She closed the folder and looked at him. “I’ll fill out your forms, and I’ll study yours. But don’t you think we need to get a little more—personal?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “The kiss in the foyer wasn’t personal enough for you?”

Kelli swallowed, her lips still tingling from that kiss. “It was a very nice performance, but only the tip of the iceberg. Engaged couples share intimate details about themselves. Not just where you grew up and where you went to school, but the name of your childhood teddy bear and how old you were when you lost your virginity.”

Mac quirked one eyebrow. “Bingo. Seventeen. You?”

“Maple Syrup Florida Green Bear. Sixteen. Favorite color?”

“Black.”

“Of course. I like pink.” She licked her lips. “Favorite sex position?”

“I like being on top.”

“So do I.”

She let that hang between them a moment, waiting for his response. At last, he nodded. “Fine. Now can we focus on the questionnaires?”

Kelli rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, Mac. We need to know this stuff. This is what couples in real, human relationships do.”

“Grill each other on the names of their teddy bears?” Mac shook his head. “I’m quite certain that Zapata will not be asking that of either of us. Now if you’ll turn to page—”

“Who was she?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The girl you lost your virginity to.”

“This is relevant how?”

“Because this is the sort of thing a woman wants to know of her fiancée. Was it love, or a fling? Was your heart broken, or was it a notch on your belt? Was it a successful endeavor, or did you shoot your load on her leg before you got the condom on?”

“Why on earth—”

“Because women want to know where they stack up,” she interrupted, not entirely sure why this mattered so much to her, but certain it did. “We want to know how we compare and deep down; we all want to know that even if we weren’t your first, we were your best, your turning point, your most meaningful, your everything.”

“For crying out loud, Kelli.” He ran his hands through his hair, looking exasperated, and she felt a twinge of triumph.“Fine,” he said. “Her name was Sarah, and it was at a party before my senior year in high school. She wanted a relationship, but I wasn’t ready. We lost touch not long afterward, and while the experience was perhaps more hurried than I prefer these days, I can assure you my performance was respectable.”

Kelli sat back in her chair, feeling strangely satisfied. “There. Was that so hard?”

He shook his head. “Now I’m supposed to ask you the same questions?”

“No. Men in committed relationships don’t want to know details.”

“What?”

“You might care what sort of car my last boyfriend drove or what sort of annual salary he had, but you do not

want any details about my previous sex life.”

Mac folded his arms over his chest with a look of exasperation. “Okay then, since you’re apparently the expert

on male-female relations, tell me what our sex life is like.”

“Our sex life?”

“We’re engaged, aren’t we? Do I take you hard and dirty from behind against the bedroom wall with your wrists pinned over your head, or do you like it slow and sweet and soft with the curtains open and the ocean breeze cooling thesweat between your breasts?”

She opened her mouth to reply and found her lips suddenly didn’t work. The image he’d just created was

burned into her brain, and it was all she could do to keep from crawling into his lap. “I—uh—”

“Come on now,” he goaded. “I assume you aren’t saving yourself for our wedding night?”

She pressed her lips together. “Maybe I am.”