I was nineteen; he was thirty-eight. We ran into each other the first time—and it was a nightmare. The second time, it only got worse. I dreamed that our paths would never cross again, but fate decided otherwise: for the next forty days, I’ll have to stay close to him. And of all things, my panties are now in his expensive suit pocket, and I don’t have the courage to demand them back. Because he is my fiancé’s father.