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describe same-sex activities as fun, but I still felt better at having voiced my opinions.

"You express yourself very well," she admitted. "Even if I don't necessarily agree with you."

I laughed out loud, and she looked at me strangely. "No, I didn't think you would."

We grew quiet again, and I remembered I was supposed to be sounding her out on what she found romantic for Bastien.

"I wish I could choose who I was attracted to," I said out of the blue, bringing up personal matters in a manner that was out of character for both Tabitha Hunter and Georgina Kincaid.

Dana seemed appropriately startled. "Things aren't going so well with your boyfriend? What was his name? Sven?"

"Seth," I corrected, feeling only a little bad at dragging him into the cover story. Things with Seth were actually beautiful at the moment, but for the sake of appearances, I kept lying. "He's okay, I guess, and I like him...but he's not very, you know, romantic. "

"Ah," she said neutrally.

"Am I crazy? Is that too much to ask? Maybe I should focus on other things."

"What do you consider romantic?"

"I don't know. Little touches and flourishes here and there. Gestures to show how important you are, how much the other person cares about you." Irises, smiley-face pancakes. "What do you think it is?"

She shrugged. We were rounding the corner back to Bastien's now. "I've come to see romance as not quite so important anymore," she admitted. "Neither Bill nor I have time for it."

"Oh."

"That's not a bad thing. I'd say, more important than superficial flourishes is being able to connect with someone. To talk openly with them and share yourself. To know they're feeling what you're feeling."

"Oh," I said again, surprised. Her comments almost made sense. In some ways, they were a variation of Seth's views on honesty in a relationship. Biting my lip, I plunged on. "And what about...you know, attraction and sex appeal?"

She gave me a sidelong glance. "What about it?"

I shrugged. "I don't always feel it around him." Liar, liar, pants on fire. "Do I have the wrong ideas about it? What do you think is sexy?"

Her answer took a long time in coming. "I don't know."

Bastien stood by his front door as we approached. He waved a hand in greeting. "Hello, ladies." He looked pleasantly astonished to see us together - and getting along.

Dana thanked me for the company and returned to her own home after refusing Bastien's automatic invitation to come inside and stay a while. Once she was gone and we were in the car headed to my photo shoot, I gave him the scoop on our talk.

"She doesn't know what's sexy?" he exclaimed. "She's practically begging for me to ravage her. Hmph. And Bill's not romantic. Well, no surprise there. You think she was lying about saying it wasn't important? Sort of a defense mechanism?"

"I don't know. Possibly. But even if she does miss romance, I think too many over-the-top gestures would throw up a flag. She isn't stupid. Profound conversation might be the way to go."

"Then the cooking thing is a good idea. Lots of talking there."

"I guess." I didn't tell him that I had doubts about the efficacy of that method. Honestly, I wasn't sure what he could do anymore.

We'd decided to pull out all the stops for my pictures. He drove us downtown to the Hotel Andra, one of the nicest local spreads, despite its plain exterior. Through some charm I didn't know about, he'd even managed to book us the hotel's one-of-a-kind Monarch Suite on practically no notice. It had more room than we could possibly need, but its true selling point - for me - was an utterly sumptuous, utterly sexy bed. Enclosed in its own romantically lit alcove, it had a deep, royal purple spread and a headboard of gleaming, black wood. The whole effect was dark and sensuous. We shape-shifted out of Mitch and Tabitha upon clearing the door.

"This bed alone," declared Bastien, "will sell these pictures. Well, that and your naked flesh. But really, it's a tough call."

He raided the mini-bar and made us improvised Grand Marnier martinis, which I gulped down with surprising eagerness. Suddenly, facing these pictures seemed a lot more daunting than I'd originally believed.

"Nothing to it," he said, sensing my nervousness. "Put on something sexy and sprawl on the bed."

I hadn't brought anything in particular to wear, for once willingly opting for shape-shifting. I started with a basic black nightgown. Super short, super low-cut. It seemed like