. They belonged only to him-- and me.

            He moved my hand, placed it on the phone where we'd watched the videos.

            "What do you think?"

            I backed up, took another forkful of cookie and chewed thoughtfully. I nodded while chewing and he stared, waiting.

            "Okay--- so the clips are too fast. I'd like to see more singing, more performance. I liked the story elements, but I don't get the lyrics in relation to some of the stories. I'd probably have to listen to them way more than just once." I smiled and cut another bite of yummy delicious cookie. "That's a lot of sexy girl handling. I wouldn't let my kids watch."

            He sat back, intently gazing at me. I smiled.

            "I've never been a video critic."

            "Your mom's--- longer clips. More performance. It's what you're used to perhaps."

            I shrugged. "I haven't watched all my mom's."

            His eyes narrowed.

            I shrugged again. "My Mom's written six novels and one docudrama. I haven't read any. My dad's been in probably thirty-five films, and numerous other acting things. I am not familiar with more than five. My sisters were in a band that was really famous for awhile and Melia has made lots of films. I haven't seen any, although I have her CD's. It isn't required."

            "That's superb. Not required. That's famous. Not required." He repeated quickly and thoughtfully, chalking my statement up to long term memory. He'd obviously made up his mind I was telling the truth. "So you aren't completely influenced by them."

            "I'm a neonatal surgeon." I shook my fingers in fancy surprise gestures. "Not influenced. If I say I would like to see slower clips--- it's just my preference."

            "It's a damn fine observation. I like that it was your first observation. Much more technical."

            "I'm a technical kind of gal."

            He was nodding, chewing his own bite and resting his arm on the table. He looked up. "I agree. Apply that to everything I know about you. I think you are quite technical. Yes."

            "I can be artsy and goofy too."

            His brows waggled. "And very sexy."

            He looked down so I followed suit. He was the sexy hot one here.

            "I have a reputation as a boy rocker with the high voice and the pretty girls."

            I nodded. "That's about all I knew of you before--- day before yesterday."

            "I want to dispel that myth. That's why I am working on the TV show and about ten other ventures."

            I finished what I wanted of the scrumptious cookie and pushed back my chair a little, wiping my mouth on a napkin.

            "Are you tired?"

            I nodded. "Yeah, some. I have church in a few hours. And surgery after that."

            "Surgery?"

            "The quint I told you about with the heart defect."

            He nodded. "I should get you home so you're fresh and relaxed and ready to perform lifesaving surgery.

            "That might be good. Think you can handle it all by yourself?"

            "What sleeping by myself, or putting you to bed by myself?" He held my chair, paid, and held the back door.

            "Well, you managed to put me to bed by yourself last night, so I have no reservations about that one. Think you can sleep the rest of the night by yourself?"

            "Don't intend to find out." We got in the car and he started the engine, turning the radio to the Beatles.

            I couldn't think of anything to say to that. I hated to disabuse him of the notion, but I wasn't sleeping with him again. By the time we hit our gated community, I knew he had other ideas.

******