Chapter 17

You Need a Distraction

GRIFF AND JONAS WENTall in on their investigation of Robert Jordan, putting in insane hours, seven days a week. Since he had some downtime while she worked, they recruited Noah to help research leads. All of them turned out to be dead ends. Their combined efforts yielding nothing, so far. It was as if the man had vanished.

Fiona's days fell into a pattern, each one blending into the next. Noah would drive her to work then hand her off to one of the Rossi men—either Kai or Tristan, and, once, Samson. She insisted, freaking out a little because she knew it would seem weird to her co-workers and raise a bunch of questions if the foundation president, who only stopped by a few times a year, suddenly started hanging around. Worse, if they noticed him watching her while doing so.

He wasn't pleased, but she insisted that having the foundation president and the man whose name was on the sign, logo, and every piece of paper in the clinic following her around all day would be a red flag for the staff. Her frantic behavior, which escalated to a full-blown freak-out the night before her return may have played a part in convincing him to give in. His latitude ended there, however. At the end of her workday, he was always waiting to relieve her dayshift guard and take her home.

The other staff noticed the big, muscular hotties who had invaded their space and went wherever she did. How could they not? Especially Samson, who at six and a half feet tall looked more a tree than the lumberjack everyone always compared him to. But she avoided their questions by staying busy and out of the break room as best she could.

Only John knew what happened that night.

"If Rossi is providing personal security, this can't be good. How much danger are you in, Fi?" he asked one afternoon when they were in the therapists' office.

"They caught the killer," she told him, keeping her voice low, even if it was just the two of them. "They're still looking for who hired him."

"Someone hired them to vandalize your car?" he asked, disbelief in his tone.

"Yeah, the guy confessed. He claimed they were only supposed to scare me. Mission accomplished," she added with a dry, humorless chuckle.

"But one of them ended up dead?"

"Yeah," she murmured with a distinct sense of unease. "Things didn't go down exactly as planned, evidently."

"You were the target all along? Holy crap, Fi. Why?"

"No one knows, but I seem to have caught a psychopath's eye."

John gripped her hand. "These guys are huge, and Rossi has a badass reputation, but I'm worried about you."

"Can't lie, my friend. I'm worried too, but I trust them to keep me safe. Or as safe as possible."

"You had to add that last part?" he asked, looking a little green.

When one of the therapy assistants walked into the room, the conversation ended. Despite her reassurances to John, she couldn't shake the overwhelming fear that Jordan, or one of his hired goons, lurked around the next corner.

The only place she felt completely safe was in Noah's arms.

HER BARE FEET MADEnot a sound, but he could count every step and turn. Noah closed his medical journal and set it aside, finding it impossible to concentrate on the article about the breakthrough medical device to enhance bone healing.

He leaned back in his chair and watched her pace from one end of the living room to the other. Occasionally, she'd detour to the wall of windows in his breakfast nook and look out. Seconds later, she'd return to her back-and-forth path and resume.

With each passing day the case went unsolved, his frustration mounted, and he struggled to allay her fears. He watched helplessly as Fiona retreated further into silence. Sleep, what little she got, brought nightmares. She'd wake screaming as her tormented mind replayed the horrors of that night in the parking garage, and, more and more lately, gagged and bound to the bench in the club.

While she trembled in his arms, she'd recount the vivid images similar to the reality but always with an added terrifying twist. At least she wasn't burying them. Last night, instead of Mercado menacing her with a bloody knife, it was Jordan whoever-the-fuck.

The room went silent as she paused at the windows. He thought she'd broken the pattern. But the next instant, she circled the table and resumed her pacing.

Noah couldn't bear to watch any longer. Rising abruptly from his chair, he declared, "You need a distraction."

She spun around, her eyes desperate. "Yes, please. I'm climbing the walls."

"Get dressed. We're going to the club."

Her answer was to bite her plump bottom lip, her uncertainty palpable. He wanted to pull her into his lap and cuddle her close, whispering that everything was going to be all right. But he couldn't give those assurances because they didn't have the first clue where Jordan was. And she'd never get past that night by avoiding it.

"I don't know if I'm ready."

He crossed to her and took her in his arms. "We've played here often. The only difference will be venue."

"And the audience."

"They come with the venue," he said softly. It was a club, after all. "Besides, you'll be with me, a dom determined to replace the bad memories with good ones."

He brushed his thumb along her bottom lip, releasing it from between her teeth. The gesture, filled with vulnerability, was also sexy as fuck. It made him hard every time. But everything she did triggered that reaction. Especially the sounds she made, including that soft, sexy, kittenish whimper right before she came.

"Come on," he said, deciding for her and towing her to the bedroom. "Let's find you something to wear."

"I've got jeans, T-shirts, and work clothes. Nothing appropriate."

"Leave that to me."

"But, Noah..."

He turned abruptly, steadying her when she skidded to a halt. "You're not sleeping soundly, yet you're filled with nervous energy. We need to work some of that off, and there's no better place than the Decadence playroom to do it." He framed her face with his hands. "You've got a few things to work on, and it just so happens your bodyguard knows some tricks to help you conquer your fears. Once we get there, if you still don't feel ready, we can have a drink in the lounge and dance."

"I'm not much for alcohol and have two left feet."

"You can have a Coke. As for the dancing, you let me worry about that. The important thing is getting you out and occupying your mind with something other than your thoughts. Okay?"

The way she leaned into him, turning her cheek into his palm and whispered, "Yes, sir," made him hard too. He could easily scrap all his plans and take her to his bed only a few feet away. But he'd been doing that for three weeks now, and it was time to try something different.

Filled with concern for her, he tried to hide it behind a smile as he said with affection, "That's my sweet girl. Let's go have a look in my closet."

IT WAS JUST PAST EIGHTwhen they entered the dungeon. Things didn't get into full swing until ten at the earliest and didn't wind down until after closing time at 2 a.m.

"Everyone is staring," she whispered.

He glanced down at her then at the crowd and the heads turning as she walked the circuit by his side.

"It's the shirt. It looks better on you than it ever did on me."

He'd produced a black satin shirt from the recesses of his walk-in closet, allowing her nothing else except a pair of skimpy black panties. He'd cuffed the over-long sleeves and flipped up the collar, fluffing her hair so that it hung loose around her shoulders and slid easily over the smooth fabric. The shirttails reached to mid-thigh and covered her more than the short, clingy dresses she usually wore, which he was sure was why she hadn't protested her makeshift club attire.

"You actually wore this?" she asked skeptically.

"Once. For all of two seconds," he admitted with a smile.

They both knew it wasn't the shirt that sparked the attention. It was who was in it, clinging to his arm like English ivy.

"What are you in the mood for tonight, pet?" he asked, adroitly changing the subject.

She didn't answer, instead gazing at the station they passed featuring a spanking bench and a domme dressed head to toe in black leather wielding a crop. He quickly assessed the scene, noting the many differences between it and Fiona's most recent disaster.

The sub was male, his ass ruddy from the leather flapper she used rather than lined by the much harsher shaft. His shouts of more, please, and harder, mistress were far removed from Fiona's muffled cries from behind the gag.

Thinking about it enraged him all over again.

Still, there were too many similarities, and he moved her quickly past it. No benches or bondage tonight. He planned to show her BDSM was about more than fear and pain and dishonorable dominants who had no respect for their partner or her limits.

A flash of light in a dark area around the next corner caught his eye and presented the perfect opportunity. Noah guided her through the foot traffic to a spot in the second row behind the velvet ropes. Luckily, she was tall and could see over the onlookers in front of them.

When the air crackled with electricity and jagged fingers of light lit the darkened station, she drew in a breath.

From behind her, his hands curled around her shoulders, and he bent to speak in her ear, mindful not to disturb the scene and the captivated audience.

"Have you seen a violet wand demonstration?"

She shook her head, her gaze transfixed on Val, bound spread-eagle to a horizontal cross. Her fair skin glowed with a bluish tint as tendrils of electric light sparked from her husband's fingertips as he caressed her trembling form.

"I know you use e-stim at the clinic. It's similar but also worlds apart with colorful lights, lots of special attachments, restraints, bare skin, and an appreciative audience." He looked down at her, watching her watch the scene. "Master Eric is our resident expert, and he's found his perfect counterpart in Val. They put on quite a show."

Completely mesmerized by the scene, Fiona couldn't seem to look away. Half turning, she grabbed his arm for balance and stood on her toes to whisper, "I tried our TENS unit at the clinic. On low, it felt like a thousand tiny hammers pummeling my skin. It was all I could take."

"They've played at this for a while, so he's had to elevate his game as she's built up a tolerance. I've seen him use everything from the standard glass electrodes to a fiberglass flogger to metal. He's always careful with her, though, and adheres to every safety precaution."

As Eric dragged both hands down his wife's body, over her breasts and belly to her thighs, continuous crackles and Val's soft moans filled the air.

"The sparks look like they're coming from his fingers. I don't see any electrodes. How is that possible?"

"It's too dark for you to see it, but he's using a body contact cable, which makes Eric the current conductor. So it is coming through his fingers. It makes it more intimate and allows him to go where electrodes can't."

She gazed up at him in confusion, but her eyes suddenly widened as his meaning sank in. When a cry of intense pleasure rent the air, they turned in time to see Val's back bow off the table. Master Eric stood between her legs, his back to the audience, blocking what he was doing to her. From the way she shuddered as she found her release, Noah could imagine.

The spectators applauded the stunning culmination of the intensely sensual scene. "What did you think?" Noah asked, as he led her away. Fiona's mouth opened and closed soundlessly, until finally, on the third attempt, in a barely audible whisper, she uttered, "Wow!"

He couldn't hold back a grin at her stunned reaction. "We're not all about bondage and impact play. There's a whole sensual world waiting to be explored beyond that." He spotted an open cross with no one waiting. "Come on, before someone jumps ahead of us."

Noah quickened his pace, weaving with her among the others, many of who were simply enjoying the variety of activities on display. Fiona kept up but hesitated at the entrance to the station.

"Could we go to a private room?"

Facing her, he took her hands in his and backed slowly into the station. "The theme rooms have to be reserved weeks in advance. The more popular ones have a waiting list of over a month. Sometimes two."

"Oh..."

He stopped. Releasing her hands to cup her face and angle it up to his. He searched for signs of panic rather than mere hesitancy. One hand slid down her throat. Her pulse was slightly fast, but nowhere near racing, which he would expect if her anxiety were mounting to a critical point.

"I don't recall public scenes being a hard limit on your list."

"I probably should have updated that after—"

He nodded. After Jordan, a lot might have changed. If he ever got his hands on the bastard again, he wouldn't be nearly as gentle.

Noah leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, keeping in mind it was her first night back and he should take things slow.

"We'll continue strolling," he assured her, "or go to the lounge. The band has another set left—"

"No!" she suddenly exclaimed, anger flashing in her beautiful brown eyes. "I should be able to do this. He's not even a member anymore."

"There's no need to rush," he urged.

"I feel like if I don't do this, he wins."

He admired her determination but didn't want any setbacks. "Do you trust me to respect your limits?"

"I do, Master Noah," she said with conviction, her unwavering voice filling him with pride.

"That's my girl. I promise to take good care of you, kitten."

A shadow crossed her face, and she stiffened.

"What was that thought?" he urgently demanded, his brows furrowing. "I need to know if you have doubts."

"He said the same thing that night."

"And look how that ended, right?"

She nodded.

"The difference—and listen closely because this is important. I...am not...him."

"And you could never be," she whispered. "I want to do this, Master Noah. To get past this fear once and for all."

POSITIONED WITH HERback to the cross, she peered into the darkness beyond the ropes. The spotlight overhead shrouded everything outside its circle in blackness. She could hear the hushed conversations of the members on the circuit, stopping at one station and another, commenting on the scenes playing out before them. She and Noah had been among them, taking it all in just moments ago. Now their roles were reversed, that's all, she told herself as her anxiety grew.

A shrill cry made her jump. Nebulous, faceless dark shapes gathered at the perimeter of the light. But she recalled how Noah commanded the crowd the first night she saw him, every eye in the room fixed on him and his sub. What if he attracted the same following tonight? Or even a small fraction of that. What if she freaked out again with half the club watching?

She desperately wanted to move past this, but maybe it was too much too soon. Why couldn't there have been a private room open just this once?

"Those gears in your head are working overtime, kitten. Relax," Noah urged, his hands caressing her arms up and down. "I want you to enjoy this. We call it a playroom for a reason."

"I'm more nervous than I thought I'd be. I'm such a wimp."

"You are no such thing. This can't be easy after the last time went so wrong. We'll take it slow. I have a suede flogger in my bag, which will be perfect."

She blinked. Bag? What bag?

Squinting into the shadows, she could barely make out the black leather duffel on the floor beside the cross. How had that gotten there, unless he'd planned this?

So. Not a spontaneous let's grab a station moment but a prearranged scene to help tackle his lengthy to-do list. She wasn't sure how she felt about the setup, but she loved a suede lash. In a skilled hand, it had the same soothing effect as a massage. She had unwavering faith in Noah's ability, so why the hesitancy?

"Other than to follow my commands, you won't have to think. Just close your eyes and feel. Can you handle that?"

Put that way, it sounded wonderful, and not scary at all.

"Fiona?"

"I'll try, sir."

"Hmm. Not exactly the vote of confidence I was hoping for, but it's a start."

He brushed her hair behind her shoulders and, with the tip of one finger, traced the deep V made by the open collar of her borrowed shirt.

"Hands at your sides, pet," he ordered softly.

She unlaced her fingers, releasing the white-knuckled grip she'd maintained since entering the station, and let her arms fall to her sides. As Noah undid her buttons, what few he'd done up, he urged, "Keep breathing and focus only on me."

The satiny fabric glided over her skin when the shirt gaped open. It contrasted with the slight roughness of his fingertips when his hands slipped inside, encircling her waist without revealing everything to the avid onlookers. He pulled her close, his mouth coming down hungrily over hers.

The man knew how to kiss. Instead of mashing her lips against her teeth like she'd experienced with over eager men in the past, Noah's were soft, but not too much so, applying the perfect amount of pressure, and his tongue teased and explored without suffocating her. As it went on for several glorious minutes, it left her breathless with excitement, not gasping for air.

When he raised his head, he smiled down at her. "In my bed, you shut off your brain and reveled in what we did, but here it's racing a thousand miles a minute."

Her gaze shot over his shoulder to the shadowy forms outside the ring of light. "We didn't have an audience in your bedroom, sir."

"This is true. But you're beautiful, kitten. And fucking gorgeous when you come. I'll enjoy showing you off. Like Master Eric did with his stunning pet. It was quite a show, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir. It went beyond the special effects. They were completely in sync with each other and seemed oblivious to everything else."

"They've been together only a couple of years. Val was new to the lifestyle. But look how far they've come. It just goes to prove that practice makes perfect."

After another unbelievably gentle kiss—no tongue, but lingering—he turned her to face the cross.

"Look up. Above the standard eyebolts are handgrips. No cuffs or constraints tonight, only you submitting to me on the cross entirely by choice." He dipped his head, his tone serious as he spoke in her ear. "If it gets to be too much, I expect you to tell me. I'll slow down, but if you can't continue for whatever reason, and need to shut it down, you have an instantaneous escape route. Does that ease some of your anxiety?"

"Yes, sir."

"Anything else to discuss before we begin?"

"Nothing. I'm ready for practice."

He paused. "What was that?"

"To make perfect," she reminded him.

"Indeed," he replied, sounding amused. His fingers flexed on her shoulders, and he kissed the side of her neck then slid her oversized shirt down her arms and let it fall, leaving her in only her panties. At the hum of voices behind her, she forced herself to breathe.

"There's my brave girl," he hummed in approval. "Reach up and grab the pegs, and do not let go without my say-so."

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me your safeword, Fiona?"

"Red, sir."

"Very good. Don't be afraid to use it."

He gathered her hair and brushed it forward over her shoulder. One of the two remaining barriers was now gone. She considered how she must look and was okay with it. She'd worn backless dresses that revealed as much. But when he tugged up her panties, wedging the material between her cheeks, transforming the bikini style into a thong, she froze like a statue.

Fiona wished she actually was sculpted in marble or bronze, stuck in a corner of a dusty museum somewhere far away from LA and the tanned, gorgeous, thin people gathered at the red velvet ropes peering in at her.

She heard whispers and worse, laughing. Suddenly, she was back in the bar, with the crowd, the loud burst of boisterous male laughter, and Jordan calling her—

"Yellow," escaped her lips.

They hadn't discussed a go signal, or an intermediate one, only a full stop. Because she didn't want to end their scene this way, when it wasn't him, she called a warning to say if what was wrong didn't get fixed, and darn quick, red would soon follow.

By sheer force of will, Fiona hung on to the pegs rather than covering her bare-as-the-day-she-was-born, jiggly butt.

Noah moved in behind her, his body pressed against hers, blocking her from the onlookers only a few feet away.

"What's going through your head, Fiona? Talk to me."

"I don't think I can do this."

"This won't be like that night. Do you trust me, pet?"

"It's not you, sir. It's..."

"What?" he insisted.

"Them," she whispered, the word barely audible in the noisy playroom. "They're laughing at me."

"No one has laughed. I wouldn't allow it. Neither would Eric nor the DMs. I think what's happening is that in your heightened state with your back turned sounds can become distorted."

"Like in the bar that night?"

"Yes, kitten. Just like that."

"But... I'm different. I don't really fit in here."

"How so?"

He was going to make her say it. "I'm Fat Fiona."

"The man was a horse's ass," he bit out angrily. "You can't let his opinion color your life."

"It isn't only his," she replied. "Please, I want to get dressed now. I don't feel comfortable enough to—"

When she didn't continue, he pressed more firmly against her back, his lips brushing her ear. "To come?"

A shudder raced through her as she nodded.

"I'm not convinced that's true, pet. Your cheeks are flushed, your breathing has quickened, and your nipples are hard, practically begging for my mouth."

His lips slid along her neck—open, wet, the heat incredible. When he licked her collarbone and slowly up her throat, her head fell back on his shoulder, craving more.

"That's it," he softly encouraged. "Concentrate on me, and what I make you feel. Whether it's my touch or the snap of my flogger against your skin. If I put my hand between your thighs, I'd find you drenched for me. Wouldn't I?"

His hand slid down her belly as if to check the veracity of his claim, but it stopped short of what she thought was his goal and flattened on the curve of her lower belly.

"Feel how much I want you." Applying steady pressure, he molded her ass to the front of his pants and the rampant proof of his desire. "Can you say you want me too, Fiona? And what I plan to do to you on this cross with my flogger?"

"Please, sir," she gasped, her desire for him quickly spiraling out of control. "I want all of that too! And I really need to come."

He ran his lips along her shoulder, up the side of her neck to her ear. "I'm glad we've gotten that cleared up. The former, at least. But I don't recall negotiating an orgasm for you. Just a flogging." He caught the lobe between his teeth, biting lightly before soothing it with his tongue. "Anything more, pet, must be earned."

"Yes, sir," she breathed.

In all the times in the many weeks they'd been intimate, he'd made her wait but had never denied her. He'd yet to explore any of her really good, extra-intimate places, and she was already wet and trembling. Noah had the power to do that. To make her body come alive and cause her mind to forget. If he could do that in his condo, his bed, and on his desk in his office, why not here in a crowded playroom?

Him not allowing her to come suddenly seemed worse than having an audience.

"What do you say? Should we resume?"

"I think so..."

"You hesitated. What are you thinking?"

"It's just... If I'm to focus only on us, what's the point of a public scene?"

"For starters, I couldn't get a private room. If we wanted to play, this was it. Also, I'm the kind of dom who likes to show off his submissive's beauty. No matter your low opinion of yourself, that's all I see when I look at you. I'm also determined to help you get past this obstacle," he murmured, his lips once again brushing her ear. "I'm sure that's all this is, kitten. A minor speed bump."

Like so many others, Noah had a touch of exhibitionist inside him. And why not? He was skilled and fit and freaking gorgeous. His determination was infectious, and she refused to let him down.

When he stepped away and she no longer had the pressure and heat of him against her back, she'd do her damnedest to block everything out. Except that was only half of her dilemma. How would she meet his other challenge, of enduring a flogging, which she craved more than the restraints she so loved, without coming?

"I'll leave your panties where they were. Will that help your focus?"

She had walked around for an hour in nothing but skimpy panties beneath his shirt. His arm around her waist raised the tails in back, revealing half her butt. So how was this so very different?

Biting her lower lip, she nodded.

"I need the words, pet."

"Thank you, sir. I think it will. And I'm green now. I want to continue."

"Such a brave little kitten." His hand sank into her hair and pulled her head back until she looked up into his handsome face. Then his mouth covered hers in a searing kiss. She would have been satisfied if he only gave her that for the rest of the night. But he ended the kiss and moved away.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him bend and get something out of his black bag. While he did, he reminded her in the same deeply hypnotic voice, "Focus on me and the sensation. Forget everything else. Let it fade into the background."

Positioned behind her, slightly to the side, he shook out the flogger's tails. She trembled, awaiting the first kiss of suede against her skin.

It started out light, like a gentle caress. As he moved up her back and down toward her knees, her anticipation grew along with her arousal. Expertly, he built the sensation, moving from barely there to a breathtaking massage to a sharp sting, mixing a bite of erotic pain with the pleasure proliferating inside her.

Her purrs of pleasure turned into cries of delight, but that didn't satisfy him. A distant humming became an intense vibration against her clit before the suede tails resumed. It was too much, pushing her to the edge.

"Please, sir..." she cried as she hovered on the brink of an orgasm. Her grip on the pegs and her determination to obey and to please him, were the only things keeping her from hurtling past it.

"So beautiful," he murmured, as he let the tails fly across her ass again and again. "I'll book the mirror room so you can see from all angles what I do."

Moving to where the lower curve of her ass met her thighs, he landed a soft stroke then a crisp, particularly stingy one on each side. Instinctively arching her back pushed her clit more firmly against the vibe. She called to him in a keening cry of need.

"Come for me, kitten," he ordered.

With those simple words, she went spiraling into ecstasy.

As she floated back to earth, she found herself cuddled in Noah's lap, wrapped in a blanket and out of the spotlight. Low voices offered praise.

"An excellent scene, Doc."

"Quite inspiring," a woman stated. "Nothing is more beautiful than a submissive lost in pleasure, except maybe your sub. She's exquisite."

"You had her flying. It was amazing," a younger man exclaimed. "Can you tell me your secret?"

"Better yet, show him," the first man countered. "You should do more demos."

The kind words for both her and Noah penetrated her pleasure-numbed brain, but all she could focus on now was feeling safe and cherished in his arms.

Noah's voice broke through her haze, filled with pride and admiration. "I'm proud of you, pet. You were strong and didn't let your fears conquer your desires."

Tears welled in her eyes as she gazed at him, feeling loved and accepted more than ever before. She knew in that moment she would submit to him unquestioningly, trust him with her body and her heart.

"Bravo, my friend." Recognizing Master Eric's voice, she cracked open an eye. He sat on a couch across from them, Val in his lap, accepting a piece of chocolate from her master's hand. "Is there anything better than a lush woman?" the master dom asked as he hugged her close. "And so much better to flog and fuck—"

"And shock?" Val inserted drowsily.

"That's there too," he chuckled.

"Are you back with me, kitten?" Noah asked, as he held a bottle of water to her lips.

Taking a sip, she gazed at him, his handsomeness leaving her breathless, albeit a bit blurry. She blinked several times, which helped. "My head is fuzzy."

He wrapped her hand around the bottle and directed, "Drink it all."

She didn't quibble, sipping as ordered as she snuggled in the soft blanket against the warm body surrounding her.

"I'm sorry for my freak-out, Master Noah. I'm glad I wasn't foolish enough to call red and end it before it got so good."

"There's more in store for you, pet. If you trust and follow my lead. My job is to protect and guide and to make you come so spectacularly you purr."

"I didn't," she protested, although it was feeble at best.

"You did. I look forward to making you do it again—with me inside you."

"When?" she immediately replied, blurting out her question much louder than she meant to.

Noah laughed, his hand cupping her cheek that had flooded with heat. "What's this? Are you asking to become a regular on the playroom floor?"

She wasn't too proud to admit she was wrong. "As long as I'm with you, sir, I believe I am. But..."

"Out with it. You shouldn't be afraid to ask me anything."

"I realize I have work to do on my confidence and self-image, especially under a spotlight, but could we reserve a room upstairs from time to time? I was a member for a year and only played in one, and there wasn't much to it that wasn't dangling over my head."

"We can explore them all if you'd like. Where would you like to start?"

There was an office, a classroom, a medical exam room—the thought of which made her a little squeamish, except perhaps with Noah, a real MD—and the aforementioned suspension room. The remaining eight she couldn't recall off the top of her head. They all sounded naughty and so much fun she couldn't choose.

Smiling up at him, she shook her head. "I trust your judgment, sir. Surprise me."

"I can certainly do that."