"Happy Birthday, Stefan."

Stefan Cassadine watched warily as his ex-wife extended a small decorative bag toward him.

"What is it?" he asked, making no move to accept it.

Sabrina DeLane made a face at him. "Take it and see."

Gingerly, Stefan accepted the tiny bag.

"It won't bite you, Stefan," she told her maddening ex-husband. "It's just a birthday gift."

"I believe those were your exact words the year you gave me a leopard print thong for my birthday."

She smiled wickedly. "It's not like I let you keep it on very long."

Despite his best effort, a tiny smile played about his lips. Sabrina was incorrigible, and Stefan was convinced that she took particular delight in teasing him. Carefully, he withdrew the small blue bottle from the bag.

"You have given me a bottle of ..."

"Body oils."

Aghast, he held the bottle within two fingers. "Sabrina!"

She feigned innocence. "Well, I thought you and your little bim...financee could try it out."

"This is not suitable for Chloe," Stefan explained.

"You're right," Sabrina agreed, as if she'd just realized it. "There isn't enough of her to use it on."

"I, on the other hand, swear by it," she added breezily. "Just the other day Adrian and I were using some-"

"I do not need to hear your tawdry exploits," Stefan ground out jealously. "You may take this back."

"Oh, well, I am sure I can find someone to use it with," she taunted him.

Stefan snatched the bag from her, turned on his heels and left.

"She'll never be Mrs. Stefan Cassadine," Sabrina promised.


Stefan sat in the back of the limousine and pulled the small bottle from the bag Sabrina had given him. Now, in the privacy of the car, he smiled fully. He had forgotten how he missed her playful sexuality.

Twisting open the bottle, he inhaled its scent. A mixture of sandalwood and something exotic. And it reminded him of Sabrina. The little minx. She had given him a gift that would keep her constantly on his mind. As though she already weren't.

He inhaled deeply again and shut his eyes in remembrance...

Sabrina would come to him, her scent wafting before her like a mist. Stefan knew all the places she like to be touched. She made it obvious by dabbing the scent he'd had specially made for her there. The base of her throat, the back of her knees, the scent was like a map to him.

Even now he could not smell it without becoming aroused.

What happened to that passion?

He recalled moments stolen in the back of the limousine...

Her feet pressed against the tinted glass, and her screams uninhibited and throaty. Her cries would spur him on, and his thrusts would become deeper and faster. Stroke for stroke she matched him, taking as freely as she gave...

He missed that passion.

Resolutely he recapped the bottle of oils. It would be placed where he kept all the other things he treasured.


Sabrina had to laugh at herself.

Her plan to cause Stefan to remember had only served to do the same in her.

Images rolled around her mind like a kaleidoscope.

She and Stefan in the back of the limousine...

Or in the large bed of the master bedroom...

Sabrina smiled fondly at one particular memory.

She had flirted mercilessly with Stefan in the restaurant's booth, occasionally slipping her hand underneath the tablecloth to squeeze him quickly. Other than a quick swallow each time she did so, he gave no indication of her actions.

She had paid for it when they reached Wyndemere and their bedroom.

No sooner had the bedroom door closed than Sabrina found herself pressed up against the wall, her dress around her waist and her legs around his. Stefan had dismissed with the formalities. Merely moving aside the scrap of lace she wore, he buried himself to the hilt within her. His strokes were powerful and relentless...

Sabrina understood, joyfully, the lengths to which her husband had been driven.

She swallowed to remove the lump which now lodged in her throat. What a fool she'd been.

What fools they'd both been.


 As midnight approached, in two separate parts of the world, a man and woman lay awake...and remembered what was.