He traded the red Corvette for a 1974 Mustang convertible and we drove along the island, quiet, listening to Lenny Kravitz on the radio. Neither of us said anything until the car stopped at red light in the left lane, and Jamie turned down the music. He looked down at my legs. "Man, you've got fantastic legs."

The light turned green and he put his foot on the gas.

"Yes, gape at my legs to get what you want. Isn't that always how it works?" I asked, sarcastically.

"You need to calm down." He switched the channel on the radio, which went from Lenny Kravitz to Bryan Adams. He began to sing along to "Cuts Like A Knife."

"I've thought a lot about you," he told me.

"Well, a lot has changed. And what about the supermodel?...

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