Loved by You by Kate Perry

think she really wants to learn piano.”
    “If I had you as a teacher, I’d be eager to learn.” He gave her an exaggerated leer as he lifted the beer bottle to his mouth.
    “You’d sit there and think about what I was wearing under my clothes.”
    He leaned in and softly said, “I already know that you don’t wear a bra.”
    She arched her brow at him and took a swig of her beer. “Maybe.”
    He stilled. “What does that mean?”
    “Remember the bra and panties you bought me?”
    “Do I ever.” He swallowed audibly.
    “Olivia was right. They aren’t uncomfortable.” She grinned at the way his eyes dropped, as if he was trying to see past the outer layer she wore. “Anyway,” she said, “today was just a revelation. I feel like I got through to Ashley a little.”
    He shook his head. “I’m still stuck on your lingerie.”
    His phone rang, and he lifted it out to look at it. Then he silenced it and tucked it away.
    “No one important?” she asked.
    “No. Just Tiffany Woods. The headhunter,” he explained at her blank look.
    “She’s determined.”
    He shrugged. “I don’t understand why she’s so bent on me.”
    “Is this job worth the aggravation?” KT leaned her chin on her hand. “Aren’t there other jobs you can apply for?”
    “It’s tough in this market, and I have no real work experience. Paragon is interested in people who have my unique abilities. In the Bay Area, cutting edge finance companies like that are few and far between.” He faced her, putting his hand on her leg. “I know without a doubt that I want to be here.”
    She wanted him to be here. For someone who was just a pretend boyfriend, he meant a lot to her already. She put her hand on top of his, keeping him there. “Couldn’t you keep playing poker instead of taking a job?”
    “Not if I want to have a normal family life. And playing was never a forever thing. It was a temporary measure till I figured out what my purpose was.”
    “Your purpose?”
    “The way I’m supposed to change the world.” His expression sobered. “My dad used to tell me that everyone was meant to put their mark on the world, to change it for the better, and our life’s journey was to figure out how.”
    She leaned in, interested. “So what’s your purpose? To make money?”
    “Pretty much.” He smiled ruefully. “I take risky situations and find ways to win. Not the most politically correct purpose to have these days, but it’s what I’m good at.”
    She wasn’t surprised when Chance looked her in the eye and asked, “What’s your purpose, KT?”
    Music. The answer was immediate and irrefutable. But she just shrugged because she knew where this conversation would lead.
    He squeezed her thigh. “Then what’s your goal in life?”
    “I don’t have a goal.” At his baffled look, she shrugged. “I don’t need one. I’m happy as I am. It’s worked for me so far.”
    “Aren’t you working on anything?”
    “Well, sure.” She thought about her nearly-finished concerto.
    “What are you going to do when you finish it?”
    She frowned. “Is this a trick question? I’ll start something else.”
    “And the project you’re working on now?” At her blank look, he gestured with his hand. “Will you perform it somewhere?”
    “ No. ” She shook her head vehemently. “I don’t perform.”
    “Why not?”
    She studied him, wondering how much she should say. She shocked herself by blurting, “I have stage fright.”
    His expression remained neutral, no judgement.
    Which made it easier for her to continue. “When I was four, my parents were having one of their big parties. Mom wanted me to perform a song I’d written. She dressed me up in a fancy dress that itched and stuck me in the middle of the room.”
    Just thinking about it made her begin to feel sick again—she could hear the tinkle of glasses and the muffled laughter, and then, absurdly loud, one man’s voice saying, Oh save me from another spoiled brat’s