Excerpt from Between Lovers by Eric Jerome Dickey, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

She groans. "Years of running and I still have big legs."

Her legs aren't big. And she hardly has enough ass to mention. There is no cellulite, not enough to worry about. She magnifies the flaws that Superman's telescopic vision can't see.

I remind her that she's the most beautiful woman in the world, that the anorexic airbrushed images on the covers of Cosmo and Body and Soul can't touch her.

She smiles. "Another reason I'm hooked on you."

"Cold?"

"Not really. Body temp way up."

"Let's go in before we get sick."

"Wait. Air feels good." She blows; her breath comes out like steam. She's hyped. "Miss being with you all the time. Move up here. It'll be so cool if you moved up here. So many things I want to do with you, sweetie. Wanna take you to this salsa club in Emeryville. On the Black Panther Legacy Tour."

"Slow your stroll." I spit; wipe my mouth too. "You're trying to wear me out."

"Wanna share my world with you," Nicole says as she scrubs her face with a corner of her sweatshirt. "Maybe I can kick in on the down payment if that'll help convince you."

"You're talking about a grip. Maybe thirty thousand."

"If all goes well, my sloptions are going to break through the roof in the next year or two."

Sloptions is San Francisco–Silicon Valley slang for stock options. Her soon-to-be large techno Internet company offered her a chance to leave her old life and her program management position at Boeing in Anaheim to come here and be a contract renewal specialist. She left the shaky aerospace business behind and moved on to better things in dot-comville.

I ask, "What you looking at, moneywise?"

"At least a million. I wanna be a baller like you."

"Nobody balling but you. Sounds like you got all the cheddar."

"With the cost of living and property, that's chump change up here. Hate thinking what the capital gains taxes are gonna be, but either way it'll be a nice piece of change."

"Need any help before then, let me know."

"I'm cool. Thanks for offering. That's sweet of you."

I'd give her my all, but she relies on me for nothing but love.

She doesn't have that Cinderella gene. Anything a man can do, she can do to the nth degree. She'll let the man be the head of the house, be it for his ego or the way she wants it to be, but she will not become dependent. That lets me know that the reason she's with me comes from the heart. She's better than Cinderella. She has beauty and skills. Outside of a dysfunctional family and a glass shoe, Cinderella had nothing but beauty and that fades with each tick-tock of the clock.

And at the same time, I want to be her prince. Want to ride up to her window on a black stallion, let her throw down a lock of her hair so I can climb up into her castle and snatch her ass down to my reality.

A beautiful sister walks by. Both of us stare at her, then at each other.

Nicole puts her arms around my shoulders, kisses the side of my face, tastes my drying sweat before she tongues me with a true passion, allows me to taste her salty emotions, each kiss asking me to accept her as she is, pimples on her butt, dry scalp, PMS, soft-legged lover and all.

She says, "Okay, now I'm getting cold."

As we stroll, she does a couple of gymnastic walkovers, first forward then backward, then laughs, puts her face to mine and sucks my lips again. Even her moist skin is as sweet as a mango. With people rushing by, heading into all the seaside specialty shops, we close our eyes and kiss. Her bracelets sing and jangle as she hugs me. I pretend we're still engaged and that sound is the sound of wedding bells.

Reprinted from Between Lovers by Eric Jerome Dickey by permission of Dutton, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Copyright © 2001 by Eric Jerome Dickey. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced without permission.